“I was blackmailed too,” Mayor Ramelle said. “Why would a husband blackmail his own wife? That doesn’t make sense. Besides, if we were in financial straits—which we’re not—I wouldn’t have had the cash to pay anyone.”
It took all I had to focus on what she was saying. Annoyingly, she made sense. I’d been so sure Doug was the blackmailer, that I’d overlooked some key facts.
Okay, I relented. So maybe Doug wasn’t the blackmailer who killed Haywood.
But was he the man who killed Virgil? “Where did you and Doug spend Founder’s Day? That night, specifically.” I’d been in the Ring, watching the fireworks.
She stared at me as though my neck had sprouted another head.
“Have you been drinking, Carly Bell?” She sniffed the air around me. “Were we not just talking about a blackmailer?”
“Founder’s Day?” I asked impatiently. “Where were you that night?”
“I was at the town fireworks for my duties as mayor, but the Harpies had an event at the country club that night, too. Doug filled in for me until I could join them later. Why?”
“How late were all of you there?”
“Until midnight or one. Well, except Hyacinth left early, around eleven, because she had a little too much to drink and got into a fight with one of the waitresses.”
Hyacinth who lived less than a block from where Virgil had been killed.
A bald man . . . Glare. “Who drove her home? Was it Doug who took her? It was Doug, wasn’t it?”
“You’ve lost your mind, Carly. I’m done talking with you. Pack up your crazy and go away.”
I hopped off my stool. Fine. I’d leave. I’d ask Doug instead. And I knew just where to find him.
I just hoped he was still at Hyacinth’s house by the time I got there.
? ? ?
The lights were on at Hyacinth’s as I strode up the front walkway, but there was no sign of Doug or his SUV. Frustrated, I wasn’t sure what to do.
Since I was here, I could ask Hyacinth what time Haywood’s funeral was so I could let Avery know, but if Hyacinth had been drinking, I didn’t really want to deal with her at all.
I glanced up at the moon. It had to be eight o’clock by now.
Four hours left.
I’d go back to the Delphinium. Find Doug. Get the answers I wanted about Virgil’s death.
But, no, . . . I couldn’t focus on Virgil right now. He had already crossed. I needed to keep trying to uncover who killed Haywood.
Sighing, I sat on Hyacinth’s front step, at a loss for where to go next. I’d exhausted all possibilities.
After stewing for a minute, I decided I’d go home. Maybe Dylan had the results of the search warrants. I needed to have faith that something would click before time ran out.
Standing, I started down the walkway when a sudden pain burst at the back of my head. Wincing, I turned and found Haywood floating near Hyacinth’s front door. Frantic, he motioned me to follow him inside.
I sprinted toward the door, a sick feeling in my stomach. I tried the doorknob, but it was locked. Scooting over to the window, I peeked inside but didn’t see anything.
Looking back at Haywood, I saw he was pointing at the mailbox.
Apparently, he and Hyacinth shared the same hiding place for the spare key.
Reaching inside, my fingers closed over a piece of cool metal. I quickly slipped the key into the dead bolt and clicked the latch.
“Hyacinth?” I called out.
Haywood flew up the stairs. I followed, my stomach roiling.
“Hyacinth! Hello! It’s Carly!”
Haywood waved me down a long hall, and as soon as I entered the bedroom, I saw why he was so frantic.
Hyacinth was lying facedown on the bed, an empty bottle of hooch in one hand, and an empty container of prescription something-or-other in the other.
“Hyacinth!” I rolled her over, checked for a pulse. It was there, weak but steady.
Looking around, I found a phone on the nightstand and called for help.
“Come on, Hyacinth!” I urged after speaking with the dispatcher. “Wake up.”
Gently, I slapped her face and she moaned a bit but didn’t open her eyes. “Come on, come on!”
I held her hand and talked to her, telling her how Avery wanted to come up to Hitching Post on Thursday and how she knew Hyacinth had only been trying to protect her. I couldn’t bear to look at Haywood. Watching his heart break was almost too painful to take. “Hyacinth! Open your damn eyes,” I pleaded.
I heard a pitiful moan, and at first I thought it was Haywood, but it wasn’t. It slipped from Hyacinth’s lips, quiet as a whisper.
“Open your eyes, Hyacinth! Open them!”
She lifted one lid, moaned, and let it drift closed again.
“No, no!” I cried. “Wake up!”
Blinking slowly, her brow furrowed. “Sorry,” she murmured, squeezing her eyes shut again.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” I said. “Help will be here in a minute. You’ll be fine.”
“Didn’t mean to kill him,” she said quietly, the words slurred. “Sorry. So sorry.”
“Kill who?” I asked, my heart pounding. “Haywood?”
“No,” she moaned. “Virgil. So sorry. Didn’t mean—” Her head lolled to the side.
“Hyacinth!” I felt for a pulse again. It was weak, so weak.