Chapter Twenty-Eight
CORDELIA DIDN’T KNOW WHERE ARCHER WAS GOING OR WHY, ONLY THAT something inside her drove her to follow.
He didn’t even get in his truck, just took off down the street.
Wherever he was headed had to be in town.
She thought about calling out to him, to ask him where he was going, but she hesitated.
She didn’t know if he’d even want her company, so in the end, she stayed silent as she trailed him.
He was so focused, she doubted he would’ve heard her anyway.
At the end of the street, he turned the corner, and the chain-link fences and squat single-story homes gave way to older, more established architecture.
Cordelia’s stomach twisted as her old neighborhood came into view.
She hadn’t taken the time to drive by here since she’d returned to Sarsaparilla Falls, unsure of what memories would be waiting to ambush her.
The Arts and Crafts–style homes with their wide cement porches and thick columns were largely unchanged, as if the neighborhood had a duty to preserve the historical integrity of the properties.
Cordelia’s daddy had inherited his place from his parents and left it behind when he fled.
It was the only reason why her momma had been able to make a fresh start in Dallas.
The sale of the premier home in a hard-to-enter area of town had set them up good in their new life.
Cordelia wondered if they’d grown up in another part of town, maybe someplace less fancy, if her momma would’ve felt as ostracized.
Lord knew, she hadn’t been perfect, or even acceptable, but being surrounded by people who made it their purpose to act as though they had it all together had to have weighed even more heavily on her.
She couldn’t keep up with the Hatfields and Conroys in the poorer neighborhoods, let alone the Joneses.
Despite Cordelia’s belief in the contrary, stepping back in time and seeing her life from a fresh angle didn’t bring old hurts roaring back.
Instead, it allowed her to view her childhood through a different lens.
Her momma hadn’t done right by her, but she’d done the best she could.
Maybe that was all any of them could do.
Distracted by her reminiscing, Cordelia didn’t even notice Archer stopping until she was a mere twenty feet away.
If he noticed her presence, he didn’t acknowledge it.
He was so lost in his own thoughts, he wouldn’t have noticed a tornado barreling down the street.
He stood in front of his momma’s house with his hands on his hips, just staring up at the place.
Worry lines creased his brows. Cordelia found herself wanting to reach out and smooth that crease with her thumb. An absurd lapse in reason.
She waited for him to do something, knock on the door or go sit on the old swing that still hung from his momma’s porch. Something. But he just stood there, eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, like he couldn’t make sense of whatever he was seeing.
Creeping out from behind the trimmed hedge, Cordelia cautiously approached him, not even giving her old home a second glance.
Other than noting that the new owners had decorated their steps with bright-yellow chrysanthemums, she felt nothing, and didn’t know if she should be relieved or concerned by that.
“Archer?” Cordelia laid a hand on his arm when he jumped, his muscles tight and tense beneath his shirt. “Are you okay?”
“I’m not sure.” His voice sounded faraway, like he was responding from somewhere else entirely and wasn’t sure how he’d gotten here.
“Are you going to go in and say hi to your momma?”
Archer shook his head. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“What’s going on?” Cordelia didn’t want to press him. It certainly wasn’t her place, but that lost look in his eyes bothered her. Archer was always so sure of himself, so confident. This new side of him rattled her.
“Nothing.” He blinked a few times, as if clearing his mind. “I can’t be here right now. The bed-and-breakfast is up the next street. I’ll call Daisy and have her pack your bags.”
Without another word, he walked away, but this time Cordelia didn’t follow him.
She just stood outside his momma’s front walk wondering what had spooked him bad enough to make a man like Archer look so haunted.
Letting instinct guide her, not that her instincts had been doing a bang-up job until then, she walked up the front steps and knocked.
It took a few moments, but eventually Stella answered the door.
She wore a fifties-style polka-dot-print dress with a tight waist and flowing skirt.
The top two buttons were undone, and her expression was mildly flustered, but other than that, she was put together.
With her salt-and-pepper hair pinned up in a neat twist and a few loose strands framing her face, she looked ready to serve meatloaf to a family of two-point-five kids and a husband named Jim Dear.
Or maybe that was just Cordelia’s old perception of her coming through.
“Cordelia.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “What brings you by this late?”
“I was in the neighborhood . . .” Cordelia trailed off when her eyes drifted over Stella’s shoulder to find Gladys with her hair mussed and her lipstick smeared. Cordelia’s cheeks pinkened. She’d clearly interrupted an intimate moment. “I’m so sorry to drop in like this.”
“Nonsense.” Stella opened the door wider. “You’re always welcome here.”
As soon as Stella opened the door all the way, Cordelia understood what had pained Archer so much and why he’d stood in front of his momma’s house like a ghost. There, in the foyer of her home, was a fifty-gallon saltwater tank, brimming with glowing green coral.
Cordelia stood in the open doorway in shock as all the clues they’d chased down knitted together, exposing the full picture.
The Dew Valley wine, a single bottle purchased by the pastor, would’ve been in this home.
And now the palytoxin. Everything came together.
Why hadn’t they focused more on Stella? Cordelia pressed a hand to her stomach as the contents of her lunch threatened to make an abrupt reappearance.
“Cordelia?” Stella reached a hand out to steady her. “Are you sick, dear?”
“It was you, wasn’t it?” Cordelia’s lips trembled.
“What are you talking about?” Stella glanced over her shoulder, but Gladys had left, possibly to give them some privacy. Did she know? Had she been in on it?
“The wine. The Dew Valley you gave to Corbin.” Stella flinched, all but confirming what Cordelia already knew.
She could barely form words. Her tongue felt thick and sluggish in her mouth and the insides of her ears buzzed with white noise.
“He gave it to the pastor. He drank it and died and you’re the one who killed him. ”
“Keep your voice down.” Stella stepped outside and shut the door. “I don’t know what you’re going on about, but my husband wouldn’t drink while writing sermons.”
Gone was the soft woman she’d remembered from her youth, the sweet pastor’s wife who had a kind word for everyone. The woman who had been thrilled Cordelia was dating her son. In her place stood a cold and formidable woman.
Cordelia drew herself up to her full height. She wouldn’t be intimidated into submission. She wasn’t ten anymore. “The pastor didn’t die at church. He died in Daisy’s room after consuming a bottle of Dew Valley wine laced with palytoxin.”
“No.” Stella paled and drew her knuckles to her mouth. For a woman who had felt larger than life, she certainly appeared small now.
“You know what that is, don’t you?” Cordelia pressed forward. “You can deny it if you want, but I saw the saltwater tank, and I know you had a bottle of Dew Valley in your house.”
“The sheriff said it was arsenic.” Stella balled her fists under her chin.
“I gave that wine to Corbin Abernathy. How did James end up with it?” She seemed so shocked, so suddenly lost, that Cordelia couldn’t help but believe her.
Her heart now ached for Stella. She might not have loved her husband, but it was clear she still cared for him.
The small cry she released was soaked in grief and terror.
She hadn’t meant to kill her husband, but she did all the same, and she’d have to live with that guilt.
Stella could be dismissive of sinners and haughty when questioned, but she wasn’t a bad woman. Just flawed.
Cordelia wrapped an arm around her and led her to the porch swing, seating them both on the plush cream cushion. “I think you need to explain what happened.”
“I put palytoxin in a bottle of Dew Valley, but I didn’t give it to my husband. I never would’ve hurt James.” Stella’s eyes filled with tears. If she was faking, she was a phenomenal actress. “I left it on the hood of Corbin’s truck with a note, hoping he’d split it with Edna.”
“Why would you try to kill Edna and Corbin?”
“I didn’t.” Stella looked taken aback, like Cordelia had just accused her of harvesting puppies for a fur coat.
“I only wanted to scare them out of doing business with Sean O’Leary.
The note I left made it look like it was a gift from Sean, so when they got sick, I was hoping they’d see it as a threat.
I knew the three of them were planning something with the Chickadee. ”
“Corbin thought the wine was from Sean?” Cordelia rubbed her brow as she tried to sort out her thoughts.
“I’ve always had a saltwater tank with coral, and I’ve been handling palytoxin for years.
I know how much a person can come in contact with.
It was supposed to be Corbin and maybe Edna drinking it.
But James had a bad case of pneumonia a few months back.
It weakened his lungs significantly. If it hadn’t been for that, he would’ve only gotten sick too. ”
“That’s awful.” Cordelia reeled from the confession. How unfortunate that the one person who wouldn’t have been able to stand up to the palytoxin’s respiratory triggers was the one person who accidentally ended up with the wine.
“James was so proud when he came home with that bottle of Dew Valley. He thought he got one over on the wine dealer.” Stella gave a watery smile as she stared at her lap.
“I thought Corbin would buy my fake note, since Dew Valley is only served in a few select restaurants, two of which belonged to Sean O’Leary. ”
“How did you know the Abernathys were doing business with Sean?” Cordelia had only uncovered their connection because of Honey, but Stella didn’t strike her as someone who would give the likes of Honey Stevens the time of day.
“My . . . ah . . . friend Gladys and I are regulars at Benedict’s.
” Stella blushed a pale pink under the soft glow of the porch light.
“We were at a booth next to theirs, which are all private and closed off—easier to do disreputable business, I suppose. They struck up a deal to take down the Chickadee. I figured since I was the only one who knew about it, I had a duty to act.”
“But why?” Cordelia asked. “What did it matter to you if the Chickadee went the way of the wind? Your husband was a client of Daisy’s.”
“With my blessing.” Stella took Cordelia’s hands. “I know you’re young, and you might not understand, but my husband and I were much better off as friends. We didn’t want to divorce and cause a scandal, but we both had needs we saw to elsewhere.”
Cordelia glanced at the front door, to where Gladys was likely waiting on the other side to finish the night with Stella that looked like it had only just begun. Cordelia understood perfectly well what needs Stella had and didn’t fault her for keeping them quiet.
The world may have moved forward, but small towns in Texas clung furiously to the past. Her husband’s former congregation wouldn’t make life easy for Stella.
They were downright miserable to Martina just for ordering books about fictional gay couples for the library.
And seeing as how the congregation still had say over whether Stella could keep her house, she was just trying to protect herself by flying under the radar.
Taking in Stella’s miserable expression and the guilt eating her bones down to the marrow, Cordelia made a decision that might haunt her in the future but felt right in this moment.
“I’m not going to say anything about what you told me.
Archer might suspect you, I’m hoping he won’t for much longer, but I’ll never say a word. ”
“You won’t?” The shock made Stella’s delicate features paler. “But aren’t you afraid Daisy is going to take the fall for the poisoning if you don’t turn me in?”
“Not if someone else takes the fall for her.”
Stella’s eyes widened at her implication.
The old Cordelia was a big believer in black-or-white thinking.
There was right and wrong and she never saw a need to deal with the mess of in-between.
But she couldn’t deny the last few months had changed things.
She no longer held such a singular and narrow view.
The Chickadee had opened her world to the rainbow hues of mostly good people trying their best.
As far as Cordelia was concerned, Stella was going to pay for what she’d done to the pastor for the rest of her life. In jail or out, it didn’t matter, she’d be paying either way.
But Sean O’Leary would never pay for his crimes.
Archer would try to pin him with Edna’s kidnapping, but he’d dispose of Edna before she could testify, and take down Cordelia and the chicks without anyone ever speaking out against him.
He had too much power, and leveraged fear the way the pastor had leveraged religion.
No, he’d never pay. Not unless someone made him.
“You made a mistake.” Cordelia winced. “Mistake” felt like too mild a word to describe the situation, but it was a mistake, nonetheless. “Don’t confess. I believe there’s another way for this to work itself out.”
“How so?” Stella asked.
“If you can get me a vial of palytoxin, I can save six lives.” Cordelia weighed her hands up and down in a scale motion. “That will sort of help make up for the one lost, right?”
From the look Stella gave Cordelia, it did not, in fact, make up for her husband’s death. But she released a deep sigh and stood. “If you wait here a moment, I’ll be right back.”
Cordelia once again had to weigh the pros and cons of what she was about to attempt, the right and wrong of it. She was diving deep into the gray—a messy, complicated space to be in—but found it didn’t scare her as much as it used to. Sometimes, bad people deserved to pay for their crimes.
And sometimes, they deserved to pay for the crimes of others.