“I’ll get them,” one of Callie’s anonymous but hardworking volunteers said and trotted off with Del.
The others continued their litter-picking, Missy moving farther into the trees to chase down several slips of paper that had been handed out for the book signing and carelessly discarded. Jack climbed down from his ladder and moved it to the other side of the gazebo, and Callie dragged the bulky but lightweight box after him. They’d just begun detaching another set of decorations when they heard Missy’s piercing scream.
Jack took a deep breath. “What is it, hon?” he called out. “A dead squirrel?”
“Jack! Jack! Oh my God!” Missy cried, panic in her voice. “Come here! Hurry! It’s Renata. Oh my God! I think she’s dead!”
Callie and Jack both froze, staring at each other. Then Callie spun around and ran into the woods as Jack scrambled down the ladder. She found Missy backed up against a tree, one hand pressed against her mouth as she pointed a trembling finger at Renata, who was lying in a shady spot among fallen leaves, some dotting her.
From the ashen color of her skin, Callie was sure Renata was dead, but as she drew closer, there was no question. The woman’s eyes stared sightlessly up at the trees, her mouth sagged open in a silent scream, and a pair of very long scissors jutted out from her chest.
Twenty-One
Jack arrived moments behind Callie. He stopped at the sight of Renata’s body, then hurried over to Missy, engulfing her in a hug and shielding her from the gruesome scene.
“The scissors!” Missy cried. “Did you see the scissors? She’s done it again. It must have been Dorothy!”
Callie was calling 911 and tried to shield her phone from picking up Missy’s words. Her own hands were shaking and her stomach roiled as she turned away from the sight.
“Hush, honey,” Jack said soothingly. “We don’t know that for sure. Don’t say that.” He led his sobbing wife back to the gazebo as Callie reported to the operator what they’d found as calmly as she could manage. She then hurried after the pair to prevent any others from rushing in and disrupting the scene.
Disbelief, shock, and horror reigned as Callie filled everyone in, including the tent-rental team, who had been moments away from leaving. Everyone appeared to look to her for instructions, though she felt the one least capable at the moment. It was all too reminiscent of the day she’d discovered Aunt Mel’s body in her shop, and many of those same emotions now flooded her. On that day, though, Callie had been the only one who’d suspected it was murder. The sight of Renata’s stabbed and bloody body left no room for doubt. The only question was who had committed this horrible crime. Callie couldn’t believe it was Dorothy. But Missy continued to babble about the scissors and blame the sewing shop owner.
“Please,” Callie begged those gathered around her. “Don’t jump to conclusions. Let the police look at the evidence. It might tell a different story.” The others nodded but their faces looked doubtful. Callie could only hope it was due to shock. Thankfully, by the time they heard sirens, Jack had managed to calm Missy somewhat, though she sobbed quietly into his chest.
The first patrolmen to arrive called quickly for an investigative team and began the questioning. Callie knew from experience that they would all tell their stories multiple times. She texted Tabitha to explain why she wouldn’t be able to open the shop. Tabitha immediately promised to take care of everything, which Callie was grateful for, though she privately doubted there’d be much beyond opening up to take care of. Once word spread about what had happened, all attention would be on the park and any intentions to shop would disappear.
Several minutes later, when Callie was inside the gazebo giving an account of her moment-by-moment actions to an investigating officer, she heard a commotion. Jerry Moore had rushed up the path, only to be held back by two patrolmen.
“Where is she! Where is my wife!”
“Please, sir, you can’t go there.”
“Who killed her? Who could do such a thing? Was it that Ashby woman?”
“Sir, we’re still investigating. If you would step over here—” The officers managed to ease Jerry farther away, though Callie could still hear him.
What was happening to Dorothy in the meantime? Had she been dragged off to answer these fresh accusations? Could she prove she had nothing to do with Renata’s death? Callie feared the worst. If the scissors she’d seen jutting out of Renata’s chest proved to be Dorothy’s, who would believe that Dorothy was innocent of murder?
When she finally made it back to the shop, exhausted, Callie faced yet another round of questions, though from far more sympathetic individuals. The first was Tabitha, though Callie had barely stepped through the door before Brian came hurrying over.
“I tried to get to you at the park,” he said, “but they’ve blocked it all off.” He gave Callie a comforting but one-armed hug since he was holding a take-out box. “Thought you might need something to eat.”
Callie smiled, pretty sure what it would be: her favorite ham and cheese with Brian’s special sauce, plus a dill pickle. “I’m starved. Thank you. Does anyone know what’s happened with Dorothy? Stitches Thru Time was closed when I passed by, and the cottage was dark.”
“Keepsake Cove shopkeeper calls have been flying back and forth,” Tabitha said. “Laurie Hart said she saw Dorothy and Jane being driven off in a police car.”
“Not in handcuffs?”
“No,” Tabitha said, though hesitantly, as though it was just a matter of time. “Were the scissors hers?” she asked.
Callie shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“How long do you suppose Renata was dead?” Brian asked, then added gently, “If you’d rather not talk about it, that’s fine. I just wondered if and when Moore reported his wife missing.”
“It’s okay. I’ve grown numb to what I saw by now,” Callie said. “My guess would be several hours. I heard Jerry say Renata was supposed to have left on a trip right after the book event for an estate sale in Pennsylvania. She had planned to stay in that area overnight to be at the sale early. He didn’t know she hadn’t made it until this morning. The police reached him at his brother’s house in Easton,” she went on. “He headed there right after taking down his system at the book event.” Callie frowned. “He kept shouting that Dorothy must have killed Renata, claiming she hated her.”
“That part’s true, isn’t it?” Tabitha asked. “I mean that Dorothy had a pretty solid problem with Renata. Renata was bad-mouthing her ever since Cliff Ashby’s murder.”
“And long before that,” Callie said. “But I’d call that a grievance rather than hatred.” Though as she said it, Callie could imagine the years of verbal abuse that Dorothy had endured churning into hatred as Renata took the first opportunity to sling more mud at her.
“However you define it,” Brian said, “that bitterness between them plus the murder weapon puts Dorothy in a very bad position.”
Callie flashed to the gruesome image of Renata’s body with scissors jabbed into it. Could they have been wrong about their friend? “But why would Dorothy use the very tool that would point to her?” she argued. “Wouldn’t she be smarter than that?”
Brian shrugged. “If we’re talking about someone who’s in full control and thinking logically, yes, of course. But a person who might have snapped … ?” He left the thought unfinished, and both Callie and Tabitha grimaced as they acknowledged the possibility. Callie remembered Jerry’s description of Dorothy screaming over the phone.
Movement across the street caught their attention. Customers were heading toward the café. Apparently standing watch just outside a crime scene made one hungry. “I’d better get back,” Brian said.
Callie nodded.
“I’m sorry to leave you with that grim thought,” he said. “I hope I’m wrong.”
“I hope you are, too,” Callie said. And time would tell. She’d
done all she could for the moment.
Or had she? At the moment, she was tired and hungry. Maybe after Brian’s sandwich and a refreshing clean-up, something would come to her. With that slim hope, she left Tabitha in charge and headed to the cottage.
By midafternoon, Tabitha had taken off and Callie had answered multiple calls from other Keepsake Cove shop owners, most wanting to know what she knew. All feared for the Cove’s reputation as a great place to visit. As one put it, “People will be calling us Creepsake Cove, the stabbing capital of Maryland!”
Callie understood their concerns—their livelihoods were at stake here—but she tried to keep the focus on Dorothy’s predicament. “If you learn anything at all that might help her, please let me know,” she begged.
She was hanging up from one such call when Delia walked in. “I’ve closed up for the day,” she said. “Traffic has been so slow it’s not worth the cost of keeping the lights on.” She sighed. “Or the stress of standing around doing nothing. Who knew idleness could be stressful?”
“Pick out one of my music boxes to play,” Callie said. “It’ll soothe you. After all the upset people I’ve been dealing with, I might do
the same.”
Delia smiled. “Dueling music boxes?”
Callie returned the smile and was about to suggest one in particular when a woman walked into her shop. Dressed in loose denims with a floppy hat over curly brown hair, she wasn’t recognizable as a regular customer, especially with half her face covered by huge sunglasses.
“Good afternoon,” Callie greeted her. “What can I help you with?”
The woman whipped off her sunglasses and grinned. “Oh, about a thousand things, starting with how to start my next chapter.” She slid the hat and hair off in one swoop and finger-combed her red hair back to its usual spikes.
“Lyssa!”
“Whew! That wig gets hot!” The author chuckled at Delia, whose mouth had dropped open. “It comes in handy when I need to be incognito. Today was one of those times.”
“But, but … ” Delia stammered. “Why?”
“Easier to mix and mingle in crowds and listen in. People tend to shut up when they recognize me, as if I were a reporter or something. Hah! Of course I do sometimes put their words in my books—disguised, naturally.”
“Ah,” Callie said. “So what did you manage to pick up?”
Lyssa’s face fell. “Not a whole lot. I couldn’t get close to the murder scene—drat! But I understand she was stabbed with scissors, just like Ashby?”
“I’m afraid so,” Callie said. “And Dorothy’s being questioned. She apparently came across as threatening to Renata. That, along with the scissors … ”
“And the husband has an alibi?”
Callie told her about Jerry’s overnight stay at his brother’s.
“But you found her body fairly close to the event area, right? Could he have killed her last night while everything was going on?”
“She was in different clothes from the ones I saw her in last night. She must have gone home and changed.”
“Then what was she doing back in the park?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hmm,” Lyssa said. “I suppose the police will work out the time of death, when Jerry arrived at his brother’s, and all that. What about Dorothy? Where was she?”
“All I know is I didn’t see her at the book event. I wasn’t able to reach her before it started, and with everything going on it slipped my mind to try again later. But I’m assuming she was home all night with Jane.”
“The same alibi she had for Ashby’s murder.”
“Yes,” said Delia. “But an alibi is an alibi.”
“I agree. But it would be good if a second person other than Jane could back it up,” Lyssa said. “I overheard people sharing some of the things Renata said about Dorothy, and it put her in a pretty bad light.”
“Like what?”
“Like, that Dorothy had a Jekyll and Hyde personality—she was nice enough to those who went along with her but would turn on anyone who crossed her. Viciously.”
“That’s awful!” Delia cried.
“Agreed,” Lyssa said. “And, of course, there’s only Renata’s word for it.”
“And maybe Jerry’s,” Callie said. She told Lyssa about his report that Dorothy had made a screaming phone call to Renata. “He surely must have given the police Renata’s version of their history.”
“Still only hearsay,” Lyssa said. “I’m not a lawyer, but a couple of my characters are,” she said with a quick grin. Then she frowned. “Though it might influence investigators, subconsciously … Oh, I heard something else interesting. You know that golf tournament that Vernon Parks and the police chief were at when Cliff Ashby was found murdered? Well, Jerry Moore was there with them.”
“Really? How did that come up?” Callie asked.
“Someone in the crowd threw it out during a discussion about Ashby and Renata probably being murdered by the same person—you know, because of the scissors and all. One young guy said, ‘Well, that lets Jerry out. He was at a golf tournament with the chief of police when Ashby was killed. I know because I was his caddy!’”
“I’d say that’s about as iron-clad as you can get,” Callie said. “But it makes me wonder about Jerry’s connection to Vernon Parks.”
“Uh-huh.” Lyssa nodded firmly.
“I did see Renata hurrying over to him last night, shortly after he’d arrived with the mayor. But I didn’t hear any of the conversation.”
“Pity,” Lyssa said. “It might have been interesting.”
Grandpa Reed’s music box began to chirp, but before anyone could comment on it, the shop door opened. All three stared as Jane walked in.
Twenty-Two
Jane,” Callie cried, the first to recover from her surprise. “You’re back!”
“Yes, and Dorothy is too. She went directly to the cottage to rest. She’s quite shaken. But she wanted me to come talk to you.”
“So she hasn’t been charged?”
“No, but I doubt she could feel any worse if she had been. It’s been devastating.”
By the drawn look on her face, Jane wasn’t feeling all that great herself. Callie pulled out a chair for her. “Would you like some coffee? Water? Something to eat?”
Jane smiled wanly. “A little water would be good.”
Callie grabbed one of the bottles she kept in a cooler behind the counter as Jane sank onto the chair. She was dressed in a hooded sweater over jeans, more casual than what she usually wore for tending the shop. Apparently Stitches Thru Time had been closed that morning, along with most of the Keepsake Cove shops. Callie wondered if it would be closed for good.
Jane accepted the bottled water, twisted off the top, and drank thirstily. After recapping it, she said, “Dorothy has been so grateful for your faith in her. She wanted me to assure you that she had nothing whatsoever to do with Renata’s murder. I can verify that. I was with her all day yesterday and all night until the police hammered on our door this morning.”
“The scissors, of course, are problematic,” Lyssa said, leaning against a table of novelty musical boxes. She’d pushed her wig and hat out of sight, Callie noticed.
“The scissors weren’t hers!” Jane said it with as much energy as she could muster. “The police showed Dorothy a photo of them. She knew immediately they didn’t come from her shop, and told them so.”
“How could she tell?” Callie asked.
“Because they are old, yes, but that’s all. The brand name was visible. They’re just common scissors. Dorothy only stocks unique collectibles. She also pointed out what looked like rust around the hinge and told the police she’d never carry something in that condition.” Jane sighed. “I don’t know if they totally believed her.”
“But they let her go home,” Callie
said, “And that’s good.”
Jane’s pinched brows showed that she worried it might be only temporary.
“She’s not alone,” Delia assured her. “We still believe in her.”
“Thank you.”
“Jane,” Callie asked, “I’m sure the stress since her husband’s murder has been awful for Dorothy. Is that what caused her to call Renata the day before the book event? Had she reached her breaking point?”
“What? Call Renata? What are you talking about?”
“Jerry Moore told me Dorothy had called her. He said he could hear her screaming at Renata. He was worried about what might happen if they ran into each other.”
“Well, they didn’t,” Jane said, indignant. “Dorothy was with me the entire time the day of the book event, as I said. As far as the phone call, I can’t imagine Dorothy doing that. I just can’t. Dorothy didn’t have a breakdown. And she gave up confronting Renata years ago after realizing it only added fuel for her. Dorothy would never have done that.”
Callie nodded, but she also knew Dorothy could have made the call when Jane was out of earshot.
Jane took a final swallow of water, then stood. “I’m going to open up Stitches Thru Time.” Seeing their surprise, she said, “I know, crazy. But Dorothy agrees, and she’ll be there, too, if she can. We just can’t stand the thought of leaving it closed. Even if not a single person comes in, we’ll be making a statement. We haven’t given up.”
“Good for you,” Lyssa said.
“Are you sure?” Delia asked. “You might have to deal with some unpleasantness. I hope not, but there’s always someone … ”
Callie reached out and gave Jane a hug. “You’ll be fine.”
“Thank you. I’ve told my children I intend to stay here, and why, and they agree it’s the right thing to do.”
Callie had forgotten about Jane’s family. “Two daughters and a son,” she said, recalling what Dorothy had told her that day that now seemed so long ago. “Is that right?”
A Vintage Death Page 15
