Elizabeth Lynn Casey - Southern Sewing Circle 08 - Remnants of Murder by Elizabeth Lynn Casey Page A
Authors: Elizabeth Lynn Casey
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sorry.
Dixie slowly spread the napkin across her lap once again, her gaze cast downward as she shook her head ever so slightly. “I’ve had a chance to see what you’ve done at the library since you arrived and I can see that they made the right decision. You’ve livened things up. You’ve brought in younger readers. You’ve made the library a fun place to be.
“Being able to work beside you during Nina’s maternity leave was exciting. It brought a new purpose to my days and, in some ways, made me feel young and alive … in a way I haven’t for far longer than I realized.”
When Dixie’s hands returned to the table, Tori reached over and gave them a gentle squeeze. “Having you there was invaluable. To me and our patrons.”
Dixie’s lips trembled upward into a shy smile. “Thank you for saying that, Victoria. It means a lot. It really does. But when the board sent me packing again last week, I felt empty. Like I no longer had any use.”
“Dixie! That’s not true.”
Dixie pulled her hands out from underneath Tori’s. “But then I overheard Georgina talking about Home Fare’s issues with Clyde and I felt like I could do something. Like maybe I could make a difference all on my own. Like I used to. And even though I only delivered out to his house four times, I felt like I made a connection with him.”
Before Tori could respond, Dixie continued on, her eyes sparkling as she spoke. “Because I’m new and only have another client or two, I could stay and chat rather than just hand him a meal and walk away. We talked about books. We talked about food. We talked about our lives. He showed me pictures, told me about his land, complained about the previous folks who’d delivered his meals, and the day before he died, he shared with me his frustration over the sudden downward spiral his health was taking.”
“I’m sure you were a blessing to him, Dixie.”
“As he was to me by giving me a reason to get dressed and leave the house.”
And there it was. The reason behind Dixie’s desire to see justice served.
She picked her fork up off her plate and pointed it at Dixie. “Then we need to eat, my friend. Playing detective can be very hard work and more than a little stressful at times. We need to keep up our strength.”
“Agreed.”
Tori scooped up a bite of meatloaf and slid it into her mouth, the flavor-filled meal eliciting a tiny groan of pleasure. “This is so, so good.”
“Let’s just hope it’s not laced with arsenic.”
Pushing her plate forward, Tori grabbed her water glass and took a large mouth-swishing gulp. When she was done, she met Dixie’s gaze head-on. “Okay. Walk me through your theories. I’m all ears.”
Undaunted by her own words, Dixie took yet another bite of pot roast and chewed it slowly, deliberately. When she finished, she leaned back in her seat like a queen holding court. “Clyde deteriorated over a five- … maybe six-week time period, right?” At Tori’s nod, Dixie continued. “According to the research I did on my own computer after we spoke last night, he was most likely poisoned slowly—a little here, a little there throughout that time period.”
“Okay …”
“Food was given to him all the time, Victoria.”
“By the Home Fare organization,” she reminded.
“And by council members and business owners who thought they could sweet-talk their way into making Clyde change his mind about selling his land to a resort company. Even before I started delivering his meals last week, I always knew Clyde loved food. Why, he didn’t care about any of the games or rides at the various festivals throughout the years. He didn’t go for the chitchat or the gossip. He went for the food and the food only.”
Her meatloaf special now forgotten, Tori found herself staring at Dixie as another sewing circle member’s voice began to play in her head …
It didn’t matter one iota how nicely we asked, or how many times Councilman Haggarty and
Dixie slowly spread the napkin across her lap once again, her gaze cast downward as she shook her head ever so slightly. “I’ve had a chance to see what you’ve done at the library since you arrived and I can see that they made the right decision. You’ve livened things up. You’ve brought in younger readers. You’ve made the library a fun place to be.
“Being able to work beside you during Nina’s maternity leave was exciting. It brought a new purpose to my days and, in some ways, made me feel young and alive … in a way I haven’t for far longer than I realized.”
When Dixie’s hands returned to the table, Tori reached over and gave them a gentle squeeze. “Having you there was invaluable. To me and our patrons.”
Dixie’s lips trembled upward into a shy smile. “Thank you for saying that, Victoria. It means a lot. It really does. But when the board sent me packing again last week, I felt empty. Like I no longer had any use.”
“Dixie! That’s not true.”
Dixie pulled her hands out from underneath Tori’s. “But then I overheard Georgina talking about Home Fare’s issues with Clyde and I felt like I could do something. Like maybe I could make a difference all on my own. Like I used to. And even though I only delivered out to his house four times, I felt like I made a connection with him.”
Before Tori could respond, Dixie continued on, her eyes sparkling as she spoke. “Because I’m new and only have another client or two, I could stay and chat rather than just hand him a meal and walk away. We talked about books. We talked about food. We talked about our lives. He showed me pictures, told me about his land, complained about the previous folks who’d delivered his meals, and the day before he died, he shared with me his frustration over the sudden downward spiral his health was taking.”
“I’m sure you were a blessing to him, Dixie.”
“As he was to me by giving me a reason to get dressed and leave the house.”
And there it was. The reason behind Dixie’s desire to see justice served.
She picked her fork up off her plate and pointed it at Dixie. “Then we need to eat, my friend. Playing detective can be very hard work and more than a little stressful at times. We need to keep up our strength.”
“Agreed.”
Tori scooped up a bite of meatloaf and slid it into her mouth, the flavor-filled meal eliciting a tiny groan of pleasure. “This is so, so good.”
“Let’s just hope it’s not laced with arsenic.”
Pushing her plate forward, Tori grabbed her water glass and took a large mouth-swishing gulp. When she was done, she met Dixie’s gaze head-on. “Okay. Walk me through your theories. I’m all ears.”
Undaunted by her own words, Dixie took yet another bite of pot roast and chewed it slowly, deliberately. When she finished, she leaned back in her seat like a queen holding court. “Clyde deteriorated over a five- … maybe six-week time period, right?” At Tori’s nod, Dixie continued. “According to the research I did on my own computer after we spoke last night, he was most likely poisoned slowly—a little here, a little there throughout that time period.”
“Okay …”
“Food was given to him all the time, Victoria.”
“By the Home Fare organization,” she reminded.
“And by council members and business owners who thought they could sweet-talk their way into making Clyde change his mind about selling his land to a resort company. Even before I started delivering his meals last week, I always knew Clyde loved food. Why, he didn’t care about any of the games or rides at the various festivals throughout the years. He didn’t go for the chitchat or the gossip. He went for the food and the food only.”
Her meatloaf special now forgotten, Tori found herself staring at Dixie as another sewing circle member’s voice began to play in her head …
It didn’t matter one iota how nicely we asked, or how many times Councilman Haggarty and
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