The Darling Dahlias and the Cucumber Tree (Berkley Prime Crime)

she repeated urgently.
    “Nothing’s wrong,” Lizzy replied in a high, unnatural voice. She cleared her throat and repeated it. “Nothing’s wrong. Whatever makes you think that?” She unwrapped a ham-and-sliced-tomato sandwich, laid it on its wax paper, and began peeling the egg. The shell flecked off unevenly, pulling chunks of egg with it.
    Verna grunted. “Then why are you looking like somebody just socked you in the stomach? And the way you’re attacking that poor, defenseless egg—there won’t be anything left by the time you finish butchering it.”
    Lizzy didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she put down the egg and pulled in a ragged breath. “Grady came to the office this morning to tell me that Bunny didn’t die in the car wreck, Verna. She was shot. In the head. Point-blank.”
    “Shot!” Verna exclaimed, thunderstruck. “That’s incredible!”
    She listened to Lizzy, trying to comprehend the story that spilled out incoherently, the whole unbelievable thing, from somebody shooting Bunny and pushing the car into the ravine to Mr. Moseley being terribly upset by the news—and finally Lizzy’s discovery of the invoice for the engraved rhinestone bracelet from Ettlinger’s.
    “Bunny and Benton Moseley!” By now, Verna was nearly weak from shock. “Gracious sakes, Lizzy! That girl had more men on her string than anybody can count. Do you think Mr. Moseley gave her the pearl earrings, too? Or was that somebody else? And who the devil shot her?” She leaned forward and dropped her voice, although nobody was listening. “You don’t think it was Mr. Moseley, do you?”
    “No, I do not think it was Mr. Moseley,” Lizzy parroted in a bitterly mocking tone. “You can give a girl a bracelet without being suspected of murdering her, can’t you? And Mr. Moseley simply couldn’t kill anybody. I know him, Verna. He’s not that kind of man.”
    Verna didn’t want to say so, but Lizzy was probably still carrying a torch for Mr. Moseley, whether she knew it or not. And the truth was that somebody had shot Bunny Scott and tried to make it look like she had been killed in an accident with a stolen automobile. That required planning ability and intelligence, didn’t it? Mr. Moseley certainly had plenty of both.
    And now it was clear that he could have had a motive, too. Maybe he’d had a fancy for Bunny and she was trying to break it off. Or maybe Bunny was threatening to tell his wife. Then she remembered what Ophelia had told her about Lester Lima kissing Bunny behind the curtain. Mr. Lima could have had the very same motive. Mentally, Verna put both of them at the top of the suspect list.
    Lizzy finished her sandwich and refolded the wax paper so she could use it again. “Well, if you ask me, Verna,” she said in a definitive tone, “it was the escaped convict who killed her. He’s been on the loose for over a week now, hiding somewhere around here. He’s desperate to get away. He took Bunny hostage, stole Mr. Harper’s brother’s car, and when Bunny tried to escape, he shot her. Mr. Moseley had nothing whatever to do with anything—except that he ... he knew ...”
    She took out a handkerchief and blew her nose. “He knew Bunny. I don’t know how well, and I don’t care.” She blew her nose again.
    “You may be right about the convict, Lizzy.” Verna patted her hand sympathetically, mentally adding the convict to her suspect list. “And I certainly understand how you feel about Mr. Moseley. But listen, I’ve got some news, too. About Bunny—and about Alice Ann Walker.”
    She told Lizzy what Ophelia had told her—that Mildred Kilgore had seen Bunny and Lester Lima kissing behind the curtain at the drugstore—and reported that Myra May had heard Hiram Riley and the bank examiner talking about Alice Ann Walker being questioned as a suspected embezzler.
    “Alice Ann, an embezzler?” Like Verna, Lizzy was both incredulous and indignant. “Why, that’s the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard! The Walkers are poor as church mice. What in the world would she do with that kind of money? She couldn’t spend it around here—somebody would see it and wonder where she got it. And she wouldn’t do anything to endanger the bank, either. She knows how much Darling depends on it.”
    She paused, shaking her head sadly. “But Bunny and Mr. Lester—Somehow, that’s easier to believe. Remember what Bunny said the other day?”
    “About what?”
    “That Lester Lima isn’t