Who Killed the Queen of Clubs?: A Thoroughly Southern Mystery Read Free

disgust. “That grant proposal. You would not believe how much piddly information those folks want in it.”
    “I told you I’d do it over the weekend.” Edie put the files on the floor, settled herself in the chair, and crossed her ankles. “What did you want to see me about?”
    “In a minute.” Alex bent to strain tea into two cups and brought one to me.
    Mama always said, “Eat and drink what you’re offered, even if it kills you.” She never imagined that one day it nearly would. However, I spooned in sugar, poured milk, and took a nervous sip. It tasted good, whether it killed me or not, and drinking from real china was a nice change on a workday morning.
    However, if I didn’t get back soon, our employees would begin to think I’d absconded to Brazil with their paychecks. I told Edie, “I understand something’s been bothering you.”
    Edie frowned at Alex. “Did Olive tell you that?”
    Alex sipped her tea and avoided Edie’s eyes. “She said something to make me think you’ve joined the hereafter club. You know”—she waved to show it wasn’t real important—“the one where you go into a room and ask, ‘What did I come in here after?’ ”
    Edie didn’t crack a smile. “I hope you didn’t drag Mac all the way over here to talk about something that stupid.” Her voice was cross.
    Alex sipped her tea before replying. “Isaac says Mac’s real good at puzzles.”
    Edie gave me a sour look. “Alex and Olive ought to mind their own business.”
    My employees didn’t talk to me like that, but then, none of them ever chaired my board.
    “Since I haven’t,” her boss replied, “why don’t you go ahead and tell us about it?”
    Edie heaved a sigh that came from the tips of her clogs. “It’s so silly. But since we’re here—I got in my car last Sunday and couldn’t reach the pedals. Since nobody ever drives the car but me, I must have put the seat back to get out and forgotten I did it.”
    “I put my seat back almost automatically,” I reassured her. “Don’t you wish somebody would make a car short people could drive without the dashboard bumping our knees and the steering wheel removing our digestive tract as we get out?”
    She nodded. “Or one where the seat belt didn’t cut off your windpipe?”
    Alex stretched long arms above her head and preened like a cat. “You all should have taken your vitamins. But Olive said something about a door.”
    Edie’s returning good humor evaporated in a huff of disgust. “I left it unlocked that same night. I’m usually careful about locking both the door and the dead bolt since Daddy left, but I guess I forgot the night before.”
    Her daddy, Josiah Whelan, hadn’t exactly “left.” Edie had put him in Golden Years Nursing Home up in Augusta the past September, after a massive stroke left him paralyzed on the left side and unable to speak.
    “What was most puzzling,” Edie continued, “was that the cat was inside. He’s an outdoor cat. He never comes inside.”
    No wonder she was troubled, if she was forgetting to lock her door. Hope County isn’t the crime capital of the South, but isolated women are vulnerable wherever they live. Still, there could be a rational explanation. I suggested one possibility. “Could Genna have used your car while you were asleep?”
    Like I said before, Genna was Edie’s stepdaughter—Wick’s child by a previous marriage. When her husband, Adney, was out of town on business, Genna often slept over with Edie. My daughter-in-law Cindy, who was Genna’s friend, said Adney was nervous about Genna sleeping in their house alone.
    “Genna wasn’t there that night.” Edie’s fingers twisted like mating worms. “Olive should never have mentioned this. Now you all are worried, and Genna and Adney will have one more reason why I ought to sell the grove and move into a nice little town house in town.” Her tone said exactly what she thought about a nice little town house in town and that she was