Needle and Dread (15 page)

“Tell me I'm not seeing you sitting at that desk tapping away on that computer.”

“No, it's me.” Tori peeked around the edge of the monitor and smiled sheepishly at her assistant. “I wish it wasn't, but it is.”

Nina took a few steps forward and then stopped. “It's your day off. That means you can do anything you want. So why are you here?”

Why indeed . . .

To Nina, she simply shrugged and gave voice to the same explanation she'd been giving herself for the past hour. “I wanted to do a little more research on Rose's tour group members, and I don't have access to the
Jasper Falls Courier
at home.”

“So do it tomorrow when you're working again.”

It was the same argument she'd had with herself
when she abandoned her original plan for the day and, instead, got in the car and headed for the library. “But then another day has gone by. Don't you see, the sooner I figure out what happened, the sooner I can put this whole thing aside and truly focus on Thanksgiving and everything else I'd rather be thinking about.”

Nina opened her mouth to protest but closed it along with a defeated shake of her head. “I feel like I should try to convince you to go home, but I know better. I'll leave you alone now.”

“Thanks, Nina.”

“You're not welcome.” Nina gave a rare roll of her eyes and then headed back out into the hallway.

She knew Nina was right, knew she should be home making her shopping list for their Thanksgiving dinner, or putting the honeymoon pictures into the album she'd purchased, but knowing and doing were two very different things. Still, maybe if she focused really hard for the next hour, she could still manage to enjoy some of her day off . . .

Forcing her attention back on the screen, she continued scrolling down the list of articles in which Opal's name had appeared over the last year. Some of the links she clicked on netted a brief mention—a town council meeting on which she'd given a quote, a generous donation she'd made to a local charity, and on and on it went. Some links procured far more details, including a handful of feature stories about Opal Goodwin herself.

In each and every story, Tori was struck by the same thing—Opal had money and she liked people to know it. But despite all the posturing and boasting, Tori found herself seizing on the fact that Opal was more about
doing rather than having. When Jasper Falls Elementary School needed a new playground, Opal donated the equipment and the manpower needed to get it up and running. When Jasper Falls Public Library needed to upgrade the patron computers, Opal replaced them with the latest technology. When the Jasper Falls Volunteer Fire Department needed new uniforms, Opal got them the best of the best.

Yes, everyone in Jasper Falls knew Opal was behind each and every one of those donations, but when all was said and done, the fact that the school had a new playground, the library had new computers, and the fire department had new uniforms was what mattered most. And Opal had made those things happen while also being the single driving force behind the construction and running of the Jasper Falls Sewing Museum.

Tori exited out of the article about the museum's ribbon-cutting ceremony two months earlier and quickly counted the remaining links pertaining to Opal Goodwin. “Seven more to go,” she mumbled. Stretching her arms above her head, she swiveled her chair around until she was looking out over the library grounds, the mid-morning sun putting up a valiant fight against the first chilly day of the season. She scanned the benches and sidewalk to her left, the sight of Mr. Downing and his morning crossword puzzle bringing an instant smile to her lips. Turning her head to the right, her eyes found and followed a stout woman in her late sixties down the sidewalk and toward the library's front steps, her shoulders curved forward from a weight Tori could sense but not see. Grateful for the distraction, Tori leaned forward
in an effort to put a name to the rosy-cheeked face, the thick eyebrows, the—

Gracelyn Moses . . .

Spinning around in her chair, Tori minimized the page of Opal-related links and stood, her self-made promise to avoid the library's main room no longer applicable. After all, information gleaned on the Internet lacked two key components in any investigation—body language and facial expressions.

She left her office and headed up the hallway to the library's main room. A quick inventory of her surroundings netted an elderly man using one of the public computers, an elderly woman—probably his wife—searching the mystery fiction aisle with a contented smile on her face, a young mother and her preschool-age child looking at the schedule of upcoming events, and Gracelyn making her way toward the front desk.

Nina was just opening her mouth to greet Gracelyn when the young mom diverted her attention onto the schedule. “Excuse me. Is the toddler-age story time mentioned on here a once-a-week activity?”

Tori moved in behind Nina and quietly tapped her on the shoulder. “You take this one and I'll take care of the new visitor.”

“But you're not supposed to be here, remember?”

“It doesn't matter. I've got this.” She turned as the new visitor approached the counter, a smile of recognition lighting the woman's otherwise tired eyes. “Good morning, Gracelyn. Welcome to our library.”

“Victoria, hello. I was hoping you'd be here. I want to thank you for including us in your sewing circle meeting
the other night. It was a bright spot in what has been an otherwise not-so-great week, let me tell you.”

“Are you not enjoying your stay here in Sweet Briar?” Tori asked, lowering her voice.

“When it was just a visit, yes, I was enjoying it very much. But I was ready to go home two days ago.”

Tori motioned Gracelyn to follow her to a small reading corner just beyond the bank of computers and invited her to sit. When the woman was settled in a chair, Tori pulled one of the opposing chairs closer. “I'm sorry you're going through this, Gracelyn. I'm sure you know that Rose and Leona never wanted anything like that to happen to anyone, much less inside their store.”

“I know that, Victoria. I really do. I even know this pull of mine to go home makes no sense. In the grand scheme of things, there's nothing there for me anymore, anyway.” Sadness played across Gracelyn's features only to be pushed aside by something much closer to a controlled rage. “But making that so wasn't enough for her, was it? No, now she's going to affect my life from the grave, too.”

She tried to stop the gasp before it made it past her lips, but it was too late. All she could do now was hope that the man peeking at them around the computer monitor would go back to whatever it was he'd been doing before Tori claimed his attention. “Are you talking about Opal Goodwin?” she asked quietly.

Gracelyn's tone remained angry. “Who else?”

“Sh-she's affecting your life from the grave?”

“I'm being forced to stay in this town because of her, aren't I?” Gracelyn hiked her purse onto her lap and reached inside for a tissue. Balling it up against her nose, she blew. “And she's
dead
.”

“I don't understand.”

“I don't, either,” Gracelyn said, her anger showing signs of fatigue. “I've always believed that the afterlife would be a time for people to fix the mean things they did on earth. Sadly, it appears as if I was wrong. Now, instead of just exiling my kids, she's found a way to get me out of Jasper Falls, too.”

She contemplated playing dumb and doing whatever it took to get Gracelyn to bring her up to speed on everything Tori already knew thanks to Margaret Louise's legwork, but time was of the essence. The sooner she figured out what happened to Opal and why, the sooner Rose and Leona could get back to growing SewTastic's customer base and Tori could get back to basking in her newlywed status with Milo. “I read about what happened with your kids' business ideas. I'm sorry they didn't get to run with them the way they'd hoped.”

“They should have, you know. They were both brilliant and well thought out.” Gracelyn dropped her face into her palms and let out a long yet surprisingly quiet groan. “I thought for sure they'd get approved. Heck, I was the one who pushed my son, Marcus, to consider Jasper Falls for his motorcycle shop in the first place. I thought it would be a good fit for him, and I saw it as a way to keep him there where I could be a part of my grandchildren's lives whenever he and Sherry—that's his wife—get around to making some babies.

“And Alison's clothing shop for teenage girls? Clothes like that are usually found in the big cities—like New York and Chicago, not Jasper Falls, South Carolina. The high school girls would have swooned over Alison's designs, and I could have had my little girl
home with me every night instead of smiling at me from my computer screen once a week.”

“Your daughter
moved away
?” Tori asked as the pieces of the puzzle finally clicked into place.

“They both did—Alison
and
Marcus. They had dreams but, because of Opal Goodwin, they had to leave the only home they've ever known in order to make them come true.”

“Where did they go?”

“Alison went to California, and Marcus went to Texas,” Gracelyn said, her voice heavy with emotion.

“Wow. That had to be hard.”

Gracelyn's eyes drifted to a point somewhere beyond Tori, the rage that had ruled them earlier now muted by pain. “I have no one now—no one to eat with, no one to sit on my front porch with, no one to fuss over, and no one to spoil with special treats. My children have made new homes without me.”

She sat perfectly still, afraid to speak, afraid to make a sound. Less than twenty-four hours earlier, she'd been convinced Opal's power move against Gracelyn's children wasn't a strong enough motive for murder. Yet now, after everything she'd just heard, she couldn't help but feel as if the who and why had just been handed to her with a great big sparkly bow on top.

“I—I don't know what to say.”

And it was true, she didn't. Not to Gracelyn, anyway . . .

Lifting her hands up, Gracelyn pushed at the air as if she were shifting an invisible weight off her shoulders. “I'm sorry, Victoria. I didn't come here to unload my trials and tribulations on you.”

“No, no, it's okay.” Tori scooted forward on her chair until her knees were almost touching Gracelyn's. “I can't imagine how difficult it's been for you since your kids left.”

“They're coming back this weekend. For a visit.” Gracelyn clasped her hands together with wide-eyed hope. “And maybe now, with Opal out of the way, they can give some thought to moving back and opening those businesses after all.”

With Opal out of the way . . .

It took everything she had not to jump to her feet, run for her phone, and speed-dial either Margaret Louise or Charles. But just as she was contemplating a host of polite ways to extricate herself from the conversation without raising suspicion, Gracelyn reached back into her purse and pulled out a familiar white book with red lettering.

“When I mentioned to Minnie that I was heading into town this morning, she asked if I'd drop off this book for her.” Gracelyn rested the book,
Getting Away with Murder
, atop Tori's legs and stood. “My daddy always used to say it was the quiet ones you had to look out for in this world.”

“The quiet ones?” Tori echoed.

“That's right. He used to say they were more dangerous than the loudmouths because no one ever pointed in their direction. Out of sight, out of mind, I guess.” Gracelyn looked from Tori to the book and back again. “You won't tell anyone she checked this out, will you? I mean, Minnie is old, you know . . . And it's not like she didn't do something everyone else thought of at some point that day.”

“Wait. You think Minnie had something to do with Opal's death?”

“Of course. We all do.”

Tori drew back, shock sending a shiver down her spine. “Because she's quiet?”

“No. Because she's had little to nothing to do with the rest of us since that woman was found dead. She won't look anyone in the eye, won't engage in idle chitchat, and I've heard her crying off and on since we checked into the inn.”

“I don't think that means she killed Opal,” Tori protested.

You, on the other hand—

“On its own, you'd probably be right. But considering I've heard her cry out for Opal's forgiveness at least a half dozen times since Saturday night, I'm inclined to believe there's something there . . .”

*   *   *

If it wasn't for the changing of the guard on her favorite radio station, another ten minutes might have passed before Tori finally pulled her keys from the ignition and tossed them into her purse. But now that she had, the next logical step was to actually get out of the car and engage the porch's lone figure in conversation.