The Liar

“Melody. My sister’s got a hell of a temper if you flip the right switch. Sheriff?” Forrest said as Griff was already bolting out the door.

“Yeah, go on with him. Just what we need to tie a ribbon on this day. Your sister tossing Florence Piedmont’s granddaughter out some window.”

•   •   •

SHE DIDN’T PLAN on tossing Melody out a window, primarily because she hadn’t thought of it. She didn’t have a clear idea what she intended to do, but the one thing she was clear on, she didn’t intend to do nothing.

Ignoring the bitch hadn’t worked, sarcasm hadn’t worked, straight talk hadn’t worked.

So she’d find something that did, and finish this off once and for all.

The Piedmont house sat on a long, sloping rise of lush green with terraced walls of white brick showing off a bounty of graceful trees, perfectly trimmed shrubs.

From its vantage it could look down at the Ridge, out at the hills, down into folds of valleys. It stood elegantly, as it had since before the War Between the States, laced with verandas flowing out from the snow-white facade. Gardens swept along its feet in rivers of color.

It was a house she’d always admired. Now she shot toward it like an arrow from a bow.

She knew Melody lived in the carriage house, aimed for it once she’d crested the rise. Ears buzzing with temper, she slammed out of the van, strode past Melody’s car, and would have marched straight to the door if someone hadn’t hailed her.

“Why, it’s Shelby Anne Pomeroy!”

She recognized the housekeeper, a longtime member of the big house—and Maybeline’s sister—and struggled to rein in her fury enough to smile in return.

“It’s wonderful to see you, Miz Pattie. How is everything for you?”

“It’s just fine.” The woman, tall, thin, her salt-and-pepper hair in a tidy and tight cap of curls, walked over. She carried a basket half full of early roses. “Such a pretty spring we’re having this year, even if the heat’s already starting to rise. I’m so glad you’re back home to enjoy it. I am sorry about your husband.”

“Thank you. Miz Pattie, I really need to speak to Melody.”

“Why, she’s having breakfast on the back veranda with Mrs. Piedmont and Miz Jolene. I expect this has something to do with the trouble at Miz Vi’s. I got an earful on it from Maybeline, and Lorilee, too.”

“Yes, it’s something like that.”

“Then you go right around. I hope you girls can settle this.”

“Settling it’s why I’m here. Thank you.”

She let the fury come back, bubble up as she took the walkway, crossed the velvety green lawn, as she heard female voices and smelled those early roses.

And there was Melody, sitting at a table draped with white, decked with pretty china and juices sparkling in glass pitchers.

“I am not going to apologize, Grandmama, so there’s no point hounding me on it. I didn’t say a thing that wasn’t true, and I won’t lower myself to crawling to those people just so Jolene can have her trashy hairdresser back.”

“Crystal isn’t trashy, Melody, and we shouldn’t have—”

“You just stop it, Jolene, and stop that whining, too. I’m sick to death of it. If anything, that little slut and her interfering grandmother should—”

She spotted Shelby, pushed to her feet as Shelby came up the slope like a highballing train. Melody’s eyes widened as she saw Forrest and Griff running full out behind her.

“You get out of here. You’re not welcome here!”

“I say who’s welcome here,” Florence said in a snap.

“If she is, I’m not.”

Melody started to turn away, but Shelby grabbed her arm, spun her around. “You paid him. You paid Arlo Kattery to try to hurt me.”

“Get your hand off me. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a liar on top of it.” Before she knew it was her clear intention, Shelby bunched a hand into a fist, and used it.

She heard shouting through the buzzing in her ears, saw through the red mist that blurred her vision Melody’s eyes go glassy.

The next thing she knew someone clamped her arms down from the back, lifted her off her feet. She kicked out, because she wasn’t done. She wasn’t nearly done, but the arms only tightened.

“Stop it. Come on, Red, pull it in now. You gave her a good shot.”

“It’s not enough. It’s not enough for what she did.”

Melody sat on her ass, where she’d gone down on the graceful veranda. “She hit me! Y’all saw how she attacked me.” Sobbing, she held a hand to her jaw. “I want to press charges.”

“Fine,” Forrest told her. “I think the ones against you are going to be a lot weightier.”

“I didn’t do anything. I don’t know what she’s talking about. Grandmama, it hurts.”

“Jolene, stop waving your hands around like you’re going to take flight and go get an ice pack.” Florence, who’d gotten to her feet, sat again, heavily. “I need an explanation. I need to know why this girl would come here, with these wild accusations, and strike my granddaughter.”