Chapter Twenty-Four
THEY LEFT THE RESTAURANT IN A HURRY, DROPPING A CRUMPLED twenty on the table for their drinks. The chicks mostly stayed quiet on the ride back, letting Cordelia do her thinking without interruption, until they crossed the Sarsaparilla Falls town line.
“At least we know what he looks like now,” Belinda Sue said. “He won’t be able to sneak around town without us nailing him to the wall.”
“Exactly.” Cordelia smacked the steering wheel. “It’s always good to know your enemies.”
Truth be told, Cordelia didn’t want to know Sean in any capacity.
She doubted very much recognizing him would keep him away from Sarsaparilla Falls if he wanted to be here.
And seeing as he had business with the Abernathys and the sheriff in his pocket, he had nothing to fear from three aging sex workers and their untested madam.
“I still want my steak and eggs,” Arline said.
“Fine.” Cordelia pulled into the Eagle Cafe. “Everyone out. We’re getting breakfast and we’re going to keep our wits about us. This is just another day.”
“Yes, Miss Cordelia,” the three of them said in unison.
They were giving her sass, but she didn’t mind, so long as they did as she asked. The last thing she wanted was for the chicks to visibly freak out. Investigating a murder took a certain amount of stealth, and they weren’t exactly made to blend in.
She should’ve known walking into Benedict’s would be seen as an act of war. She just hoped they could brace for the fallout.
A hostess with a crunchy perm and a missing incisor showed them to a booth with peeling red vinyl. A dollar-store portrait of a howling coyote hung below a set of steer horns and rusted farm equipment tacked to the wall—what passed for ambiance in the town’s only diner.
Once they were seated, Daisy leaned in, careful to keep her voice low. “Do you think Sean killed the pastor?”
“Yes.” Cordelia didn’t hesitate. She’d seen death in his eyes. “I think he has a deal with the Abernathys to tap into the alleged oil on Chickadee land, and I think he’d stop at nothing to get at it.”
Belinda Sue shook her head. “All this over a rumor. There’s never been proof of oil on Chickadee land any more than there’s been a hint of buried treasure.”
“Why don’t y’all just invite them onto the land and let them drill,” Arline said. “When they see there’s nothing, they’ll leave us alone.”
Cordelia tapped her chin. “That’s actually not a bad idea.”
Belinda Sue gaped at her. “You can’t be serious. Don’t you know that if you offer to swim a scorpion across the river, you’re asking to get stung?”
“It was just an idea.” Cordelia absently spun the glass of water the waitress dropped off.
They ordered their food. And while they waited, Cordelia planned.
She wanted the person responsible for killing the pastor brought to justice, and the deeper they got into their wayward investigation, the more things pointed toward Sean O’Leary and the Abernathys.
But if it was oil under the Chickadee land they were after, calling them on it might reveal more of their hand.
Belinda Sue might’ve thought it was a bad idea, but Cordelia’s back was against the wall. Sean O’Leary wouldn’t bother digging into her for fun. He had intentions. It was now on her to shake his equilibrium and throw off his expectations.
She dropped the chicks off at the motel, then made an excuse about needing to pick up a few things from the H-E-B.
As she drove through town, she waved to a few people she recognized from her regular trips to the library.
The more time she lived in Sarsaparilla Falls, the more it began to feel like home in a way Dallas never had.
She always thought she preferred the anonymity of a big city, but maybe that’s just what she told herself so she wouldn’t have to admit that loneliness hadn’t really been a choice.
The Abernathys lived on a quiet cul-de-sac with only two other neighbors. It wasn’t hard to pinpoint their house. She just had to look for the red wood shutters and tacky marble fountain at the center of their circular drive. Money could buy a lot, but it couldn’t account for taste.
Showing up to the Abernathys’ was risky, but Cordelia didn’t come empty-handed. If she could keep Edna from straight-up slamming the door in her face, she might be able to find the foot in she’d been searching for all along.
Cordelia rang the doorbell and stood on the stoop, tapping her foot. She knew Edna was home. Her car was in the drive, and Cordelia could hear the notes of a daytime courtroom drama on the other side of the heavy wooden door.
She rang the bell again and was just about to leave a note when Edna finally answered. She had a lazy hold to her stance, like she’d taken her sweet time on purpose. It was a power move that had no effect on Cordelia. She didn’t play those types of games.
“Hello, jailbird.” Edna’s smile dripped with condescension.
“Have I really earned that title if I didn’t even sleep over? Feels like appropriation.”
Edna wrinkled her nose. “What do you want?”
“I’d like to strike up a deal with you.”
“Too bad you don’t have anything I want.” Edna started to shut the door, but Cordelia stuck her foot out. She’d come too far to let it end here.
“I saw the drill equipment in your warehouse. I know you’re looking for oil,” Cordelia said, hoping to pique Edna’s interest.
She did not.
“And? Is that supposed to be a threat?” Edna sneered. “We’re allowed to drill on our own land. You didn’t stumble on anything our supplier doesn’t already know.”
“Is that why you want the Chickadee?”
“Who said we want the Chickadee?” Edna made a big show of examining her nails. “We don’t care what you do with your silly little chicken ranch.”
She was clearly bluffing. If they didn’t care, then Corbin wouldn’t have a full drawer in his filing cabinet dedicated to former chicks, and he wouldn’t be tracking Cordelia’s moves.
They might’ve owned a few squares of nearby land, but the Chickadee’s acreage spread as far as the Dewitt County line.
Ignoring that kind of reach was just bad business sense.
“If you say so.” Cordelia stepped back as if she was giving up the fight. “I was going to make a deal, but if you don’t care about our silly little ranch, I’ll just quit wasting your time.”
“Now hold on a second.” Edna stepped onto her front porch, and Cordelia had to suppress her triumphant grin. “What kind of deal are you talking?”
“If you call off your friend Sean O’Leary, we’ll let you drill on Chickadee land.
Just to set your mind at ease about those oil rumors.
” Cordelia was taking a risk with the offer.
If they did strike oil, they might be looking at an even bigger fight than the one they currently had with just a rumor, but she had to try.
Edna gave her a long, measured look. One that Cordelia couldn’t quite read. “I’ll think about it and get back to you.”
With that, Edna stepped back into her house and slammed the door in Cordelia’s face.
Moonlight bathed the Chickadee parking lot in a silvery glow as Cordelia sat on her front porch, twirling the stem of her wineglass. She hadn’t taken a drink yet. Sometimes, she liked to pour a glass and hold it just to prove it didn’t have any power over her. An old habit from her college days.
Ever since she’d left Edna’s house, she wondered if she was going about this entire investigation wrong.
So far, nothing had been turning out like those old shows her momma liked to watch.
Someone should’ve slipped up and revealed themselves by now, but even with every sign under the sun pointing to the Abernathys wanting unfettered access to Chickadee land, there wasn’t anything that definitively pointed to them killing the pastor.
What would they really gain from a move like that? Sending Daisy to jail wouldn’t shut down the whole operation. At the very least, they’d have to get rid of Cordelia and her momma. A thought that didn’t sit well with her, but it didn’t scream a frame job on Daisy either.
Was it possible James Reed-Smythe had been poisoned by accident?
The pastor told Daisy he’d gotten the wine as a gift from someone, but the poison could’ve just as easily been meant for someone else. How often had Cordelia pulled a last-minute housewarming item or Secret Santa gift from her own cupboards?
It was almost too ridiculous to consider, but the more she thought about it, the more framing Daisy just didn’t add up. There was no reason to target her.
A noise from the dark cover of the brush country caught her attention.
A stilted grinding of rocks against dirt, heavier than the footprints left behind by animals.
Like boots crunching on gravel. Cordelia set her wine aside and got to her feet.
Of all the low-handed, rotten . . . She’d offered Edna and Corbin a deal.
How dare they go sneaking around behind her back?
The crunching stopped on the other side of the motel, close to the wall. If it were Corbin or Edna, wouldn’t they have poked around the land? They had no use for the actual motel.
Burglars were always a possibility, though it made little sense for them to come all the way out here when there were plenty of unattended homes in town.
Either way, she couldn’t sit around all night waiting for an attack.
Flight was typically her first response, but she had nowhere to go. She had to act first.
Since her apartment was on the short end of the L, Cordelia grabbed a terra-cotta pot filled with marigolds and snuck around the corner.
A tall figure loomed in the darkness. He had his back to her.
Without giving herself time to second-guess, she charged the man and slammed the pot over his head.
A loud thwack, like a mallet striking a lobster shell, split the air.
He grunted. The pot cracked, and the man went down in a heap of skin and bones.