Sew Deadly (28 page)

“He didn’t mean any harm, not in a malicious way. He just wanted Nina to shine.” The heavyset woman tossed her hands in the air. “He said he knew it was wrong, felt it more strongly each time Nina came home bragging about you . . . but he couldn’t stop. It just spiraled out of control.”

I’ll say it did.

“You need to do what you need to do, but he’s sorry. And he’s afraid Nina will leave him if she finds out.”

Her heart twisted for just a moment before another possibility—too glaring to ignore—reared its head and brought the anger back again. “What if the mistakes he’s made extend to . . . this-this cloud of suspicion I’ve been living under for the past few weeks?”

“They don’t.”

“How do you know, Rose?” she spat.

“Because I had Duwayne Morgan in my classroom all those years ago and he doesn’t have it in him to hurt a flea.”

“He hurt
me
.”

“Psychologically, yes. Physically, no.”

She’d been so sure—so hopeful the missing objects would lead to her being absolved from Tiffany Ann’s murder. But if it wasn’t Duwayne—

“You’ve seen the outrage Dixie has shown me . . . what if that anger extends beyond mean-spirited barbs and threatening glares? What if all this scrutiny I’ve been under is
her
doing?”

Rose struggled to a stand from her spot against the table and slowly closed the distance between them, her hand grazing Margaret Louise’s arm as she passed. “Dixie Dunn did not murder Tiffany Ann Gilbert.”

“Did she say that?”

“No, Victoria, she didn’t.” Rose stopped a few feet from where Tori stood and stamped her sensibly clad foot. “Because we didn’t ask.”

“You—you didn’t
ask
?”

“No. We didn’t,” said Margaret Louise. “We talked about it, even considered it, but . . . in the end . . . we decided it wasn’t fair.”

“Wasn’t fair? Wasn’t fair? That woman has been anything but fair to me from the moment we met.” She could feel the stinging sensation building behind her eyes, could taste the bile that threatened to rise further up her throat.

“We see that now. We’ve admonished her for it. But murder? No, Victoria. Dixie is no more capable of murder than you or Duwayne Morgan are. For you to think otherwise—based on a few jealous little acts—is not much different than what that McGuire fellow is doing to you simply because you’re new to Sweet Briar.” Rose shot her hand out and gently squeezed Tori’s wrist. “I believe in her innocence in Tiffany Ann’s murder as strongly as I do in yours.”

Suddenly deflated, Tori closed her eyes and leaned against the wall once again, Rose’s arm still holding her wrist. “I thought maybe this was it. The answer that would make everything right again.”

“Well this isn’t it. Of that I’m sure.” Rose stepped closer, her hand gently touching the side of Tori’s face. “But Victoria, there
is
an answer. There has to be. Because you did not kill that girl. And neither did Dixie. Or Duwayne.”

The sincerity in Rose’s eyes, the mirror emotion in Margaret Louise’s face buoyed Tori’s spirits somewhat, lifted the cloud of hurt that had descended on her heart as she realized Dixie wasn’t guilty either. No, she wasn’t any further in the whodunit process, but she could cross one suspect off her own imaginary list. And another who’d never even entered her mind. Even if the lines were drawn with a measure of reluctance and a hefty dose of lingering anger.

“So what do I do? This keeping-my-eyes-and-ears-open stuff has done little in the way of getting me out from under Investigator McGuire’s thumb.”

“We keep looking. And we keep listening. And we keep searching. Tiffany Ann’s killer is out there,
somewhere
.” Margaret Louise backed her way to the door, her gaze trained on Rose’s. “But you can’t let it consume you, Victoria. You need to relax, take some comfort in what you’re creating right here in this room.”

“If only it were that simple,” Tori mumbled as Rose pushed a strand of hair behind her ear before heading in the direction in which Margaret Louise had just disappeared.

“Let us help you.” Rose reached out for one of two parcels Margaret Louise held in her hands as she reappeared in the room.

“What are you two up to?” Tori asked, curiosity infusing a little much-needed energy into a voice that had grown bland and defeated.

“Take a look for yourself.” Rose handed her package to Tori then crossed her bony arms across her frail body. “I hope you like it.”

Slowly, Tori unwrapped the package, a dark green piece of fabric appearing in her hands. “What’s this?”

“Robin Hood.”

She felt her mouth gape open as she unfolded the perfectly costumed rendition of a boyhood classic. “Oh, Rose, it’s perfect. The boys are going to love this.”

The elderly woman beamed. “I’m glad.”

“I’ve got something for you, too,” Margaret Louise boasted as she held out the package she carried. “I
know
you’ll like it.”

Seconds and layers of paper later, a red dress with a matching cape and hood emerged in Tori’s hands, the tears from earlier finally making their escape. “Oh, Margaret Louise, I’ve never seen a finer Red Riding Hood costume.”

“See, Rose, what’d I tell you? It
was
worth it.”

“Worth it? What was worth it?” Tori pulled her attention from the costumes in her hand and bounced it between her two friends. “What did I miss?”

Rose’s head dropped downward as it shook from side to side. “A woman who doesn’t listen any better than you do.”

“I listen,” Tori protested. “Unless—
wait
. Margaret Louise, did you confuse a statement for a question, too?”

“I suppose.” Margaret Louise pried her lips open to reveal a noticeable chip in her front tooth.

Tori looked back down at the dress in her hands and back up at Margaret Louise. “You forgot the scissors, didn’t you?”

“Forgot would be to imply
thought
, Victoria.” Rose lifted her head and shook a finger at Margaret Louise. “I tried to warn you.”

“Eh, that’s okay. It was all for a good cause. Right, Victoria?” Margaret Louise let her head fall backward just a little as a laugh began somewhere deep inside her soul and burst out into the children’s room.

Tori looked around the room, her eyes skimming across the murals she’d painted and the costumes she’d collected thus far thanks to the two women in the room with her at that very moment. Friends she’d never have met if she hadn’t moved to Sweet Briar.

“Yeah,” she finally answered, her accompanying smile warming her body from within. “It’s worth it.”

“That’s my girl,” Rose whispered as she took hold of Margaret Louise and nearly dragged the heavyset woman toward the door. “We’ve taken enough of your time already, but we’ll see you tomorrow night, right?”

Tori looked down at the costumes in her hand. “Not this week.”

“Victoria . . .”

“I know it wasn’t a question, Rose. But I have something important I have to do after work tomorrow. Something I can’t put off.”

“Does this something have to do with a certain someone?” Margaret Louise teased until Rose jabbed her with a well-placed elbow to the side. “Ow. Watch those bony elbows, old woman.”

Tori couldn’t help but laugh as she waved off two of the truest friends she’d ever known. Women who were determined to stand by her through thick and thin, supporting her every step of the way. “No, it’s not about Milo or any other man for that matter. It’s about finding answers. For
myself
.”

Chapter 20

In the light of day, Stu’s Flea Market in Ridge Cove had seemed inviting in a rustic sort of way. In the gathering dusk, however, the one-story weathered building conveyed utter isolation and suffocating loneliness—feelings that made Tori’s stomach more than a little bit squeamish.

She should be home, gathering up whatever recipe she might have made and heading off to Leona Elkin’s home for the weekly meeting of the Sweet Briar Ladies Society Sewing Circle. But instead, she was sitting alone, in a deserted parking lot, staring at a row of old-fashioned one-room stores and contemplating what may very well have been one of Tiffany Ann Gilbert’s last moments of pure happiness.

The girl had been reaching for a dream, taking her first real independent steps toward making it a reality. Yet five days later she was dead. A victim of foul play.

It was a thought she simply couldn’t dwell on at the moment. Not when she was trying so desperately to make sense of the troubling thoughts that kept teasing her subconscious, nagging at her for missing something big.

What that something was, though, she had no clue.

Stepping from her car, Tori squared her shoulders and inhaled deeply. It had been a gamble making the drive to Ridge Cove on a Monday evening, but waiting until Saturday wasn’t an option. Something had changed Tiffany Ann’s demeanor while she was there. How else could one explain a happy and upbeat woman taking off in a rush without so much as a word to the owner of the property? Had she received a call on her cell that sent her running? Had she been scared off by something? Was she angry? Was she sad? Was she hurt?

They were all questions Tori had pondered on the drive from Sweet Briar. The kind of questions she knew she might never be able to answer yet couldn’t ignore until she did a little digging.

She tugged her backpack purse onto her shoulder and set out for the main building, a single solitary lamp in a western window giving her hope that Stu was nearby. Although their initial encounter had been fairly brief, she’d seen enough to know he was a decent man or, at the very least, someone who wouldn’t do her any harm.

As she approached his front porch the door opened and a shadowed figure emerged from a dimly lit foyer. “Who’s there? What do you want?”

“Mr. Stu? I met you over the weekend and you showed me your new buildings.”

The man didn’t move. “It’s a little late to be shoppin’ for an office buildin’, don’t you think?”

“You’re probably right. And I’m sorry. I just wanted to talk to you a little bit more about the day Tiffany Ann Gilbert came to see you.”

He stepped out onto the porch, the early moonlight picking out the silver strands in his otherwise dark head of hair. “Oh, sure, I remember you . . . though I’m not sure you ever gave me your name.”

Tori extended her hand and smiled. “I’m Tori Sinclair. I imagine you’re Stu?”

“Yep. Stu Walker.” He lifted his hand to his chin and rubbed it along stubbled skin. “Miss Gilbert isn’t going to rent with me, is she?”

Dumbfounded, she shook her head. “Um, well, I can’t answer that. I di—don’t know her.” She cringed inwardly at the lie, mentally chided herself for being so evasive. But she couldn’t find the words to wipe away Tiffany’s dream.

“I feel like I lost two clients on that same day.” Stu slid his fingers farther up his jawline. “One I have money from, the other I thought was a done deal.”

“Two? Oh—wait. There was the other guy, too, right? The repairman.” She pulled her purse from her shoulder and set it on the porch floor. “Now what happened with him again?”

Stu shrugged. “That’s just it. No one seems to know. To hear his wife rantin’ ’n ravin’ he’s probably run off with some little hussy. And after seein’ his wife, I can’t say as I’d blame him.”

“His name was Travis, right?” she asked, her voice quiet against the constant chatter of crickets.

“Travis it is.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the back wall of the porch, a swarm of moths and late fall bugs taking advantage of the still-open door and lighted foyer. “He was a stickler that one. He read every single paper five times each before he’d sign anythin’. Wanted to see the papers I signed guaranteein’ my tenants a nightly po-lice presence.”

“About that paperwork . . . I was wondering how that really works, how Sweet Briar can promise—”

“Now you sound just like Travis. He had questions, too. And since I was busy givin’ Miss Gilbert a tour and explainin’ it all to her, my contact took a few moments to answer his questions once and for all.”

She considered the man’s words as she looked out into the night, five outlines drawing her gaze and her thoughts back to Tiffany Ann. “Would it be possible if . . . well . . . for me to take a look at those papers?”

A smile crept across his face. “You’re thinking about rentin’ aren’t you? Why else would you come out here after supper? Flea market’s not even open.”

She shrugged quickly, guilt over the mounting lies nagging at her soul. But what else could she do?

“I’ll be right back.” The man disappeared inside the open door only to return less than a minute later. “Here you go, Miss—now what was that name again?”

“Sinclair,” she offered as she studied the document he’d placed in her hand. Sure enough, it was an official Sweet Briar contract offering police coverage to the people of Ridge Cove. The paperwork itself was fairly easy to read, the language more palpable than any legal text she’d ever seen.

“Who signed off on—” She flipped to the last page, her gaze seeking the signature at the bottom. “Oh, Georgina Hayes, the mayor.”

Stu puffed out his chest in pride as he retrieved his contract from Tori’s outstretched hand. “That’s right. It doesn’t get much more official than that now does it?”