Read Murders on Elderberry Road: A Queen Bees Quilt Mystery for Free Online

and the Canterbury College gossip mill was running at full steam. Even an editor at the small publishing house in Kansas City that was publishing Po’s book on women and quilting called, asking all sorts of questions.
    “Look — Phoebe and Leah beat us,” Kate said as they walked through the front door and into a foyer that was far larger than Kate’s living room. Phoebe and Leah stood beside a marble-topped table that held a silver urn of peach-colored roses. “Welcome to our cottage,” Leah whispered.
    “I’ve always wanted to come inside this house,” Phoebe said, her face bright. A rosy-colored, wispy dress covered her small frame and several sets of gold earrings dangled from her ears. “Not like I wanted anyone to die to get me in, sure, but gads, just look at this place!”
    “Quite nice for a professor,” Kate admitted.
    “Family money,” sniffed a woman passing by.
    Po looked after her, amused. “No secrets in this town,” she said.
    “I knew the Hills were wealthy, but I guess I never thought much about where it came from,” Maggie said.
    “Owen’s father began a successful chain of hardware stores in Kansas City,” Po said. “Owen wasn’t interested in the business — art and teaching were his passions — so he sold everything when his father died, except the family farm. He was left with enough money to buy a small country.”
    “And he settled for the life of a professor in Crestwood,” Kate said.
    “He loved this town — and he loved teaching,” Po said, guiding the group toward the back of the house to make room for new guests. “Owen’s farm is an amazing place, and he loved it with a special passion. It’s not far from here, actually.” She smiled to herself. “He called it a farm, but instead of cows and pigs, there are horses, acres of thick woods to hike in, and miles of rolling land that are perfect for cross-country skiing.”
    “How did he meet Mary?” Kate asked, following Po into a small vacant space beneath the winding staircase.
    “They met in Kansas City, but they’ve lived here forever.”
    “Well, Mary Hill has done quite nicely for herself, that much is for sure,” Phoebe whispered. “Just look at this place. And can you believe the size of that funeral? Makes me wonder who would come if I died. It would be so awful to have an empty church.”
    “I’ll come, Pheebs,” Kate assured her.
    “Me, too,” Maggie said. “I could bring a date. That’d be three.”
    “Thanks, guys. I know you’ll never let me down.” Her bubbly laughter caused several people to look at the group. Phoebe, as diminutive as an adolescent girl, still stood out in a crowd. Kate thought it was her amazing head of hair. Floozy hair, Phoebe’s in-laws called it. Angel hair, the Queen Bees said.
    Or it could have been the five tiny holes that dotted each ear. Phoebe explained to the Queen Bees once that each one represented a special memory — like her graduation, her wedding, the twins’ birth. Eleanor had wondered aloud how many children Phoebe planned on having.
    The tap of a cane on the highly polished floor announced Eleanor’s approach. “Have you seen Mary yet?” she asked.
    They shook their heads.
    “I think she’s out on the patio.” Leah nodded toward open French doors at the back of the foyer. “It’s probably much easier to breathe out there. I swear the entire town is here.”
    “I think the Reverend Gottrey imported people,” Maggie said. “Surely there aren’t this many people in all of Crestwood.”
    Leah laughed. “That man doesn’t miss a trick, does he? Passing out memorial pledge envelopes for the Owen Hill memorial something or other before the ground has even closed over his casket.”
    “He was cremated,” Phoebe said.
    “Now, Phoebe — how do you know that?” Leah asked.
    Phoebe looked around, then said in a whisper, “Well, he was. Janelle at Pierre’s Salon told me. Mary Hill gets her hair done there, too. And Mary picked one of