Momma's Arc

Chapter 4 of 4

Two guests lay dead, and Momma had no way to sort the guilty from the rest. The fake scrap proved the killer had watched her before the ball. But watching told her nothing about who moved through the kitchen that night. She had twelve suspects and no record of their steps. She needed to know who had passed through that room. So she gathered the family and started asking. She set them in a line. Kaylee stood first, red gown torn at the hem, arms crossed. Being framed once had made her impatient with questions. "Ask me whatever you want," she said. "I was in the ballroom. Ten people saw me." Momma believed her. Ten witnesses cleared Kaylee. She crossed her off. Drew went next. He'd searched the pool with Momma, so his hours were tracked. Toast had watched the kitchen doorway all night with those big unblinking eyes. "Who went in?" Momma asked. Toast counted on green fingers. "Cook. Twice. A girl in wine-red dress. Once. Then the scream." Momma turned. A girl in a wine-red dress meant Connie. Connie stood near the wall, black hair down her back, hands folded. She was young and quiet, and few in the family knew her well. "I went to the kitchen for water," Connie said. Her voice stayed soft. "I saw no one. I left before the scream." Momma studied her. The story fit Toast's count. But it placed Connie in the room right before the body was found. "Stay close to me," Momma told her. Then she pulled SilverMist forward. The witness had seen the killer cut the purple scrap near the kitchen. "Look at her," Momma said. "Is this who you saw?" SilverMist stared at Connie for a long moment. Her green eyes filled. "No," she said. "Taller. The one I saw was taller." Connie's shoulders dropped in relief. Momma felt the list shrink in her hands. Kaylee, Drew, Connie, herself, SilverMist, Toast, Waffles. Cleared, one by one. That left five suspects, and all five were tall. She had a shape now. A person too tall to be the small ones in this room. Then a shout came from the far hall. Feet ran. Kaylee reached the door first and froze. Momma pushed past her. A third guest lay on the floor. Blonde hair spread across the tile. In the dead hand sat a silver scrap, cut clean, matching SilverMist's sparkly dress. Momma's stomach turned. She spun to find SilverMist. The witness stood pale against the wall, staring at the silver cloth that framed her. "They're not done," Momma said. "And now they're pointing at you." She had narrowed her list to five tall suspects. But the killer had answered by killing again, and by aiming the next frame at the one witness Momma swore to protect.