Rest in Peach Read Online Free Page B

darting through the lot toward her shop down the street. Without even taking time to think, we dashed after her, weaving our way between parked cars before crossing the street and running past a couple storefronts. Once inside her shop, we came to a screeching halt. There, sprawled on the floor by the counter, was Vivien Crenshaw—a wicked-looking pair of scissors protruding from the base of her throat. My eyes followed the line of her outstretched arm. Clutched in her now lifeless hand was a debutante gown, its blood-soaked satin transformed from pure white to murderous crimson.
    •   •   •
    It seemed like an eternity before the authorities arrived. In reality, it was probably only a few minutes, but something about being up close to a corpse made time slow to a crawl. It wasn’t until Sheriff Maudy Payne and her deputy sauntered through the door that I was able to breathe a little easier.
    “What do we have here?” the sheriff asked, removing her Stetson and running a hand over an unruly crop of mousy brown hair before bringing it to rest on her gun belt. Shestood there a few seconds, shoulders back, chest puffed out and dark eyes roaming the room. Unfortunately, they turned even darker when they landed on me. Ever since last August, when I got myself tangled up in one of her murder cases, she’d been cold toward me. Of course, I don’t think she cared for me much before then, either. Something to do with a long rivalry between her and my sister, Ida. Guilt by association, I guess.
    “It’s Vivien Crenshaw,” Mrs. Busby said. The poor woman was standing off to the side with her arms clenched around her midsection as if she was trying to hold herself together. “I found her when I opened the door.”
    “What time was that?” the deputy asked. Deputy Travis Hanes was homegrown, although I’d never really met him until after I returned to Cays Mill last summer. I’d heard he studied criminal justice at Central Georgia Tech up in Macon and had just taken the job with the Cays Mill Sheriff’s Department a few months before our last murder occurred. Now this. Guess he was learning the ropes the hard way.
    Mrs. Busby continued, “Just right before I called you. Maybe a little after eleven. I’d come in to get some extra work done. When I saw what’d happened, I called you right away.” Mrs. Busby started trembling. I crossed over and wrapped my arm around her shoulders.
    “You came through the front door?”
    Mrs. Busby nodded.
    “And it was locked?”
    Another nod.
    Maudy motioned for Travis to check out the back room. In the meantime, she started pacing the scene, circling the body slowly, bending down here and there to get a closer look. “And the rest of you? Why are you here?”
    I assumed she meant Cade and me, since it would make sense for Hattie to be in her own shop. “Cade and I were with Hattie when Mrs. Busby called. We just came along to help.”
    “Aw . . . I see.” Maudy removed a ballpoint pen from her front shirt pocket and started poking at the dress in Mrs. Crenshaw’s hand. “What time did you close up shop yesterday, Ms. McKenna?”
    “I left early, I guess. Maybe around four thirty. I’d had a bad day.”
    “Did you lock up the place?”
    Hattie glanced over to where I was standing with Mrs. Busby. “No, Mrs. Busby was staying late. Keeping an eye on things for me.”
    A pointed look from the sheriff prompted Mrs. Busby to explain. “That’s true. I had to wait for Mrs. Crenshaw anyway. She was supposed to be coming in to pick up a dress at six thirty, but she called and canceled. Said she had something come up and that she’d call me today to reschedule.”
    That seemed strange. If Vivien had canceled then why did she show up at all?
    “About what time did you get the call?” the sheriff asked.
    Mrs. Busby pressed her lips together, tucked her chin and rolled her eyes to the ceiling. A few seconds later she finally responded, “It must have been a little