Chapter Twenty-Five
“WE’RE GOING TO THIS.” CORDELIA SET DOWN THE FLYER ON THE POOLSIDE table.
Belinda Sue had made strawberry daiquiris with red pop, chopped-up ice, and rum. She took one look at the flyer and wrinkled her nose. “No, thanks.”
Daisy picked up the corner of the flyer with her thumb and index finger as she pushed her straw around her glass with her tongue. “You said we don’t have to go to church no more.”
“This is different,” Cordelia said. “The whole town will be there.”
The church was hosting a celebration to welcome Hollis Thorne, the new pastor, down at the town square.
There would be a big potluck, lots of gossip, and plenty to observe.
Cordelia also knew that Edna would be present, and since she hadn’t heard from her since she offered that deal, she had plans to corner her at the event when she couldn’t slam a door in her face.
“Y’all don’t have to come with me, but I’m going.” Cordelia picked up the flyer and folded it into a neat square, tucking it away in her purse.
“I’d rather skinny-dip with piranhas,” Arline said.
Cordelia pinched her lips together. “A simple no would’ve been fine.”
Daisy hesitated. “Do I have to wear another caftan?”
“No, this is a more casual affair.” Cordelia gestured to her own ensemble, a tweed skirt and button-down top tucked neatly into the waistband, to illustrate her point.
“Right.” Daisy glanced between Arline and Belinda Sue, who both averted their eyes. “I suppose I could come with you. If I get to dress how I want.”
Cordelia laid her hand over her heart. “I swear, I won’t make one comment.”
An hour later, Cordelia and Daisy were headed into town.
Daisy had chosen to wear a red tube top with little sheep stitched into the fabric, and hot pants, but Cordelia just got in the car.
She suspected Daisy had picked that outfit on purpose to test her.
The chicks seemed to forget she’d already raised one overgrown teenager and knew how to play the game far better than they ever would.
They parked a few blocks over from the town center. Bumper-to-bumper cars lined the walkways of every side street. Everyone had come out to greet the new pastor.
Cordelia carried the apple pie she’d bought earlier, nodding at people as they passed.
The Newman brothers, reeking of sweat and sour milk; Brian Kobi, who’d played the trumpet in the high school marching band twenty years before and still made it a core part of his personality; Danielle Alvarez-Calderon, who was still known for having a spider crawl in her ear and die at a sixth-grade sleepover; Biscuit McCreedy, who’d rescued a cat from a transmission tower.
People who had histories and memories built into the very fabric of Sarsaparilla Falls.
Daisy stopped to chat with a few clients and people she knew from town.
Girls with thick brown hair threaded with pink ribbons zigzagged through the crowd with melting snow cones in their fists.
A band of middle-aged, balding men wearing matching bowling league shirts played ’90s hits from the park’s gazebo.
The center of town had a bounce house and ring toss set up for the kids and a beer tent for adults.
It didn’t feel like a church affair so much as a festival.
People stood in clusters, fanning themselves against the oppressive heat. Not even the cooling misters set up around the perimeter of the park could touch the temperature. The air was dry enough for the birds to build their nests out of barbed wire.
Cordelia set her pie on the dessert end of a long table that held the food offerings.
Flies buzzed around the fruit dishes, and ice melted in trays set up to keep the salads cold.
Sarsaparilla Falls had hosted several town potlucks when she was a kid, but she’d never gone to one.
Her momma said they weren’t nothing but gossip mills for snooty folks who thought the sun shined out of their cracks.
Her way of saying they wouldn’t have been welcome anyway.
Times certainly had changed. Daisy was twice the sinner Sherilynn was, but she’d been welcomed with open arms. Of course, her momma hadn’t done anything to contribute to the well-being of the town either. All she’d ever done was take and blame.
Cordelia grabbed a spare flyer and furiously fanned herself.
Sometimes those old resentments could sneak up on her out of nowhere.
Her momma had come a long way since those days, but every now and again Cordelia would be right back there in the past as if she’d never left.
It probably wouldn’t hurt to make an appointment with her therapist.
“Whew, it’s hotter than a honeymoon hotel out here.” Daisy pressed a bottle of water to her neck and handed one to Cordelia. “Have you seen Edna yet?”
“Not yet, but—” Cordelia gripped Daisy’s arm. “Oh, my. Look who’s fresh out of jail.”
Honey Stevens parted the crowd. She swished her hips as she gave homecoming queen waves to her gawkers like they were paparazzi trailing her every move. She had a lot of nerve, Cordelia had to hand that much to her. For every dirty look she caught, she blew a kiss in return.
“Damn, I’d like her sass if she wasn’t so awful,” Daisy said. “How do you suppose she got out? Surely no one posted her bail? It was set at a hundred grand. Ain’t no one around here but the Abernathys got that kind of money.”
“We could ask her, seeing as she’s headed this way,” Cordelia said out of the corner of her mouth. “Hello, Honey. Good to see you out and about.”
“Don’t lie.” She flipped her overly processed hair over her shoulder. “You’re mad as hell that I got out before you could find a way to clear Daisy.”
“That’s not true.” Mostly not true. Cordelia lifted her chin, choosing to ignore the jab. “How did you end up breaking free?”
“Juan Morales was admitted to the hospital after complaining of abdominal pain and vomiting. The next day, Bart Hewitt comes in for the same thing. Both of them over eighty and both of them residents of the pastor’s neighborhood.”
“Oh, no. I know Juan from way back. I hope he’s okay,” Daisy said.
“He’s fine,” Honey said. “But they tested the well water and it turns out they’ve been slowly getting poisoned over the last few months.
The well got contaminated with arsenic, the kind found in soil.
They let me go immediately. The problem for you is that the pastor wasn’t old enough to die from the well water, it was only a small amount, so they’re going to start looking into what did kill him. I’d be careful if I were you.”
Daisy balled her hands into fists, looking about as threatening as a mouse in a catfight. “You know what? I almost felt sorry for you when you were locked up, but then you open your mouth and I remember why no one can stand you.”
“I’m just saying.” Honey shrugged like she hadn’t accused Daisy of murder in broad daylight. “Now that I’m out, people are going to start talking. They might even start listening to Edna Abernathy again, since she was the only one who said I was innocent.”
“Maybe he really did die of a heart attack,” Cordelia said. “Ever think of that?”
Though that didn’t make Cordelia feel any better. If the pastor’s death was ruled to be by natural causes, his murderer would still be walking around out there. Still free to kill again.
“They could say it was a heart attack. Except we both know that’s not true.” Honey gave them a simpering smile. “Good luck out there, ladies.”
As Daisy fumed, Cordelia squeezed her shoulder. “She’s just trying to rile you up and get people talking about you instead of her. We’ve got better things to do.”
Cordelia threaded her arm through Daisy’s, and they walked around, picking up snippets of gossip.
Vinner Mendez had gotten a new boat, and some people were saying he’d sold a couple of his toes on eBay to pay for it.
He’d been walking funny for a few weeks, so that tracked.
Lee Vargas had gotten fired from the Mallory farm for trying to have inappropriate relations with a duck.
Someone accused Tilly Gomez-Esteban of selling marked-up Shein, so she blew up her order forms and taped them to the window to dispel the rumors.
Nothing of interest stuck out, at least not anything they could use to figure out who killed the pastor.
And honestly, now that Honey was out of jail and the wine bottle was long gone, Cordelia didn’t find the matter as pressing as the Abernathys’ connection to Sean O’Leary.
Protecting the chicks was always her first priority.
“Ooh, look. There’s the new pastor.” Daisy pointed to a man who stood at the head of a small crowd.
Hollis Thorne had shiny blond hair that glinted in the sun like a halo.
His teeth were whiter than sun-bleached cotton, and there was something about the way he held himself when he talked to people.
Like he was looking down at them from a perch. “He’s a handsome one.”
“He certainly thinks he is.” Cordelia had enough experience with men too pretty for their own good to recognize a fragile ego when she saw one. “I’d like to buy him for what he’s worth and sell him for what he thinks he’ll bring.”
“Oh, stop.” Daisy swatted her arm. “You’re always so cynical. I think he looks nice.”
Cordelia didn’t trust nice as far as she could throw it.
Her daddy had been nice. The guy who’d asked for help with trigonometry in college, then tried to lock her in his apartment, had been nice.
Her ex-roommate, who talked bad about Cordelia behind her back, had been nice.
She’d had enough of nice to know she preferred someone honest.
“Let’s go get some of that potato salad before the flies get worse,” Cordelia said. She’d only come to this event to track down Edna, and since that turned out to be a bust, she planned to take her free meal and leave.