Needle and Dread (9 page)

“Why? We always have enough dessert left over after a meeting to feed a small nation. I'm sure the cookies you made this morning, along with everyone else's treats, will be more than enough, Margaret Louise.”

When her list was done, Margaret Louise folded the slip of paper and thrust it into the pocket of her polyester jacket. “I'm not worried 'bout havin'
enough
dessert, Victoria, I'm worried 'bout havin' the
right
dessert.”

Tori eyed her friend closely. “You lost me.”

“You ever eaten somethin' so sinful you feel as if your brain quits workin'?” Margaret Louise returned the notebook to her tote bag and vacated the stool.

“With you and Debbie as my friends? Many times.”

“Well that's what I'm aimin' to do—to make somethin' so good our guests can't help but start runnin' off at the mouth 'bout this, that, and the other. 'Cause maybe, one of them others might be just what we're lookin' for to figure out which one of 'em strangled Opal Goodwin in Rose's project room.”

Tori fell into step with Margaret Louise as the woman made her way back toward the hallway to sit in on the last ten minutes of story time. “You really think a dessert can do that?”

At the mouth of the hallway, Margaret Louise stopped and turned to face Tori. “I'm bettin', based on that question, that I've never made my Truth Serum Brownies for you, have I?”

“Truth Serum Brownies?” she repeated.

“That's what I said.”

“But—”

Margaret Louise's brown eyes slid left to the front door and then right toward the children's room, her voice morphing into a rare whisper. “How do you think I know the things I know in this town, Victoria?”

She drew back. “I—I don't know . . .”

“Well, you do now.”

Tori maneuvered the vacuum cleaner across the final section of living room carpet, mentally moving the chore into the done category of her brain as she did. As much as she loved sewing circle Mondays, hosting one after a full day of work certainly upped the fatigue factor. Still, the prospect of having her friends all together, in the same place and at the same time, had a way of making up for the added workload.

Each one of her sewing sisters brought something special to her life . . .

Rose brought wisdom, love, and a poignant reminder that true friendships were blind to things like health and age. When Rose found herself in the hospital for an infusion treatment tied to her arthritis, Tori was by her side, telling her stories, keeping her spirits high, and holding her hand. When the pain in Tori's heart over
the loss of her great-grandmother came to the surface as it was prone to do, Rose was always there with tissues, a comforting hug, and an understanding ear.

Margaret Louise brought joy—plain and simple. The sixty-year-old's zest for life and unshakable loyalty had provided Tori with a road map of sorts for her own life. In fact, through Margaret Louise, she'd come to realize how something as seemingly inconsequential as a chocolate chip cookie and a glass of milk could mean a world of difference to someone needing a boost. Just knowing that Margaret Louise was always willing and able to roll up her polyester sleeves and help anyone anytime was both inspiring and humbling.

Leona, while prickly and downright rude, had taken Tori under her wing. And though there were times when Leona's life coaching came unprompted and unsolicited, it was never without a measure of genuine affection.

Dixie served as an ever-present reminder to never give up on oneself or others. It was a lesson that hadn't come easy thanks to Dixie's once intense hatred for Tori, but with time, the seventysomething had come to realize that her forced retirement at the hands of the library board hadn't been Tori's doing. Slowly, through their shared love of books and their shared affection for the patrons of the Sweet Briar Public Library, they'd forged a patch of common ground big enough to coexist until true friendship had taken root.

Debbie set the bar for Tori in terms of the kind of life she wanted with Milo—a life guided by love, respect, and hard work. Watching Debbie with her husband Colby and their two kids had helped Tori shed any residual fear over the notion of getting married while
simultaneously teaching her to trust herself and her own heart. It was an aspect of their friendship Tori would always hold dear, even if the woman's baking prowess was to blame for Tori's need to increase her workout routine from three times a week to four.

Georgina Hayes, the town's mayor, was a true believer in the notion that one could never have too many friends. A native of Sweet Briar with a plethora of friends she'd known since childhood, Georgina had still made it a point to welcome Tori to Sweet Briar, even going so far as to invite her to a sewing circle meeting. The rest, of course, was history, but it was because of that history that she'd be forever in Georgina's debt.

Melissa Davis was simply the kind of mom Tori hoped to be one day. Endlessly patient with each one of her eight children, the thirty-six-year-old had a smile and a word of encouragement for anyone and everyone. The fact that her children had such giving hearts by the time they could walk was a testament to the woman's belief system.

Beatrice Tharrington, although still young, had taught Tori so much about the power of listening. When you listened, you learned. And when you learned, you grew . . .

Looking down at the patch of carpet she'd vacuumed at least a half dozen times in the past few minutes, Tori turned the handle perpendicular with the floor and shut off the machine.

“I was wondering when you were going to finally declare that corner clean.”

Startled, she glanced over her shoulder to find Milo's amber-flecked eyes watching her with amusement. “Oh. Wow. I didn't hear you come in.”

“I'm not sure you'd have heard me if I'd been an elephant.” He grabbed hold of her waist and turned her around, pulling her close as he did. “So where were you just now?”

She inhaled his scent and felt the smile it ignited across her face in response. “Thinking, I guess.”

“Thinking about what?”

“The crew.” Slowly, reluctantly, she unlatched her hands from the back of her husband's neck and stepped back. “Each and every one of them has been a blessing to me.”

“And to me.” He bent down, kissed her full on the mouth, and then motioned toward a wrapped package on the couch. “I stopped at the store on the way home from school and picked up a little something for us.”

“For us?”

“You'll understand when you open it.”

“Oooh, I'm intrigued.” She pulled the plug from the wall socket and instantly found herself back in Rose's project room with a very different cord in her hand . . .

“Tori? You okay, hon?”

Blinking away the memory, she finished looping the cord into place on the back of the vacuum and returned to a stand. “Yes, yes, I'm fine. So, can you give a gal a hint?”

He followed her gaze to the package. “Nope.”

“Gee, thanks.” She sidestepped her way around Milo and sat down next to the package, any lingering stress over the memory of Opal taking a backseat to anticipation. With careful fingers, she worked the wrapping off at the tape spots until she could finally reach inside and pull out the gift.

As she did, she found herself looking at a framed
collage of some of her favorite honeymoon pictures. In the center of the mix was the one taken on the top of the mountain. “Oh, Milo,” she whispered. “It's perfect. Absolutely perfect. But when did you do this?”

“On the way home from school just like I said. Once I had the frame and the reprints, I went back to my classroom, put it together, and wrapped it.” He took the frame from her hands and carried it over to the fireplace. “So do we want to hang it here—above the fireplace—or do we want to put it in the dining room?”

With just a simple upward motion of her hand, he moved the frame up a half an inch from where he'd placed it. “Yes. There.”

He pulled a pencil from his back pocket, made a mark on the wall, and then rested the frame on the mantel while he secured a hammer and nail from his toolbox. Three strikes of the hammer later, the picture was in place and his arm was around her shoulders. “It looks awfully good hanging there, doesn't it?”

“It looks amazing.” She took a moment to absorb each and every picture one more time, focusing in on the happiness they both wore like a second pair of clothes. “Promise me we'll carve out special time like this throughout our marriage . . .”

“I promise.” He squeezed her to him, lingering his lips on her temple as he did. “Hey, did you happen to ask Nina about that week between Christmas and New Year's? Can she cover the library for two or three days?”

She hated that she had to say no, but she couldn't lie, either. “I'm sorry, Milo. I'd intended to ask her about that after story time, but Margaret Louise was around
and it slipped my mind. Then, when I thought of it again later, Nina was on her lunch break.”

He released his hold on her and returned the hammer to its spot in his toolbox. “Why didn't you just ask her after her lunch break?”

“I was distracted.”

“By . . . ?”

She waited for him to close the box and then led him back to the couch. Once the wrapping paper was balled up and thrown away, she joined him on the cushion. “One of the women from the tour group came into the library to borrow a book for however long the chief says they need to stay.”

He nodded to show he was listening but remained silent as she continued. “I guess I was so shaken up by the book she checked out, all thoughts of a post-Christmas getaway slipped my mind completely.”

“I don't understand.”

“Of the five ladies in the group on Saturday, Minnie Randolph was, hands down, my favorite. She's this tiny little thing who looks just like Mrs. Claus and laughs like her, too.” Tori rested her head against Milo's outstretched arm and examined the image in her head for more details to share. “I'd put her at about Rose's age, though not quite as frail and just a wee bit absentminded, but in a very endearing way.

“She seemed to love the
act
of sewing, even if she wasn't necessarily versed in the
art
of sewing, if that makes sense. But we all took to her right away. Heck, even Margaret Louise, who is the very epitome of a grandmother, said Minnie was the kind of granny everyone
wanted. Sweet. Happy. Endearing. You know, the whole package.”

“Go on. I'm listening.”

Tori took a deep breath in and let it slowly work its way back through her parted lips while she readied the next part of her tale. “Okay, so Minnie walks into the library at around two o'clock this afternoon with the same smile and sweetness she had on Saturday. I told her I was happy to have her at the library and even showed her around a little. She'd heard Margaret Louise mention the children's room at some point during the event on Saturday and so I showed her that, too. When we were done, I walked her back up to the counter and asked her if there was anything else I could do for her.”

“And that's when she asked for some sort of book that upset you?”

Tori pivoted her body so as to afford the best view of Milo's face while she filled in the remaining part of the story. “She asked for a book called
Getting Away with Murder
.”

“
Is
there such a book?” Milo asked.

“Dozens, actually. Some fiction. Some nonfiction.” She looked down at the half inch of cushion between them, then back up at Milo. “She didn't seem to know that there were multiple books with that title, which gave me a chance to get my shock under control.”

“Wait. Shock, why?”

“Think about it, Milo. By her very presence on Saturday, she's on the suspect list. But until that moment, she was merely on it to be fair. I didn't think she actually could have
killed
that woman.”

“And you think so now?”

“Why else would an eighty-year-old woman want to read a book with that title?”

He drew back. “You think she was looking for tips?”

“I don't know what to think. I just know that the very title of that book has to raise
some
suspicion, don't you think?” She stopped, brought her breathing under control, and moved on to the other troubling piece in the puzzle. “Couple that with Rose's recollection of Minnie spending a rather lengthy period of time in the project room with Opal and then coming out looking a little
unsettled
.”

He took everything in and then grabbed hold of Tori's hands. “Okay, so maybe she's the one.”

“But she can't be. She's old . . . and sweet.”

“Did she and Opal get along?”

“Opal was horrid to her,” Tori mused. “She was constantly putting Minnie down and treating her like some sort of brainless child.”

“Then you may have to accept the possibility that old and sweet may have finally snapped.”

“I'm sorry, Milo, but I just can't believe Minnie would do something like—”

“Hello? Is anyone home?”

Pulling her hands free, Tori rose to her feet and turned toward the kitchen just as Charles, Leona, and, Rose came around the corner.

“I told them we should have knocked harder, but I was outnumbered.” With trembling hands, Rose lifted her foil-wrapped plate in line with her chest while motioning toward the dining room table with her chin. “Should I put my lemon bars on the table?”

“I'll take them.” Tori crossed into the dining room and took the plate from Rose's hand. “How'd your
meeting with Miranda go today? Did you come up with any good ideas?”

“We came up with one before we adjourned for the day.” Rose pointed at the still-wrapped plate. “I made those from a favorite recipe of my mother's.”

Tori peeled back the foil and peeked inside. “Mmmm, Rose, these look and smell delicious.”

Leona snapped her fingers in the direction of the kitchen and waited as Charles relocated the plate of store-bought cookies from the wrong table to the right table. “I hear my sister is bringing the big guns this evening.”

“Margaret Louise is bringing
guns
?” Tori repeated as Milo joined them long enough to kiss both Rose and an eye-batting Leona before excusing himself to the bedroom for the remainder of the evening. “Don't you think that's a little excessive? I mean, if we figure out who did it, we'll call the chief.”

A loud, boisterous laugh from the kitchen yielded Margaret Louise and her own foil-wrapped plate. “She's referrin' to my Truth Serum Brownies, ain't you, Twin?”

Tori welcomed the new addition with a hug and then lifted the wrap just high enough to reveal the mound of carefully cut brownies inside. “They look like normal brownies to me . . .”