“I don’t mean evidence,” I said. “That’s for the police to handle. I just wondered if anyone had been talking. I know it sounds rude of me to ask, but I know so little about Gail and about Sinful as a whole.” I paused for a moment for dramatic effect. “It makes me a bit…uneasy, I guess you’d call it. Living alone and not knowing what happened.”
“Oh, of course! I understand that completely. When my dad passed, my mom decided to sell her house and move to one of those retirement condos in Florida. I was seeing Brandon and working at the café. We were starting to get serious and I didn’t want to leave, so I stayed in the house until it was sold. It took some getting used to. Things you never heard when another person was around seemed to materialize as soon as the sun went down. Nothing ever happened, but I knew if someone wanted to do something, I’d be an easy target.”
I nodded. “That’s it exactly. If only I knew that it was for a specific reason, that couldn’t apply to me. It sounds so selfish, but fear isn’t always rational, is it?”
“No. I have the most horrid fear of spiders. Hate them really. Most of what we have here can’t really hurt you, but there’s something about them that just creeps me out. Every time I see one, I yell for Brandon and he comes with the flyswatter.”
She stared at me for several seconds and I could see she was trying to decide whether or not to share the gossip she’d heard. The whole “girlfriends have to stick together” must have won out because finally she let out a breath.
“I wouldn’t want you to repeat this, of course,” she said.
“Of course. It’s for my own peace of mind and that’s it.”
She looked around—I assumed to make sure no one was in hearing distance—then leaned closer to me. “The rumor was she was having an affair.”
Of all the things I’d expected to hear, that one wasn’t even on the list. “You’re kidding me.”
“I know. It sounds ridiculous. I mean, Gail? She wasn’t unattractive, but she would hardly stand out in a crowd.”
“Pleasant but unmemorable.”
“Yes. I mean, I know average-looking people have affairs too, but I just can’t see it, you know? She just didn’t strike me as the type.”
“It does sound rather unbelievable. Did you hear it from a reliable source? And what was their source?”
“I heard it from a friend, and I think she said she heard it from Florence Thompson. My friend cleans house for her.”
Florence Thompson was a name that was vaguely familiar. The image that came to mind was that of a very tall, thin woman with a dour expression. Like her underwear was too tight.
“I wonder who Florence heard it from,” I said.
“My friend didn’t say. For all I know, neither did Florence.”
“Probably not. Well, if that’s true, then this may turn out to be a crime of passion. I guess that lets me out of the victim pool.”
“Really? Because I heard you were seeing the yummy Carter LeBlanc.” She grinned.
Yummy? I tried not to cringe.
“We spent some time together,” I said, “but ultimately, it didn’t work out.”
Her expression fell. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought you would have made a cute couple. Girls have been throwing themselves at Carter ever since he got back to Sinful, but you’re the first he seemed interested in.”
“It’s probably for the best. After all, I’m only here for the summer.”
“I guess so.”
The baby started to scream and this time, it was an unhappy scream. Peaches checked her watch, then removed her from the swing. “She’s hungry. I best get her home before she yells down the neighborhood. It was nice talking to you. If you hear anything being in that big house alone, give me a call. I’ll send Brandon over with a shotgun.”
“Or a flyswatter?”
She laughed. “That too. See you later.”
I watched as she secured the baby in a stroller and headed up the sidewalk.
Gail was having an affair.
It didn’t sound right, but I supposed one never really knew about another person unless you were standing on top of them twenty-four hours a day.
Still, it was a workable angle. One I would offer up to Ida Belle and Gertie.
They’d know if it was a possibility.
Chapter 9
My chat with Peaches put me behind, so by the time I’d showered and made it downstairs, Gertie had already put the casserole in the oven to heat it up a bit, and Ida Belle had retrieved whiskey glasses and was pouring us all a round of Coke and the hard stuff.
Gertie looked at Ida Belle and shook her head. “Our mothers are rolling over in their graves. Whiskey at lunchtime.”
Ida Belle raised one eyebrow. “If our mothers are rolling over every time we do something on their list of things a lady shouldn’t do, they’ve been flopping like flounder since they were buried.”
Gertie perked up. “That’s true enough. Make mine a double.”
“I’ll make it a single until you’ve eaten and we’ve talked turkey. If you want to spend the afternoon sloshing around in whiskey, you can do it after the business portion of the day.”
“Fine, a single then, but I’m chasing it with a beer.”
“Sounds like a great idea,” I said and opened the refrigerator. “Ida Belle?”