Wicked Stitch (7 page)

“I wouldn’t have called it arguing,” he said. “I’d have called it discussing. I’d noticed her being belligerent with a few of the other merchants, and I asked her—nicely—if she would cut everyone here some slack.”

“Of course, she thought you meant me.”

“She did . . . and I
did
mean you, as well as all the other merchants and customers and everyone else involved with this Ren Faire.”

“Why didn’t you mention this before?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I forgot about it after everything that happened yesterday evening. And now even though Manu knows I’m innocent, he said he has
to take me off the case because Nellie accused me of threatening Clara.”

“But you didn’t threaten her,” I said. “Did you?”

“I didn’t threaten her life,” he said. “I only threatened to have her kicked off the fairgrounds.”

I hugged him. “I’m sorry you won’t get to work the case.”

“Officially,” he said under his breath.

T
ed and I were putting the finishing touches on the booth at eleven that morning when the gates were opened to the public. People hadn’t been lined up from the gates to the parking lot or anything, but there were many die-hard Renaissance Faire fans—some in full regalia—who came pouring onto the fairgrounds.

As those who entered the merchants’ building slowly wound through the booths, I quietly asked Ted his opinion on why Nellie would want him off the case.

“She knows you’re the best detective in the state . . . country . . . world!” I said. “What’s her problem?”

“She doesn’t trust me because I’m your boyfriend,” he said.

I huffed. “So she cast you as a suspect? That’s just ridiculous.” I thought for a moment. “Wait a second . . . you don’t think Nellie believes I might be responsible for—” I glanced around to make sure no one was listening. “For
what happened
 . . . do you?”

“With Nellie, it’s hard to say what’s going on in that tangled-up paranoid mind of hers,” he said. “That’s why I need to get this case cleared up as soon as possible.”

“We,” I said. “
We
need to get it cleared up.”

We both turned and smiled at the middle-aged pirate couple approaching the booth.

“Ahoy, mateys!” the man said heartily. “What be ye sellin’ in this fine establishment?”

Playing along, I said, “We be sellin’ embroidery notions, blackwork favored by the queen herself, and embellished shirts, Captain.”

The woman went over to the clothing rack and picked out a shirt. “Oh, look, Harold! It’s so pretty. I could wear it with my black skirt.”

The man glowered at her. “Gladys!”

She blew out a breath. “What thinkest ye of this garment, milord?” She looked at me and rolled her eyes.

I stifled a giggle.

“Aye, it suits ye, wench,” said Harold. “Give the lass a farthing and let’s be on our way.”

The woman—apparently named Gladys—paid me for the white shirt trimmed in blackwork, and I put it in a periwinkle Seven-Year Stitch bag along with a free pattern and a flyer with information about the store.

“Fare thee well, seafarers,” I called after them.

Ted shook his head. “You’re almost as bad as Harold.”

“Don’t start, Gladys. You’ll kill the vibe.”

He laughed. “Harold didn’t want anything to
take him out of his world of make-believe, did he?”

I slid my arms around his waist. “Is that so bad? Have fun with it.”

“I’ll try.” He kissed me.

“Is this the kissing booth?”

I blushed as I realized Manu had caught us.

Chief Manu Singh was only five feet seven inches tall, but he was solidly built, and his demeanor didn’t tolerate any nonsense. If criminals were to make the mistake of not taking him seriously, they’d regret it quickly. Unlike his wife, Manu preferred Western dress. That day he wore jeans, boots, and a plaid shirt rolled up to the elbows.

“Aye, ’tis a kissing booth,” Ted said. “For a chest of the king’s gold, I’ll plant one on thee.”

Manu hooted with laughter. “I believe I’ll pass, but thanks just the same.” He turned serious. “I’m sorry I had to take you off that case, Ted.”

“Hey, no problem. You gave me the day off, so . . . there’s that.”

“I know you’d much rather be working this investigation,” Manu said. “And there’s nowhere I’d rather you be. But after Ms. Davis made such a stink, I couldn’t let her bring our integrity into question.”

“I know,” Ted assured him. “It’s all right. Besides, I have this cold case to keep me occupied.”

“Any progress on that?” Manu asked.

Ted lowered his voice, and I busied myself on the other side of the booth. I tried not to eavesdrop but couldn’t help overhearing.

“Not much,” Ted said. “The arson investigator and I are still trying to determine whether the businessman set the fire and, if so, what reason he had for doing so.”

Manu nodded. He opened his mouth to say something else but thought better of it as a woman in a nun’s habit came alongside him.

“Excuse me, fine sir,” she said. “Don’t mind me. I’ve been asked to man Ms. Davis’s booth for a few hours since she’s . . . um . . . under the weather.”

I wondered if she’d been told not to mention Clara’s death and the reason for Nellie’s absence.

“Some of us volunteers will be taking shifts with this booth.” She held out her hand, first giving Manu a brief handshake, then Ted, and then me. “I’m Mary Alice.
Sister
Mary Alice, if you will.”

“Are you really a nun, then?” I asked.

“Heavens, no, child!” She chortled. “I’m only pretending to be a nun for the Faire. It was the easiest costume I could come up with. I’m a retired nurse . . . you know, in real life.”

The rest of us introduced ourselves.

“One of you strong-looking men couldn’t be persuaded to help an old lady fold these sheets up, could you?” she asked.

Of course, we all pitched in to help.

“I have to keep an eye on my booth right now,” I said. “But I want to come back later and get some of those little bottles of essential oils. Aren’t they darling?”

“They are,” Mary Alice agreed.

“Go ahead and shop,” Ted said. “I’ll watch the booth.”

He and Manu went back over to my little corner of this strange world, leaving me to shop Nellie’s boutique.

First, I perused the bottles of essential oils and selected several to buy.

“Set these aside for me, please, while I look around at everything else,” I said to Mary Alice. I went over to the sachets. “She has some really nice things in here. Do you know Nellie, or are you just a volunteer with the Ren Faire?”

“Both,” said Mary Alice. “I’ve been acquainted with Nellie for years, but she’s a rather hard person to know. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’ve worked down the street from her for almost a year now, and I couldn’t really say that I
know
the woman.”

“Some people are that way.” She walked over to the soaps. “These look nice . . . and they smell wonderful. Do you shop at Scentsibilities often?”

“I don’t. Nellie and I tend to give each other a wide berth.” I selected a couple of candles.

“Here. Let me put those with your oils,” said Mary Alice.

“How about Clara, Nellie’s sister?” I asked. “Did you know her?”

“Yeah . . . about as well as I knew Nellie, I guess. That Clara . . .” She blew out a breath. “Well, she could be a pistol, couldn’t she?”

“A pistol?”

“Sure, you know . . . a crackerjack, an odd duck, a . . .” She spread her hands.

“An ornery old cuss?” I asked.

Mary Alice smiled. “There you go.”

“Were you here yesterday evening?”

“When Clara was . . . found, you mean?” she asked.

I nodded.

She lowered her voice. “We aren’t supposed to speak of that, you know.”

“I guess not . . . but I’m the one who discovered her,” I said. “I just wondered if you’d seen anyone skulking about or arguing with Clara or anything like that.”

“Skulking, no. But Clara argued with almost everyone she met,” said Mary Alice. “She infuriated the bird lady.”

“The one with the falcon?”

She nodded.

“Yes, I met her, and she mentioned it. Apparently, Clara thought the bird might take off with Clover.”

“How a falcon tethered to her handler’s arm could swoop down and attack a rabbit—especially one in a kennel—is beyond me, but what do I know? I’m only a nun.” She winked.

“Do you know of anyone who’d want to harm Clara?”

“Only everyone, dear,” she said. “But most of us don’t act on our baser instincts, do we? I
imagine it was some vagrant who was passing through, noticed that she was here alone, and attempted to rob her.”

“But the police didn’t mention that anything was missing,” I pointed out.

“Maybe the robber was scared off.” She patted my shoulder. “Don’t fret about it, dear. I believe we’re all perfectly safe. The fairgrounds will be teeming with people from here on out, we have plenty of security guards, and you have your own handsome fellow watching out for you.”

“Yes, that’s true.” I paid for my purchases and went back to my booth.

Manu had left, and Ted was checking his phone.

“Do you need to go?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No. Just checking my e-mail while I was waiting for you. What’d you get?”

I showed him what I’d bought from Nellie’s booth.

“Nice,” he said. “It’s a shame you have to wait until Nellie isn’t around to shop for things you obviously enjoy.”

“What’s really a shame is that her sister had to die before I was able to shop from her,” I said. “I really hate this whole . . . feud, for lack of a better word. I don’t understand Nellie’s animosity toward me, and I wish I could find a way to just resolve it.”

He lowered his voice. “I heard you asking Sister Mary Alice about Clara. Good move.”

I spoke quietly, too. “Thanks. I’d hoped maybe
she’d seen something. Did you hear her response?”

“Some of it,” he said. “Not all.”

“She thinks Clara was murdered by a vagrant or a robber,” I said. “When I pointed out that the police didn’t mention anything being taken, she said that maybe he was frightened away before he could steal anything.”

“I don’t buy it.”

“Me, either. She did go out of her way to assure me that we were safe,” I said.

“I heard. Of course, anyone
would
rather think someone they knew was killed by a stranger rather than someone who might be walking among us here at the Faire.” He looked out at the people milling around in the building. “She didn’t seem terribly broken up about Clara’s death.”

“No, she didn’t,” I said. “I’d hate to think that if I died—particularly died a violent death—none of my casual acquaintances would even gasp and say how terrible my last moments must have been.”

“If you died, the flags would be flown at half-mast, and the whole world—nay, the
universe
—would mourn,” he said.

“As long as you’d be heartbroken, I’m good,” I teased.

“My heart would shatter into a billion trillion pieces,” he said.

“And you’d never look at another woman again,” I said.

“Never. I’d gouge out my eyes first.”

I giggled. “You’re silly . . . but I love you.”

“And I love you,” he said. “Why don’t you go explore? I’m back on duty tomorrow. Take advantage of my being here to enjoy the festival a little bit.”

“No. I don’t want to leave you with the booth and go have fun at the Faire. Maybe later I can get Vera to come watch the booth for a while, and we can explore the Faire together.”

“Maybe you can. But for now, go . . . shop . . . ask questions.” He’d played the trump card. He wanted me to investigate.

I smiled. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I gave him a quick kiss. “I’ll start with this building. The merchants here would be the most likely to have seen something.”

I headed for the booth nearest the door on the other side, deciding to go to each one in order to ever so casually question everyone. I just had to keep my purse strings tied tight for the most part. I could easily spend a small fortune here.

In the first booth, I found an assortment of beautiful handmade jewelry. There were ornate pearl chokers with cabochons of sapphire, ruby, lapis lazuli, and emerald.

“Wow, are these real?” I asked.

The woman smiled. “No, they’re costume, but they do look authentic, don’t they?”

“Yes, they do. Do you have a card? My mom is Beverly Singer,” I said. “She’s a costume designer, and she—”

“Yes! I’ve heard of her!” She plucked a card off
her table and handed it to me. “Please tell her I thought her costumes in
Once a Queen
were breathtaking.”

“I will. She’ll be delighted that you’re familiar with her work,” I said.

“I’m really into costumes,” she said. “I’ve done a few things for local theater companies, and it’s such fun . . . but really hard work! Even in a small theater like that, you’ll have people who’ll call you out on any errors you might make in wardrobe.”

I picked up one of the chokers offset with emeralds. “This is lovely.”

“Take it,” the woman said. “It would go marvelously with your gown. Did your mom design it?”

“She sent me the pattern,” I said. “She’s on location in Arizona right now, or else I’m sure she’d be here. She loves this sort of thing.” I opened my purse.

“Oh, no! I mean it. Take the necklace. You can show it to your mom as a sample of my work.”

“I will, but I’m paying for it. I’d feel terrible if I didn’t pay you. How much do I owe you?” I asked.

The woman gave me a price I thought was too low, but I didn’t push it. I would pass her information and a photo of the necklace on to Mom, and if Mom could use her work, she definitely would.

“By the way,” I said, leaning in conspiratorially, “did you hear about that poor woman who got strangled with her scarf yesterday?”

“I did,” she said. “She and her sister had a terrible argument while they were setting up their booths. I didn’t catch what it was about, but several of us heard their raised voices, and it was obvious they were angry with each other.” She tsked. “Her poor sister . . . she must feel terrible now. Wouldn’t you? Fighting with someone you loved and then having them wind up dead? How awful!”

“That
is
awful.”

As I strolled to the next booth, I wondered what Nellie and Clara had argued about. I didn’t think Nellie was strong enough to have killed her much larger sister . . . but, still, she had been quick to throw suspicion onto Ted and get him kicked off the case. What was she hiding?