Needle and Dread (11 page)

“So Opal was a
philanthropist
? Wow. Didn't see that one coming . . .”

The laugh Samantha hurled in Charles's direction was
anything but joy filled. “Hmmm, let's check that, shall we?” Samantha searched around for her purse, located it next to the couch she'd inhabited with Margaret Louise, and pulled out her phone. A flick of her wrist and a few taps of her finger later, she began to read. “The definition of a philanthropist is one who seeks to promote the welfare of others, especially by the generous donation of money to good causes.”

“And that wasn't Opal?”

“No, Charles, that wasn't Opal. Opal wasn't seeking to promote the welfare of anyone other than herself. She liked control in all settings and she knew how to ensure she always had that control.”

“Meaning?” Tori prodded.

“She bullied people into doing what she wanted by way of her money. IF she didn't want a citizens' academy, she merely had to voice her displeasure. If she wanted to keep a particular company from leasing a vacant building in town, she opened a museum dedicated to sewing in that very space.”

Gracelyn's snort earned a raised eyebrow from Charles, but before Tori could turn a question in her direction, Samantha continued. “If Opal wanted to remind people just how critical she was to our town, she opened a teen center and made sure her efforts got the attention of every television news station in the state.” Samantha returned her phone to her purse and sat down beside Margaret Louise, yawning loudly as she did. “In fact, until Saturday, I'm not sure Opal had ever been told no before—not without serious repercussions for the person who did, anyway.”

Leona retrieved her travel magazine from its temporary
holding spot beside her chair and snapped it open to her desired page. “I will not be bullied. By anyone.”

Samantha's head lolled back against the couch, her eyes drooping heavily. “My . . . sentiments . . . exactly . . .”

“Now you've seen it with your own two eyes, Victoria.” Margaret Louise released her hold on the living room curtain, taking with it the sight of the tour group's minibus as it made a left at the end of the road and headed toward Sweet Briar Bed-and-Breakfast. “My Truth Serum Brownies get people talkin', don't they?”

Leona took a sip of her favorite nighttime tea and then ran a hand down Paris's back. “That's why, aside from the calories and potential for skin blemishes, you'll never see me eating one, dear.”

You don't have to. We have Charles . . .

A jab just under her rib cage snapped her eyes to the right.

“You promised,” Charles reminded via a hissed whisper.

“I know, I know.” Tori stepped back from the window
and surveyed the room. Other than a handful of extra chairs and the plate of leftover desserts Rose had compiled for Milo, there was little evidence that a dozen women had been present less than ten minutes earlier.

“I was sorry Georgina and Beatrice couldn't make it.” Debbie pulled the drawstring on the bag of trash she'd collected and carried it into the kitchen. “But I know Georgina had a meeting she couldn't get out of, and Beatrice wanted to help Luke finish his science project for school.”

“That's why Melissa didn't make it, neither. Sally wanted to practice her presentation on her momma.” Margaret Louise dropped onto Tori's plaid armchair and hoisted her feet onto the brown leather ottoman. “Can you imagine little ones pretendin' they're talkin' to the folks at NASA?”

Rose reentered the room from the kitchen and began to wipe down the dining room table, her movements slow but methodical. At the midway point of the table, she looked up at Margaret Louise. “Should we be worried about that woman falling asleep the way she did?”

“No, ma'am. That's just what happens if you eat two of them brownies. The first one gets your jaws a-flappin' and the second one gets your eyes a-droopin'. But it don't really matter none, we got what we wanted—a real honest-to-goodness suspect with means and motive.”

“Do you think we have enough?” Rose asked as her bifocal-enlarged eyes settled on Tori. “Can we really put what happened to Opal behind us and get SewTastic back on track?”

More than anything, Tori wanted to confirm Rose's hope, but to do so would be premature. “I-I'm not sure
yet, Rose. I think we need to do a little more investigating. There were
three
other potential suspects in the room today that we didn't really vet.”

“Oooh,
vet
 . . . that sounds so—so
official
.”

Margaret Louise nodded knowingly at Charles and then moved on to Tori. “Now, Victoria, I was raised knowin' that just 'cause a chicken has wings don't mean it can fly, but after the revealin' my brownies did tonight, I'm pretty sure this chicken is flyin'.”

“I agree.” Spying a previously unseen napkin on a chair next to the fireplace, Debbie crossed the room, retrieved the crumbled item, and carried it back to the kitchen. “Besides, I stand by my conviction that people who love books as much as Lucinda does aren't the type to strangle old ladies with sewing machine cords. It simply doesn't add up.”

Dixie finished packing her sewing box and turned to face the bakery owner, hands on hips. “As much as I'd love to agree with you, Debbie, I must point out that criminals on death row are often avid readers. It's well-informed people—like Gracelyn—that don't strike me as the type to take a life.”

“I was hopin' that one would take a brownie, too,” Margaret Louise said between yawns. “But I wasn't countin' on anyone bein' gluten-free. Seems maybe I need to start experimentin' with a version for them folks, too.”

Tori meandered over to the fireplace and pointed at the photo collage. “Milo surprised me with this today . . .”

“I was lookin' at that earlier, Victoria. Your smile in those pictures is nothin' short of dazzlin'.”

Charles bounced up on the balls of his feet and gave a little clap. “My favorite is the selfie you took on the
mini-golf course. You look positively divine in emerald green, Victoria.”

“You should see
me
in emerald green.” Leona pinned Charles with a stare atop her stylish glasses. “If you did, you might feel differently about using the word
divine
.”

Debbie muttered something unintelligible under her breath and then joined Tori in front of the collage, her pale blue eyes studying each and every picture with rapt interest. “You can just feel how much the two of you love each other.”

“It was such an amazing honeymoon, it really was.”

“Victoria?”

Tori turned to find Leona's twin studying her. “Yes, Margaret Louise?”

“Not more 'n a few minutes ago you said there were
three
other potential suspects in the room. I know we can't quite rule out Lucinda or Gracelyn just yet, but you can't possibly be thinkin'
Minnie
is responsible for what happened to Opal, can you?”

“Of course she doesn't, Margaret Louise,” Charles said as he sashayed across the room to the bag of chips Rose had just clipped closed. Removing the clip from the top, he helped himself to a handful. “The only reason Minnie has a page in our notebook is because she was there that day, that's all. No one in their right mind could ever seriously think Sweet Minnie has a mean bone in her entire five-foot, one-inch body.”

“Gee, thanks.” Tori took one last look at her pictures with Milo and then sat down on the edge of the hearth.

Charles pulled a chip out of his mouth and grabbed for the corner of the table with his free hand. “You can't be serious, love . . .”

“I wish I wasn't. But I am.”

“H-how?” Debbie sputtered.

Clearing her throat, Tori searched for the best way to make her friends understand her fears. “Think back to Saturday. Opal was testy with all of us at one point or another, but with Minnie she was downright mean-spirited. If Minnie praised something, Opal came behind and bashed it. If one of us said something encouraging to Minnie about her project, Opal picked it apart. If Minnie made an observation about life, Opal called it stupid. It was ongoing and ceaseless, remember?”

“I remember. But that was Opal's doin', not Minnie's.”

She hated to be the bearer of bad news, but ignoring the truth wasn't in her friends' best interest, either. “You're right. But that ongoing humiliation could be a motive.”

“And what I shared with you on the phone last night could be the means.”

All eyes trained in on Rose, with Margaret Louise breaking through the blanket of silence that had enveloped the room. “You,
too
, Rose?”

“I'm the one who put the thought in Victoria's head, Margaret Louise.” Rose shoved the dishcloth in Charles's non-chip-holding hand, and took up residency in the center of the living room. “Minnie was in that room with Opal for a good twenty minutes or so toward the end of the day. When she came out, she looked visibly unsettled.”

“Probably because she'd been on the receiving end of another series of insults,” Debbie countered. “I can't imagine
not
being unsettled by someone so malicious.”

The top of Charles's triangle got two snaps as he rocked back on his heels. “No. Way. No. How.”

“Sweet people can snap, too,” Tori said, borrowing her husband's earlier statement. “It happens all the time.”

“But Minnie is over eighty years old!”

Rose's shoulders hunched forward with a cough and stayed that way as she began to speak. “
I'm
over eighty, Debbie, and emotions can make me capable of things I might not otherwise be able to do any longer.”

Charles gave a single snap. “Wait! When did Minnie go into the room? Maybe it was before I did . . . in which case Opal was alive and just as nasty as ever.”

“I'm not sure. I—”

Tori silenced the rest of Rose's sentence with a hand. “Minnie came into the library today to inquire about a book.”

“That doesn't mean anything,” Dixie snapped.

“But the title of the book might.” All eyes in the room rebounded back to Tori with Dixie's raised eyebrow serving as the question Tori hated to answer. But she had no choice. “
Getting Away with Murder
.”

*   *   *

Milo was waiting for her in the bed when she emerged from the bathroom with her teeth brushed and her face scrubbed clean. Somehow, just seeing him there, smiling at her from the pillow next to hers, made everything feel a little less hopeless.

“So while you were having your meeting this evening, I did a little research on the computer.”

She sat on the edge of the bed and slid her feet from her slippers. “Research on what?”

“Amish country.”

“Milo, I still need to check with Nina first, remember?”

“I remember. I was just looking is all.” He bolted upright, wrapped his arms around her torso, and pulled her onto the bed next to him. “Now, that's better . . .”

She rested her head on his chest and sighed. “I agree. So, did you find anything exciting?”

“Other than the perfect bed-and-breakfast, you mean?”

Rising up on her elbow, she smiled down at him. “You found one?”

“I did. It's in Heavenly, Pennsylvania—a quaint little town right in the heart of Amish country. The pictures of this inn are incredible, and the sample dinner menus posted on its website made me hungry.”

“And that's different because . . . ,” she teased.

“Ha. Ha. Seriously though, if Nina can cover you, I'm confident you're going to love this place.”

“Does this bed-and-breakfast have a name?”

“Sleep Heavenly.”

“Sleep Heavenly,” she repeated, her lips inching upward with a smile. “Sounds perfect.”

“Doesn't it though?” He guided her head back down to his chest and kissed the top of her forehead. “Anyway, I don't want to get too excited in case this doesn't pan out, you know?”

“Even if it doesn't, we can go a different time, can't we?”

“We can.”

She took a moment to trace her index finger along his
ab muscles and then flopped onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. “Ugh. Ugh. Ugh! I so don't like the way the meeting ended tonight.”

“So what did they say when you told them about the book Minnie checked out?”

“Charles covered his ears, Dixie went all turbo on me, Debbie tried to say in a slightly nicer way than Dixie had that I must have misunderstood Minnie's request, and Leona just kept petting Paris.”

“What about Margaret Louise?”

She fiddled with the button on her pajamas as her eyes remained glued straight ahead. “You know, my great-grandpa used to paint the ceilings in his home every five years or so. Maybe I should do that in here. You know, brighten it up a little . . . And while I'm at it, I can put a fresh coat on this entire room.”

Milo's hand closed over her finger and guided it back down to his chest. “The ceiling and the walls are fine, Tori.”

She lowered her gaze to his. “Margaret Louise is the only one who seemed a tiny bit swayed by the title of the book Minnie requested.”

“What did she say?”

“Nothing. But she didn't argue with me like Dixie and Debbie did, and she didn't stare at me like I'd grown a second head the way that Charles did. She just sat there for a few moments in utter silence and then fished the notebook and pen out of Charles's bag.”

“And?”

“I don't know. She wrote something down—presumably on Minnie's page.”

“Okay, see? That's a good sign. Maybe Margaret Louise, at least, is willing to consider the possibility that Minnie might be responsible for Opal's death . . .”

“But what happens if I'm still not sure
I'm
willing to consider the possibility that Minnie did this?”

Releasing her hand, Milo rolled onto his side and gently tapped her nose. “That's all it is, Tori. A possibility. One you can't ignore. But choosing to explore it doesn't mean you're ready to snap the cuffs into place and cart this woman off to jail. Give the others time to absorb what you told them tonight. It's really not much different than how you felt last night when Rose called her out as a suspect. You didn't want to believe it, either.”

“I still don't.”

“I know you don't. And I'm hoping that this whole book thing is simply some sort of really strange coincidence. But until you know for sure, you can't ignore it. Not if you're truly committed to figuring out what happened on Saturday.”

She, too, rolled onto her side, the sight of her husband looking at her with such love and tenderness making it difficult to speak. “I—I am. For Rose.”

“Then you have to look at all of the facts. Even if that means you have to look at ones you don't like or that make you the unpopular kid in the room for a little while.”