Pinned for Murder by Elizabeth Lynn Casey Page A

inside. “Consider yourself warned.”
    “Warned?” Tori echoed.
    “Warned.”
    “Okay . . .” Her voice trailed off as she slid across the middle bench, her mouth frozen in the open position. Everywhere she looked there were images of Kenny Rogers. Pictures, drawings, album covers, internet printouts, an assortment of buttons, and even a dashboard bobblehead came together to create a shrine-on-wheels to Beatrice’s favorite country crooner. “I—I . . .”
    “I warned you, didn’t I?” Margaret Louise elbowed Tori in the side. “It’s a sight, ain’t it?”
    “That’s one word,” mumbled Leona from the front seat as Beatrice took her spot behind the wheel.
    “Is everyone buckled in?” Beatrice reached up, adjusted the rearview mirror, and slowly backed from their parking spot. “Even though I think Luke will be just fine with Dixie, we mustn’t dillydally at Rose’s home.”
    “Of course not.” Margaret Louise leaned forward between the seats, her seat belt digging into her middle. “I see you got a bobblehead since the last time I was in your car.”
    Beatrice’s face lit up. “I did! Don’t you just love it? I found it at a flea market a few weekends ago. It was on a shelf between Dr. Phil and Julie Andrews.”
    Leona leaned her head against the seat back and closed her eyes, her mouth twisted into a grimace.
    “I found a lunch box, too! But that’s on my dresser in my room at the Johnsons’.”
    “That’s wonderful, Beatrice.” Tori peered out the window as the trees surrounding the eastern side of Sweet Briar zoomed past. There was a part of her that wanted to explore her friend’s over-the-top obsession, to fire off a set of questions that might provide a better window into the girl who sat so quietly at their circle meetings. But she couldn’t. Not when Rose’s safety was foremost in her mind.
    She understood Margaret Louise’s concern for the retired schoolteacher, but it still seemed inconceivable. Kenny adored Rose. One only needed to watch them for all of about five seconds to know that.
    Sure, anger was a powerful emotion, propelling people into committing horrific crimes across the world on a daily basis. But did those people turn on elderly women who had steadfastly stood by them for nearly three decades?
    She said as much to Margaret Louise.
    Leona lifted her head and turned to establish eye contact with Tori. “People in rages don’t think clearly, dear. They simply act.”
    Margaret Louise nodded. “No one is saying Kenny would strike out at Rose with forethought. I don’t think he has it in him to think like that. But if he’s spittin’ mad and seein’ colors the way he does sometimes . . . who knows? I’m not convinced his feelin’s for Rose would be enough to stop him.”
    Tori glanced back out the window, the urge to beg Beatrice to drive faster bordering on overwhelming.
    “We’re almost there,” Beatrice said as she turned right onto Confederate Street and left onto Battlefield Road. Letting up on the gas pedal, she glided to a stop in front of Rose’s one-story cottage home.
    “Who is that handsome soul?” Leona purred from the front seat as she stared out the passenger side window, condensation forming on the glass.
    Tori leaned forward for a better look. “Oh, that’s Doug. Milo and I hired him to help get Rose’s place back in order. He’s been an absolute godsend.”
    “Mmmm . . .”
    “Good heavens, Twin, he’s half your age,” protested Margaret Louise, her mouth torn between horror and amusement.
    “And he’d be lucky to have me,” Leona huffed as she grabbed hold of the visor and pulled, an autographed photograph of Kenny Rogers covering the lit mirror. “What on earth . . .”
    Beatrice pulled the key from the ignition and clapped her hands. “I just got that one . . . for my birthday. I joined his fan club when I came to the States and every year he takes time out of his schedule to autograph a birthday picture for