“But Josie told me you were gunning for Nate. You should have seen her. She was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.”
The sheriff cocked his head and gave a mocking laugh. “I’m not a fool, Harlow. I didn’t tell them I believed his story.”
Right. “No, sir, I guess you wouldn’t. What about Nell’s will?”
“What about it?”
“I heard she had one. Did you find it?” And if it was never signed, then what?
“She had one, dated a few months back. No family to speak of,” the sheriff said, “so it should hold up. She bequeathed her fifty percent interest in Seed-n-Bead to Josefina Sandoval.”
Mixed emotions swirled through me. The inheritance meant another motive for Josie, or a stable future in case things didn’t work out with Nate. “Does she know?”
He flipped his wrist to look at his watch. “She will in about half an hour.”
“What about the murder, Sheriff?” Will asked.
“Nate Kincaid,” he said flatly, “has an alibi.”
Everything screeched to a halt. “He does?”
The sheriff nodded. “He was on a flight out of DFW at six thirty that night and got back just before nine the next morning. He couldn’t have killed Nell. He was in the middle of something big the day she was killed.” He puckered his thin lips and whistled, low and prolonged, giving Will and me both pointed looks.
Will leaned forward. “No kidding. He’s a whistle-blower?”
“Made a few phone calls,” McClaine said. “Definitely looks that way.”
I followed the unraveling thread of what they were saying. “How can he be an informant for something? Wait—you mean he’s blowing the whistle on his own family’s company? About what?”
“Don’t know, don’t care,” the sheriff said. “It’ll come out. Eventually. But it means he’s no longer a suspect.”
My mind reeled. So someone in the Kincaid family was doing something illegal and didn’t know Nate was about to blow the whistle. It meant the wedding could go on, but Josie was walking into a mess of trouble with that family. Not to mention that someone was still getting away with murder.
Chapter 45
I’d spent the remaining days before the wedding putting the final touches on the wedding party’s dresses. I attached another hundred pearls to Josie’s gown. Doublechecked the stitching on Ruthann’s zipper. Measured and remeasured from the waistline of Karen’s dress to the hem. Slip-stitched the hem of Miriam’s frock. Pressed Holly’s dress.
There was nothing left to do beside the final fittings. At last the day before the wedding had arrived. This was it. The bridal party would be here in minutes. I couldn’t believe I had gotten all the dresses done in time. My hands trembled from exhaustion; would I even be able to hold a needle?
I closed my eyes and let my mind wander. One by one, images of the bridal party popped into my head, all perfectly turned out in the garments I’d created. I heaved a relieved sigh. I was becoming more and more sure that being able to imagine and design the perfect dress for someone was my charm. Seeing each of them in my head released the kinks in my nerves.
But one thought zinged in and out of my mind. If I couldn’t envision a person’s perfect clothing—like I hadn’t been able to with Nell—did that mean that person was destined to die? I squeezed my eyes shut to force the idea into a back compartment of my mind. I didn’t want that kind of information about people.
I fielded a few phone calls while waiting for the wedding party to arrive, jotting down the names of people who wanted to come in for custom garment fittings, another bride in search of the perfect wedding dress, and a few folks who needed alterations to their polyester clothing. I feared the alterations might remain the bread and butter of my business for a while, although things were picking up. I’d noted all the dates and times in my lavender, button-adorned, fabric-covered appointment book. I wasn’t booked solid by any stretch of the imagination, but I wouldn’t be pleading for mercy with the creditors, either.
The phone rang again just as the bells on the front door jingled. Gracie came in, followed by Mama. Even Nana came to help, though she bounded through the kitchen door, as usual. The troops were here.
“Harlow?”
Mrs. Zinnia James’s voice echoed in my ear. “Oh, yes, ma’am, I’m here!” I pointed, directing Mama, Nana, and Gracie to the three bridesmaid dresses. My chest swelled with pride. If Maximilian could see me now . . .
“Harlow,” Mrs. James snapped.
“Yes, ma’am. Here.” I turned my back on the workroom. “What can I do for you?”
“Two things, my dear. First, I want to make appointments for a new dress for that event I mentioned to you and for my granddaughter’s fitting for her pageant dress.”
We set a date for the following week and I jotted it down in my book. “What else, Mrs. James?”
“A fashion show.”
“A fashion show?”
“A fashion show. At Christmas.”
It felt like we were playing an obscure guessing game, but I kept at it. “A fashion show for teenagers, then?”
“Possibly. For women, too. A big event. Your designs. A fund-raiser for the library. Don’t say anything yet. Just let the idea percolate for a while. We can talk more about it after the Sandoval-Kincaid wedding is over. Of course there’s the pageant in July. That will be first. Then the fashion show during the holidays. I’ll be keeping you busy, Harlow.”
And then she was gone and I was left holding the phone, visions of black and white and pink dresses floating in my mind. Mrs. Zinnia James, it seemed, was my personal event coordinator, which, as far as I could tell, would be a very good thing for business.
The arrival of the bridal party snapped me out of the fashion show that was going on in my head. Karen and Ruthann sidled in together. Miriam arrived a few minutes later, looking like she was being dragged over the threshold by her mother. Josie straggled in last, her dark hair flat and in need of a wash, her mascara smeared under her lower lashes, and dark circles confirming my suspicion that the bride wasn’t sleeping well.
As the bridesmaids slipped into their dresses, I pulled her aside, grateful that I could still see her as a bride in my mind, perfectly coiffed and ready to walk down the aisle in the dress I’d made for her. “Are you okay?” I whispered.
She brushed her stringy hair away from her face, her eyes looking a little wild, like a tiger who wanted out of her cage. “Nell left the bead shop to me,” she blurted out. “Why would she do that?” She stared at me as if I had a crystal ball that could see right into the past.
“You were friends. Almost family,” I said. It was the best I could do, but I also thought it was the truth. Nell had chosen her family, and she’d chosen Josie. It was a small consolation that she’d felt that kinship before she died.
It took a few minutes for Josie to regroup, but she did, throwing her shoulders back, mustering a smile, and stripping out of her clothes behind the changing screen. It took ten minutes for her to wiggle into her Spanx and then, with my help, into her gown, but when she emerged from behind the screen, the room fell silent.
Ruthann, floating like an ethereal faerie in her pale green chiffon, fluttered her hands as she looked at Josie. Karen, looking curvy and feminine, nearly swooned. Even Miriam, whose dress was the simplest design, yet looked supremely elegant on her trim figure, smiled.