Elizabeth Lynn Casey - Pinned for Murder

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Table of Contents

Undone

Everyone has a temper sometimes. And Kenny Murdock is no exception. Exhaling an errant strand of light brown hair from her forehead, Tori continued, her voice still quiet yet firm. Branding him a killer because of it is simply ludicrous.

Problem was, she wasnt buying what she was selling. Shed seen Kennys face the previous afternoon. Shed heard the blatant threat hed hurled in Martha Janes direction. Shed felt the rage simmering inside him.

And now the woman was dead. Strangled by a piece of rope that sounded a lot like the kind hed been using that very day to bundle sticks in Roses backyard.

Victoria is right, Beatrice said, her accent and her innate shyness making them all lean closer to hear. Whats that expression? Just because it looks like a duck and acts like a duck, it doesnt mean its a duck.

Margaret Louise laughed, her hand slipping around the nannys shoulders in a conspiratorial fashion. They may say it like that across the pond... but here, in the States, if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it is, in fact, a duck.

Oh. Beatrice flashed a look of apology in Victorias direction. Im sorry. I was only trying to help.

Tori reached out, patted the girls hand. I know. But dont worry. It will be okay. Martha Janes killer will be found.

What that would do to Rose when it happened, though, was anyones guess...

Berkley Prime Crime titles by Elizabeth Lynn Casey

SEW DEADLY
DEATH THREADS
PINNED FOR MURDER

In memory of Paula Stech,
a woman who taught me the true meaning
of strength and courage in the face of adversity.

Chapter 1

As all reading enthusiasts know, books improve your life in unimaginable ways. They provide a momentary escape from the mundane, serve as food for the mind, and at times when humming isnt a socially acceptable way of passing time with a less than interesting companion, books offer much-needed conversation starters.

That these bound feats of literature also make excellent stand-ins for doorstops, posture correctors, and hand weights is simply icing on the cake. But, like nearly everything else in life, books, when put to the test, have an area where they fail to achieve.

The ability to repel water is that area.

A test they failed in red-inked spades if the bottom row of shelves in Sweet Briar Public Library was any indication. Hard covers, paperbacks... it mattered naught. If they were less than a foot off the ground, they fell prey to the effects of the seasons most impressive weather event to date, ushering in yet another undeniable fact....

Rogerof the tropical storm varietywas obviously not a reading enthusiast.

Groaning, Tori Sinclair hoisted yet another saturated book onto the wheeled cart in the center of the narrow aisle and shook her head, the repetitive motion dislodging the last few strands of light brown hair from a ponytail that had seen better days.

Has this ever happened before? she asked as she peered through the nearly empty shelf at the plump woman on the other side.

Sure as shootin. Amelia paid us a visit bout three years ago but she was pretty easygoing as far as leavin a mess behind. Before that there was Tom an Richard an Margaret Louise Davis wiped her hands down the sides of her black polyester pants and gestured to the dark-skinned girl two shelves to her leftGus. At least I reckon it was Gus. Though now that I say it out loud it doesnt sound right. Nina, do you remember the one Im talkin bout? The one that knocked the gazebo in the town square to kingdom come?

How could I forget? Toris assistant replied with a sigh, her petite frame slumping against the shelf of paperback mysteries that played host to authors with H names. Gus was the worst... until this one blew into town, anyway.

Land sakes these storm names are hard to remember. If I was naming em Id give em good southern names that folks can recollect.

Tori smiled in spite of the destruction around them, her friends words a bright spot in an otherwise miserable morning. You mean like yours, Margaret Louise? Because youre right, it flows off the tongue like a champ. Much, much more easily than Tom or Gus.

Oblivious to the teasing tone in Toris voice, the woman nodded. It does, doesnt it? And thats just the kind of name folks need to remember one storm from another. With a huff and a puff, Margaret Louise rose to her feet, her assigned shelf now clear of all water-damaged books. Though Im bettin everyone on Roses street will remember Roger with not a dab of trouble. He left them the kind of mementos that make forgettin hardname or not.

Rose? Tori grabbed the last three books on her shelf and stood, her feet guiding her around the local history section and into the fiction aisle Margaret Louise and Nina had been culling through all morning. Is she okay?

Physically, yes. Though that cough shes had for the past six months or so doesnt seem to be getting better. Makes her sound like a sea lion most days. The woman motioned to Tori and Nina to follow, her sandal-clad feet making soft squishing sounds as she wound her way through cart after cart of damaged books en route to the information desk in the center of the library. Ive been after her to see a doctor for months now but that woman is as stubborn as a mule.

Margaret Louise was right. Rose Winters, the oldest in their sewing circle, was stubborn on a good day and downright ornery the rest of the time. But still, everyone loved the retired kindergarten teacher, not the least of which was Tori. In fact, aside from Margaret Louiseand her opposite-in-every-way twin sister, LeonaRose was one of Toris favorites. Especially when the eightysomethings bristles retracted in favor of a softer, more mist-inducing edge that reminded Tori of her own great-grandmother. Her late great-grandmother.

Blinking back an unexpected tear, she cut her hand through the air, the gesture successfully thwarting the inevitable ten-minute discussion about Rose and her failing health. It wasnt that she didnt care. She did. Very much. But the elderly womans cough had nothing to do with the storm or the accompanying damage Margaret Louise had alluded to at the start. Well get her in to a doctor one way or the other, even if it means calling in reinforcements from the rest of the Sweet Briar Ladies Society Sewing Circle. But we can talk about that later. Tell me about Rose and her neighbors....

Margaret Louise cocked an eyebrow of confusion. Rose and her neighbors?

You just said they wouldnt forget Roger anytime soon. Tori shot an exasperated look at Nina, her assistants trademark shy smile giving way to all-out amusement at the spectacle that was Margaret Louise Davis. Rolling her eyes skyward, she shrugged, her words willing her friend to get back on track. You know... that he left them souvenirs...

Mementos. I said, mementos.

She moved her index finger in a rolling motion. And those would be...

Busted windows, leaky roofs, damaged porches, snapped trees, no power.

Toris gasp echoed against the walls of the library. Busted windows? Leaky roobut how? She gestured around the library, her gaze skirting the bottom layer of shelves within range of the information desk before coming to rest on her friends face. I mean, I get that there was damagewe have a hundred-plus books to serve as proof of that. But structural damage like you just said? How? Why?

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