by Janet Bolin
“Loretta inspired me.”
Haylee snickered.
I became serious. “Meet you in front of The Stash around eleven?”
Because of the potential murderer in the village, I insisted that Haylee had to go home through my apartment and In Stitches instead of through my yard, and I watched from my front porch until after she locked herself inside The Stash.
I galloped down to my apartment.
No phone messages, from Clay or from anyone else.
I had almost two hours to kill before Haylee and I were going out. I climbed up on one of my bar stools and tapped my fingernails on the granite kitchen counter. Haylee and I planned to dig through other people’s trash. If there had been no crime, we wouldn’t be compromising a crime scene, and Vicki, even if she found out about it, could not object, much. Okay, she would find our behavior strange, but that was nothing new.
However, if we could demonstrate that there had been a crime, Vicki and the state police would need to know about it.
I suspected that the trooper I’d told about the candies and medicine vial had done nothing. It could be up to Haylee and me—and her sort-of grandmother, Dora Battersby—to figure out whether or not there had been a crime.
I didn’t want anyone getting away with murder, especially Loretta. For all I knew, she went around collecting men so she could kill them. What if Clay was next on her list?
Maybe we should tell Vicki about the warning that Haylee had picked up from the podium and about the threatening note and the prescription label we’d found among the pieces of paper that had made up the soccer ball.
And Vicki would . . . probably make fun of us and scold us.
Besides, at the class Vicki hadn’t been dressed like she was on duty. My call would probably go to the state police, and they’d send out another trooper who would listen to our tale and then decide there was nothing he could or should do.
And maybe he would be right. Maybe Haylee and I wouldn’t find anyone’s printing in the recycling bins behind TADAM. Actually, that sounded like a very good outcome.
We would simply walk the dogs.
16
Dressing in black was a little silly when Sally and Tally were coming along on our sleuthing missions. Even if I sewed dark overcoats for them, their white-tipped tails would blow our cover.
However, my black jacket not only had a hood, it had plenty of pockets. Remembering the difficulty I’d once experienced while attempting to corral wayward trash, I poked a large garbage bag into one pocket. A handful of stoop-and-scoop bags and my phone, which would double as a flashlight, went into others.
At The Stash, Haylee was also wearing black. Both of us pulled our hoods up.
Haylee took Sally’s leash. “I saw Vicki’s cruiser a few minutes ago. With any luck, she’s heading off to the rural areas outside Elderberry Bay and won’t be patrolling here for an hour or more.”
I hoped so. No matter how innocently recognizable my dogs were, Vicki could take one look at our outfits and guess we were up to what she would think was no good.
Walking my dogs was never speedy. However, while we waited for them to sniff out clues, we snooped with our eyes. There wasn’t much to see. Lawns and gardens were neat, and leaves were still on trees. The conservatory was dark inside with only a couple of floodlights outside.
A car crept up behind us.
Great. Vicki’s cruiser. We whipped our hoods off our heads and waved. She flashed her headlights and turned toward TADAM.
Finally, Sally-Forth and Tally-Ho were ready to move on.
We listened for cars and looked for Vicki’s headlights before plunging down the pathway toward the back of the TADAM mansion. The chain-link fence separating the TADAM grounds from the village park had shrunk in my imagination, but now it was easy to see that it was still five feet high. Not that we’d have climbed it, anyway . . .
I turned on my phone’s flashlight app and lit the trash cans and recycling bins beyond the fence. “Those things don’t look like they’ve been used for about a year.”
Haylee pointed. “They have other bins, beside the back porch.” She pulled at Sally, who appeared to be contemplating digging a hole for us underneath the fence.
We agreed that we weren’t about to snoop closer to the mansion.
Afraid that Paula might be watching us at the moment, I glanced up. We were safe. The carriage house hid us from the mansion. We continued down the pathway to the next block. A pickup truck was parked across the street in front the apartment building I’d seen Loretta enter on Saturday night. The streetlight above the pickup was, to my way of thinking at the moment, too bright.
The pickup was red. The sign on the door said Fraser Construction.
Clay’s truck.
I dug my heels into the ground, which forced Tally-Ho to stop.
Haylee and Sally-Forth kept walking.
I squeaked, “Let’s go back the way we came!”
Haylee stopped but didn’t turn around. “Why?”
“That’s Clay’s truck. And I think Loretta’s apartment is in that building.”
Haylee tugged Sally-Forth back to Tally-Ho and me. “It looks like lots of other people live there.”
I tiptoed backward. “Macey does, and her roommate, Samantha. But I saw Loretta go inside it early Sunday morning.” My words sounded like they came from the depths of misery, which was not far from the truth.
Haylee tried to cheer me up. “Maybe another tenant is having her kitchen redone.”
“And Clay is making a business call at nearly midnight? He works long hours, but not like this.”
Both dogs sniffed toward Clay’s truck and tried to pull us closer. I resisted.
Too late.
Whistling and carrying a large envelope, Clay came out of the building, trotted down the steps, and opened his driver’s door. I tried not to notice how great he looked in his leather jacket and blue jeans.
Maybe he wouldn’t see us, back here underneath trees in the park.
Sally barked excitedly, and Tally joined her. They strained toward him.
Clay threw the envelope onto the driver’s seat, closed the door, and strode toward us. “Sally? Tally?”
Yipping, Sally pulled Haylee out of the shadows. Tally was never willing to let his sister, or anyone else, take the lead. By the time we reached Clay at the sidewalk, the two dogs were neck and neck, wagging their tails and insisting on his attention.
He crouched and rubbed their ears. “Hi, guys. I was afraid you’d gotten loose.”
He didn’t look up at Haylee and me. Embarrassed at being caught at Loretta’s in the middle of the night, no doubt.
“We often walk them at night.” I thought I faked a cheery tone fairly well.
He stood and gazed down at me. “I know.”
I couldn’t think of a thing to say.
Haylee, however, had no such problems. “What have you been doing here at this time of night?”
Clay glanced over his shoulder. “Loretta had drawings of possible renovations to TADAM’s carriage house that she wanted me to pick up.” His face almost expressionless, Clay stared directly at me again. “I worked late and got here only a few minutes ago.”
Again, I was wordless, and again, Haylee spoke up. “Renovating the carriage house could be interesting.”
If he had any enthusiasm for the project, he was hiding it. “I’d agree, but I like to know how I’ll be paid before I undertake a project, and it’s not clear to me that anyone at TADAM is in a position to pay for more renovations.”
I managed to find my voice. “Paula, Antonio’s widow, had an argument about that earlier this evening with Loretta and the other teacher, Kent. Paula seemed to think she was inheriting the mansion and the school, and that Loretta and Kent should not have held a night school class there, and shoul
d go away and let Paula run the school by herself. Loretta and Kent pointed out that Paula wouldn’t be able to pay her bills unless Loretta and Kent kept teaching.”
The slight downward movement of Clay’s chin could have been interpreted as a nod.
I faltered. “I suppose Loretta already told you about the argument.” I’d have loved to have heard her side of it. Then again, maybe she and Clay hadn’t done much actual talking. I didn’t see any lipstick on his blue chambray shirt, but maybe his jacket, even though unzipped, was hiding telltale smears.
He continued to keep his expression from revealing his feelings. “She said something about it, enough to make me worry about being paid. Besides, as I hinted to you when we first went into the mansion, Willow, the contractor that Antonio hired to restore the mansion used only the cheapest materials. Even so, I’m not sure there’s much left in the coffers for anything else. Antonio said something about renovating the basement and putting in a proper driveway as soon as they attracted more students and collected tuition from them.” Clay spread his hands in another shrug. “So I have Loretta’s sketches, but I’m not sure we can ever put them to use.”
We. Clay and Loretta.
Haylee wasn’t giving up. “It would be fun to see the sketches. And the inside of the carriage house, of course.” She pointed at me. “Willow and I might have some good ideas.”
Clay shoved his hands into his pockets. “I know you would. And Edna’s mother would, too.”
Haylee clapped her hands. “She’d love that!”
“And Ben,” he added, “but I think we should wait until we’re sure we’re not wasting our time.”
So much for getting a look at Loretta’s sketches—and, more importantly, a glimpse of her printing.
Haylee backed up a step, and off the curb. “Ouch!” Much to Sally’s excitement, Haylee hopped on one foot.
Clay and I asked in unison, “Are you okay?”
Obviously, she wasn’t.
“I’m fine.” Pain shot across her face. “I only turned my ankle. I’ll be better in a moment.”
I grabbed Sally’s leash before the enthusiastic dog could drag Haylee around and increase her injuries, if there were any. I knew Haylee well enough to guess she was faking them.
Maybe Clay didn’t. He asked, “Can you drive a standard? You can take my truck and I’ll help Willow walk these rascals home.”
Haylee winced. “I can’t, but it’s my right foot. I wouldn’t even want to drive my own truck.”
“I can walk both dogs by myself,” I said.
“Yes.” Finally, he gave me one of his smiles, but it still seemed a little tentative. “And sometimes you don’t need rescuing.”
Once, he’d rescued the dogs and me. It hadn’t been necessary, but it had been fun. This time he was rescuing Haylee, who probably didn’t need it, either. I wasn’t about to divulge her secret, however.
He offered, “I’ll take you home, Haylee. First, let me bring the truck to this side of the street.” He sprinted to his truck, jumped into it, tore off to the nearest intersection, and made a U-turn.
As if afraid that Clay could read her lips while zipping around in his truck, Haylee turned her face away from the street. “I’m okay, Willow. I just want another look at Loretta’s printing.”
“I figured.”
“You should have been the one with the sudden injury.”
“I didn’t think of it.” Dramatically, I stuck my nose up in the air and said loftily, “And even if I had, I wouldn’t have stooped that low.”
“Now I really am in pain.”
“Here he comes. Stop smiling. Hobble.”
Clay pulled up to the curb. In a flash, he was out of his driver’s seat and helping Haylee into the truck. I envied her, sort of. On the other hand, I didn’t really want to be alone with him until I could stop obsessing about seeing him with his arms around Loretta.
He closed the passenger door carefully and said to me, “See you at Haylee’s place in a few minutes? She might prefer to have you help her go up into her apartment.”
Maybe I’d get a look at those sketches yet. “Okay, but you know how these two can mosey.”
“Take your time.” He winked. “Maybe I should get Ben to come help her, instead of either you or me.”
He was acting like he and I were still close, conspiring to throw Haylee and Ben together. I tried for a light tone, too. “We’ll be there within the next hour or so.”
With a wave, he ran back to his side of the truck and pulled out slowly, as if Haylee were as fragile as a hen’s egg.
Fragile, right. He’d barely driven ten feet when the map light on her side of the truck came on. I couldn’t help grinning. Haylee had lost no time checking out those sketches.
And maybe Clay hadn’t been totally bamboozled by the flamboyant and artistic Loretta. I nearly giggled at the thought of his reaction if she’d been wearing her superhero/professional wrestler outfit while he was visiting her.
To my surprise, the dogs were willing to hurry. They knew which direction Clay and Haylee had gone and were undoubtedly eager to catch up with them.
Clay’s truck was in the parking lot behind the stores on Haylee’s side of the street. The pickup’s interior lights were on, and Haylee and Clay were still in their seats. Haylee leaned toward Clay and pointed at a sheet of paper he held against the steering wheel.
He looked up, waved at me, and put the paper down, on the console between the seats, I guessed.
The dogs and I met him on Haylee’s side of the truck. He lifted her out. I should have been the one faking the injury . . .
On the pavement, she rested most of her weight on her left foot and some of it on our shoulders. “I feel silly for putting you two to all this trouble. I think my ankle’s better already.” At her building’s back door, she thanked us. “I can manage the rest of the way.”
Oh no, she wasn’t going to fling me at Clay. “The dogs and I will come upstairs with you.”
Clay gave us both a smile, told Haylee to put ice on her ankle, patted the dogs, and waved good-bye.
After his taillights disappeared, Haylee lowered her right foot to the ground. “He’s so nice. I hate taking advantage of him.”
“Well.” I drew the word out. “That depends on how much time he spent with That Woman and whether or not she purposely harmed her boss. Did you get a good look at her printing?”
“It’s like the way the welcome message on that newsprint pad was written, rounded with curls and swirls and other flourishes, very much like the printing on the sketches that Antonio gave me, and not square and angry-looking like the warning that said ‘You won’t get away with it.’”
“Which we think Kent may have printed.”
“Exactly. Want to come through The Stash so I can watch until you’re safely inside In Stitches?”
“Sally and Tally will protect me.”
I walked the dogs around the block. At the front door of In Stitches, I turned around. Haylee waved at me from inside The Stash. I loved Threadville and the way we—most of us—helped each other.
After the dogs and I were inside and the door was locked, Vicki’s cruiser went slowly down the street. I waved, but she probably didn’t see me in the shop illuminated by only one night-light.
The dogs and I went to bed.
Despite the cats’ nightly rumpus and my fears that Clay was about to find himself in Loretta’s clutches, I managed to sleep.
• • •
There, I told myself in the morning. I was being rational and adult about Clay, and there was no point in confronting him. He was free to do what he wanted.
And I was fine with that. Just fine.
While the pets and I were enjoying our first backyard exploration of the day, Dora came out of Blueberry Cottage and handed me a platter of cookies. “Trad
e you these for a mug of your coffee. You make the best coffee.”
“And you make the best cookies. Peanut butter, yum. Come upstairs to In Stitches while I brew some coffee.”
Leaving the cats to take naps, Dora and I followed Sally-Forth and Tally-Ho upstairs.
The dogs settled down on their embroidered beds in their pen at the back of the shop. I couldn’t help admiring that pen. It was huge, with plenty of space for them, their food and water bowls, and my desk and computer.
I remembered watching Clay build the beautiful oak railing, complete with a matching gate, surrounding the pen.
Clay.
Dora demanded, “Did you talk to Clay yet?”
“I saw him last night, briefly. Nothing’s changed.” I turned on the coffee grinder, effectively ending our conversation.
Dora wandered around, fingering fabrics, straightening packages of stabilizer, and putting spools of thread where they belonged. I started the coffeemaker.
A man in a dark suit climbed the front porch steps. Sally and Tally barked and wagged their tails.
I broke into a clammy sweat.
Dora glided to my side. “I’ve seen that man before. Surely, it’s not . . .” She stared at him as if defying him to come inside.
“It is. Detective Neffting, from the state police.”
“Last time we saw him,” she whispered, “wasn’t he investigating a murder?”
Closing my eyes as if I could make Detective Neffting disappear, I nodded.
17
I opened my eyes. Detective Neffting had not disappeared. He really was on my front porch.
He was not my favorite homicide detective. True, I’d met only two homicide detectives in my life, and I didn’t know either one of them very well.
Detective Neffting reminded me of vegetables, but not in a good way. His almost chinless head was shaped like an upside-down garlic clove on a too-thin stem. His paunch was more like a potato. His eyes bulged like parboiled pearl onions, and were about as pale.
I wouldn’t have cared what he looked like, though, if he hadn’t always seemed eager to suspect me of horrendous crimes.
