I drove around the block and parked, resting my hands on the steering wheel for a moment. More than anything, I needed a few quiet moments to think things through. My predicament with Skeeter was a huge problem, but there was something else I needed to ponder: my parents’ involvement in the Atchison Manufacturing fire and who Beverly might be. I still couldn’t let my mind wander to J.R. Not yet. I could only deal with one freakout at a time.

I needed to talk to someone who had known my birth mother personally. Perhaps Aunt Bessie could shed some light on the matter. I pulled out my phone and called my aunt’s beauty salon in Lafayette County.

Her receptionist answered and said Aunt Bessie was elbow-deep in a hair color appointment.

“Will she be done soon?” I asked, anxious to get answers.

The woman groaned. “It could take a while. We’ve got ourselves a hair 9-1-1. This poor woman decided to color her own hair at home, and with her pale complexion, she’s currently a dead ringer for that clown in Stephen King’s movie It. She’s already frightened enough children that the sheriff has threatened to toss her hiney in jail. In fact, he keeps poppin’ in, checkin’ on Bessie’s progress.”

It definitely sounded like Aunt Bessie had her hands full. “Just have her call me when she’s free.”

As I climbed out of the truck, I noticed a piece of paper tucked under the passenger side windshield wiper. When had that gotten there? At the pool hall or in front of Maeve’s house? Neither option was good. Of course it could have shown up while my truck was parked on the town square—the preferable choice if I had to choose—and maybe Neely Kate and I just hadn’t noticed it. It looked enough like the paper I’d found at the Piggly Wiggly that my stomach knotted as I pulled it loose.

You were warned. All bets are off.

Warned about what? The first note had said to stay out of other people’s business.

Oh, my word. Atchison Manufacturing. But that didn’t make any sense. I hadn’t known a thing about it when I got the first note.

This meant the first note had actually been intended for me, not Mason. And the person who’d put it there had watched me closely enough to know I was in Mason’s car that day.

Realization set in. Dena had told me about Miss Ima Jean and her husband’s suicide when I was picking up Neely Kate’s cupcakes and Mason’s pie. Who else had been in the bakery that day? A man and two women, none of them known to me.

One of them could be responsible. It was a stretch, but it was the only lead I had at the moment. I needed to talk to Dena and find out what she remembered, if anything. I closed my eyes and groaned. How was I going to get there? I was still hiding from Skeeter.

What I needed to do was turn this Dora matter over to the authorities. Clearly there was much more to it than anyone had suspected. I picked up my phone and started to call Mason, then stopped. Joe was with the sheriff’s department and would actually be part of the investigation. How would he take the news of his father’s involvement? At this point it was a bunch of hearsay and a couple of vague notes in Dora’s journal. I needed harder facts before I could expect to be taken seriously. Besides, I couldn’t find it in me to show my ex-boyfriend Dora’s journal entries from late 1985 and early 1986, not when there was even the remotest possibility J.R. had been her mysterious married lover.

I called Mason instead. He had started his own investigation into both Dora and J.R. Maybe we could get answers together if we pooled our information. I’d convinced myself it was a good idea by the time he answered, sounding breathless. “Rose? Are you okay?” There was a lot of commotion in the background.

I considered asking for his definition of okay, but instead said, “Mason, I need to talk to you. Do you have some time this afternoon?”

“I’m on my way to court, sweetheart, and I have no idea how long this will take.”

“Okay,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment. Considering the many layers of the Atchison mess, I could hardly explain it to him unless we had a good amount of time to talk it out.

“Rose.” His tone was firm. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I promise.”

He was silent for a moment, then said, “I can try to get a recess.”

“Mason, don’t be silly. I told you I’m fine. How about we talk about it tonight? I’ll even stop by the Peach Orchard grocery store and pick up something to make for dinner.”

“I thought you said they regularly failed their health inspections.” I heard the grin in his voice.

“I feel like a gambling woman today,” I teased. “But to be safe, maybe I’ll stick to non-perishable items. How do you feel about canned Chinese food?”

He laughed. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too. Be safe.” I hung up and took a deep breath, telling myself it was probably for the best. What if Merv had caught me before I could make it into the courthouse? How would I explain that?

Next I called Neely Kate and she sounded confused when she answered. “Rose?”

“How are you feelin’?”

“Better… Eating helped.”

“Are you up for paying a visit to Dena’s?” It was just as risky as going to the courthouse, and if I had any sense at all, I’d wait until Skeeter reined in Merv, but I needed answers now.

“Maeve has brownies.”

“Then I’ll get a cupcake and you can come along as my partner in crime. Or if you’ve had enough adventure, you can hang out with Maeve.”