I never embezzled money from the organization. I was never that desperate.
So who was?
I look around again.
At Midge Thornbury, laughing a little too brightly at something Suze just said, her posture stiff despite the easy smile.
At Gigi Wentworth-Crane, poised and composed, the queen bee without her queen.
At the rest of the Daughters, twirling in their 1950s finery,their hair sprayed into oblivion, their secrets held tight behind red lipstick and polite conversation.
“Someone was desperate, all right,” Greer says, taking in the crowd right along with me. “Someone whose life was about to go up in flames.”
“Someone whose husband was sleeping with Vivienne,” Percy adds, fluffing his feathers and sending stray stars shooting every which way. “Someone she could humiliate in one well-timed speech.”
A chill skates down my spine despite the warm sun.
I stand, smoothing my dress, and scan the lawn until I spot my mother near the conservatory doors, laughing with a pair of guests.
“Come on,” I say. “I think I need access to some files.”
Percy perks up. “Ah. The digital paper trail. My favorite recipe for disaster.It’s like leaving crumbs for the authorities to follow, except the crumbs are spreadsheets. Rather like frosting a cake before it cools, dear—messy, premature, and everything slides right off to reveal the truth underneath.”
Greer drifts alongside me as I weave through the crowd, dodging skirts and trays and one overzealous toddler wielding a balloon sword.
“Mom!” I call out.
She turns with a laugh caught in her throat. “Lottie! What can I get you? Are the babies here yet?”
“No, not yet,” I say, glancing at my watch and wincing. “I’m guessing he has to wrangle Lyla Nell into her petticoat. There may be negotiations.”
“That girl is going to run a small country one day,” Mom says proudly.
“Better than a prison,” I say, mostly to myself. “Mom, would you happen to have access to any of the Daughters’ financial records? The charity fundin particular.”
She hesitates, glancing around at the sea of women. “Lottie, I’m a trusted board member.”
“Please.” I touch her arm. “You know Vivienne was up to something. You loved her.”
She presses her lips tight. “She did start acting strange with the books.”
“See?” I nod. “If Dolly isn’t the embezzler—and I don’t think she is—then someoneelseis. And that same someone might be the one who killed Vivienne.”
Mom exhales, shoulders dropping. “You’re your father’s daughter, you know that?”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It is.” She digs into the pocket of her cardigan and pulls out her phone. “The records are on the Daughters’ memory drive. As a board member, I’m privy to this information and most of all trusted with it. I’ll forward you the link.”
She taps for a moment, then my phone buzzes in my hand.
“Password is… Founders1954! with an exclamation point.” She winks. “Don’t tell the others. Half of them think a cloud drive is something that waters their plants.”
“I won’t breathe a word,” I promise.
She gives my arm a quick squeeze. “I’ve got to check on the catering. And pose for about a hundred pictures. Please do your best not to get me kicked out of the organization. And for Pete’s sake, do not find another body! Love you.” She lands a quick kiss to my cheek.
“Love you, too.”
