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

prude. If Mr. Moseley wanted to have an affair with Bunny, who was she to sit in judgment? After all, she was thinking of Grady in pretty much the same way—although she had to admit that there was a difference. Neither she nor Grady were married. Mr. Moseley was, and Bunny knew it. That was what made it torrid, in Liz’s opinion.
    Verna, however, was not very interested in the seamy stuff. In fact, she hardly blinked. She seemed to be much more interested in the story Bunny had told Mr. Moseley about her life on a farm outside Monroeville, with a drunk for a father and a runaway mother who had left her with four younger brothers and sister to care for, including a pair of twins.
    “Bunny told him she kept them all fed and clothed and walked miles to school every day,” Lizzy concluded. “He was impressed by her courage. I guess that might have been what attracted him to her in the first place.”
    “Courage, smourage,” Verna scoffed. “He was impressed by her—” She glanced at Lizzy. “By the way she looked in that red dress. What’s more, she lied to him. Bunny lived with her widowed mother, not with four little kids and a drunk.”
    “How do we know?” Lizzy asked, pushing scrambled eggs onto two plates.
    “What do you mean, how do we know?” Verna put the salad bowl on the kitchen table. “Because that’s what she told us.”
    “Well, yes. But how do we know whether the story about her widowed mother is true, or the story she told Mr. Moseley?”
    Verna frowned. “I guess we don’t,” she said slowly. “That girl was such a liar—I wonder if she told Maxwell Woodburn she’d marry him.”
    “Or told Mr. Lima that she would run away with him. Or—” She put the skillet in the sink.
    “Or promised something to somebody we don’t even know about yet,” Verna said. She looked around. “What’s to drink, Lizzy?”
    “Lemonade in the fridge. Glasses on the first shelf in the cupboard. Oh, and while you’re at it, pour some milk in a saucer for Daffy.”
    “Your fridge is a lot bigger than mine,” Verna said enviously, taking out the pitcher of lemonade and a bottle of milk. “This Monitor-top is really a beauty. Quiet, too. My Kelvinator works fine but it growls.” She opened the cupboard and took two glasses off the shelf.
    “I lived with Mother’s icebox for too many years,” Lizzy replied. “Somehow, I was the one who always got to empty the pan, because it was too heavy for Mother, and Sally-Lou always spilled water all over the floor. So when I moved in here, I got the best fridge I could afford, figuring I’d have it for a while.” She put a plate of corn muffins on the table and took the cover off the butter dish. “We could ask Mrs. Bledsoe about Bunny. They were cousins. She’d know.”
    Verna poured the lemonade and Daffodil’s milk. “We can’t ask Mrs. Bledsoe because she’s up in Nashville with a new grandbaby.” She put the glasses on the table and the saucer of milk on the floor. With a rumbling purr, Daffodil began to lap it up. “Looks like there’s nothing further we can do as far as the Limas are concerned,” she added. “So what would you think of going over to Monroeville to do a little snooping? I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard to locate somebody who knew Bunny. She’s not exactly the shrinking violet type, you know. Probably everybody knew her.”
    Lizzy opened Sally-Lou’s home-canned peaches and spooned them into two bowls. “Monroeville,” she said thoughtfully. “Well, I guess we could. But it would have to be after work.” The two sat down. Lizzy took some salad and passed the bowl to Verna. “And how would we get there?” She occasionally rode her bicycle to work, but neither she nor Verna had a car.
    “How about going tomorrow? We might could ask Myra May to drive us, if she can get away from the diner and the switchboard. Maybe stop for supper at Buzz’s Barbeque?”
    “Sounds like a good idea to me.” Lizzy felt in the pocket of her dress for her hankie and pulled out something else.
    “Oh, dear,” she said. “It’s Bunny’s photo. And the deposit book.” She put it on the table between them. “I guess I had these in my hand when we heard Mrs. Brewster coming and we had to hide in the closet. I must’ve stuck them in my pocket.”
    Verna chuckled. “Well, I don’t suppose anybody is going to put you in jail for stealing a photo, Lizzy. And now that Bunny’s dead, she’s not going to be withdrawing that