Drop Dead Divas Read Online Free Page A

short-lived.
    “Rayna!” Bitty exclaimed in what can only be described as a deliciously shocked tone. “Are you certain?”
    Whatever Rayna Blue, a founding member of the Dixie Divas, said on the other end of the line must have been affirmative, because Bitty immediately laughed, then said in a solemn, pious voice, “Well, bless her heart.”
    My attention was now immediately riveted on the informative phone call instead of pimento cheese. I moved closer to Bitty. “What? Bless whose heart?”
    “Naomi Spencer’s,” Bitty said over her shoulder, and then went back to listening to Rayna.
    Naomi Spencer? The young woman Bitty had so recently showered with venom and chicken and dumplings? Oh, this had to be good. I could hardly wait for her to get off the phone and tell me what was going on.
    By the time Bitty finally hung up the phone and turned to look at me, I had managed to smear pimento cheese on slices of bread, the countertop, and the back of my hand. She sucked in a deep breath and smiled. It was a feline, satisfied smile.
    “Naomi Spencer has been arrested.”
    In my shock, I nearly spread pimento cheese up my arm. “No! For what?”
    Bitty leaned against the counter and propped her chin in her palm. “Murder.”
    She rolled the R and drew the word out like a character in a bad TV show.
    I rolled my eyes. “Who did she murder?”
    “Oh, that’s the best part. Her fiancé. Race Champion.”
    “Dear god—that’s really his name?”
    “No, I think it’s Rupert or Roger, or something like that. They only call him Race because he races stock cars. Can you believe it? She probably killed him for giving her an engagement ring he got out of a box of Cracker Jacks.”
    “I don’t think Cracker Jacks has prizes anymore,” I said, and it was Bitty’s turn to roll her eyes. I ignored her. “How did Rayna find out about it?”
    “Rob. He’s a bail bondsman, remember?”
    “Oh, that’s right.” Rob Rainey, Rayna’s husband, is an insurance investigator and writes bonds on the side. Since Rayna would be known as Rayna Rainey if she took his last name, she kept her maiden name. A lot of women do that these days, I’ve noticed, for various reasons. After my divorce, I went back to my maiden name, too. I’m not really sure why, except that at the time the only memory of Perry I wanted to keep was our daughter. Silly, in reflection, but that’s the way I felt then.
    Anyway, Bitty and I both silently absorbed the information of Naomi’s arrest, each of us from our own points of view.
    Bitty broke the silence first. “Just how much pimento cheese are you going to put on that one sandwich?”
    I looked down. At least an inch of creamy, yellow-orange deliciousness was piled atop a single slice of bread. “Too much?” I asked.
    “Not for me. Slap that other slice of light bread on top and hand it over.”
    For those unfamiliar with Southern dialect, in some parts of the South light bread simply refers to plain white bread, not the low-calorie or low-carb kind. There was nothing low-calorie about our sandwiches.
    We ate in silence attended only by the occasional meaningful glance and nod of our heads at one another. I’m pretty sure our inner dialogue ran along similar lines. After all, Naomi Spencer had been heard to say quite a few tacky things about Bitty’s arrest for the murder of Philip Hollandale. What goes around, comes around , must be the thought uppermost in both our minds.
    “Well,” Bitty said when we had polished off our sandwiches and licked clean our fingers, “which Diva do we tell first?”
    I thought about it. There was no question of keeping it to ourselves, of course. This was big news in a small town. Murder, despite recent experiences to the contrary, was not a common crime in Holly Springs. 
    “Cady Lee Forsythe,” I said, and Bitty smiled.
    “Perfect. She’s got the biggest mouth in town. It will be all over Marshall County before sundown.”
    Cady Lee Forsythe, now married