The Pattern Artist

by Moser, Nancy;

  While she ate her soup and buttered her bread, her nerves tingled as if she were being electrified. When a group of young male clerks started giggling as they looked at her, she’d had enough. Annie pushed her chair back with a titter of its legs against the floor. She stood—though the moment she stood, she told herself to sit back down before she did something stupid.

  She didn’t listen to her own warning. Instead, she scanned the room and said, “Attention! I’d like your attention, please.”

  She got what she asked for. Talking stopped and all eyes were on her.

  “I am ever so glad to provide you with your daily dose of gossip. But know this: the man the police have arrested, the man they want me to identify after work this very evening, is evil. Oscar Grasston attacked me, followed me for days, harassed me, threatened me, and stabbed a dear friend to death when he came to my defense. He killed Danny, a thirteen-year-old boy who will never have the chance to grow up and become the fabulous man he was destined to be. So if you wish to chunter on and giggle and talk behind your hands, at least get the story straight. Otherwise, keep your nonsense to yourselves.”

  She was glad the chair was there, because her last words did her in. She was about to pull the chair back toward the table to finish her meal when a man came close and helped her scoot it in. “Well said, Miss Wood.”

  As he stepped away, the rest of the cafeteria began to applaud. There were even a few shouts of “Go get ’em, Annie!”

  The notion of eating in the locker room returned. But then someone joined her at the table.

  “Mildred.”

  “I thought you could use a friend.”

  Well, then. Would wonders never cease?

  “I think that lace would look lovely on your blouse, Mrs. Dresden. How many yards would you like?”

  As Annie’s customer did the calculations, Annie spotted Mr. Straus walking by. After her outburst in the cafeteria she hesitated to make eye contact. Surely he’d heard about the woman gone off her trolley, making a scene.

  But as he strolled past, he caught her glance and in return offered her a wink and a thumbs-up.

  She laughed aloud. Would wonders never cease?

  Sean took her hand as they left Macy’s at the end of the day. “This is not how I planned to spend our evening together. Although I will say visiting a police station is a unique outing.”

  “And not just visiting,” Annie said, “but making sure an evil meater stays in jail.”

  “Meater?”

  “Coward. For he is that, you know. Only a coward would hurt women and children.”

  Sean pulled her hand around his arm. “Don’t be nervous. I won’t let him hurt you.”

  “I am nervous because I’m afraid not you or anyone can stop him if he’s set loose.”

  “Then we’ll have to make sure he’s not set loose.”

  “But they’re only wanting me to identify him as the man who assaulted me, having nothing to do with Danny’s death.”

  Sean stopped walking and looked at her. “I thought this was for—”

  She shook her head. “They have no witnesses for it.”

  “But we all know he did it.”

  She shrugged. “Without witnesses …”

  Justice would not be done.

  Annie clung to Sean’s arm as the men were lined up in a viewing room at the police station. They each held a number in front of them. Although they were in the light and she was standing in the dark, she knew she could be seen.

  Grasston could see her.

  And just as she zeroed in on him, he did the same for her. His jaw clenched, and his eyes bore into hers for just a moment before he looked away.

  “Number three,” she said immediately.

  “Wait a minute, miss,” the officer said. “I haven’t even asked the question yet.”

  Sean intervened. “Then ask it, sir.”

  “Which man best resembles the man who attacked you on October 17?” Annie wasn’t sure she had air enough in her lungs to answer again, but she dug deep and said, “Number three is the man. He’s the one who hurt me—and killed my Danny.”

  She saw Grasston flinch. Let him.

  “He’s not here for that, miss. But thank you. That will be all.”

  She couldn’t get out of the room fast enough. The officer led her down the hall to the precinct offices. “So what now, Officer? When will he be tried?”

  “Can’t say at the moment, Miss Wood. We’ll let you know. You’ll have to come back and testify.”

  Annie let out a sigh. “Isn’t identifying him enough?”

  “ ’Fraid not. But we thank you for coming down.”

  She needed more from them. “What about the murder of my friend, Danny Dalking? Have you found a witness yet?”

  “Not that I’m aware of, miss. But be assured we’re doing our best.”

  She left with Sean, feeling spent. “I fear their best will not be enough.” The image of Grasston showing up at times and places of his own choosing haunted her. “Even if he’s convicted of assault, that won’t keep him in jail very long.” She voiced a thought that had niggled at her for days. “Sometimes I wish he’d really hurt me. That way he’d be put away longer. Or maybe it would have delayed him enough so they would have caught him right then and there. Maybe he wouldn’t have been free to kill Danny.”

  Sean put his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t say such a thing. We have to be thankful he didn’t hurt you more than he did.”

  She was unconvinced. “I would gladly suffer if it would bring Danny back.” Tears took over, and she let herself be comforted.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  It was done. Her testimony against Grasston for the assault was over. Being in the same room with him, feeling the heat of his stare …

  Now it was up to the judge.

  Sean accompanied her out of the courtroom. “You’re shaking.”

  An inner quaking started deep inside and overflowed to her extremities. She held her hand out, and seeing the result, pulled her fingers into a fist to stay them. “I don’t know why I thought telling the truth would be easy.”

  They walked down the courthouse steps arm in arm. “I saw how he glared at you the entire time. But he had no defense. Explaining your fall by saying you tripped? Making him trip on top of you? Very lame.”

  As if minding Sean’s words, Annie tripped on the steps. Without his help, she would have ended up at the bottom.

  “I’m a jumble,” she said. “The lid is off the teapot. My life is boiling over, making the fire go out.”

  Sean laughed. “I’ve never heard it described that way. How British of you.”

  “How would an American say it?”

  He was quiet a moment then said, “Your life is a mess.”

  “That it is.”

  “I have a way to change all that,” he said as they headed back to Macy’s.

  She felt a surge of panic. The only drastic change she could think of involved him proposing marriage. She was nowhere near ready for such a question. “I think I’m afraid to ask.”

  “You don’t trust me?”

  “I’m not certain how to answer that.”

  He pulled his hat off and thrust it against his chest. “I am utterly crushed. And just for that, I’m not going to tell you my idea.”

  “Now you have me curious.”

  “Too late,” he said, returning his bowler to his head.

  She was too drained to play games. “Please tell me. I do want to know.”

  “I think I’ll tell you at dinner tonight, when I have the proper time to explain my idea.”

  “Explaining an idea” didn’t sound like a phrase associated with a proposal. Her mind eased.

  After taking time off to testify against Grasston, Annie rushed directly to her department at Macy’s. She folded her jacket around her purse and set her hat on top, all under the counter. She checked her reflection in a hand mirror, tucking the stray strands of hair where they belonged.
>
  “So?” Annie turned around to find Mildred standing before her.

  “I testified. Now it’s up to the judge.”

  “He’ll go to jail, won’t he?”

  The strained look on her face reinforced Annie’s feeling that something had gone on between Grasston and Mildred beyond what she’d admitted. “I’m sure he will.” For how long is the issue.

  For Mildred’s sake, Annie gathered a smile she did not feel. “Enough of Grasston. Let’s not let the likes of him cloud our day.” She looked around the department. “Have you been busy?”

  Before Mildred could answer, Annie spotted Iris walking down the store aisles. She rushed to greet her friend, kissing her on the cheeks. “Iris! I’m so glad to see you.”

  “And I you,” Iris said. She looked around the store. “Remember when you and I and … and Danny came to Macy’s, exploring?”

  “I do,” Annie said. “That outing sparked the idea to work here.” She wasn’t sure whether she should mention Danny further, but it seemed wrong not to. “How are the Tuttles? How is everyone faring without him?”

  Iris pulled an envelope from her pocket. “This is for you. Open it.”

  Annie broke the seal and removed a hand-lettered card. “It’s an invitation to your wedding?”

  Iris pointed to the card. “December 23. The church is a few blocks from the bakery.”

  It was only six weeks away. Annie embraced her. “I’m happy for both of you.”

  Iris’s smile faded. “You don’t think it’s improper to get married so soon after Danny’s death?”

  “I think he’d want you to be together as soon as possible.”

  Iris nodded, making the daisy on her hat bob. “That’s what we thought. Plus, we decided to marry soon because there’s an apartment coming open in the building across the street, so we needed to make a quick decision and grab it up.”

  “Your own apartment …”

  “I know. And me being married. Ain’t it strange?”

  “It’s wonderful. You deserve some happiness.” Annie spotted Mrs. Gold giving her a disparaging look for chatting instead of selling. “May I interest you in a dress pattern, Miss Dalking?”

  Iris looked confused then saw the supervisor. “I’d like that very much.”

  Annie led her to the catalog, and they leafed through it. Suddenly Annie got an idea. “What if I made you a wedding dress?” She turned the pages to the illustrations of fancier dresses.

  “Ooh,” Iris said. Then she shook her head. “I don’t have the need for a fancy dress—nor a white one. But a new one I could wear to church Sundays? Yes, please.”

  “Perfect.” Annie was a bit relieved. She’s just finished her first skirt and blouse from scratch. To tackle a dress of satin and lace would have tested her abilities. Since the pricey fabrics were out of the mix, Annie had another idea. “In fact, I will pay for everything and do the work. As my wedding gift to you.”

  Iris flung her arms around Annie’s neck. “You’re so good to me. Thank you!”

  Annie pulled out a chair so Iris could sit and properly peruse the pattern illustrations. Luckily, she wasn’t choosy and quickly picked out a pattern for a dress. Annie studied it a minute to make sure she could sew it, and decided she could. The dress had a slim sleeve and silhouette that was popular. The neck was scooped with trim along the edge. The dress itself hung straight from a slightly higher waist, and an overskirt was cut short on the diagonal from knee to ankle, revealing the drapery of the main skirt beneath.

  “I don’t want a train,” Iris said, pointing to the slight train of six to eight inches in the back. “I wouldn’t want the risk of getting it mucked up on the street.”

  “That change is easy enough.” Luckily, they had the right size in stock. “Now, for the fabric. What’s your favorite color?”

  “Blue,” Iris said, without hesitation.

  Annie made a beeline for the perfect piece, a dusty-blue moss cloth, a mixture of wool and silk that felt like a soft moss. Iris ran her hand over it, caressing it. “It’s beautiful.”

  “You’ll be beautiful in it—and it has enough body to hang nicely.” And sew easily. “Perhaps the underskirt could be a crepe that would drape, and the wide decorative strip on the bottom of the overskirt could be a matching satin?”

  “I put myself in your fashionable hands,” Iris said.

  They finished gathering the notions Annie would need—with her keeping track of the cost for her own sake—when Officer Brady approached.

  A verdict already? Annie greeted him and introduced Iris—but he already knew her from the murder investigation. “Good news I hope?” Annie asked. “How long is his sentence?”

  He swirled his mustache and did not meet her eyes. “I hate to tell you this, ladies, but Oscar Grasston escaped custody.”

  Annie and Iris exchanged an incredulous glance. “He’s loose?” Annie managed.

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “How could that happen?”

  “As he was being led from the jail to the courtroom for sentencing, he pushed an officer down the stairs and ran out a side entrance—handcuffs and all. We ran after him, but he … Well, he slipped away.”

  He’s free.

  Mr. Horace approached and was filled in. “Do you think Miss Wood is in danger?”

  “I do,” Officer Brady answered. “He knows where she works and has come here before.”

  “He also knows where I live,” Iris said. “He came in the bakery the day he killed Danny.” She clutched her drawstring purse, her eyes darting. “He doesn’t like us, either. You interviewed all of us after Danny died.” She looked at Annie with panicked eyes. “He’s going to come after us!”

  Brady sighed and spoke to Mr. Horace. “I think it would be best if we accompany both of these girls home to the bakery, for their own safety.”

  “I … I don’t live there anymore,” Annie said. “I have a room with another clerk.”

  “Does Grasston know where you live?”

  She thought a moment. “I don’t think so. He assaulted me nearby, but ran in the opposite direction after help came.”

  He twirled his mustache again, obviously thinking. “I think you can go back to your place, then. But I will provide an officer to accompany you.”

  Annie shook her head. “A male friend is coming to get me after work. He will see me home safely.”

  “But what about here at the store?” Mr. Horace asked Brady. “We certainly don’t want that man coming in here and causing trouble.”

  “I’ll put officers at the doors, and you make your security men aware.” He turned to Annie and Iris. “We are heartily sorry, ladies. We are doing our best to catch him.” He spoke to Iris alone. “Are you ready to go home, miss? I will fetch an officer to accompany you.”

  “I can finish up here,” Annie said. The girls embraced and wished each other well.

  Mr. Horace left to alert his men. As soon as they were gone, Mrs. MacDonald and Mildred came close. “He’s free?” Mildred asked under her breath.

  “He is.”

  Her head shook back and forth, back and forth. “What if he comes after me?”

  “Does he know where you live?”

  She bit the nail of her thumb. “No. We met elsewhere.”

  “Then you should be all right.”

  Mrs. MacDonald had a solution. “I’ll accompany you home tonight, Mildred.”

  Everyone was covered—as well as they could be.

  Sean was a good sport about postponing their dinner so Annie could get safely home. Although Annie wanted to enjoy the time alone with him, she could not get Grasston out of her mind. Even as they got on the streetcar she searched the crowd for her tormentor. She held the parcel containing the supplies for Iris’s wedding dress tightly against her chest, like a shield.

  Sean must have noticed, because as soon as they were seated he said, “Surely he wouldn’t be stupid enough to show his face.”

  “He’s not stupid, he
’s obsessed. With me. With revenge.”

  “All because you took his gloves.”

  “And cost him his job.”

  Sean shook his head. “A footman could dye his gloves purple and it wouldn’t be enough to get him sacked.”

  “You don’t know the butler.”

  “Neither do you. How long were you visiting at the Friesens’?”

  She had to think. “Five or six days.”

  “Less than a week.”

  “Yes.”

  “So in less than a week, as the maid of a guest, you single-handedly were responsible for making the head footman—which is a prestigious position—lose his job? You have that sort of power?”

  It did seem far fetched. “But he blamed me. In person, the first time he came to Macy’s.”

  Sean looked out of the streetcar window a few moments before turning back to her. “Perhaps he’s simply one of those people who have to blame someone—anyone—for their own shortcomings and mistakes.”

  That made her feel better, until the truth pressed forward. “Be that as it may, Grasston’s character flaws do not change the fact that he attacked me, did something to Mildred she won’t talk about, and killed Danny. We could determine with one hundred percent certainty that the reason he’s perpetrating these crimes is because he hates his mother or can’t stand cloudy days. The whys behind his actions do little good other than help us wrap our minds around his actions. They do not change his actions.”

  Sean let out a sigh. “Where did you get your keen, logical mind, Miss Wood? It’s quite impressive.”

  Accepting the compliment spurred her to answer with confidence. “I have done more than my share of dissecting character while trying to figure out my parents. I quickly learned that such an analysis—though interesting—made it clear that I had little choice but to accept them for who they are and make choices based on logic rather than emotion.”

  He leaned slightly against the outer wall of the streetcar to better study her. “Tell me about them.”

  “This is peculiar,” she said. “I rarely think of them, yet just the other night Edna had me talking about them, and now you.”