Reap What You Sew (19 page)

Chapter 16

Tori turned the key to the right and pushed, the telltale aroma that was home guiding her feet across the threshold. No matter how much headway she had or hadn’t made with her friends in the quest to identify Anita’s murderer, one thing was certain…

They’d had fun.

Lots and lots of fun.

Never in her wildest imagination could she have dreamed of the various murder scenarios a group of women, armed with sewing boxes and threaded needles, could concoct.

First, there’d been Dixie. Aside from the fact her plot was something out of the game Clue, the notion of Colonel Mustard with a deadly brownie had earned its fair share of laughs.

Then Rose had stepped into the limelight, and her tale of a jealous stand-in hell-bent on taking over the film’s lead role had held actual merit… until Leona had happily pointed out that
she’d
been used in that capacity the day before the murder. And that she didn’t need a brownie to get the role.

Beatrice, although sweet, had obviously been reading too many murder mysteries as of late, and so much of what she’d proposed hadn’t made its way onto the piece of paper Debbie had thrust into Tori’s hand.

Margaret Louise had been curiously quiet, the earlier bout of preoccupation that had enabled Annabelle’s slick ways to go unnoticed short-lived. As a result, rather than be the partner-in-crime Tori had relied on many times in the past, Leona’s twin had sunk into the role of concerned daughter.

Leona had been useless as always, her contribution to the topic at hand nothing more than superficial. Though, by the time the evening was over, there wasn’t a sewing circle member who couldn’t recite which male suspect looked the best in his clothes.

Debbie and Melissa had been the most helpful, their suggestions of wounded egos and retribution carrying the most weight. After all, in just the time Tori had been an extra, she could name a few production folks who weren’t Anita Belise’s biggest fans.

Deep in thought, Tori shut and locked the door behind her, then tossed the keys onto the hall table as she made her way toward the kitchen. The rational side of her brain told her she wasn’t hungry, that the cookies and pie Debbie had lavished on the sewing circle had been more than enough. But it was the other side—the side that tended to crave sugar whenever she was stressed—that had her feet on autopilot all the way over to the cookie jar next to the sink.

Yet three Oatmeal Scotchies later, she was still stressed. The list she’d made at the meeting contained just four names.

Glenda.

Todd.

Margot.

And Warren.

She knew the last name was a stretch, the possible motive dubious at best, but still, it had its place. Especially if Warren truly had a thing for Leona and felt Anita was a detriment.

Tori sank onto her chair at the tiny kitchen table, her thoughts spinning in a million different directions.

Warren was wealthy, successful, and more than a little handsome. The press he was getting on the movie was substantial. So why would he even consider doing away with the woman who brought in droves of moviegoers all by herself?

“He wouldn’t,” she said aloud, the sound of her voice in the otherwise empty kitchen bringing her up short. “Great, now I’m talking to myself.”

Shaking her head, she looked down at the list she’d compiled, her gaze focusing on the first name.

Glenda.

She spun around in her chair and reached into a nearby drawer, plucking a pen from its depths. If she’d learned anything over the past two years, it was the need to consider all possibilities, all avenues.

“Glenda…” she said aloud. “Glenda.”

Closing her eyes, she called up an image to go with the name.

No more than about twenty-five, Glenda Goodnight, as her name tag read, had mousy brown hair and large hazel-colored doe eyes. The young woman’s propensity for salt-free snacks did little to help a waistline that could best be described as chunky.

Beyond the physical stuff, though, Tori didn’t know much except that Glenda appeared to be one step above Margot on the movie set totem pole. At least in terms of dealing with extras.

Then again, now that she thought about it, she’d overheard Glenda refer to herself as Anita’s personal gofer-girl—a role the woman neither relished nor appreciated.

Tori felt her excitement building. Glenda had motive. She’d resented the way Anita bossed her around, always snapping at her for one thing or the other. Perhaps, the girl had hit her limit and snapped.

She glanced back down at the paper, her hand poised and ready to draw a circle around Glenda’s name until she looked at the one below.

Todd.

Unlike Glenda, Todd was closer to Tori’s own age. Super tall with sandy blond hair, Todd was one of those guys you tended to overlook. It wasn’t that he wasn’t attractive, because he was, in his own way, but there was something about him that made him fade into the background unless he was talking.

His job on set was easier to identify than Glenda’s since he’d been the one canvassing the crowd that first day, culling extras from the line and bringing them to Margot. Like Glenda, he, too, had shown little affection for the movie’s female lead, citing the woman’s constant threat to his job security during the same conversation Tori had overheard while talking to Margaret Louise on the phone during a break.

In fact, if she remembered the fruits of her eavesdropping correctly, Anita had threatened Todd’s job on a regular basis. Something that surely grew tiring if not downright infuriating for Todd.

But did it become infuriating enough to kill her?

Maybe.

She circled Glenda’s name and then Todd’s, her eyes drifting one line lower to the third name on the list.

Margot.

In an instant, the image of the tall, leggy redhead with the large brown eyes and slightly sloppy demeanor flashed before her eyes. Like Todd’s job, Margot’s was also easy to determine since Tori had spent virtually all of her time as an extra under Margot’s supervision. Margot had been the one to make sure they understood their tasks, knew where they could be and couldn’t be, and shuttled them to the set as they were needed. Patient for the most part, Margot hadn’t minced words about Anita any more than the other two, yet, for only being in her early to mid-twenties, she’d seemed keenly aware of the fact that Anita’s participation in the movie was crucial for all of them.

Then again, that awareness only seemed to come into play after Anita was dead.

Deflection, perhaps?

She scribbled her thoughts on the paper even as her mind registered the last name on the list.

Warren.

That one still made no sense. However, perhaps it was something
about
Warren that played into Anita’s murder… .

Could another woman have been after Warren? Someone other than Leona? Or—

“Since none of us know exactly what the deal is between the two of them, no one has had the guts to actually make her pay for the way she treats everyone, movie after movie.”

Tori dropped her pen onto the table as Margot’s words filtered through her thoughts. The
who
and the
why
behind Anita Belise’s murder might still be up for grabs, but the
when
behind the crime was starting to sport the faintest outline of a shape. A shape that had Tori wishing she’d bypassed the cookies altogether.

By the time Tori climbed into bed, her head was pounding. Every single person on her list—except for maybe Warren—had motive to kill Anita Belise. They resented her, despised her, and daydreamed of the day they’d be rid of her.

Yet, until that week, there’d been no real opportunity.

Leona’s presence had changed that. And for one daring person, it had been all that was needed.

Who that person was, though, was anyone’s guess.

Including hers.

The ring indicating Milo’s goodnight call broke through her reverie, bringing with it a mixture of relief and anticipation. Hearing his voice before she closed her eyes each night was better than any sleep aid she could find in a pharmacy. Glancing at the clock beside her bed, she rolled over and grabbed her cell phone.

“Hi there.”

“Hi, yourself.” Milo’s voice, warm and strong, filtered through her ears, blanketing her chest with a feeling of contentment. It was a feeling she knew wouldn’t last, especially in light of everything she wanted to share with him, but, for the moment, she’d take it.

“How was school today?” Slipping under the covers, Tori settled back against her pillow. “The kids getting excited for Halloween?”

“I think bouncing off the walls is a more apt description.” Milo laughed. “But, other than that, school was good. How about your day?”

For a moment, she actually considered telling him about work, but opted, instead, to get to the heart of her answer. “We had an emergency sewing circle meeting this evening. At Debbie’s house.”

“Oh? Who called it?”

“I did.”

Stunned silence was replaced by concern. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to return to Debbie’s living room, to the conversation that had started on a serious note yet edged into the territory of fun. “I guess I just needed to bounce my worries about this whole brownie situation off everyone. You know, see if anyone had any ideas that could set me in the right direction.”

“Set you in the right direction?”

“In finding the killer.” The second the words were out, she realized what she’d said. And, despite the mile or so distance between them, she could imagine the expression on her fiancé’s face. Denying her true intentions, though, would be futile.

“Have you ever thought about changing professions?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Seems to me you might be better suited to police work.”

She sat up straight. “Give up the library? Are you serious? Never.”

His answering laugh dissipated the tension his words had caused. “I’m kidding. Truly.”

Slowly, she lowered herself back down to her pillow, her imagination conjuring up images of traffic enforcement and investigations juxtaposed against those of books and schoolchildren. To her, there was no competition. “You know that library is my world.”

“I do. But you have to admit you’ve been donning the investigator hat quite a bit these past two years.”

It was true. But still. There’d been reasons…

“I only wear it when my friends are threatened. Like now.”

“Any leads?”

Her gaze shifted to the sheet of paper she’d left on the nightstand, each of the four names she’d written now followed by thoughts, observations, and even a few unanswered questions. “Leads? No. Paths to explore, yes.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

She pondered his question. “I’m not exactly sure yet. So, can I take a rain check on my response?”

“Absolutely.” Milo’s voice grew husky, a sure sign the topic of their conversation was about to change. “But, just so we’re clear, little miss, there’s no rain check on our powwow tomorrow.”

She swallowed. “Powwow?”

Milo released a sigh. “Yeah, with my mom. To talk about the wedding. Only you didn’t remember, did you?”

She considered protesting, yet knew he’d see right through it. Staring up at the ceiling, she mentally chastised herself for the truth that found its way past her lips. “I’m sorry, Milo. I guess I got wrapped up in the whole movie set business and worrying about Leona’s part in Anita’s death.”

The ensuing silence only served to further her guilt. She rushed to make things right. “But don’t worry. I can shelve all of that in favor of spending time with you and your mom.”

“You sure? Because we could wait.”

“I don’t want to wait any longer than necessary for our forever,” she whispered, pulling the phone closer to her cheek. “Besides, Chief Dallas tends to spend most Saturdays fishing, right? That alone will buy Leona, Margaret Louise, and me a little extra time.”

Chapter 17

For the first time in two weeks, Tori didn’t wake to the bright sun on her face as it peeked its way through the partially open slats of her mini blinds. No, this time Mother Nature decided to wake her in a very different way—thunder.