Tying the Knot (14 page)

Beatrice said, “I thought you were convinced that Patrick Finley did it. Now you're backpedaling.”

“Only because you presented such compelling evidence and motive against Daniel,” said Meadow.

“I know you're not crazy about Eleanor and Lyla as suspects, but they've also got plenty of motive,” reminded Beatrice. “Eleanor desperately needed money, for one. And, apparently, there was a nice insurance policy on Trevor that's going to help her with some of her financial problems.”

“They've been married for ages and have grown children. Do you think Eleanor would really kill her husband for money?” asked Meadow doubtfully. “I know she seemed somewhat unstable when we visited her. At least, her house indicated that she might be unstable.”

“Money is usually a pretty strong motivator,” said Beatrice. “Besides, there's also the fact that her husband's affair was going to become public knowledge in Dappled Hills. Trevor was practically stalking Lyla, and seemed to be getting less and less interested in being covert about it.”

Meadow nodded. “That's right. He was making scenes, wasn't he? Which is exactly the way people in small towns find out about stuff. It would have made living in Dappled Hills uncomfortable for Eleanor for a while, for sure. So, okay, Eleanor is still a strong suspect, although I feel sorry for her and would hate for her to be responsible for all this. And I guess this leads us to Lyla. You know I feel as if Lyla is a quilting sister of ours and would hate to see her get dragged into this.”

Beatrice raised her eyebrows and set down her empty cup on the coffee table. “Lyla, quilter or not, is hardly a victim in all of this. It sounds as if she was the one who pursued Trevor to begin with.”

“I'd forgotten that. And at first he wasn't interested. Then he became
too
interested.” Meadow looked into her own empty coffee cup. “I'm going to need to have more of this to be able to make sense of this case.” She got up and headed to the kitchen for a minute before returning with another steaming cup of coffee.

Beatrice said, “That's right. Lyla was the instigator and Trevor the reluctant one at first, before it all totally flip-flopped.” She hesitated. “One thing that I haven't told you about is that when Lyla and I were crouched over Trevor's body at the wedding reception, I heard Lyla ask, ‘Why couldn't we have loved each other at the same time?'”

“Really?” Then Meadow frowned at Beatrice and wagged a finger at her. “You've been holding out on me.”

“I didn't tell you because it seemed really personal at the time. Lyla was right over Trevor's dead body. It was sort of an emotional moment that I wanted time to unpack. But you are my sidekick, after all.” Beatrice gave her a smile.

“So, she still felt tender about Trevor,” mulled Meadow. She took a sip of coffee, and then another couple of sips, as if trying to quickly fuel her brain. “But she was also desperate to get rid of him, too. It must have felt as if her husband was on the brink of knowing, what with Trevor pounding on their door at all hours to see Lyla. He was even bothering her at work, and she could have lost her job over personal issues that were taking over work time.”

“Maybe she felt conflicted. On the one hand, she still cared about Trevor on some level. But on the other, she desperately wanted to get rid of him. Once he was dead, she really could have mourned that relationship. Or she could have killed him herself. She certainly passed by Trevor's table. Lyla wouldn't have known that Trevor was trying to reform. She was probably worried that he was going to make another scene,” said Beatrice.

Meadow blew out a loud sigh. “You know, it would be a whole lot easier if people would stop trying to cover stuff up and would actually start telling you the truth. Instead, they're blaming other people. We've got Patrick trying to blame Lyla or Eleanor or anyone but himself, Eleanor convinced that it's Lyla, Lyla convinced that it's Eleanor. And Daniel . . . who does he think is responsible?”

“He didn't really say, but I'd guess that he'd push us to look harder at Patrick Finley, since he knew Trevor had leverage on him.” Beatrice felt Noo-noo put her head on Beatrice's leg in reassurance, and knew that her voice must have sounded concerned as she was working through the case. Beatrice got up from the chair and sat on the floor with Noo-noo, patting her.

Meadow said abruptly, “You know what we should do? Take a walk with Boris and Noo-noo. I'm falling down on my exercise goal because I'm so busy pushing you in Wyatt's direction that I haven't considered how that's going to cut back on our time together. Especially exercise time!” Meadow leaned over and offered Beatrice a hand off the floor.

Beatrice groaned as Meadow pulled her up with a yank. “I don't know, Meadow. Remember what happened last time? I think Noo-noo and I have only recently recovered from our last walk. Noo-noo hasn't even stared meaningfully at the leash lately.” She looked Meadow up and down. “Besides, I hate to point this out, but you're not even dressed.”

“Oh, I can dash in and change when we pass by my house. But I know what you mean about the last walk we had. Let's leave the dogs out of it. I'll drop Boris off when I get changed, and we can continue on without them. I feel like my mind is going in a million different directions, mulling over the case, and maybe some fresh air will provide me some clarity.”

Fifteen minutes later, Boris was carefully shut inside Meadow's house, and Meadow was wearing yellow track pants and a deep orange top. At least, figured
Beatrice, they weren't likely to be hit by a car. A motorist could spot Meadow from a mile away.

“What direction should we walk in?” asked Beatrice. “Are you wanting to head toward town or through the neighborhoods?”

“Let's go toward Eleanor's house,” said Meadow. “Maybe she'll even be out in the yard or something. Maybe she keeps her yard up because she's trying to escape from all the stuff in her house. Anyway, it's a gorgeous spring morning, so maybe we'll see her.”

It was beautiful outside. There had been rain the night before, and the ground was still moist. Robins hopped through the grass on the sides of the road, looking for an early-morning meal. The air felt crisp. It was the kind of morning where you felt anything was possible.

“I'd like to see Eleanor and make sure she's all right,” said Beatrice. “She made quite a scene at the Patchwork Cottage. I'm worried that she's really working herself up about Lyla.”

Meadow gave a short laugh. “Maybe we should be worried about
Lyla
. She's the one whose life appeared to be in danger. Eleanor sure was mad.” She squinted ahead of them. “Okay, it's hard to see through that bit of low-lying fog, but is that Miss Sissy up ahead?”

Sure enough, the old woman was making her way along the side of the road with that odd, galloping gait of hers. She was gripping a wooden cane with one hand and a plastic bag in the other. Beatrice surmised that the cane was to offer some sort of protection, since Miss Sissy seemed too spry today to need any support. “Hi, Miss Sissy!” called Meadow in a cheerful voice.

The old woman immediately scowled and eyed Meadow and Beatrice suspiciously, clutching the plastic bag she was carrying closer to her, as if the two women might snatch it away.

This, of course, had the effect of making Meadow even more curious. “What have you got in the bag, Miss Sissy?”

“A gift,” she said gruffly. And then she added, in case Meadow and Beatrice were in any doubt, “But not for you!”

“May I see it?” asked Beatrice. “I won't touch it if you don't want me to.”

Miss Sissy hesitated, and then took the handles of the plastic bag off her skinny arm. She opened the bag and pulled out a quilted mat of fabric with gold tassels on the end. The mat appeared to be stuffed with batting and sported pictures of whimsical cats in a variety of playful poses.

Beatrice said, “It's really cute, Miss Sissy.” She didn't want to admit that she had no idea what the item was. It wasn't stuffed enough to function as a throw pillow, and it was too big to be a trivet or potholder.

Meadow, however, had no such reservations. “What is it, Miss Sissy?”

Miss Sissy glowered at Meadow. “A cat mat.” Meadow still squinted uncomprehendingly, and Miss Sissy repeated herself, louder this time, as if Meadow were going deaf. “A cat mat! For Smoke to sleep on.”

“Ohhh, I see. A bed for Smoke. Well, it sure is cute. Can it go in the washer?” asked Meadow with some concern. “These pet beds get dirty, you know. I have to throw Boris's in the washer every couple of days.”

“Course it can.” Miss Sissy brandished the cat mat at Meadow, as if daring her to contradict.

Beatrice watched as the old woman quickly bundled up the mat and lay it gently back in the bag. “Aren't you heading in the wrong direction if you're giving the mat to Smoke?” she asked.

Miss Sissy's face fell. “Wasn't home. No one was home. Smoke meowed at me through the window.” There was a look of longing in her eyes.

“Oh,” said Meadow. “Well, Georgia leaves the house very early to go teach school. And Savannah . . . maybe she went out for breakfast. She's an accountant, and I've seen her in the coffeehouse in downtown in the mornings, working. You could have left the bag hanging on their front doorknob, you know. Savannah will probably be home in an hour or so.”

Miss Sissy gave Meadow a black look. “Might get ruined. If it rained.”

“It's a quilt! It would be fine. And it's a beautiful day!” Meadow made a sweeping gesture with her arm, as if to encompass all of nature.

Beatrice suspected the real reason that the old woman didn't want to leave the cat mat involved the fact that she'd lose an opportunity to play with Smoke if she did. From what she'd seen at the quilting workshop, Miss Sissy appeared as if she might easily become attached to the little cat.

“Need to go,” muttered Miss Sissy. She peered at Meadow again. “Savannah will be there in an hour?”

“Maybe. It would help if you called her before you walked over.” Meadow paused. “You do have a phone, don't you?”

It was a reasonable question, considering the fact that Miss Sissy had given the evil eye to Posy's cordless phone at the Patchwork Cottage, calling it an instrument of the devil.

“Yes!” Miss Sissy eyed her disdainfully.

“Okay, so give her a call before you walk over. It might save you a trip,” said Meadow.

They watched the old woman walk away, muttering to herself as she went. Probably dire imprecations directed at Meadow and Beatrice's nosiness.

“Wow, she was in a funny mood. Even funny for Miss Sissy,” said Meadow.

They started walking again. Beatrice said, “I think Savannah better make sure that Miss Sissy doesn't kidnap Smoke during the visit. She sure does like that little cat.”

Meadow's eyebrows shot up. “You don't think Miss Sissy wants a cat of her own, do you? Miss Sissy can barely even take care of herself. Besides, she has a hobby that takes up most of her time.”

“Quilting is a great hobby, but it doesn't exactly measure up to owning a pet,” said Beatrice thoughtfully. “Although I know what you mean. Miss Sissy isn't exactly completely compos mentis.”

“And what would happen if she got worse somehow? Who would take care of the cat?” asked Meadow. She gave Beatrice a meaningful look.

“Oh no. No, I don't think I want to take on more pet
ownership right now. I've had a bunch of pets in my day, but now I'm ready for a break. Noo-noo is definitely enough. I've only just unloaded Smoke on Savannah, remember?” said Beatrice. “Maybe Boris would like a little brother.”

“Boris?” Meadow made a face. “I have a feeling that Boris would get pretty jealous. And he's not crazy about cats, anyway. Didn't you tell me that Noo-noo wasn't happy about Smoke when he was staying with you?”

“Her brown eyes were green with envy,” said Beatrice.

They chatted about other things for a few minutes as they walked. Then Meadow said, “There's Eleanor's house, but I don't see her outside, unless she's in the side yard or around the back. Let's walk slowly and maybe we can spot her.”

Beatrice said, “All I see is her neighbor. He's looking rather suspiciously at us, too.” The neighbor was a short, rather stout man of about sixty-five years, and wore a baseball cap. He was dressed for the yard in a navy T-shirt that had seen better days and a disreputable-looking pair of blue jeans. He squinted in their direction, a grumpy look on his face. Beatrice frowned. “Didn't Ramsay say that he had to make a call at the neighbor's house recently? Something about the neighbor and Trevor arguing, wasn't it?”

“You've got me. I usually zone out when Ramsay starts talking shop. Although it's interesting when
you
talk shop. Who knows why that's the case?” said Meadow.

They drew closer to the man, who said, “Sorry for
the scowl. I was just making sure you weren't that crazy old woman coming back.”

Beatrice and Meadow looked at each other. “Miss Sissy, you mean?” asked Beatrice.

“Whoever she is.” The man shuddered. “She's scary. Acted like she thought I was going to steal her bag away from her. I walked up to the curb to lay down some cut branches, and she started chasing me and waving that big cane.”

“Sounds likely,” said Beatrice with a smile.

“She's harmless, by the way,” said Meadow in a reassuring voice.

“Except if she's driving,” corrected Beatrice. “Then you have to dodge out of her path, even if you're on the sidewalk.”

“She should be locked up,” muttered the man. “I'm Bertie, by the way.”

He stuck out a callused hand, and they shook it. He continued. “I tell you what: This neighborhood is getting too weird for me. I thought this would be a nice place to retire, but stuff keeps happening.” He nodded his head in the direction of Eleanor's house. “Case in point: a murder next door.”

“Well, not exactly next
door
,” said Meadow. “It happened on the church grounds.”

“I stand corrected,” said the man. “I should have said that my
neighbor
next door was murdered.” He rolled his eyes and leaned on his rake, as if conversation with Meadow was exhausting. Beatrice really couldn't blame him.

Beatrice asked carefully, “How did you and your neighbor get along?”

“Not particularly well,” said Bertie succinctly. “He was an okay guy at first. He was busy, you know. I really didn't see him much because he was working a lot and working odd hours. A doctor, I think. I'd see his wife, though, Eleanor. She works out in the yard a lot, and so do I. Although she's not the friendliest person in the world. She'll say hi and then she's wanting to pretend you're not even there.”

Meadow said loyally, “Eleanor is introverted, that's all.”

“You said that your neighbor, Trevor, was an okay guy
at first
. When did that change?” asked Beatrice.

“When he started acting up. He was coming in at odd hours. He did that sometimes with his work, but then he was coming in wearing scrubs. This was more like he was wearing junky clothes and acting drunk, setting off his car alarm by accident at three in the morning—that kind of thing. He starts arguing with me over stuff with the yard, like my tree's leaves were blowing over into his yard and making a mess for him to rake up. He wasn't acting like he usually did,” said Bertie.

“But you don't have any thoughts on what happened to him, do you? I mean, I know you weren't at the wedding reception where the murder occurred, but you haven't observed anything as a neighbor that makes you feel you know who might have killed him?” asked Beatrice.

“Oh, I've observed things, all right.” Bertie puffed up a bit, looking smug.

Beatrice said, “What kinds of things?”

“Arguments. I don't know who killed Trevor. I'll
state that for the record. Don't want anyone suing me for slander, right? But I will say that he really got into some yelling matches lately. Can't say I blame the people—Trevor wasn't easy to get along with.” Bertie stopped leaning on his rake and took a few swipes at some of the grass clippings he was corralling into a pile.

Bertie continued. “He was arguing with his wife a lot. She'd try to convince him to head off to work, and he'd be unshaven and wearing a sweat suit and clearly not planning on going to the hospital.” He gave a delicate cough. “Apparently, they were having some money issues, and his wife was reminding him of that a lot when she was telling him to get ready for work.”

Beatrice nodded. “Anyone else?”

“Sure. Let's see. There was also that guy in the suit. He was by here a few weeks ago and had a real fight with Trevor in the driveway. Tall, lean, was wearing glasses. Looked real serious, but he wasn't reserved at all when he was yelling at Trevor. And Trevor was falling-down drunk in the yard and trying to yell back, but not making any sense.”

Beatrice and Meadow exchanged looks. That must be Daniel. And he hadn't had the civil conversation with Trevor that Beatrice had heard about; he'd been clearly very angry.

Bertie seemed ready to finish up his yard work, so Beatrice and Meadow continued on their walk. Eleanor never did make an appearance, despite Meadow's loitering as long as possible in front of her house. They strolled farther through the neighborhood before finally turning around and heading back.

“Well, at least we fit in our exercise. What else are you planning on doing today?” asked Meadow as she stood at the top of her driveway at the end of their walk.

“I was thinking that I'd head over to the Patchwork Cottage for a while,” said Beatrice. “That's usually the best place to get caught up on what's going on around town. And, besides, I thought I might pick up a couple of things there for my next quilt, after I finish the one for Piper.”

“Let me know how things are in the shop today. I'm hoping the place is hopping after that workshop,” said Meadow.

*   *   *

Actually, Posy's shop
was
hopping. When Beatrice walked in, she saw two of the quilters from the workshop—and it didn't seem to be their first time back. One of the shoppers had even brought two friends along, and they were planning to start their own guild in Lenoir. Posy had a spring in her step as she hurried about the store, making recommendations and checking customers out. She waved at Beatrice, and Beatrice grinned at her.

While Posy was checking out the last customers, Beatrice shopped for fabric for her next project: a kaleidoscope quilt. She'd understood that it was tricky to get just the right fabric for the quilt, but she was ready for a challenge after the simpler, machine-quilted owl quilt she was finishing up for Piper. Beatrice knew she needed a medium-to-large print with enough of a light-colored background to keep from losing the design within each block. She chose fabric with geometric
shapes in vibrant shades of lavender, turquoise, and plum.

Posy joined her after her customers had left. “That fabric will make a beautiful quilt.”

“I hope so. But it's a really difficult one for me to take on. I'll probably be spending a lot of time at the Patchwork Cottage, getting help. And it looks like you've got some other customers doing the same! I noticed a couple of faces from the new quilter's workshop,” said Beatrice.

Posy smiled happily. “It's turned out really well. And the nice thing is that some of them have introduced their friends to quilting, too. It's been very busy here at the shop. I've got some other ideas, too, for community outreach. At the spring festival, I'm having a sort of quilting ‘petting zoo.' Lyla is going to help me set it up.”

Each year the town of Dappled Hills sponsored the festival, and it had become a highlight for the community. It was held in the old fairgrounds on the other side of Dappled Hills. The property itself was nicely flat but surrounded by mountains and had a nice view of the forested valley below from the height of the Ferris wheel. The local children enjoyed the rides and the hands-on mountain crafts like pottery making. The adults enjoyed the fellowship, juried craft exhibitions, and fair food.

Beatrice raised her eyebrows. “So the ‘petting zoo' will be a way for people to try out quilting for a few minutes?”

“Right. Because I think there's this idea that it's too difficult to take on and it might be scaring away younger quilters. And it
can
be really difficult, but it
can also be very easy, depending on which pattern you're choosing and if you're machine quilting. It's the kind of hobby that you can grow with,” said Posy. She spoke faster than usual in her excitement.

Beatrice said, “So, you'll have a booth at the festival with a sewing machine in it?”

“That's right. The booths all have outlets, so I can have a couple of sewing machines and quilts in different stages of completion. Meadow and Savannah are going to help me out, too,” said Posy. She gave Beatrice a smile. “I'm thinking you're going to be attending the spring festival with Wyatt, aren't you?”

Beatrice nodded. “That's the plan, although the church does have a booth at the festival. The women of the church are having a bake sale to benefit local children's charities. But he's not obligated to do anything but the cleanup after it's over. So, we're really looking forward to it.”

“Beatrice, I feel like we haven't caught up for ages. Would you like to come to my house tonight to have supper with Cork and me? We're not planning anything special, just a veggie night. I'm making some roasted red potatoes, lima beans, and a salad, and I've got some delicious strawberries from the farmers' market that I thought we might slice up. And a bottle of wine,” she added with a laugh. “Since Cork thinks a meal is uncivilized without one.”

“A natural sentiment from a man who owns a wine shop,” said Beatrice. “And one that I have to agree with him on. I'd love to.”

A bell chimed as the door opened and Savannah walked in. As usual, she was wearing a rather severe
outfit: an ankle-length skirt and a long-sleeved floral blouse. But her hair, usually pulled back tightly into a bun, was gathered less tightly, giving her an overall softer look. “Hi, y'all,” she said. “Thought I might pop my head in to say hello for a few minutes.”

Beatrice said quickly, “You've just left work, then? You haven't seen Miss Sissy, have you?”

Savannah frowned. “No. Was I supposed to?” Then she sighed. “This is about Smoke, isn't it? I could tell Miss Sissy was getting attached to him.”

Posy said in a sympathetic voice, “I remember at the workshop you could hardly pull Smoke away from Miss Sissy.”

“I'm sure Miss Sissy has got to feel lonely sometimes,” said Beatrice. “I was wondering if a pet might do her some good. But I don't think she could take care of one all the time, either.”

Savannah reached up a hand to clutch at her high collar. “You don't mean that I should share Smoke with Miss Sissy, do you? Because I don't think I could possibly consider that. I barely see enough of Smoke as it is.”

“No, no. I don't think you should share Smoke—he's your cat and you're crazy about him, I know. Maybe we could think on it,” said Beatrice.

Posy said slowly, “I was thinking, after seeing everyone's reaction to Smoke at the workshop, that it might be fun to have a cat for the shop. A kitten probably wouldn't work as well, because I'd have to keep too close an eye on it. But a lazy, grown-up cat—maybe one we could find at the shelter might be fun. Then Miss Sissy could take the cat home with her some days and bring the cat here, too, to spend time at the shop.”

Beatrice smiled at Posy. “That's really generous of you. It's not as if you don't have enough going on with the store and all the new customers. And then going home to spend time with Cork and cook supper . . . it's a lot.”

“Well, a shop cat would be something the customers would enjoy, too. Maybe they'd linger longer in the store if they had a kitty to visit. And if I could split the responsibility for a while, that would be nice, too,” said Posy.

Savannah said, “I'm surprised you haven't had a cat before now. I know you love them.”

“Oh, I do,” said Posy. “I guess I've just never gotten around to it, or maybe it hasn't been the right time.”

Beatrice said, “And I think you've always felt like Miss Sissy sort of
was
the Patchwork Cottage cat. At least, she's spent so much time napping here that it could be easy to make that mistake.”