16. Hattie

"Murder 101," Hillary says. "Don't commit a homicide in Brambleberry Bay unless you want to end up on Chevy Von Champs' murder board." She chuckles while reaching for a frosted brownie covered in red, white, and blue sprinkles.

"For that to be accurate, we'd have to already know who the killer is," Tipper points out while pouring herself another margarita, and then generously topping off Peggy's and Clarabelle's margaritas as well. They're the only three takers. The rest of us are enjoying Hillary's mocha lattes. Have I mentioned that they're addicting? It's clear I'm going to have a problem, seeing that I have zero budget for a coffee run outside of my kitchen.

Cricket chitters with a laugh from her perch on the sofa. I love it when they get down to business.

Rookie gives an approving bark. Especially when it's the business of murder. That's Killion's specialty. And he tells me it's Hattie's specialty, too.

I make a face at that one.

Hey? Rookie perks up. If Hattie and Killion get married, it will be the family business.

Cricket wastes no time in chasing Rookie around the room for daring to go there.

Although I'll admit, my mind is starting to go there more and more as well.

The family business.

Mrs. Killion Major Maddox.

A soft sigh escapes me just as Tipper's hand spikes in the air.

"I saw Jane Jordan locking horns with that denizen of diarrhea, Missy Livingston, last night."

"That's it," Hillary says. "I think we should have Missy arrested posthaste. Hattie, get your boy toy on it."

I take a moment to frown at her. "Killion is not my boy toy."

"Oh, hon," Peggy says with a lascivious look on her face. "Then I'm afraid you're not doing it right."

I'll gladly take him off her hands,Hillary thinks to herself while licking her lips.

"Add Missy's name to the first suspect bubble," I instruct Chevy and she does just that.

Chevy nods at the board. "And I saw Jane Jordan locking horns with Dr. Erol Draper. I just so happened to be walking by and heard Jane say something about how soon the whole world will know the real you." She quickly inputs Erol Draper into the second bubble. "Anyone else?"

The real you?

Interesting. And duly noted.

"Oh, I know," Clarabelle says. "I saw Jane having an outright spat with Nora Maddox."

"Nora Maddox is a pit bull who has a spat with everyone she comes across," Hillary adds before looking my way. "No offense, Hattie. But I wouldn't want her as a future mother-in-law." Maybe this will send Hattie in the other direction and me into Killion's arms? Although, that bit about Nora the Pit Bull Maddox is true in every sense.

She's got me there, but I've got a newsflash for everyone who thinks I'm going to let Nora stand in the way of my love story—a thousand rabid Nora Maddoxes couldn't keep me away from my true love. Although, that's one theory I certainly wouldn't want to test.

"Nora it is," Chevy says, filling Nora's name into the third suspect bubble and my stomach pinches at the sight. It's safe to say this is one murder board I won't be sharing with my hot detective boyfriend.

"So what do we know about Missy?" Chevy looks over her glasses at us as she surveys the room.

Peggy raises a hand. "She's gorgeous, has great skin, hair, and pouty lips, and has the ability to turn an entire country club into a plumbing catastrophe. I say we burn her at the stake for making me do things to the border garden that I never thought I'd do in the little girls' room, let alone in the free outdoors like a wild animal."

And she's afraid of picking up after us? Cricket chuckles. You should have seen the gardener's face when he took a gander at the not-so-sweet surprises she left behind.

That would explain the sudden exodus of half the gardening staff. They all claimed they had a family emergency—and on a mass level.

"Anyone know anything else about Missy?" Chevy asks again.

This time it's my hand going up. "I know she's a fitness guru who'll be holding a variety of fitness classes at the country club for the next two weeks. It's sort of a sample of her work in an effort to procure new clients." A titter of laughter circles the room.

"I took her business card," Hillary says. "Before the bathroom fiasco, that is." She fishes it out of her purse and clears her throat. "Her tagline is if you're not grounding yourself with the Livingstone technique, then you're not living."

"Or feeling the need to buy a box of adult diapers," Tipper quips.

I'm starting to like her more and more.

"That's funny," Chevy says as she taps into her phone like mad. "Missy doesn't have much of a social media footprint. It's as if she just blinked into existence a year ago. That's odd, considering she seems to be a pro at what she does."

"Or maybe she's an amateur," Clarabelle suggests. "A pro wouldn't have sent us all to the commode at the very same time."

"Maybe she is an amateur," Chevy says. "What do you think, Hattie?"

"I think I want to know why a young, vibrant woman seems to be hiding her past. Why else would she be shy a social media presence from a year ago?"

Clarabelle's eyes bug out. "I bet she made one of those X-rated tapes and she was so ashamed she wiped her history clean of any mention of it."

"Oh, hon"—Peggy scoffs—"that's nothin' to be ashamed about. Why, that's a badge of honor in some circles, especially when your boyfriend secretly makes the tape and downloads it to every naughty site on the internet because he's so proud of your moves."

"Peggy." I cringe her way. "Say it ain't so."

"It's so and so what?" She lifts a shoulder my way. "How do you think I got the numbers of so many men to suddenly sift through?" Maybe if I had a friend who was a mind reader I would have known what shenanigans that man was up to. See, Hattie? I need you by my side during my nightly bar crawls. I'll tell you what, I'll let you keep the crumbs and we don't have to tell that cute little detective you're dating.

My mouth falls open at the horrible idea.

"Let's move on to Erol Draper," Chevy says.

"Gladly," I mutter. "We know he's a dentist. And he's married."

"The marriage is a sham," Tipper is quick to contribute. "He's a dirty cheat. He's been with half my friends."

Note to self: Tipper's friends are dirty cheats. How do I know she's not the same? I'm pretty sure I won't be a fan of hers if she starts dating my brother. I should probably warn him before she strikes.

Chevy writes the word cheat next to Dr. Draper's name.

"His wife isn't well," Hillary adds. "I heard her mention something about being diagnosed with something recently as I was passing them by. I can't remember who she was talking to, but I glanced back and she looked distraught over the fact."

"Sick wife." Chevy writes it down. "Any dirt on Nora?"

All eyes turn my way.

"Don't look at me," I say. "I do my best to avoid the radar when it comes to that woman." True as gospel.

The room grows quiet for a moment right up until Hillary clears her throat.

"I've got dirt on that woman." She slices a glance my way. "Nora Maddox owed a significant amount in unpaid back taxes."

The entire room gives a collective gasp.

Every blue blood worth their salt knows that there are only so many loopholes you can jump through when it comes to the IRS, and nonpayment isn't one of them.

"Well then"—Chevy says, writing back taxes down next to Nora's name. "I think we know the link Nora had with the deceased. Jane was an accountant, after all."

I nod as I consider it. And now I wonder if she was the accountant to Missy and Dr. Draper as well.

Exactly what dirt did Jane have on these people? And more importantly, why did someone make sure she took their secret to her grave?