The Stitching Hour (13 page)

“Then doesn't that kinda confirm what you went there to learn?” I asked.

“It does, but
kinda
doesn't hold up in a court of law.”

“I was just thinking earlier that I'd love to talk with Ken Sherman . . . get a feel for who he is, what makes him tick, you know?”

Ted leveled his steely blue gaze across the desk at me. “No.”

“No? You don't know what I mean? Well, I'm talking about seeing what kind of first impression he makes on me. I know he didn't leave you with a very good one, so—”

“Marcy, this is not a joking matter.”

“And I'm not kidding! I truly want to meet the man,” I said. “I'll tell you what I
really
want. I want to go to Keira's funeral. On television, the killer always shows up at the funeral. If we were there, we could see who showed up, I could say a few words to Mr. Sherman, and—”

“I
am
going. In fact, Manu and I are going.”

“Then Reggie and I should go too. If you and Manu go by yourselves, then it's going to be obvious that you're there as police officers. If you guys take Reggie and me, then everyone will think you're there as concerned members of the community.” I let my words sink in for a minute. “Please?”

He blew out a breath before biting into a breadstick.

Good stalling tactic. He couldn't talk with his mouth full.

“When is the service?” I asked.

He swallowed. “This evening.”

“They've finished the autopsy already? That was quick.”

“We asked that Keira's autopsy be made a top priority.”

“What was the official cause of death?” When he hesitated, I reminded him that the death certificate would be a matter of public record.

“I could suggest you look it up,” he said dryly. “But I might as well tell you—the cause of death was heart failure from venom toxicity. She was poisoned.”

I gasped. “So it
was
the rattlesnake?”

He shook his head. “The puncture wounds are inconsistent with the distance between the snake's fangs.”

I frowned. “But—”

“I've said too much already.”

“Okay. So what time is the service tonight?”

He took a long drink of his water. “Let me talk with Manu. I'll call you later this afternoon and give you all the details.”

T
ed picked me up at six p.m. That had given me only little over a half hour after getting home to feed Angus and get ready for the funeral. I hadn't had time to stop by the grocery store, but I figured drinking water for one more day would do us good. When Ted arrived, he'd changed into a black suit, gray shirt, and dark gray tie. He looked gorgeous.

I was wearing a long-sleeved black dress with a high-necked lace bodice and black heels. I'd curled my hair and pinned it back off my face with rhinestone clips. My platinum locks were short but versatile, and I felt this style made me look more serious.

“You look beautiful,” Ted said as he helped me into my cobalt blue coat.

“Thank you.”

I left the living room and hall lights on for Angus and turned the porch light on for Ted and me.

When we arrived at Tallulah Falls's one and only funeral parlor, Manu and Reggie were waiting for us in their car in the parking lot. We parked beside them and got out.

“Do I look all right?” Reggie asked, indicating her simple white tunic and slacks. “White is what we wear to funerals in India. I couldn't find anything black that was appropriate.”

“You look lovely,” I said.

Manu looked nice too. He wore a black suit, cut much like the one worn by Ted, a white shirt, and a white pocket square. I liked how he'd managed to comingle the mourning colors of his native land and America's.

“I don't really know what to say to anyone,” Reggie said. “I barely knew Keira at all.”

“We're here to express our respect and regrets to her family,” said Manu. “I didn't know the girl either.”

A shadow passed over his face, and I imagined he was remembering how he'd found her and tried to care for her when we'd come upon her on the sidewalk.

I squeezed Ted's hand. I didn't tell him often enough how much I appreciated his job and his skill in taking care of others.

He smiled down at me. I hoped he could guess at what I was thinking . . . or that I could remember to tell him later.

We walked inside to the cloying scents of carnations, mums, and roses. There was a small dish of wrapped peppermints in the foyer. I took one, unwrapped it, and took a deep breath to savor the smell of the candy before I popped it into my mouth. I looked around for a wastepaper basket but couldn't find one.

“Be right back,” I said to Ted.

I stepped into a hallway that opened up to a larger room. I saw a small garbage can discreetly placed near an end table in that room. I hurried over and tossed in my cellophane wrapper.

I raised my head, and it occurred to me that I'd walked into the room where the casket was—or, at least, where
a
casket was. I didn't know if this was the room set aside for the Sherman family or not.

There were a few people mingling around, but I didn't recognize any of them. Some were giving me curious glances, so I made my way slowly to the casket.

Inside was Kiera in a long-sleeved yellow dress with a white lace overlay on the bodice. Her long dark hair was spread out on the pillow, and she reminded me of one of those princesses asleep in a fairy tale. I thought maybe if Jared came and kissed her, she'd open those smoky gray eyes and sit up.

A wave of sadness swept over me, and my eyes filled. A tear escaped down my right cheek.

Someone came up beside me and offered me a tissue.

“Thank you,” I said, dabbing at my eyes. When I turned, I was surprised to see that it was Ken Sherman who'd given me the tissue. “Oh . . . Mr. Sherman. . . .”

He smiled slightly. “I'm sorry. Your name escapes me.”

“I'm Marcy Singer,” I said. “We've never met. I just . . . um . . . recognized you from seeing you with . . . Keira.”

“I see. Well, we've met now.”

I nodded. “I'm so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. How did you know Keira?”

“I knew her from MacKenzies' Mochas,” I said. “I didn't know her all that well . . . and I regret that now.” I really did regret that. After what Jared had told me, it seemed Keira could've used a few more friends.

He shook his head slightly and stared at his daughter lying in her casket. I patted his arm.

“Dad . . . are you all right?” The smooth, cultured voice came from behind Ken Sherman and me.

Mr. Sherman turned. “Yes, darling. Come here and meet Marcy. She used to work with Keira.”

“Um . . . actually, we didn't work together,” I said. “I have the embroidery shop down the street from MacKenzies' Mochas.”

“Oh,” said the sophisticated young woman who was apparently Keira's sister. “The Seven-Year Stitch. I've been meaning to stop in.”

“Marcy, this is Bethany,” said Mr. Sherman.

Bethany and I shook hands. Hers were long, thin, and well manicured. I remembered what Jared had said about her—gorgeous and brilliant. I couldn't attest to the brilliance yet, but Bethany was stunning. She looked similar to Keira; but where Keira reminded me of a Disney princess lying there, Bethany reminded me of a supermodel. There was nothing princess-y about her. She was all sleek lines and . . . well . . . hard edges. I could easily believe Jared had been right about her dual degrees too.

“Do you embroider?” I asked. It sounded lame, but she'd said she'd been meaning to visit the Stitch, and it gave me something to say.

“Some of the women in my circle knit,” said Bethany. “I've been thinking of picking it up.”

“Well, if you do, come and see me.”

“I certainly will.” She turned to her dad. “I just wanted to make sure you're all right. I left some people in the other room. I need to get back to them.” She glanced over her shoulder at me. “Nice meeting you, Marcy.”

“It was nice meeting you too,” I said.

Bethany strode away, and Mr. Sherman smiled at me, pride shining in his eyes.

“Isn't she something?” he asked.

“Yes, she is. She appears to be holding her emotions in check well.”

“Oh, that Bethany is a rock,” he said. “She takes care of everyone else, leaving herself for last. It makes me worry about her sometimes.”

My eyes cut to the room across the hall from us where Bethany was throwing her head back and laughing at something someone had said. Either she wasn't really all that broken up about her sister's death, or else she was hiding it awfully well.

“What does she do . . . for a living, I mean?” I asked.

“She's a criminal attorney in a prestigious firm in Seattle,” he said. “She also has a doctorate in psychology, so she has an edge over other lawyers in the courtroom.”

“I imagine so. That's wonderful.”

“It is.” His eyes misted. “I'm so proud of her. Poor Keira. . . . We couldn't even persuade her to go on to college. She was so lazy and unmotivated. She thought I'd give her everything until she could find a man and get married.”

The conversation was getting more and more awkward, and I just wanted to get away. I felt sorrier for Keira than ever.

“I guess maybe she thought her strengths lay in becoming a homemaker,” I said.

“Who knows? I cut her off and made her get a job, hoping she'd come to her senses,” he said. “When she didn't, I thought I'd buy her a business. I thought she could maybe make a go of that.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Sherman. I need to speak with someone,” I said. “Again, I'm truly sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Marcy.”

I hurried into the foyer where Ted, Manu, and Reggie were waiting.

“Where've you been?” Ted asked. “We were getting concerned about you.”

“I went to throw away my candy wrapper and wound up in the room with . . . with Keira.”

“Let's step out into the fresh air,” Reggie said.

“Good idea.” I hurried out the front door, and they followed closely behind me.

“What happened?” Ted asked when we got to a relatively secluded area.

“I spoke with Mr. Sherman.” I blinked back the tears that suddenly burned my eyes. “I wish we could just leave. I know it was my idea to come here, but . . . but poor Keira!”

“I can drive you home,” Ted said. “I can still get back in time for the funeral.”

“No,” I said. “I'll see this through. Besides, I feel like
someone
has to be here for her. I mean, I think her dad cared about her . . . but not as much as he loves her sister and—and maybe even his business.”

“Are you sure?” Ted asked. “We've got this if you'd like to go home.”

“We do,” said Manu. “We know the boyfriend, his new girlfriend, his mom . . . all the major players. We even know some of the people who might've been working with Mr. Sherman.”

“No.” I lifted my chin. “I'm not gonna bail on you guys.” I took a deep breath. “I'm feeling better now. I just . . . I know exactly what you mean about getting a weird vibe from Mr. Sherman now.”

•   •   •

We went back inside and sat down in the chapel. The casket was wheeled from the viewing area to the front of the chapel before the service began. We were the only ones not socializing in the other two rooms when the coffin was brought into the chapel. Reggie, Manu, Ted, and I sat on the back row where we could observe everyone.

Blake and Sadie came in, but they didn't seem to notice us and sat in the middle on the side opposite us.

The Atwoods came in. Not surprisingly, they looked as if they'd just come off the set of a comedic horror show. Claude wore a black tuxedo with tails, a ruffled black shirt, black bow tie, and black top hat. He even walked with a black cane with a gold handle. From where we were sitting, I couldn't be sure, but the handle looked like the head of an eagle. Priscilla wore a long, Kelly green gown with a matching headband that held a large flower. Her hair was curled into an intricate updo. When she walked, I noticed there was a thigh-high slit in the gown and groaned aloud before I'd realized what I was doing.

Ted raised a brow at me.

“Sorry,” I whispered. “That's just . . . inappropriate.”

“Agreed.”

“Definitely,” Reggie said from my other side. “Disgustingly immodest.”

“Oh, it's not that bad,” said Manu, and earned an elbow to the ribs from his wife.

Ted chuckled into his fist.

Several of the Horror Emporium actors trailed in after the Atwoods and sat with them—or near them, when they ran out of room on the pew. I saw the one who was afraid of dogs, the one who'd done a monologue from
Hamlet
 . . . and Adalyn Daye. Adalyn wore a tasteful black suit and black flats. Her hair was held at the nape of her neck by a black ribbon. She appeared to be very quiet and reserved, especially in comparison with the Atwoods and the rest of their entourage.

Todd came in, spotted us, and came to sit in the row in front of us. He turned to say a hushed hello.

“I'm glad you're here,” I whispered.

“I'm glad you guys are here,” he said. “I feel really uncomfortable being at Keira's funeral, but I felt like I should come.”

Christine Willoughby walked in, her blue purse clutched to her chest. Her eyes darted right and left, and she went up the left side between the pews and the wall. She sat in a pew about a third of the way from the front.

She looked miserable. I supposed she was here for Jared, but where was he? I kept thinking he'd join her any second, but he never did.

•   •   •

Manu, Reggie, Todd, Ted, and I had agreed to meet at the Brew Crew for a drink. Since Ted and Manu were driving, they had sodas. Reggie had a white wine. And, since I felt depressed, I had a decaffeinated coffee with Irish cream.

“Where was Keira's mom?” I asked to no one in particular.

“She died when Keira and Bethany were young,” said Todd.

“And Mr. Sherman never remarried?”

He shook his head. “From what I hear, he keeps a few girlfriends on the string but didn't want to risk his wealth by marrying again.”

“What did you guys think of Bethany?” I asked.

“The stunner sitting beside Ken Sherman?” Todd asked. “Wow. I'd heard about her from Keira, but she exceeded even Keira's exaggerations.”

I slapped Todd's arm lightly.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“Well, maybe if everybody didn't feel like Bethany was so perfect, Keira would've gotten more attention and been a better, happier person.”

“Everyone deals with sibling issues, dear,” said Reggie. “I have two sisters—one younger and one older. We had our differences growing up. Each of us thought another of us was our mother's pet or our father's favorite. We got over it. It's what you do as you mature.”

“What about you?” I asked Ted. “Did you and Tiffany have any issues growing up?”

“Of course. We used to fight all the time. We didn't stop until I went to college and we didn't live in the same house anymore,” he said. “We don't talk every day or anything like that, but we each know the other would be there if needed.”

“I not only had to deal with siblings, but I had plenty of cousins to compete with,” said Manu. “We loved one another, we hated one another, but at the end of the day, we were family.”

“That sounds great. I never had siblings or cousins,” I said. “But I never felt that I was missing out on anything. I just wish things had been different for Keira. Even standing there at her casket, her father was comparing her unfavorably to Bethany—and he was talking to
me
 . . . a stranger!”

“That is sad,” said Reggie. “But we can't know what he's feeling. Maybe he was talking that way to hide his grief.”

“Maybe,” I said.

I glanced at Ted and he shrugged.

“I'm sorry I slapped your arm, Todd.” I took a sip of my coffee.