Interior Motives by Ginny Aiken

nodded.
    The rest of the missionary society craned their necks and stared.
    “Oh, for goodness’ sake!” Penny grumbled. “Would you please just go to the podium so we can get on with the meeting?”
    Bella’s glare should’ve sliced Penny off at the knees. It didn’t do a thing. Her sour expression didn’t budge. But Bella did.
    Thankfully.
    “What on earth do you think you’re doing?” I asked when she finally reached my side.
    She tipped up her nose. “What I do every Saturday morning. Just like you.”
    I crossed my arms. “You know what I mean. Why did you bring her here?”
    Bella glanced toward the back of the room. “I told you, Haley girl. I like Cissy. She wasn’t doing anything this morning now that the brothers found a man nurse to care for their dad. I figured we could come to the meeting, shop for cat food afterward, and maybe catch some Court TV or Police Files at my place after that.”
    Swell. Wilmont’s elderly female Batman and budding Robin planned to further feed their obsession.
    Before I had a chance to say a thing, Bella’s look took a calculating turn. “What’s with you? Don’t you want to find out more about Cissy and Darlene and the Weikert men? You don’t really buy the cancer story, do you?”
    She knows me. Too well. “Oh, all right. But I won’t go anywhere for cat food, and I won’t watch Court TV with the two of you and the cats.”
    “Fine, fine. Just have lunch with us. You gotta eat someplace, don’t you?”
    I rolled my eyes, gestured her back toward her guest, and then took up my gavel. I pummeled the top of the lectern. The room quieted. From that point on, the meeting unfolded normally. Well, normal if you consider Penny’s indignant sniffs, snorts, and snuffles normal.
    As the meeting drew to a close, dread sloshed around in my gut. I was going to lunch with Bella and her latest pal, the new heiress and possible murderer.
    Turns out I had good reason to worry. We hit a nearby all-you-can-eat buffet place where I was the youngest patron by three centuries or more. Hidden among the various forms of mystery meat in the warming trays, I found small tubs of iceberg lettuce, carrot shreds, tomato wedges, and limp cucumber bits.
    At least I knew what I was eating.
    The conversation ran along the lines of cats and dogs. It turns out that Cissy is another cat person. The avowed dog lover in the threesome who didn’t have much to contribute to their learned discussion shrank in her chair and munched on water and cellulose splotched with semisolid Thousand Island dressing.
    After a time of praise for cats and their idiosyncrasies, Bella swung right into her PI bit.
    “So what do you think of the Weikerts and Darlene’s death?”
    Cissy sighed. “I miss her so much. We were friends for years.”
    I made a mental note of the question she didn’t answer. “How many?” Bella asked.
    “About twenty. Her boys were little, and my daughter had died years before. I had so much fun watching Darlene with them. She had them late and loved everything about motherhood. I did warn her she was going to regret all the spoiling. And she did soon enough.”
    I sat up, but Bella beat me to the punch.
    “What made her regret it?” she asked.
    Cissy squared her shoulders. “They never worked a day in their lives. At least, not until Darlene set up that mooch Tommy in his foreign car sales place, and I still don’t know how much work he really does.”
    “Did she buy the showroom for Tommy?”
    “At least she didn’t go that far. All he owns is the clothes Darlene paid for him to buy so he wouldn’t run around naked. She’s paid the rent on that place and his apartment from the start. You’d think she’d learn after a while.”
    Hmm . . . Righteous indignation?
    Bella picked up steam. “How about the cars? He’s got a gaggle of them. They don’t come cheap.”
    “Yes, they do. For him. She paid for those too.”
    Wilmont’s pet detective leaned forward. “Bottom line,