Cece Writes A Book [COMPLETED]

Chapter 3 - "You sent me those funny cat pictures."

Millie Kate's fanned herself against the southern humidity, the slight breeze gently swaying her lush brown ringlets. Her wide-brimmed baby blue hat shaded her face but it didn't keep her eyes from sparkling as she took in the Barlow's garden party.

She knew that the way her cocktail dress swayed as she walked through the tables caught everyone's attention and she relished it. She was gratified to see that she had stolen all the attention away from the other girls.

She caught Cannon McHenry's eyes as she passed, but she didn't stop for their usual tete-e-tete. While she enjoyed matching wits with Cannon, she had a more pressing matter to handle before any flirting could happen.

She circled the lawn once, searching for a particular face but when she came up empty-handed she moved inside. She should have thought to look in the library first. The pompous, egotistical prat always considered himself above everyone else and liked to set himself apart at any party.

She checked the hallway to make sure she was alone before she quietly opened the library door.

"So predictable," she thought when she spotted the blonde head just peeking over the back of a chair. He was probably reading Webster's dictionary.

She didn't hide her footsteps as she drew near but he didn't bother to look up from his reading until she was standing right in front of him.

"Millie Kate," he said in his deep, southern drawl.

"Malcolm," Millie Kate said. She reached her lace gloved hand into her small purse and pulled out a 9mm pistol. "Cece sends her regards," she said, letting her words drip with the southern sweetness her mama had taught her before she unloaded five rounds into Malcolm's chest.

Cece glowered at her computer screen. She knew her main character Millie Kate would never shot a person. She was too proper. If she wanted to carry out murder she would hire someone.

Elliot rose from her spot on the couch and headed for the tea kettle.

"Sounds like you're making progress," Elliot said, as she set the water to boil.

"I am if plotting Malcolm's murder is progress."

"Ice pick?" Elliot guessed.

"9mm, five shots to the chest."

Elliot considered this mode of murder. "It's not very subtle and it would be hard to get away with."

"I would happily take prison over this hell Malcolm has left me," Cece grumbled.

She threw her computer to the side and joined her sister in the kitchenette. "At least in prison, I would have no shortage of inspiration."

She began searching the cabinets and gave Elliot a disappointed look when she found nothing.

"What? Elliot shrugged. "I sent you a text a few days ago to send me a list of snacks you wanted and you never got back to me."

"I never got that text."

"Fine. It might have been a post-it note stuck to the bathroom mirror." Elliot admitted.

"Never saw that either."

"Fine. It might have been a thought I had and I meant to text but never did. Are you happy now?" Elliot asked in faux frustration.

"No, I don't have any snacks," Cece said.

"What do you want from me?" Elliot asked, pouring the boiling water into her cup. "I got a lot of worlds going on up here," she pointed to her head, "and they take up a lot of space. I don't always remember to send the texts I think of."