“Oh my God, Miss Cordelia. You never told me you played baseball,” Daisy said.
“I don’t.” Cordelia tossed the rake to the side, a little frightened of what she’d done. She’d never so much as swatted a fly in her life. Her hands shook as fear and fire coursed through her veins. “Let’s go before they wake up.”
They dug through Sean’s pockets until they found Edna’s keys and tossed them to her. Just in case, Cordelia relieved both men of their guns, holding them by her thumbs and index fingers, like they might go off if she wrapped her palms around them. Once they stepped outside, she tossed them into a nearby bush. They’d be impossible to find in the dark.
“Should we call the police?” Daisy asked.
“No,” Cordelia and Edna said at the same time.
They stopped and looked at each other, unsure of why the other said no. Cordelia didn’t want to involve the sheriff becauseshe was certain he’d been the one to delete the pictures off her phone. But what did Edna have to gain by keeping the police out of this? She’d been the one who’d been thrown in a trunk, after all. She had to know Sean would come for her again, and maybe she wouldn’t be so lucky next time.
“Why did Sean take you from the festival?” Cordelia asked. “And don’t bother lying, I saw the two of you in that alley. That’s how we ended up out here.”
“You were spying on me?” Edna’s eye bulged with indignation.
Daisy’s nose scrunched. “And you’re welcome for it, you ungrateful bi—”
Cordelia put a hand on Daisy’s arm to still her. “Why is he so convinced the Chickadee land is holding oil? You owe us that much.”
Edna released a deep sigh as she glanced between them and the building where her abductors had been knocked out. “Let’s get out of here first. If you follow me back to my house, I’ll explain everything. I swear.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“I HAVE TO SAY,YOU OUGHT TO SUE YOUR INTERIOR DESIGNER,”DAISY SAID.
Cordelia sat next to Daisy on a gold-trimmed settee and found she couldn’t disagree. Edna’s parlor, as she called it, had maroon wallpaper stamped with gold fern leaves, a gold mantel over a black granite fireplace, and marble busts of both her and Corbin. It was tackier than a swimsuit competition in a child’s beauty pageant.
Edna sneered. “Sorry, I’m not interested in taking the opinions of a... someone like you seriously,” she said, pulling back the insult at the last second.
Saving her life must’ve counted for something, but not enough as far as Cordelia was concerned. “One more word, and I’ll throw you in my trunk and hand deliver you to Sean.” She could put up with a lot of sass, but she wouldn’t stand for anyone disrespecting Daisy. “We don’t like each other, so just get on with what you have to tell us so we can get out of your hair.”
“Fine.” Edna shot Daisy another dirty look. “Sean O’Leary has proof that the miner’s legend is real. He came across a journal with a map in it.”
“Did he happen to come across this journal in Porter Sheldon’s safe in his locked house while he was out of town?” Daisy asked.
“I don’t know about all that.” Heat bloomed over Edna’s cheeks. If Cordelia didn’t know how heartless she was, she might’ve said Edna was ashamed. “Sean knows Corbin and I were trying to buy up the land for our own development purposes, so he made a deal with Corbin, and now we can’t make good on it. The last person he partnered with who couldn’t make good on a deal ended up in a shallow grave a mile from Benedict’s.”
Cordelia shivered. She didn’t doubt that Sean was capable of murder, but having it so bluntly confirmed chilled her to the bone. “What’s this miner’s legend about?”
“Sarsaparilla Falls used to be a mining town back in the 1800s,” Edna said. “Rumor has it a man named Glenn Overbeck went digging for gold but came up with oil instead. Oil was new back then, but he was an educated man and wrote it down in his journal along with a map. Then he headed back to town with plans of getting in touch with George Bissell himself, but he got robbed that night and didn’t survive.”
“That sounds like a lot of nonsense,” Cordelia said. There were rumors like that spread all over Texas. If it were true, it would’ve been discovered years ago, long before the journal fell into Porter Sheldon’s hands. “What kind of deal did Corbin make with Sean?”
Edna shook her head like she couldn’t believe the idiocy of her husband. “He told Sean if he helped us acquire the Chickadee, he could have the spot of land that allegedly held oil.”
If Corbin’s brains were leather, he wouldn’t have enough to saddle a June bug. He had no way of getting his hands on the Chickadee, and he should’ve known that from the get-go. Penelope’s trust was as airtight as a submarine. Not even Cordelia could get out of it.
“Is that why y’all tried to frame Daisy?” Cordelia asked.
Edna drew her neck back far enough to crack the bones. “What are you going on about?”
“Nothing.” Edna had only just quit accusing Daisy of murder, and Cordelia didn’t need to fan those flames again, despite their tentative ceasefire. “So Corbin made a stupid deal he couldn’t possibly honor, and you’re paying the price for it. Is that right?”
“In a nutshell.” Edna’s shoulders slumped, exhaustion deepening the circles under her eyes.
“How does the sheriff factor into this?” Cordelia asked.
“Sean has something on him.” Edna held up her hands. “I don’t know what, so don’t bother asking, but the sheriff has been making things easier for us because of our association.”
