The Stitching Hour (10 page)

I grinned and shook my head at how cute they were—Angus waiting patiently for his cookie . . . Ted easing it slowly out of the box to tease him just a bit.

After treating Angus, Ted turned to me. “How about you? Would you like a cookie?”

“Not right now. But I'll make a fresh pot of coffee for you to enjoy with yours.”

“Thanks. I'll take you up on that offer.”

“So . . . um . . . how was the mood at MacKenzies' Mochas?”

“I think Blake must've taken Calloway's advice and talked with Sadie,” he said. “There's a bit of coolness between them but nothing like what I'd expect if she still suspected him of having an affair.”

“I'm hoping she'll find time to drop in later. I don't want to pry, but I would like to know that everything's all right with the two of them.”

Angus, who had practically inhaled his cookie, sat waiting for another. When Ted and I walked into the office so I could brew the coffee, the dog trailed along behind us and flopped onto the floor beside my desk.

As I busied myself with the coffeemaker, I said as casually as I could, “I suppose I should tell you what Vera and I were doing this morning.”

Ted put the box of cookies on my desk, slid his hands into his front pockets, and looked up at the ceiling. “Let's hear it.”

“It's not that big a deal . . . really.”

He lowered his eyes back to my face. “Of course, it's a big deal. Had it not been, you'd have said,
Hey, guess what Vera and I did.
This was a
I have a confession to make since you're probably gonna find out about it anyway and you're not gonna like it
thing. So give it to me straight please.”

“Well. . . .”

He frowned.

“Okay,” I said. “She and I got to wondering if any of the actors at the Horror Emporium could've known Keira prior to her death, so we . . . auditioned them.”

“For what—the role of killer?” He affected an old-man-director voice. “Were you to be cast in the role of Keira Sherman's murderer, how would you do it?”

“Oh, my gosh! That's better than what we did. I should've talked with you beforehand.”

“Marcy!”

“What? I mean, had we done it your way, we might've at least gained some insight into
how
exactly Keira was killed,” I said. “As it stands, we've got nada.”

He nodded toward the coffeemaker. “How much longer? I'm needing that caffeine more than ever.”

I glanced at the aromatic brew streaming into the pot. “Any second now.”

“So you and Vera held
auditions
? For what?”

“We left it open. See, Vera pretended to be Mom's assistant, and we let the actors think Mom is scouting for new talent.”

“Babe, your mom is a costume designer. She has nothing to do with casting.”

“Well, of course, you and I realize that, but they only know she carries some clout in the business and that she
knows
people.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “And how exactly did you use these auditions to investigate Keira's murder?”

The coffee was down to an occasional drip, so I slid the pot off the burner and poured Ted a cup. Before I could return the pot, a drop of coffee hit the burner with an angry hiss.

“We let the actors perform a brief monologue and then asked them questions.” I gave him the example of the girl from Oklahoma.

“But, sweetheart, if the killer
was
working undercover at the Horror Emporium in order to get an opportunity to murder someone—namely, Keira—he or she is
not
going to admit to having a prior connection to the victim.”

“I know. Still, Vera and I got to meet the people behind the Horror Emporium masks and learn a little about them,” I said. “If we find out anything new or see any of them acting suspiciously, we can fill you in.”

“And what're you planning on telling your mom when all of these actors flock to the Stitch to see if she can help make them stars?”

I scrunched up my face. “I'm not ready to think about that yet.”

•   •   •

I'd changed into a red dress and nude heels before my date with Ted. He'd dressed up too. He wore gray slacks, a white shirt, and a navy sport coat. So he looked great, but he didn't appear to be headed off to the police station.

And he brought me a single red rose. I put it in a bud vase and placed it in the center of the kitchen table. Ted gave Angus a granola bone—which I knew wouldn't be eaten until we returned—and again promised him a doggie bag.

On the drive to Lincoln City, Ted and I speculated about what Angus might be doing in our absence.

“First, he'll call all his friends from the dog park,” Ted said.

“Don't be ridiculous. He'll send them a group text.”

“Of course. I'd forgotten how tech savvy he is.”

“So you think he's having several friends over instead of just one special someone?” I asked.

“Well, he hasn't given me the impression that he has his eye on anyone special. Has he said anything to you?”

“No . . . but then, he wouldn't.” I took Ted's hand. “Too bad everyone can't find someone as wonderful as you.” I groaned as soon as I'd said the words. “How sappy was that?”

“Pretty sappy. I might've gotten a cavity. In fact, I thought for a second there that we'd been transported into a corny movie of the week that would end in one of us tragically dying.”

“I'm sorry. It's just that Jared Willoughby came by the Stitch today. He's really worried about his mom, and of course, he's upset over Keira. That poor guy has been so unlucky in love.” I shook my head slightly. “First he had that disastrous short-lived marriage, then got into what—from all accounts—was a stormy relationship with Keira.”

“He'll bounce back. And he'll find someone.”

“Yeah . . . I know. I just hope you and Manu can keep his mom out of prison. I know she's innocent, Ted.”

“We'll do our best, babe.” He squeezed my hand. “Hey . . . we were laughing and joking about Angus planning a party, and now we're down in the dumps. This date is supposed to be cheering us up, you know.”

“I know. Subject dropped. We'll put everything aside and have a wonderful night.”

“All right,” Ted said. “I do love how you're so compassionate, but tonight I don't want you to have the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

“I won't.” I wished I hadn't mentioned Jared, Keira, and Christine. The investigation was consuming so much of our attention, and we'd both wanted to put it out of our minds tonight. I resolved again to dedicate the evening to having fun and not being distracted by thoughts of something that—at least, for now—I could do nothing about.

That resolution, like most, turned out to be easier said than done. When we walked into the restaurant, we saw Jared Willoughby having dinner with the lovely young actress, Adalyn Daye.

A
s Ted drove us back home, I went ahead and acknowledged the elephant in the room . . . er, the backseat.

“Well, that was awkward . . . you know, trying to forget about the investigation when Jared Willoughby and his date are sitting at the table right across from ours.”

“True. But I thought we did fairly well under the circumstances,” said Ted. “When we passed by them, you greeted them both by name. Is the woman a Seven-Year Stitch customer?”

“No, she's actually one of the actresses at the Horror Emporium. Her name is Adalyn Daye.”

After Ted and I had been seated, dinner conversation had been relegated to the mundane for us and for Jared and his date. Neither couple seemed to want to talk within earshot of the other. Jared acted as if I'd caught him doing something wrong, and Adalyn seemed confused as to the weirdness that had settled between us.

“I don't know why Jared acted so strange,” I said. “It's not like it was wrong for him to be on a date . . . right? I mean, he and Keira had broken up.”

“He
was
awfully jumpy though. In fact, he acted like a man with something to hide. You can bet I'll be looking even more closely into his whereabouts on the night Keira died and talking with their acquaintances about their relationship. I'll be going back and reviewing Ms. Daye's statement as well.”

“You don't think they had anything to do with Keira's death, do you?”

He glanced over at me and raised a brow. “Now, Inch-High, what's my motto?”

“Everyone's a suspect.”

•   •   •

Since Ted was working on Sunday—likely following the leads he'd gained on our date the night before—I called Riley Kendall to see if she was free for lunch.

“I'm thrilled that you called,” she said. “Everyone decided I needed a day off—everyone, that is, except me. Mom took Laura, and Keith went to play basketball with his brother. I'd love to have lunch with you.”

“Wonderful. I'm having sort of a lonely day myself, and some girl time will do us both good.”

“I'll bring a bottle of merlot.”

“Does merlot go well with cheddar and bacon quiche?” I asked.

“Merlot goes well with
everything
.”

When I got off the phone, I went straight into the kitchen and got to work on that quiche. Of course, it was necessary to explain to Angus why I was rushing around, but he was delighted to hear that Riley was coming over.

I think he was happier still to learn that she wouldn't be bringing the baby. Not that Angus didn't like Laura—he did. And he wanted desperately to snuffle the tiny creature that smelled so intriguing from a distance. But every time Riley brought Laura around, both Riley and I shielded her from Angus's curiosity.

We knew—I more than Riley, naturally—that Angus would never purposely harm the child, but he was so large that we thought it best to wait until Laura was a little older and bigger before allowing the two to interact. Today, he didn't have to share Riley with the baby. He decided to take a nap so he'd be refreshed when she arrived. I deduced this from the way he lay down on the floor and fell asleep.

•   •   •

Even casually dressed, Riley had an air of sophistication and confidence about her. She made me feel as if she could step into a courtroom in the jeans and sweatshirt she wore and still sway a jury as if she was dressed in a designer suit. The adage
clothes make the woman
didn't apply to Riley.

“Mmmm. . . . something smells great.” She gave me a hug and then handed me the bottle of merlot. “Don't think I forgot you, mister.” She took a large cookie that was shaped like a peanut out of the small white bag she carried. “Did you know they're selling these at the pet shop now? They're organic and even gluten-free. What'll they think of next?”

I laughed and admitted that I had no idea. Angus took his cookie to the living room to savor it privately.

I'd already placed the quiche in the center of the table and had blueberry mini muffins in a napkin-lined basket on the counter. I moved the muffins over to the table before we sat down.

“It's nothing fancy,” I said. “More of a brunch than a lunch, I suppose.”

“I think it's super. Thank you again for inviting me. Maybe Mom and Keith were right about my needing a little time for myself.”

I poured the wine into our glasses and served the quiche. As we ate, Riley asked me about Christine. “I don't know her all that well—only from the classes we've been in together at the Stitch—but she seems like a super-nice person.”

“She is,” I said. “I haven't spoken with her since the night Keira was found and we all had to go to the police station to give our statements, but she was terribly distraught about everything.” I shook my head. “And you know the strongest piece of circumstantial evidence they have against her? A Seven-Year Stitch key ring.”

I explained that I'd gotten the key rings in only on Thursday and that they were for the open house goodie bags.

“Christine was there in the shop right after the key rings arrived. She was upset about Jared—her son—and his relationship with Keira, so I handed her a key ring as sort of a pick-me-up. Then, lo and behold, the key ring was found beneath Keira's body.”

“And Christine is the only person to whom you gave a key ring?” She'd clearly shifted into lawyer mode.

“Yes, but I took Angus for a walk and left the box open on the counter, so theoretically, someone could've come into the shop while we were gone and taken one,” I said. “Not to say anyone would
steal
a key ring from the shop—they weren't all that valuable or anything—but someone could've come in, realized they were free, and—”

“Have you counted them?”

“What? No.” I closed my eyes. “How dumb am I? That's the first thing I should've done Friday morning.”

“Don't beat yourself up. You've had a lot on your mind,” said Riley. “We'll go over there and count them now.”

My eyes popped open. “No way! You can't spend your day sitting with me on the storeroom floor counting key rings. I'll go in early and do it tomorrow.”

“Let's do it now. The two of us will be able to verify that the key rings weren't miscounted or that you didn't pocket one to help Christine.” She smiled. “Besides, my curiosity has the best of me now.”

•   •   •

Riley and I thought it best to leave Angus at home this trip. We shouldn't be gone long, and he was—as Riley had pointed out—another variable that could call the accuracy of our count into question. On the chance that more than one key ring was missing, the prosecutor could ask, “How can you be a hundred percent certain that your dog didn't carry off one while you were counting them?” Riley really did think of everything. I hoped I never found myself in trouble with the law but that, if I did, Riley Kendall was on my side of the courtroom.

I parked the Jeep at the back of the shop. When we started to go inside, Sadie came out of MacKenzies' Mochas with a bag of trash.

“Hey,” she said. “Is anything wrong?”

“No,” I said. “Riley and I are just here to count key rings.”

Sadie frowned. “Key rings?”

“One of Marcy's promotional key rings was found underneath Keira's body Thursday night,” said Riley. “The only person Marcy gave one to was Christine Willoughby.”

“I did leave the open box on the counter when I took Angus for a walk Thursday morning,” I said. “You were here when I came back. You didn't notice anyone coming into or leaving the shop around that time, did you?”

“No. I was so tired and frustrated, I don't think I even paid attention to a box being on your counter that morning. And I certainly didn't take a key ring.” She frowned. “So you guys are planning on counting the key rings because you're hoping it's the
only
one missing or because you're hoping more than one is missing?”

“I'm hoping there's at least one more missing,” I said. “That key ring is the only evidence tying Christine to Keira's death. And I
know
she's innocent.”

“Don't be too sure of that,” said Sadie. “There's very little we know for certain.” She lowered her eyes and shook her head slightly. “I need to get back inside. I'll try to come over later and help you if you need it.”

“Um . . . okay . . . thanks.” I unlocked the door, and Riley and I went inside.

I flipped on the lights and we walked into the storeroom.

“Sadie does have a point about not knowing everything about everyone,” Riley said softly. “I've been an attorney too long not to realize that people are often capable of things we'd never thought them to be.”

I realized she was probably thinking of her own father, who was currently serving time in prison for fraud.

She shook off her melancholy and smiled. “Sadie's gloomy mood must've been contagious. Let's put these grim thoughts aside and get to counting those key rings.”

Thirty minutes later, we'd counted and recounted the Seven-Year Stitch key rings. Rather than the four hundred ninety-nine I'd expected there to be, there were four ninety-seven.

I looked at Riley. “So now what?”

“You let Ted know, and we'll both make a note of this on our calendars,” she said. “That way, we have the exact date, time, and number of key rings logged. We don't know when the other two key rings were taken, and we can't even be a hundred percent sure that the company sent five hundred since you didn't count them upon arrival.”

“But there's now reasonable doubt that the key ring found on the sidewalk beneath Keira's body is the one I gave to Christine?”

“Precisely.”

We put the key rings back into the box, and I turned the lights off.

“I'll call Ted after we get back to my house,” I said, opening the door.

I stopped when I heard angry shouting and shot Riley a questioning glance.

“Shh.” She reached around me and pulled the door up, leaving it cracked so we could see who was arguing.

A short man with neatly trimmed black hair and a full beard was pointing his finger at someone. I eased the door open a tiny bit farther so I could see who the short man was pointing to. It was Blake.

“You'll pay for this!” the short man shouted. “My daughter's death is on your hands!”

“That must be Ken Sherman,” I whispered.

Riley nodded.

“Should we do something?”

She shook her head. “This is something else you need to report to Ted . . . and then stay out of.”

•   •   •

After Riley went home, I let Angus out into the backyard and sat on the porch swing. Angus typically liked to lie on the swing beside me, but he became interested in a squirrel and chased after it until it scampered up a tree. Angus lay at the bottom awaiting its return.

I breathed in the scent of the pine trees mixed with the briny sea air and wondered what to do with all the information I'd gathered over the past couple of days. This puzzle kept getting more and more complex.

While Christine Willoughby was the primary suspect due to the Seven-Year Stitch key ring I'd given her, Riley and I now knew there were three missing key rings from the box. Of course, Christine had said she lost the key ring, so the one found with Keira could very well have been hers. But what about the other two? Had someone taken them, or had I received only four ninety-seven from the factory? Should I contact the company to ask how certain they were that their shipments were a hundred percent accurate? Or would that make any difference in the eyes of the police?

And what about Jared and Adalyn? Had Keira known about their relationship? Had Adalyn known about Jared's relationship with Keira? Jared had to have known that with the two working in such close proximity—and with MacKenzies' Mochas doing concessions for the Horror Emporium—they would have to cross paths eventually.

My mind wandered back to Ken Sherman yelling at Blake. Why did he blame Blake for his daughter's death? Did he—like Blake—feel that Blake should've been helping Keira with the concessions rather than touring the Horror Emporium? Or was there something more to Mr. Sherman's accusations? I wondered whether I could find a way to casually talk with Mr. Sherman . . . or, if I should do as Riley had suggested and stay out of it.

There simply had to be
something
I could do to help find Keira's killer. I was completely lost in thought when my cell phone rang, and I started so violently that I almost fell off the swing. The ringtone was “You Don't Have to Be A Star,” so I knew it was Mom.

“Hi, Mom. What's up?”

“I just had you on my mind. I'm really looking forward to seeing you on Tuesday.”

“I'm looking forward to it too. But”—I took a deep breath—“there's something I need to tell you.” I explained about the murder and how Vera and I had interviewed the Horror Emporium's actors to see if any of them had known Keira. “So now they think that you're scouting for new talent.”

“You told them I'm a talent scout?” she asked.

“No. They know you're an acclaimed costume designer. But they also know that you have connections.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do!”

“It's all right. We'll deal with it when I get there,” she said. “Did your plan work? Did you find anyone who knew Keira?”

“I didn't think so, but then I saw Adalyn Daye—one of the actresses—with Jared Willoughby.”

“And Jared had been dating Keira.”

“Right,” I said.

“If I were you, I think I'd look at that a little closer,” she said. “When you and Todd were going out, Keira was certainly aware of you.”

“Yeah, and she hated me because she wanted Todd.”