Let it Sew
Authors: Elizabeth Lynn Casey
Dangerous Alterations
“Elizabeth Lynn Casey keeps her readers entertained with
Dangerous Alterations
through her wonderful storytelling skills that feature light humor, gentle romance,
and always an intriguing, suspenseful mystery to be solved. What more could you ask
for in a cozy mystery?”
—Fresh Fiction
Deadly Notions
“I always enjoy visiting Tori and her friends in Sweet Briar. They are their own band
of sisters who squabble and pick at each other yet will drop most anything to lend
a hand.”
—Once Upon a Romance
“A perfect addition to the Southern Sewing Circle series. With strong personalities
vibrating off each page, the twists and turns of the story line, and the exceptionally
exciting ending, this one will please them all!”
—The Romance Readers Connection
Pinned for Murder
“[Mixes] a suspenseful story with a dash of down-home flavor . . . Visiting with the
charmingly eccentric folks of Sweet Briar is like taking a trip back home.”
—Fresh Fiction
“A relaxing and pleasurable read. Ms. Casey has sewn together a finely crafted cozy
mystery series.”
—Once Upon a Romance
“An excellent read for crafters and mystery lovers alike. Elizabeth Casey has a knack
for threading together great story lines, likable characters, and surprises in every
page. The women in the Southern Sewing Circle are friends we all wish we had. This
book was terrific from beginning to end.”
—The Romance Readers Connection
Death Threads
“A light, fun mystery with southern charm and an energetic heroine.”
—The Mystery Reader
Sew Deadly
“Filled with fun, folksy characters and southern charm.”
—Maggie Sefton, national bestselling author of
Cast On, Kill Off
“Sweet and charming . . . The bewitching women of the Southern Sewing Circle will
win your heart in this debut mystery.”
—Monica Ferris,
USA Today
bestselling author of
Threadbare
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Elizabeth Lynn Casey
SEW DEADLY
DEATH THREADS
PINNED FOR MURDER
DEADLY NOTIONS
DANGEROUS ALTERATIONS
REAP WHAT YOU SEW
LET IT SEW
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance
to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is
entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume
any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
LET IT SEW
A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / November 2012
Copyright © 2012 by Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
Cover illustration by Mary Ann Lasher.
Cover design by Judith Lagerman.
Interior text design by Laura K. Corless.
All rights reserved.
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editions.
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375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
ISBN: 978-1-101-61206-4
BERKLEY
®
PRIME CRIME
Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
BERKLEY
®
PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
For Emily,
who was more than willing to wonder along with me when it came to the notion of Christmas
in Sweet Briar. Now we know, Emily, now we know . . .
And for Erin and Jennifer—you make
every
day magical.
Contents
Chapter 1
There were certain things that simply went together.
Milk and cookies . . .
Music and dancing . . .
Hugs and kisses.
You know, tried-and-true matches capable of withstanding the test of time and serving
as beacons of normalcy when life got crazy. To mess with one of them was akin to turning
one’s personal snow globe upside down and giving it a violent shake.
At least that’s what Tori Sinclair told herself as she lowered her uneaten candy bar
into her lunch sack and sealed it up tight, her appetite suddenly depleted.
“Ain’t no need to quit your horrible eatin’ habits on account of me, Victoria.” Margaret
Louise Davis dropped her polyester-clad body onto the concrete step just below Tori
and released a weighted sigh. “I just need a little fresh air is all.”
“Margaret Louise? Are you—”
“And maybe a few nips of Gabe Jameson’s moonshine while I’m at it.”
She gestured over her shoulder to the stately brick structure at the top of the stairs.
“Last time I checked, the Sweet Briar Public Library only offers books, exceptional
customer service, and an occasional cup of coffee depending on whether Dixie is working
or not.” Tori brought her hand back to her lap and leaned forward. “What’s wrong,
Margaret Louise?”
The sixty-something woman shifted her plump form ever so slightly until her back was
propped against the staircase wall. “Wrong? Who said anything was wrong?”
Extending her finger outward, Tori did her best to nudge her friend’s mouth into a
smile but to no avail. “
This
did.” Margaret Louise’s brows furrowed as Tori abandoned her efforts. “Your smile.
It’s
gone
.”
“You’re darn tootin’ it is.”
“Is it the kids?”
Margaret Louise shook her head. “My grandbabies are doin’ just fine.”
“Melissa?” Tori asked quickly as a flash of fear reared its head where the woman’s
pregnant daughter-in-law was concerned.
“Melissa is fine. Carryin’ number eight like it’s her first.”
Tori’s shoulders slumped. “Phew. That’s a relief.”
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with Jake, neither,” Margaret Louise said, referring to her one
and only son.
Tori studied her friend closely, trying to make sense of the nonsensical. “Then if
it’s not the kids, and it’s not Melissa or Jake, what on earth has got you looking
like . . .
that
?” Again, she pointed at the frown on her friend’s face.
“It’s not a
what
. It’s a
who.
”
And then she knew.
In fact, now that Jake and his family had been systematically eliminated as potential
culprits, there was only one person who could possibly be responsible for Margaret
Louise’s frown.
“What did Leona do now?” she asked even as her thoughts began filling in potential
possibilities where Margaret Louise’s night-and-day-different twin sister was concerned.
“It ain’t Leona.”
Okay, now she was stumped. “Then who?”
“Name’s Maime Wellington. Though I’ve got me a few names that fit better.”
“Maime Wellington?” she echoed.
Margaret Louise merely nodded. Sadly.
“My sister always was far kinder than she should have been.” Leona Elkin climbed the
first five steps of the library and sank onto the step beside Tori, her breath coming
in soft little gasps. “Good . . . heavens, Twin. I realize one of us . . . wears jogging
suits . . . on a regular basis . . . but I don’t clothe myself in Donna Karan . . .
so I can . . . sweat my brains out . . . chasing you across the town square!”
Tori stifled the laugh that lay in wait halfway down her throat, opting instead to
tip her head in the direction of the latest newcomer to her lunch-that-wasn’t. “Leona.”
“Victoria.” Smoothing her freshly manicured hands down the sides of her hunter green
suit jacket, Leona pursed her lips around one final dramatic inhale before addressing
her sister with a knowing look. “Avery Jordan isn’t thinking with his brain. And when
a man isn’t thinking with his brain, he’s ripe for the picking.” Crossing her ankles
and tucking them primly to the side, Leona batted her eyelashes ever so coyly. “If
they weren’t, my passport wouldn’t be so well stamped.”
That did it. Tori laughed.
Leona turned a disapproving eye in Tori’s direction. “You disagree, dear?”
“No. I—”
“Lulu is gonna be heartbroken when I tell her,” Margaret Louise moaned.
The mention of number five in Margaret Louise’s lineup of grandchildren brought her
up short. “Lulu? What’s Lulu got to do with all of this? I thought you said the kids
were fine.”
“They are. But I promised Lulu she could help this year. And since I told her that,
that child’s been jottin’ down all sorts of decoratin’ ideas in that little notebook
of hers. Course, there’s an inordinate amount of candy canes makin’ their way into
the mix, but still, it’s a start.”
“Candy canes,” she whispered. “I don’t understand . . .”
Leona bent her fingers so as to afford a closer inspection of her nails. “Avery Jordan
has replaced Margaret Louise on the Sweet Briar Christmas Decorating Committee.”
Tori drew back, images of her first two Christmases in Sweet Briar lining up in her
thoughts one picturesque memory behind the other. “Replaced
Margaret Louise
? Is he nuts?”
“That’s one word for it, dear. Others would include clueless, desperate, pathetic,
and predicable. All of which I tried to share with my sister during our sprint across
the Green, but none of which seemed to have helped,” Leona said.
“But w-why?” Tori sputtered.
Margaret Louise’s mouth dipped still further. “Officially? Councilman Jordan thinks
it’s time for a change.”
“And unofficially?” she prompted, knowing full well who would answer.
Leona didn’t disappoint. “Unofficially, Councilman Jordan met some little hussy on
one of those Internet dating sites and she’s finagled not only an invite to live with
him and his son, but also Margaret Louise’s prized role as Chairman of the Sweet Briar
Christmas Decorating Committee.”
“O-kay.” She worked to take in everything she was hearing. “So he moved his girlfriend
into his house. What does that have to do with Margaret Louise’s committee spot? Giving
it to his girlfriend doesn’t make any sense.”
“It does if you’re Maime Wellington and you want so desperately to”—Leona hooked the
index and middle fingers of both her moisturized hands in the air—“fit
in
in your new hometown.”
“So she ousts the one woman who makes Sweet Briar look like something out of a Dickens
classic?” Tori heard the disbelief in her own voice, knew it would be mirrored in
that of every resident of Sweet Briar, except, perhaps, Councilman Jordan and his
new live-in girlfriend.
“That ’bout sums it up.” Margaret Louise tipped her head back against the wall and
looked up at the charcoal-streaked clouds. “Why, I even offered to stay on and help
in whatever capacity this woman needs, but he said no. He said it might make it too
hard for the other committee members to see her as the decision maker if I’m nearby.”
“Maybe that should tell him something.” It was all Tori could think to say.
Leona threw back her shoulders. “Which is why
I
volunteered to help this year.”
Tori choked on a swallow. “
Y-You
, Leona?”
“That’s exactly what I said.” Margaret Louise rolled her eyes. “After all, Leona’s
first and only order of business when it comes to all things decoratin’ is to call
a decorator. Who, in case you’re curious, Victoria, is number five on my twin’s speed
dial.”
Leona made a face at her twin sister and then held it as she swept an offended glance
in Tori’s direction. “I barely have room in my schedule for a pedicure this month
and this is the thanks I get for keeping Maime Wellington on her toes? Doesn’t bode
well for you, either, Victoria.”
“Me?” she echoed.
“Do you really think she volunteered alone, Victoria?” Margaret Louise asked.
She looked from Leona to Margaret Louise and back again, her mouth gaping at the reality.
“You volunteered me for the Christmas committee? Are you crazy? The Holiday Book Extravaganza
is coming up! I can’t take on any other responsibilities right now.”
Leona waved Tori’s worries away. “Don’t worry, dear. Rose and Dixie will be there
to help us both.”
Tori worked to moisten her throat. “You volunteered them, too?”
Leona beamed. “Think of the fun we can have with the councilman’s little hussy . . .”
Propping her elbows on her knees, Tori dropped her head into her hands. “Ugh. Ugh.
Ugh, Leona. How could you do this?”
“Easy. I simply gave the councilman’s secretary our names and numbers. When she was
done writing that all down, she welcomed us aboard.”
Tori pulled her head from her palms and rose to her feet, her thoughts ricocheting
between the upcoming holiday book event and her own plans for a special Christmas
with her fiancé, Milo Wentworth. “Leona, I can’t. I can’t do this. It’s too much.”
Leona, too, jumped to her feet, the click of her Prada shoes reverberating against
the concrete. “Taking a few minutes out of your precious schedule to be my sister’s
voice on the Christmas committee is too much for you?”
She felt her face warm as Margaret Louise lowered her gaze from the sky for the first
time in ten minutes. “Leona, stop. Victoria doesn’t owe me anything. She’s got enough
on her plate—”
“I’ll do it.” The words slipped between her lips, unfiltered. “I’ll do it. I’ll find
a way to make it work.”
Leona’s smile returned. Only this time, it was dripping with self-satisfaction. “I
knew Margaret Louise could count on you, dear.” Before Tori could respond, Leona clapped
her hands in rapid succession. “Ooooh, just think of all the new gossip we’re going
to get for our sewing circle meetings. Things have gotten so drab in there lately
with Rose always wincing, Dixie and you blathering on about the book fair, and Melissa
talking about her pregnancy.”
“I just want to talk about decorations . . .” Margaret Louise’s words trailed off
as the peal of her cell phone took over. Sighing, she retrieved the royal blue gadget
from her purse and checked the caller ID screen. “It’s Rose.”
Approaching her mid-eighties, Rose Winters was one of Tori’s dearest friends. Equal
parts prickly and sweet, the retired schoolteacher turned matriarch of the Sweet Briar
Ladies Society Sewing Circle was a force to be reckoned with whether she was working
in her garden, sewing away the hours, or hooked up to an IV drip pole for one of her
rheumatoid arthritis treatments.
“Shhhh,” Leona said, quieting her voice as she continued. “Don’t tell her I volunteered
her for the Christmas committee. I want to do that in person when I can watch the
old goat’s reaction with my own two eyes.”
“Leona!” Tori reprimanded despite the smile that let the woman off the hook. Leona
Elkin and Rose Winters were like oil and vinegar. If Leona wasn’t taking potshots
at Rose, then Rose was taking some at Leona. It wasn’t always pretty, but it was almost
always amusing.
Leona cocked her head and batted her eyelashes innocently. “What did I say?”
“Oh, put a sock in it, Twin.” Margaret Louise snapped her phone open and held it to
her ear. “Is everything okay, Rose?”
Ever the grandmother, Margaret Louise slipped into nurture mode with quiet ease, casting
away her personal troubles in favor of making everyone else’s life better. It was
one of probably a zillion reasons why Tori treasured her so.
She studied the twins closely as Margaret Louise paid full attention to the voice
on the phone and Leona stood idly by, trying not to get caught eavesdropping. Born
on the same day, to the same mother, the women, who were three decades Tori’s senior,
had little in common beyond their shared birthday. Where Margaret Louise was stocky,
Leona was trim and toned. Where Leona tended to be prim and proper, Margaret Louise
was loud and boisterous, always ready to have a good time regardless of their surroundings.
Where Leona wore the latest styles and trends with an artist’s eye, Margaret Louise
was lovingly disheveled at best. Where Margaret Louise could spend hours playing on
the floor with one of her grandkids, Leona looked aghast at the mere mention of anyone
under the age of thirty. And while Margaret Louise was content to live her long widowed
existence surrounded by family and friends, Leona lived her never-married status to
the fullest, winking and blinking her way toward free dinners and movies with just
about any uniform-wearing male regardless of whether he was twenty or seventy.
“I didn’t realize she was that bad,” Margaret Louise said.
Something about the tone of the one-sided conversation she was hearing snapped her
into the present. A quick glance in Leona’s direction told her she wasn’t alone.
“When is the wake and the service?” Tori felt the helpless churn of her stomach as
Margaret Louise paused long enough for her tone to switch from dismay to disgust.
“I wouldn’t imagine that worthless young man
would
make the arrangements . . .”
Another pause quickly disappeared. “Well, thank heavens for Jerry Lee. I’m not sure
what Charlotte would have done these last few years without his guidance . . . Yes,
yes, of course, Rose. We’ll let everyone know at tonight’s circle meetin’ . . . Yes,
it’s at Georgina’s place . . . Do you need a ride? . . . No, Rose, I don’t think you’re
an invalid.” Margaret Louise closed her eyes. “Yes, yes, I know you can get there
yourself . . . Okay, I’ll pick you up at seven, then.”
Parting her short, stubby eyelashes, Margaret Louise snapped her phone shut and shoved
it into her oversized tote bag–turned-purse. “Charlotte Devereaux died last night.”
The name, while oddly familiar, didn’t stir up anything specific. “Who’s Charlotte
Devereaux?” Tori asked.
“Charlotte, along with Rose, Dixie, Georgina, and myself, founded the sewin’ circle
to which you now belong, Victoria.” Margaret Louise huffed and puffed her way to her
feet. “She retired from the circle ’bout five years ago when Parker up and took off.”