“Knew?” I questioned her use of the past tense.
“Imagine my surprise when she turned up at the masquerade ball last night.” Pressing her hand to her chest dramatically, she added, “And played a starring role in the debacle that took place with Patricia Davis Jackson.”
The debacle. Eulalie had to be referring to Patricia’s tongue-lashing of the party crasher. The one Haywood had set out to rescue just before he was killed . . .
Slowly, I turned to face my aunt. “She’s that woman?”
Solemnly, Eulalie nodded. “Avery Bryan, age twenty-seven, from Auburn.”
Auburn was a good three and a half hours away and best known for the university of the same name. Hitching Post was mostly comprised of ’Bama football fans, but that wasn’t to say Auburn didn’t have pockets of fervent fans around these parts. It could get downright nasty during the annual Iron Bowl matchup between the two teams every November.
Reaching for a pair of mugs, I instinctively smiled at the Professor Hinkle mug Dylan had given me years ago. Once broken, it was now glued back together. Kind of like Dylan’s and my relationship.
“She was most distraught after returning to the inn last night,” Eulalie continued. “I heard sobbing coming from her room during the wee hours.”
The coffee finished perking and its alluring scent filled the air. I breathed it in like the true caffeine addict that I was. After grabbing a carton of cream from the refrigerator, I said, “I can imagine how upset she must have been. As you may recall, I’ve been on the receiving end of Patricia’s tirades many times.”
“That vicious tongue of Patricia’s will get her in trouble one of these days, mark my words. But regardless, Avery wasn’t weepy after the argument between them. I spoke to her immediately after the tiff when Idella Kirby pulled the two into the powder room to cool off.” Eulalie smiled slyly, her pale pink lipstick sparkling in the light. “I had gone in there to eavesdrop properly on the quarrel and my foresight paid off very well indeed.”
I could only shake my head. My family was certifiable. Both sides, the Fowls and the Hartwells. “Indeed.”
“Anyhow, Avery was angry and embarrassed, yes, but not tearful.”
I added a little sugar to my coffee, and gave it a swirl with a spoon. “Did she say why she’d crashed the party in the first place?”
Leaning against the counter, Eulalie took a dainty sip of her coffee, her pinkie finger in the air. “Avery said she didn’t know Patricia from Adam.” She frowned. “Or should that be Eve?” Waving a hand in dismissal of the query, she went on. “And Avery didn’t crash anything, Carly Bell. She had an invitation, the same as the rest of us. I know. I couldn’t help but see it as she waved it in front of Patricia’s face in defense of her presence.”
I cupped my hands around my mug, letting its warmth seep into my palms. My fingers probed the cracks that had been mended, finding the fissures oddly comforting. “She had an invite? You don’t say.”
“I do say.” Eulalie arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “And yet, when confronted with the truth, Patricia remained steadfast in ordering Avery to leave the premises immediately, declaring that she wasn’t welcome. Idella overruled Patricia, issued her deepest apologies to Avery, and escorted Patricia out of the powder room quicker than a sinner passes by a church.”
Patricia had never been one to admit when she was wrong or apologize. However, it seemed to me that she’d gone above and beyond to get rid of Avery Bryan.
Why?
“Avery promised she wouldn’t let Patricia ruin her night, but I never did see her again after I left the powder room. Patricia, either, until the unfortunate incident with Haywood Dodd.”
Unfortunate incident.
Only Aunt Eulalie could get away with calling a murder an unfortunate incident.
Speaking of Haywood, I’d bet my witchy senses that he’d decided to float over to his house without me to see what was going on with the break-in. If so, I’d see him soon enough. I was headed there as soon as Dylan arrived.
Tsking, she took another sip of coffee. “I think Avery knows him.”
“Him? Haywood?”
“Yes. He was standing in the hallway outside the powder room as though waiting for her to emerge.”
I recalled Haywood’s reaction at seeing Patricia and Avery arguing. He’d been disturbed by it, and until right this second I’d chalked up the way he’d behaved as deep embarrassment at the scene being made at a glamorous Harpies event.
But if he had personally known Avery Bryan . . . his reaction made perfect sense.
Aunt Eulalie might be onto something.