I pulled up the gravel driveway. From the looks of it—jeans and T-shirt stained with oil, a cap turned backward on his head, and work boots—Will had been tinkering under the hood. Apparently he could transition between a drafting table and mechanic’s toolbox. A man of all trades. He backed onto the grass as I pulled up next to his truck with its propped up hood.
He stepped up to my truck and opened the driver’s door. The hinges creaked and the truck rocked, the chassis groaning. I threw it into PARK, double-checked the parking break, and once I was convinced the truck wouldn’t roll back down the slight incline of the driveway, I hopped out.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to shoot that stuff up under your skin,” Will said as he slammed the door closed behind me.
“What stuff?” Madelyn asked.
Will shook his head at me. “Botox.”
“No way,” I said, as Madelyn added, “We’re here in an official capacity.” She walked around the front of the truck and joined us. “She fancies herself a dressmaking detective, I think.” She winked at me and I scowled at her.
“So you’re not here for injections,” Will said, tucking his oil rag in his back pocket, a playful smile on his lips. “That’s good.”
“She might if that’s what it takes to get people to tell her what she wants to know.”
Will arched a brow and studied me. “Let me guess. You want to prove Mrs. James is innocent.”
“As a matter of fact…”
“She just might,” Madelyn said. “She’s solved one crime. Why not two?”
Will nodded, folding his arms over his chest. “Maybe you need a new sign on your shop. Buttons and Bows Detective Agency.”
“Ha ha,” I said, but I couldn’t help my smile from spreading. “I’ll stick to fashion design, thank you very much, but I do want to help Mrs. James. I know she didn’t kill that man.”
“How do you know that? That day she came over to your place, she was acting pretty damn guilty, if you ask me.”
“There’s got to be more to it.” I laid my palm flat against my stomach. “I feel it. I just know she didn’t kill Macon Vance.”
“You’re right,” a voice said, the crunch of gravel sounding under steady footsteps. “Zinnia didn’t kill him, but there are plenty of other people who had motive.” We all turned to look for the person who’d spoken. A man walked up the driveway. He looked to be in his late forties. Slightly thinning dark blond hair and suntanned skin. A salmon-colored polo and khakis. Fit. I’d never seen him before in my life. “She’s innocent,” he said.
Will strode down the driveway, his arm outstretched. “Will Flores,” he said.
The other man took the offered hand and shook. “Steven Allen. Zinnia’s son-in-law.” He lifted his chin toward the Hughes’s house. “My wife’s in there. She didn’t want to come tonight, what with her mother being formally arrested, but I made her. Told her it doesn’t do her mother any good if her daughter holes up at home. Nope, better to get out, be seen, so everyone knows it’s nothing but a horrible mistake.”
Madelyn and I walked down the driveway to join Will, introducing ourselves to Steven.
“So you’re the dressmaker, come home to roost, all the way from New York. Zinnia talks about you constantly. Says you’re the spitting image of your cousin, and when she first saw you, it took her back to when she was a girl.”
I shook my head. “I don’t have any cousins or aunts and uncles.” Texana had had Cressida; Cressida had Loretta Mae, who’d only had Coleta—my grandmother, Nana—and Jimmy, but Uncle Jimmy had long since passed on. Nana and Granddaddy had only Mama. “Maybe the spitting image of Loretta Mae, my great-grandmother. People tell me that all the time.” My fingers fluttered over the streak of blond in my hair. “I think it’s this. We all have it.” Mine was more pronounced than Mama’s or Nana’s, but Loretta Mae’s had been blonder than mine.
“Could be, but a lot of people have that. You should see—”
A horn blared as a car drove past. Will raised his arm in a wave. “Old man Johnson,” he said, the look he gave me making me think he knew about the weather vane.
“You’re making my daughter’s Margaret dress?” Steven asked me.
“Libby, yes. She’s such a sweet girl, and let me tell you, she’s going to look amazing!” Libby favored her mother, which was a good thing. Steven’s slightly pointy nose would not have been a good feature on the girl, and her dimple softened her look even when she seemed scared of her own shadow.
One side of his mouth curved up in a sad little smile. “She is a good girl, but she’s a mess right now over her grandmother’s arrest. I made her come with her mama just to get her out of the house.”
“Poor thing,” Madelyn said. The look she gave me, combined with the tilt of her head toward the Hughes’s house, said, Let’s go.
I held up a finger, telling her to wait one more minute; then I turned back to Mr. Allen. “Is the sheriff allowing your mother-in-law to have visitors? I’d really like to see her.”
He studied me for a long beat, as if he were searching through his memory banks. He suddenly snapped his fingers and his face lit up with recognition. “You’re the one that helped solve that murder a few months back, aren’t you? I read about that in the paper. Dressmaker catches murderer?” He chuckled, then added, “Think you can do that again? My wife and daughter will buy every dress you ever make if you do.”
“I just want to help Mrs. James. She’s been good to me since I’ve been back home and she’s… an old family friend.” I left out that she and Nana’s friendship had gone by the wayside, and if Steven knew anything about it, he kept it to himself.
“What, exactly, are you hoping to find out, Cassidy?” Will rocked back on his heels, arms folded across his chest.
I could tell he didn’t want me to get involved in another murder investigation, but not having grown up with an abundance of friends, I was thankful for the ones I had. And I’d protect them however I could. “I don’t know,” I answered. “But somebody must know something. Macon Vance had a reputation as a lady’s man.” I turned to Steven. “Is that what you meant, that plenty of people have motives? Lots of jealous or angry husbands out there?”
“Vance’s reputation crossed three counties. I sit on the board at the golf club. We checked him out before we hired him. Of course this was sixteen years ago. He came from a little town out in West Texas, and even back then, he already had a reputation. But he was a damn good golfer. He’s been on the pro circuit and we thought he’d be a good asset to the club. What we didn’t expect was that there were quite so many lonely wives in Bliss. Vance made his way through a good many of them.”
“Why keep him around if he did all that?” I asked.
He shrugged again. “Like I said, he’s a damn good golfer. Sure, he had a reputation. Every time his contract came up, the board vote was split, but the bottom line was that he raised the status of the club.”
I shook my head. Keeping someone around who was wreaking havoc in the community didn’t seem like a good idea. I would have voted nonrenewal, but that was just me.
Next door, a gaggle of giggling women sauntered down the walkway, leaving the party. “Come on, Madelyn,” I said. “We have to get in there.”
She gave me a look that said, No kidding. So why are you lollygagging around?
“I’ll come with you,” Steven said. “I’m thinking Sandra’s ready to come on home.”
“You can come, too,” I said to Will. “Check out all the wrinkle-free women.”
He picked up a tool and bent back over his truck’s engine. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll take the wrinkles and all on my woman.”