To Brie or Not to Brie by Avery Aames

“Giacomo Capriotti is Jacky’s husband. I overheard you and Jordan talking at Sew Inspired
     Quilt Shoppe the other day.”
    She’d heard us? At the bridesmaids’ dresses fitting? We had been whispering. Gack.
    No fonder of her now than I had been in high school, I craned my neck and glowered
     at her. Her eyes wavered. A niggling suspicion crept into my brain. “You’re hiding
     something,” I said.
    “Don’t be ridiculous.”
    “You are. Your eyes are”—I jutted an accusatory finger—“cutting left and right.”
    “Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Edy blinked rapidly. “They are not.”
    “What did you do?”
    “Nothing.”
    I tried in vain to figure out how Jacky’s husband had located her. What would have
     made a guy in New Jersey contemplate coming to Providence, Ohio? I said, “Did you
     call him, Edy?”
    “No.”
    “Did you tell him where he could find Jacky? You had days to track him down.”
    “Why would I do that?”
    “Maybe you need money. Maybe you asked him to pay you for the information.”
    “I do not need cash. I have a steady job at Sew Inspired Quilt Shoppe, or have you
     forgotten? And I like Jacky.” She twitched her nose with smug satisfaction. “Try again.”
    “How else would Giacomo Capriotti have tracked her down?” I demanded.
    “Maybe Prudence contacted him. She overheard, too. She—”
    “Ladies, enough,” Urso snapped, glaring from me to Edy and back to me. “Charlotte,
     who is Giacomo Capriotti?”
    I turned my back on traitorous Edy. “Jacky Peterson was married. Is married,” I revised.
     “To Capriotti. But he beat her. He threatened her at gunpoint.”
    “Was he shot?” Rebecca asked. “Did he bring a gun with him? Did he and his killer
     struggle for control?”
    “He wasn’t shot,” Urso said. “Go on, Charlotte.”
    “Fearing for her life, Jacky relocated to Providence. Jordan helped her change her
     name and set her up in business.” I cocked my head. “I guess she didn’t tell you all
     this when you were dating her.”
    Urso’s face turned sour. Bringing up his failed relationship with Jacky wasn’t smart
     on my part.
    “Did Jacky kill him?” Edy asked.
    “No way,” I hissed, wishing Urso would disappear so I could throttle her. “She did
     not kill her husband.”
    “She’s got motive,” Edy said. “She was abused.”
    “She’s not capable of murder.”
    “Abused women lash out at—”
    “Stop it, Edy,” I yelled. “You do not know everything, no matter what you might think.”
    “What about Jordan?” she demanded, not cowed by me in the slightest. “Tell her about
     the eyewitness, Chief.”
    “What eyewitness?” I asked.
    Edy smiled smugly. “Late last night, Anabelle was at the bookshop, and she saw someone
     tall running from the scene of the crime.”
    “How did you know about—?” Urso sighed. “Don’t tell me, the Scoops told you. I knew
     I should’ve kept those girls inside longer.”
    “And threatened them with obstruction of justice,” Rebecca added.
    Urso shot her a hard look.
    “Jordan is tall,” Edy said.
    “You’re tall, too,” Rebecca countered.
    “Not as tall as he is.”
    “Jordan didn’t do this,” I shrieked. “And Anabelle is so short that even I would seem
     tall to her.” Except, I noted, that Anabelle always wore high-heeled shoes—wedges,boots, and even sandals with three-inch soles. “Urso, Jordan did not kill Giacomo
     Capriotti.”
    Urso rubbed his chin as if, despite my plea, he were considering the possibility.
    “Jordan seems like the protective type to me,” Edy said.
    I whirled on her. “That’s enough, Edy Delaney, do you hear me? Neither Jordan nor
     Jacky killed anyone.”
    Edy gave me an
oh, really
glance, and I fought hard to stifle the urge to pop her in the nose. She was fast
     becoming my Least Favorite Person in Providence, a title that, up until now, I had
     bestowed upon Sylvie and/or Prudence, depending on the day. Edy must have sensed my