Wicked Stitch (3 page)

“What are you doing to my little Clover?” she shrieked. “Clover! Clover, darling, come here!”

Clover, formerly known as Harvey, wisely ignored her and scurried under the counter to huddle with Angus in his bed.

Clara scowled at me. “Get my Clover away from that monstrous beast right this instant!”

“Angus isn’t hurting your rabbit,” I said. “In fact, they’re having a blast playing together.”

“What are you doing with her? How did you get her out of my shop without my seeing you?” She squinted, looking as if she half expected me to whip out a magic wand and conjure up a room full of helpless rabbits for Angus to devour.

“I saw the bunny on the sidewalk and rescued
it before it got hit by a car,” I said. “I was hoping the owner would come looking for it.”

“Oh.” She pressed her lips together. “Thank you, then . . . I suppose. . . . But could you please give her to me now? I’d like to go.”

I was happy to accommodate her—not because I wanted to deprive Angus of his new playmate but because I wanted nothing more than to get Clara out of the Seven-Year Stitch. I bent down and carefully picked up the bunny, which had snuggled between Angus’s paws.

“Maybe you guys can play again sometime,” I said as I cuddled Clover.
But don’t count on it
. I walked around the counter and handed the bunny back to its owner. Without another word, Clara took Clover and left.

A
ngus and I were both feeling a bit deflated on the drive home from work. He’d spent the rest of the afternoon lying by the window looking for his little cotton-tailed friend. I, of course, was bummed about the entire situation with Clara. I’d given myself at least a dozen pep talks throughout the day, but it was seriously hard to be optimistic when things kept going from bad to worse. I cheered up when I turned onto my street and saw Ted’s car in my driveway.

I parked, got out of the Jeep, and snapped Angus’s leash onto his collar. The dog pulled ahead of me as he hurried to the door in anticipation of seeing Ted.

Ted opened the door for us, and Angus thanked him with an exuberant hug. Ted laughed, removed the leash, and stepped aside so the excited dog could bound on into the house.

Ted gave me a quick “hello” kiss before closing the door to embrace me more thoroughly.

“It feels so good to have you in my arms,” he
said, once we’d come up for air. “I hope you don’t mind my being here when you got home.”

“Of course I don’t.” I stood on my toes to brush an unruly strand of hair off his forehead. “Is anything wrong?”

“It’s just this cold case. It’s driving me up the wall. I had to get completely away from it for a while.”

I smiled softly. “I understand completely.” And I did. Ted’s spare bedroom is a study, and on one wall he has dry-erase boards and corkboards detailing the cases he’s currently working. Had he gone home, he’d have inevitably found himself in the study examining those boards.

“I ordered a pizza,” Ted said. “It should be here soon.”

“Great. I’ll go ahead and feed Angus while we’re waiting.” I went into the kitchen and found Angus already standing there in anticipation, and I filled his bowl with kibble. As he dug in, I refilled his water dish.

Back in the living room, I found Ted stretched out on my white overstuffed sofa, staring into space. I snuggled next to him, and he wrapped his strong arms around me.

He kissed the top of my head. “I simply can’t figure it out.”

The case really did have him stumped.

“What can’t you figure out?” I asked with mock innocence. “Why you love me so much?”

He chuckled. “No. That’s an easy one.”

“Talking about it—to the extent that you can—might help.”

“It might. But I don’t want to dwell on it and waste my time with you.”

“You’re already dwelling on it, sweetheart. Maybe the master detective Inch-High Private Eye can help you see the case in a new light.”

“All right,” he said. “Without naming names or giving you specifics, Master Detective, a man was murdered. Since he wasn’t an ideal husband, his wife was the main suspect.”

“But even if he’d been an exemplary husband, wouldn’t you still look at his spouse first?” I asked. “I mean, he might be super nice, but she might not be.”

“Of course, we always look at the person or persons closest to the victim first. The fact that he was an abusive philanderer simply gave the wife more motive. The main motive was a substantial insurance payout.”

“How substantial?”

“Two million,” he said. “The man owned a share in an accounting business. When he died, his partner became the sole proprietor. That’s why the wife was so generously provided for in the insurance policy.”

“So the partner didn’t have to buy out the man’s share or anything?” I asked.

“Nope. Apparently, the two men went halves on everything, and their partnership agreement stated that upon the death of one, the other partner would inherit the business as a whole—revenue, expenses, capital, everything.”

“You said the victim was a cheater and an
abuser,” I said. “It sounds like maybe he cared more about his partner than he did his wife.”

“Funny you should say that. I’ve been mulling over the same thing. The conclusion I drew was that the victim could never be sure if and when his wife might get tired of his behavior and leave him,” Ted said. “I don’t know if he and his wife had any sort of prenuptial agreement, but I’m guessing—based on the partnership agreement—that they did. The men had arranged their business in such a way that only the two of them could ever control the business.”

“In other words, if the wife divorced the victim, she couldn’t make him give her a share of the business or sell his share and split it with her.” I burrowed against Ted’s muscular chest. “What about the partner? Was he considered a suspect?”

“He was. But, like the wife, there was insufficient evidence against him to make an arrest.”

“Any other suspects?” I asked.

“Only the victim’s mistress at the time of his death . . . but she was dismissed fairly early on.”

“Why was she discounted so quickly?”

“She had nothing to gain,” he said. “Her only benefit from the relationship was gone as soon as he died. She had to start paying her own bills. There were no more expensive gifts.”

“You don’t think she loved the guy?”

“It’s a little hard to believe after seeing the photographs of the two of them. He was old and paunchy; she looked like a model.” He shrugged. “Maybe she
did
love him. Or maybe his death was
a sad inconvenience that forced her to find another sugar daddy.”

“Either way, I wouldn’t be hasty in taking her off the suspect list,” I said. “If she loved him, she might’ve been angry that he wouldn’t leave his wife for her. If she was only using him, maybe he was ready to move on to someone else but she wasn’t.”

“Could be,” Ted said. “But I don’t think she’s our killer.”

“Who do you think
is
our killer?”

“I’m leaning toward the wife. She had the most to gain. She got two million dollars and stopped being humiliated and slapped around.”

“When you put it like that, it makes thinking she might’ve gotten away with murder seem not so bad. But it is . . . I know it is,” I quickly added. “Did they have children?”

“Yes, three daughters,” Ted said. “Since his death, the wife has made wise investments and appears to be doing well.”

“And the partner?”

“He seems to be doing great. He has tons of business, and he’s—”

Ted was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. Angus beat us to the door to greet the pizza delivery guy. I took the pizza while Ted paid the bill.

I put the pizza on the kitchen table, and then I put Angus outside.

“We’ll save you some,” I promised.

Then I washed my hands and got us plates and napkins.

Ted came up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and kissed my neck.

“If you keep doing that, our pizza is going to get awfully cold before we eat it,” I warned.

“I don’t mind,” he said. “But I know you have to get back to the Stitch soon.”

“Did talking about the case help you any?”

“Yeah . . . some.”

I knew he was lying, but I didn’t call him on it.

“So how was your day?” he asked.

I put pizza on the plates, got us two bottles of water from the fridge, and we sat down to eat. While we ate, I filled him in on the episode with Clara and her bunny, Clover.

“She seems to be even more off her gourd than Nellie is,” he said. “Did she think you came to her shop in stealth mode to steal her rabbit and give it to Angus?”

I giggled. “Apparently so. And, oddly, now I feel like doing just that! When Clara came after it, the poor thing tried to hide between Angus’s paws!”

He laughed and then tried—and failed—to give me a serious look. “Darling, should we consider getting the boy a pet of his own?”

“No! It’s all I can do to keep up with him!”

We both laughed.

“And, besides, who gets their dog a pet?” I asked.

“Who knows? Stranger things have happened, I guess.” Ted shook his head. “But there’s no fear of Angus being lonely.”

“No, there’s not. I’m leaving him home tonight, though. That blackwork class has a lot of students, and I think it’s best not to bring him.”

“Mind if I stay with him?” Ted asked. “We can watch the baseball game until you get back.”

“That sounds wonderful,” I said. “Two handsome guys waiting for me when I get home? Score!”

*   *   *

I knew I was leaving Angus in good hands as I drove back to the Seven-Year Stitch. He would have been fine had I left him home alone, but he was happy to be spending time with Ted. Before I left, Ted told me that he and Angus were planning on watching the Mariners play the Angels.

Interest in the Ren Faire had brought a lot of new students in for the blackwork class. That was really good, but it was hard to get to know everyone and to keep the class running smoothly when there were twenty-five students on the roster. My classes were typically ten and under. I probably should have set a cap on the number who could attend, but I didn’t have the heart to turn anyone away. As it was, the sofas, the chairs, the ottomans, and the floor were filled with stitchers.

I unlocked the door and barely had time to restock the minifridge with bottled water before the students began arriving. Some of the regulars were present, of course—Vera, Julie, Amber, and Christine—as well as many people I’d never seen before I posted the class announcement at the library and the museum.

Once everyone was settled in, I handed out an artichoke border pattern.

“Artichokes were a recurring theme in Renaissance embroidery,” I explained.

“Why?” teenaged Amber piped up. “I
hate
artichokes.”

I smiled. “You remind me of an old joke.
It might choke Artie, but it ain’t gonna choke me!
”

Amber laughed. “It’s not gonna choke me, either. It
is
a pretty pattern, though.”

“Since this pattern has both linear and diagonal elements, we’ll break it down into runs to make sure it’s clean, neat, and reversible,” I said. “Be sure and keep your tension on the cloth even.”

Rather than sitting and working on my own projects, I kept moving throughout the group during the blackwork class so I could offer my help wherever it was needed.

Suddenly, we were all startled by the sound of sirens blaring down the street. We looked out to see police cars and fire trucks roaring past.

“Wonder what’s going on?” Vera asked, as she began digging through her purse. She brought out her phone. “I’ll see if Paul knows.”

As Vera was dialing Paul, my phone—which I had set to vibrate—buzzed in my pocket.

Ted.

I was right. He’d sent me a text saying,
Fire at a local business. Have to check it out. Leaving Angus with plenty of water and a rawhide treat. Be back ASAP. Love you
.

“Ted says a local business is on fire,” I told the class. “I hope everyone’s all right.”

*   *   *

I was concerned about the fire for the rest of the night. On the way home, I looked to see if any nearby businesses looked damaged, but I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. The fire must’ve been on the outskirts of town.

When I arrived home, I was disappointed that Ted wasn’t back. I was afraid that meant something even worse than a business fire had taken place. Had someone been working in the building and been unable to escape? Had the fire been the work of an arsonist?

I unlocked the door and walked into the house. Angus was standing in the foyer to greet me. I put my purse on the hall table and gave the dog a hug. He trotted into the living room to chew the rawhide Ted had given him.

I locked the door behind me and went into the kitchen. I was beginning to feel tired after the class, and the rain that had started that evening—along with the sirens and the dread—had chilled me. I wanted a cup of hot herbal tea.

I settled onto the sofa with my chamomile tea, my feet wrapped in a fleece throw, and had just reached for the television remote when my phone buzzed. I’d forgotten to take it off of silent mode. I looked at the screen and was relieved to see that it was Ted calling.

“Hi, sweetheart,” I said. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” he replied. “And I smell like soot. So I came on home. I’m going to take a shower and hit the sack.”

“Was everyone okay at the business that caught fire?”

“Yeah. There were no people inside, but virtually everything in the building was destroyed.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“You and me both, babe. Remember my telling you about the business partner who inherited upon the death of our cold case victim?”

“Yeah . . .”

“It was his building . . . his business.” He sighed. “A whole lot of evidence in that case probably went up in smoke this evening.”

“But surely he keeps backup files offsite somewhere,” I said. “Wouldn’t you think?”

“Maybe,” said Ted. “But the man knew we’d reopened the investigation of his partner’s murder. What better way to destroy evidence than with an
accidental
fire?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too. Hey, I know you won’t say anything,” he said, “but now you’re going to know the name of one of the principals in this investigation.”

“No one would be able to pry it out of me under threat of death,” I said.

“I know.” He laughed. “It’s not that big a deal anyway. I mean, it was in all the papers during the initial investigation. I just don’t want anyone to think I spoke out of turn.”

“No one who knows you would ever think you
capable of doing anything to compromise an investigation.”

“I’m glad you have such confidence in me.”

“I love you,” I said. “And I know you. You’re a man of honor.”

“You’re laying it on thick, Inch-High. Maybe you should get some rest yourself.”

I laughed. “I think you may be right.”