Wicked Stitch (13 page)

B
efore Paul and Vera left, Julie called.

“You’ll never guess what just happened,” she teased. “The bakery delivered the prettiest cake.”

“Is that so?”

She chuckled. “Thank you so much. Will you and Ted please come by the shop this afternoon and share it with me?”

“I’ll have to check with Ted to see what he’s doing, but I’d love to,” I said. “Hey, why don’t we make a real celebration of it? Paul and Vera are here, and I can invite them. Of course, you’ll want Amber to be there, and one of us could call and invite Riley, Camille, Keith, and Laura. It would be a wonderful way for you to get to know them a little better.”

“That’s a great idea! Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Mind?” I asked. “Any excuse for a party!”

“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll call Riley and invite her and her family.”

“Cool. I’ll be there around five,” I said.

After ending the call, I turned to Vera and Paul.

“Would you like—,” I began.

“I heard enough of your end of the conversation to know we’re having a party to celebrate Julie’s new job, and we are most definitely there,” Vera interrupted. “Aren’t we, darling?”

“We’re there!” Paul echoed.

“I’ll bring a bottle of champagne,” Vera said. “We’d better be off. See you at the party.”

After Vera and Paul left, I called Ted to ask him to come to the party.

“Sure,” he said. “It’s sweet of you to do that for her.”

“Well, I know she’s been really stressed since being laid off at the bank, and I think working with Riley will be such a good fit for her,” I said.

“I’m following up a couple of leads on the cold case—which, thanks to Paul, you know more about than you should—but I’ll be there as close to five o’clock as I can.”

“You know I won’t break your confidence on the cold case,” I said. “I think Paul just had lots of information from five years ago, and then the fire last week caused him to start looking into it again. I’m not even sure he knew the murder of Joe Palmer was being reinvestigated until then.”

“Babe, I’m not blaming you,” he said. “In fact, I’m kinda glad it’s out there and I don’t have to be as careful what I say about it anymore.”

“Did Manu know about Clara’s connection to the Palmer family?”

“He did. He told me he was working on it but hadn’t gotten that far interviewing the extended family members.” Ted gave a bark of laughter. “He sourly reminded me that he had to take his head detective off the case. I told him he’d better just be glad
he
didn’t speak to Clara on Thursday, or no one would be able to investigate.”

“I think he should tell Nellie that you aren’t a suspect in her sister’s murder and that he’s putting you back on the case.”

“Yeah, well, I help out where I can . . . unofficially.”

“Did anyone see the Crow?” I asked.

“Not yet, but our guys are still keeping a watch out for him. If you see him, stay in a crowded area and call me immediately. I don’t want you dealing with this man alone. He could be dangerous.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to tell you what to do. I only want to keep you safe.”

“I know. I love you.”

“I love you more than you can imagine. And now Manu is looking at me weird, so I’ll see you at five.”

I grinned. “See you then.”

*   *   *

I was explaining to two customers how blackwork was popular during the Renaissance when a court jester dressed in bright yellow with a yellow, green, and orange jester’s hat with bells on the tips cartwheeled across the floor in front of the booth. The two women turned to stare at him.

His hat had fallen off his head during the
cartwheel, but he picked it up, swept it in a wide arc, and bowed to us.

“Huzzah, fair ladies! Huzzah!”

The women looked at each other and then at the jester.

“Huzzah!” they said in unison.

“I am here with tidings from the king,” said the jester. “He wishes me to invite all the merchants and villagers to the arrival of Her Royal Majesty Princess Fiona.”

“I didn’t realize King Duncan had a daughter,” I said.

“Nay,” said one of my customers. “I don’t recall the Bard mentioning it in his play.”

“Well, the Bard knoweth not everything,” said the jester. “Princess Fiona was chosen to represent the royal family here today at a pageant at Tallulah Falls High School some fortnights ago. So please come out and herald her arrival.”

“We certainly will,” I said.

“Huzzah!” he shouted.

“Huzzah!” we replied.

He danced off to another booth.

I went back to showing my customers the blackwork patterns. I gave them the free patterns, and they bought some black floss and canvas.

After they paid for their purchases and moved on to the jewelry booth across the room, I went around the table to pop my head into Washerwoman Jan’s booth.

“Hi,” I said. “Did you hear the jester’s announcement about Princess Fiona’s arrival?”

“I already knew, thanks.”

“Are you going?”

“No.” She pursed her lips. “I believe I prefer to stay here and keep an eye on Nellie’s booth. I’d hate for anything to happen to it.”

“Are you upset with me, Jan?” I asked.

“No. I’m merely disappointed that I didn’t get to see the fire juggler,” she said.

“But I thought you were going out to talk with him.”

“I was, but by the time I got there, he said some cop came along and made him put out the torches and juggle something less hazardous.” She narrowed her eyes.

I imagined she’d heard Ted telling me he’d had the juggler douse the flames. Oh, well. I agreed a hundred percent. If the juggler wanted to throw around flaming torches, he needed to do so onstage, not walking around among the crowd.

“Well, if you change your mind, I’ll see you there,” I said.

About half an hour later, I heard the trumpets blowing to announce the arrival of the princess. Several other merchants were already heading for the door, and I fell in behind them. The worst thing that could possibly happen to my booth had already happened. Besides, I didn’t believe Washerwoman Jan was staying inside to oversee Nellie’s booth. I thought she was simply being petulant about not getting to see the juggler with his torches on fire.

I stepped out into the sunshine and smiled at
the beautiful procession coming up over the grassy hill. The heralds came first with their long medieval trumpets. Next came the two knights on horseback. The heralds and knights wore white tunics with a blue Celtic cross on the front, and their horses were also draped in white with the cross on their chests. The bridles had tassels that alternated navy and light blue.

The heralds and knights were followed by a drum and fife corps that was undoubtedly from Tallulah Falls High School, where the princess had been crowned “some fortnights ago.” They marched proudly and were seemingly unaffected by the camera flashes of many moms.

I smiled broadly at the joy and sweetness of it all.

Princess Fiona was a lovely girl with long reddish blond hair and light eyes. She was dressed in a lavender gown with gold trim, and she wore a tiara. As she smiled and waved to the crowd, I was impressed that some time-traveling orthodontist was working on straightening fair Fiona’s teeth.

The princess’s ladies-in-waiting followed. There were four—all pretty, fresh faced, and giggling.

There were lots more camera flashes. I even took out my phone and snapped a few photos of my own.

Four more knights and two lute-toting minstrels—neither of which was Paul—trailed behind the ladies-in-waiting.

Poor Jan. She doesn’t know what she missed.

I turned to go back into the merchants’ building and saw Jan duck back inside. Like one of the ladies-in-waiting, I put my hand over my mouth and giggled helplessly.

*   *   *

My happy mood carried right over into Julie’s celebration. True to her word, Vera had brought champagne. For some reason I couldn’t fathom, she’d also brought Muriel.

Muriel was a sweet soul who was hard of hearing and a regular in many of my stitching classes. However, she never seemed to know what was going on and was usually content to merely work quietly in the sit-and-stitch square without a word unless she had an embroidery-related question.

Ted came in, dropped a quick kiss on my lips, and handed a bouquet of mixed fall flowers to Julie.

“Congratulations,” he said.

“Thank you,” she said. “As soon as Riley and her family get here, we’ll have cake, champagne, and fruit punch.”

“May I try the champagne?” Amber asked.

“No, you may not,” her mother said. “You wouldn’t like it, anyway.”

“I might,” she said.

“Your mom’s right,” I said. “It’s not all that great.”

“You just aren’t drinking the right champagne,” said Vera. “This stuff is delicious. Can’t Amber have just a sip?”

“No,” Julie said firmly.

“When you’re twenty-one, we’ll drink a toast,” Vera told Amber.

“Thanks, Ms. Langhorne.”

Vera winked.

Muriel went over to the sit-and-stitch square, sat on a club chair, and pulled her blackwork project out of her tote bag. I wondered if she was simply wanting to work on her project or if she had mistakenly thought today was Tuesday. Either way, her cottony little head was bent over her work, and she appeared to be content.

Riley, Keith, Camille, and Laura arrived next. I held my arms out to Laura, and the precious baby reached for me. I took her from Riley and cradled her against my shoulder.

“She is so gorgeous,” I said.

“She takes after her mom,” Keith said, with an adoring look at his wife.

“I’m glad you thought Julie was the best candidate for the job,” I said to Riley softly.

“She was the only person I interviewed,” Riley said. “I believe she’ll be great.”

“She’s never done paralegal work,” said Camille. “To me, that’s a plus. I can train her correctly from the start, and I don’t have to worry about her having to overcome any bad habits ingrained in her by someone else.”

“Is everyone ready for cake and champagne?” Vera asked. She looked at Amber. “Or some delicious punch?”

“Who invited Vera Langhorne?” The scorn dripped from Camille’s words. She and Vera
hadn’t gotten along since Camille’s husband allegedly made a pass at Vera once at a party.

I bit my lip. “Sorry,” I whispered. “She was there when Julie called me, and I didn’t want to be rude.”

“Of course not,” said Camille softly. She raised her voice. “I’ll take you up on the cake and champagne, Vera.”

Vera’s lips tightened. “How nice to see you, Camille.”

I handed Laura back over to Riley. “I’ll take Muriel a piece of cake and some punch. Be right back.”

I got the cake and punch and took them over to Muriel. “Excuse me, Muriel.”

She didn’t glance up.

“Muriel?”

She raised her head. “Oh, cake! How nice!”

“Yes. It’s to celebrate Julie getting a new job,” I said.

“And punch!” Muriel said. “These are much better refreshments than those you usually serve.”

I turned and was headed back to the counter when Mary Alice—known at the Ren Faire as Sister Mary Alice—came through the door.

“Oh,” she said, stopping just inside and putting a hand to her chest. “I didn’t realize you were having a party.”

“Please join us.” I gestured toward Julie. “We’re celebrating our friend’s new job.”

“Congratulations,” Mary Alice told her. “I won’t stay but a moment, though. I simply haven’t had the opportunity to browse your booth at the
Faire, so I thought I’d pop into your shop.” She smiled and wandered down the main aisle. “You have some marvelous things.”

“Thank you,” I said, trailing behind her. “Is there anything in particular I can help you find?”

“No, dear. I’m just looking.” She reached the back of the store, turned, and inclined her head. “You must have been incensed when Nellie Davis’s sister opened up a competing shop right next door to yours.”

“Well . . . I wouldn’t go that far. It upset me at first, but then I saw reason.”

“And what was that?” she asked.

“I realized that if my store couldn’t handle a little competition, then I must be doing something—or maybe a lot of things—wrong.”

“Good point. Still . . . didn’t the tiniest part of you”—she raised her thumb and forefinger, which were just shy of touching—“want to throttle her?”

I laughed. “That might be a bit of an exaggeration.” Did Mary Alice believe I’d killed Clara? And, if she did, did others believe that, too?

She joined in my laughter. “I believe I will take you up on a glass of that champagne before I go.”

*   *   *

I parked the Jeep in the driveway and waited for Ted to pull in behind me. We got out of our cars, called a “hello” to Angus, who’d jumped up and put his paws over the fence to woof a greeting to us, and walked hand in hand to the front door.

Ted opened the storm door while I took out my key. A tan envelope fell at his feet.

“Are you expecting something?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Who’s it from?”

Ted took a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and slipped them on. He picked up the envelope by the corner. “It isn’t labeled. Do you mind if I open it?”

“Of course not.” I unlocked the door, and we went inside. “You obviously have some qualms about it.”

“Don’t you?”

“I do
now
.”

“Do you have a letter opener?” he asked.

“Yes. Would you let Angus in while I get it, please?”

“Sure.” He opened the back door, and Angus loped into the house.

Angus stopped to acknowledge Ted and then scampered into the living room. I turned and gave him a hug before going upstairs to get the letter opener off the desk in my office.

Angus went back to Ted. It was dinnertime, and Ted was in the kitchen. I heard Ted pouring kibble into Angus’s bowl as I headed back to the kitchen with the letter opener.

Ted opened the envelope and took out a single sheet of tan paper.

I have information regarding the death of Joe Palmer. I can prove that Marcus West did not murder Palmer. I want to talk with Detective Nash. ALONE. If I see any other law enforcement officers, I will disappear. Meet
me at the back of the merchants’ building tomorrow at noon.