Table of ContentsEpisode 1 · 12 episodes available
About this story
Founders Day in Crestview, Georgia, is supposed to bring neighbors together. Instead, it ends with the mayor dead.
When Mayor Thomas Holloway’s fatal fall begins to look less like an accident, Frances “Fifi” Davis finds herself noticing the little things everyone else seems to overlook. With her best friend, Mae Carter, beside her, Fifi starts asking questions, following hunches, and discovering that their charming small town has been keeping more than a few secrets.
Someone in Crestview knows what really happened to the mayor.
And Fifi has never been very good at leaving a question unanswered.
A clean, cozy mystery filled with small-town secrets, friendship, humor, and two women who are far more observant than people give them credit for.
Voice, speed & continuous listeningUses the voices already available on your device. Narration starts only when you press Play or enable continuous listening.View story content warnings
These warnings apply to the story as a whole.
Murder and death
Threats and intimidation
Mild violence
View story author note
Thank you for following along with Fifi and Mae! 💕
Around here, secrets have a way of slipping out, especially when two determined Southern ladies start asking questions nobody wants to answer.
I hope you’re enjoying the mystery, the mischief, and all the trouble these two manage to stir up!
Keep reading, keep guessing, and remember, in a small town, everybody knows something. The trick is figuring out who’s telling the truth.
Thank you for spending a little time with us in this wonderfully nosy corner of the South!
💕 L.C. Hovater
From the story world
Nothing much happened in Crestview, Georgia, and that was one of the things people liked best about it.
The bank had occupied the same brick building on Main Street since before anybody could remember, although somebody had gotten ambitious in 1987 and replaced the front doors. The courthouse clock ran three minutes slow. Everybody knew it ran three minutes slow, and nobody saw any particular reason to fix it.
There had been a scandal involving the high school football coach about fifteen years back, but it turned out he’d only been interviewing for a job in Florida. Before that, Mrs. Earlene Pittman had driven her Buick through the plate-glass window of the pharmacy and maintained until the day she died that the car had done it by itself.
Crestview still talked about both incidents.
So when Founders Day rolled around every September, the town treated it like a major event. Main Street had been blocked off since seven that morning, and white tents lined both sides of the courthouse square, selling everything from homemade peach preserves to wooden signs reminding people to bless their hearts and wipe their feet. Children ran through the crowd carrying balloons, and somewhere near the Methodist church booth, somebody was frying something in enough grease to perfume three city blocks.
Directly in the middle of it all stood Frances Davis.
Fifi to everyone who knew what was good for them.
She wore white pants, a turquoise blouse, three gold bracelets, two turquoise bracelets, a necklace large enough to be seen from Alabama, and oversized pink cat-eye sunglasses despite the fact that the sun had been hidden behind a cloud for the better part of an hour. Her silver hair rose from her head in a carefully engineered cloud.
Fifi did not believe in subtlety.
Beside her stood Edna Mae Carter, who believed in it enough for both of them.
Mae wore a yellow sundress, sensible sandals, and a straw hat with a narrow ribbon around the brim. She held two lemonades and watched Fifi stare across the square.
“You’re doing it again,” Mae said.
Fifi didn’t look at her. “Doing what?”
“Watching people like they’re suspects.”
“They’re not suspects.”
Mae handed her a lemonade. “Good.”
“They’re observations.”
Mae closed her eyes for half a second.
Fifi took the cup and sipped through the straw.
Across the street, Judy Hensley was standing much too close to Earl Foster while Earl’s wife worked the Baptist ladies’ cake table.
Fifi tilted her head.
Mae caught the movement. “No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I was about to say Judy’s gotten her hair cut.”
“You were not.”
“Well, she has.”
“Fifi.”
“Fine.”
Fifi turned away, though not before storing the information for later.
They had been friends long enough that Mae recognized the signs. A particular narrowing of Fifi’s eyes meant she had noticed something. A slight lift of one eyebrow meant she had noticed something she intended to discuss. And if she removed her sunglasses altogether, somebody somewhere was about to have a problem.
They had known each other since school, which meant Mae had spent more than fifty years telling Fifi to mind her own business.
It had never once worked.
“Where do you want to go next?” Mae asked.
“The pie contest.”
“You don’t bake.”
“I eat.”
“That hardly qualifies you to judge.”
“I have opinions.”
Mae gave her a look.
Fifi smiled sweetly. “And I share them generously.”
“That is exactly the problem.”
A burst of applause rose from the far side of the square.
Near the courthouse steps, volunteers were arranging folding chairs in front of a temporary stage decorated with red, white, and blue bunting. A wooden podium stood at the center, and behind it hung a large banner.
CRESTVIEW FOUNDERS DAY
CELEBRATING 184 YEARS
Fifi studied it.
“One hundred eighty-four is an awkward number.”
Mae blinked. “What?”
“If you’re going to celebrate something, celebrate one hundred eighty or one hundred eighty-five. One hundred eighty-four just sounds like nobody planned ahead.”
“I don’t think towns get to choose when they were founded.”
“They could’ve waited a year on the banner.”
Mae started walking.
Fifi followed.
They passed the historical society tent, where a row of black-and-white photographs showed Crestview in various stages of its existence. Horse carts had become Model Ts, then pickup trucks. Dirt roads had become pavement, and storefronts had changed names.
The courthouse, however, had somehow remained almost exactly the same, and sometimes Fifi thought the people had too. Not the actual people, of course, but the habits, alliances, and grudges. Families in Crestview could remember who had borrowed a lawn mower in 1963 and returned it with an empty gas tank.
Fifi considered that one of the charms of small-town life.
Mae considered it a reason people should move away occasionally.
They stopped near the edge of the seating area.
“There he is,” Mae said.
Mayor Thomas Holloway stood beside the stage talking to three members of the town council.
Thomas was sixty-two, trim, silver-haired, and always dressed as though somebody might take his photograph at any moment. Today he wore a navy suit despite the heat, with a red tie and a small American flag pin on his lapel. He had been mayor of Crestview for twelve years, long enough to have shaken nearly every hand in town at least twice.
“Thomas looks pleased with himself,” Fifi said.
“Thomas always looks pleased with himself.”
“That is true.”
As if he knew they were discussing him, Thomas glanced across the crowd. His expression instantly settled into the broad, practiced smile he used at ribbon cuttings, football games, church fish fries, and funerals where he had only vaguely known the deceased.
He lifted one hand.
“Frances!”
Fifi’s mouth tightened.
Mae took a slow sip of lemonade.
Thomas headed toward them.
“Frances,” he said again. “Edna Mae. Glad you ladies came out.”
“Fifi,” she corrected.
Thomas smiled. “Of course.”
He had been calling her Frances since the eleventh grade, and Fifi had been correcting him since the eleventh grade.
Neither appeared willing to surrender.
“Big crowd,” Mae said.
“Best one we’ve had in years.” Thomas glanced toward the stage. “Couldn’t ask for a better day.”
Fifi looked up at the gray sky.
“You could.”
Mae made a small sound that might have been a cough.
Thomas ignored it.
“We’ve got folks here from three counties. Newspaper sent somebody over. Television station might even come by later.”
“Well, don’t let us keep you,” Fifi said. “You may need to practice looking surprised when they ask for an interview.”
Mae’s elbow brushed her arm.
Thomas laughed because Thomas always laughed when he wasn’t sure whether Fifi was joking.
“Same old Fifi.”
“No, I change my earrings.”
His smile held a second too long before someone near the stage called his name.
Thomas looked over his shoulder.
“I’d better get back. Speech starts in fifteen.”
“We wouldn’t want to delay history,” Fifi said.
Thomas gave them another politician’s smile and moved away.
Mae waited until he was several yards ahead.
“You could try being nice to him.”
“I was nice.”
“You accused him of practicing facial expressions.”
“I did not accuse him. I suggested it.”
“There’s a difference?”
“A very important one.”
They watched Thomas return to the stage.
A woman wearing a Founders Day volunteer shirt hurried over and handed him a folder. Thomas opened it, and for the first time that morning, the easy smile disappeared. He frowned down at the pages, said something to the woman, and watched as she shook her head.
Then he looked toward the courthouse and back toward the stage.
His jaw tightened.
Fifi lowered her sunglasses slightly.
Mae noticed. “Don’t.”
“I haven’t done anything.”
“You lowered the glasses.”
“He looks upset.”
“He’s about to give a speech in front of half the town.”
“Thomas Holloway would give a speech to an empty parking lot if you put a microphone in front of him.”
“Maybe something’s wrong with the speech.”
“Maybe.”
Fifi kept watching.
Thomas closed the folder and handed it back to the volunteer. A man from the town council approached him, and the two spoke quietly for less than a minute. Thomas kept his expression pleasant enough for anyone watching from a distance, but Fifi was watching from a distance, and she could still see the tension underneath it.
Then the councilman walked away.
Thomas straightened his tie, smoothed the front of his jacket, and smiled again as though nothing had happened.
Fifi pushed her sunglasses back into place.
“What?” Mae asked.
“Nothing.”
Mae looked at her. “You made your nothing face.”
“I do not have a nothing face.”
“You absolutely have a nothing face.”
Before Fifi could answer, the courthouse bell rang eleven times.
People began moving toward the folding chairs. Children were rounded up, conversations ended, and paper plates were balanced on laps. Somewhere behind them, a woman loudly promised somebody she would be back for the rest of that pound cake after the speech.
Mae nodded toward two empty chairs near the aisle.
“We’d better sit down before somebody takes those.”
Fifi followed her.
Onstage, Thomas Holloway stepped behind the podium and arranged his papers. A microphone squealed, making the crowd wince.
Thomas laughed.
“Well,” he said, “I suppose that’s one way to get everybody’s attention.”
People laughed with him.
Fifi crossed one leg over the other.
Mayor Thomas Holloway looked out over Crestview with the comfortable confidence of a man standing in the middle of a town he believed he understood. The bunting stirred in the warm September breeze while the courthouse clock crept along three minutes behind the rest of the world.
Fifi Davis settled into her folding chair expecting nothing more exciting than a speech she’d heard some version of a dozen times before.
In Crestview, that usually counted as a safe assumption.
Usually.
End of Episode 1
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