“Oh, don’t be. We had a ball. Hattie had such eclectic taste. Anyway, we’re boxing it all up and sending it out to Goodwill tomorrow.”

I nodded.

“And the coroner called,” Millie added. “He said they’re releasing her body tomorrow. She wanted to be cremated and have her ashes spread out in her favorite place. The mortuary said we could pick her up day after tomorrow, so we’ll do it then. You want to come with?”

The last thing I wanted to do was stand downwind while the aunts dumped Hattie Carmichael in her last resting place. But considering she was now resting because of me, I found that guilt answering with an, “Of course.”

“Good.” Aunt Sue nodded. “You want a margarita, honey?”

Did I ever. “Fill ‘er up.”

Aunt Sue poured me a tall glass, which I gratefully drank from as the aunts chatted about what to do with all of Hattie’s photographs and scrapbooks.

Poor Mrs. Carmichael. I tossed the chicken patties in the trash and took another long sip from my margarita. It was strong, but not half bad. Could have used a little more salt.

As I watched Aunt Sue pull a tray out of the oven and sprinkle cheese on top, my thoughts wandered to who could have done in Mrs. C. My original suspect list had yielded nada so far. Was I on the wrong track entirely? Maybe this was just some random creep who liked to see journalists squirm. There was no way either Pines or Blain Hall could have killed her, both of them locked up at the time. But both Katie and Jennifer had alibis for when the original call was made.

Which left me where?

I took a long drag from my glass.

Nowhere. No suspects, no leads. The only thing I had was motive. Everyone in town apparently hated me.

Wow, was I the self-pity queen today or what? I downed the last of my drink, filling up the glass again.

“The enchiladas are almost done,” Aunt Millie informed us, pulling a steaming pan from the oven.

“Good. I love enchiladas,” I said. Though somehow it came out more like, “Good, I wuv eshiladas.”

Aunt Sue looked from the nearly empty pitcher to me. “How many of those have you had, peanut?”

“One.” I hiccupped. “And a half.”

A deep wrinkle of concern formed on her forehead. “Well, you might want to slow down just a little.”

I waved her off. “Ish juss ‘cause I haven’t eaten.” I was sure after I dug into the enchiladas I’d feel better. In fact…I downed a few more gulps…I was beginning to feel better already. Better than I had in days.