“Thank you. It’s an honor to be here at this table with all of the judges this evening,” I said, doing my best impersonation of pageant royalty.
“And, my dear, how was your day?” Dr. Bellingham asked, his eyes still fixed on me as he leaned his elbows on the table, likely hoping for something clever from me.
“Oh, you know. The usual. I spent the morning reading myBeauty Queen’s Guide to Murder and Mayhem.”
The other contestants at the table—including Jemma and Summer, who looked like they might do a spit-take—stilled at my quip, one I hadn’t even considered before letting it pop out of my mouth. But Dr. Bellingham laughed, full-throated and hearty. “Beauty Queen’s Guide… that is very clever. Very clever.” He continued laughing as he moved on to Jemma to inquire about her afternoon, and that’s when I noticed the pinky ring on his finger, which meant that it hadn’t been the one in my aunt’s room.
I was relieved to have the spotlight off me, and I turned to Charlie, who wore a look of surprise, which reminded me how out of practice I was at conversation. It was certainly too early to joke about Mr. Finch’s murder, especially not with the man who I thought might be involved in his death.
“Sorry. I’m not great at this,” I said quietly to the sheriff.
“No need to apologize to me.” He looked around at the other guests talking among themselves. “This isn’t exactly my usual scene either.”
“You don’t regularly dress like you’re from a hundred years ago and try to solve murders?”
“I reserve this outfit for only the most special occasions,” Charlie answered, patting the pocket on the front of his suit.
“Then I’m glad you could join us,” I said, surprising myself with how much I meant it.
At that moment the hum of conversation paused as Savilla Finch stepped into the dining room wearing a blood-red gown that trailed behind her. She made her way to Dr. Bellingham, who stood to receive her. She gave him her hand, and he folded it within his own. A second later, he moved close to her ear and whispered something before she let out a silvery laugh.
Jemma, Summer, and I exchanged glances from our spots around the table. The dynamics between Savilla and Dr. Bellingham, this shared intimacy, seemed to be a new development.
I tried tofix my face, as Momma would say.
As Dr. Bellingham seated Savilla, I took a sip of my wine, wondering what Momma would think if she could see this scene—and me in it. Just as immediately, I pictured Aunt DeeDee sitting in her jail cell, waiting for me to do something. I set aside the wine and drank water. I needed to stay sharp. The sheriff also seemed to be keeping a watchful eye on Savilla and Dr. Bellingham, which gave me some measure of comfort.
Within seconds of being seated, Savilla tapped a spoon against the edge of her crystal stemware, summoning the attention of the women gathered in the massive dining hall as well as a smattering of guests and staff.
All eyes turned to her as she spoke, commanding the room as well as, if not better than, her father or stepmother had ever done.
“I asked Doris Davis, as the longest-running judge of the pageant”—Savilla nodded in Miss 1962’s direction—“if she’d like to do the honors of welcoming you all here this evening, but she insisted that I do them instead.”
Miss 1962 was oblivious. She took a long gulp from her wine glass, and I wondered if she’d turned off her hearing aids so she could enjoy her evening in peace.
“I spoke to StepMommy on the phone a few minutes ago, and she wanted you all to know that she plans to be back on the premises for showtime tomorrow night.”
The room applauded. Savilla took a few moments to look at each of the faces in the room—the dozen or so at our table as well as those scattered across the dining space.
“This—the centennial year—has brought with it a magniftude of sorrow. My father’s death is a grave loss, not only to myself and my stepmother, but to the pageant world. Even though I’m grateful we can be together and share this amazing meal, I can’t help but picture my father in the midst of you all. He would have loved to see this room filled, the wine flowing. I do want to acknowledge that we are doing all of this with a hint of dilapidation.”
Magnifitude? Dilapidation?I considered the malapropisms before recalling that Savilla seemed to have an explanation for every odd word she spoke.
Dr. Bellingham raised a glass in support of Savilla and the beautiful women around him. He was grinning far too much for my liking.
“To that end, I would ask anyone who might know anything about my father’s death… or my stepmother’s poisoning…” She choked back a small cry. “Please, if you know anything,immediately come forward and tell Sheriff Strong.” Here, Savilla looked across the table at Charlie before her eyes fell on me, and she gave the slightest indication that she had noticed the two of us seated together. “Any amount of information—no matter how ridicule…”
Ridicule?Perhaps a combination of minuscule and ridiculous? I could see it.
“… could be helpful to the sheriff in determining if we have a killer among us. I trust him to do a thorough job to bring justice to my family and this pageant.”
At the conclusion of her speech, I almost gave a standing ovation. It was as if Savilla had only been waiting to take her rightful role on the stage of her family’s pageant.
“To Mr. Finch,” Miss 1962 said. So her hearing aids were on after all.
“To justice,” Katie Gilman added, raising her wineglass.
“To all of you lovely ladies,” Dr. Bellingham said, nearly giddy. This man had either started on the alcohol long before everyone else, or he was a criminal relieved to have gotten away with his dastardly deed.
