by Janet Bolin
“I’ll call Kent!”
How could the surly Kent make anyone sound that thrilled? At least I got her off the phone in a hurry and could call Haylee’s three mothers and stall them, too. Although they were concerned that a homicide detective was questioning Haylee, when I told them that Ben was also in her shop, they must have suddenly seen visions of beautiful grandchildren. They decided not to interfere.
Biting my fingernails, I peered outside. I didn’t see either Kent or Detective Neffting.
I hoped Mona wouldn’t reach Kent. If he told Mona that Haylee was alone with two men, nothing would stop Mona from racing to The Stash.
After about twenty minutes, Detective Neffting finally strode out of Haylee’s shop. He seemed to be staring straight at me. I waved and fiddled with my Come Back Later sign. Without acknowledging my greeting, Neffting turned, climbed into his car, and drove out of sight. I dashed across the street.
Haylee met me at her door and let me in. “Guess what the good detective found here!”
“A copy of the TADAM business plan?”
“How did you know?” Mimicking a balloon rapidly deflating, she whistled between her lips.
“I found one in my shop. I was about to bring it to show you when he arrived, and from the questions he was asking, I guessed he was trying to find out if I’d read the thing before Antonio died, and if I’d set out to murder him because of it.”
“What does it say? I let Neffting keep the one he found here.”
I fished my copy out of my bag and handed it to her. “Read it and you’ll understand. Did Neffting have a search warrant?”
“No. He zeroed right in on a bolt of fabric that was sticking up a fraction of an inch higher than its neighbors and asked me if I would let him see what might be keeping it from sliding down. I said yes. And there was this folded business plan underneath it. I didn’t want the thing and asked him to take it with him.”
I burst out laughing. “That’s great! That’s how she—I’m assuming it was Paula—hid one in my shop. Now Neffting might believe me that Paula left them there. How likely would it be for both of us to hide Antonio’s business plan under bolts of fabric before we went about our murdering ways?”
“Detective Neffting might believe anything of the two of us. Like we were conspiring to frame Paula.”
“Arrgh. He might. Why did Paula bring a group of students to your shop today?”
“She said Antonio had arranged a field trip for his students here. He hadn’t.”
“She told me the same thing this morning. Where’s Ben? Was he here when Neffting interviewed you?”
Ben’s voice came from Haylee’s classroom. “I was beside her the whole time the detective talked to her.”
I followed Haylee into the large classroom she’d had Clay build in the back of her shop. Tables were set up in a rectangle so that everyone working on sewing machines or sergers could see each other, and they would all have lots of space around their machines, plus sufficient outlets in the floor. Good lighting had been carefully added, too, since windows were only along the wall of the room overlooking the parking lot behind the building. Now the blinds were pulled down, and a media screen had been unrolled from its ceiling-mounted case above the windows.
His back to the oversized screen, Ben grinned at us. A laptop computer, with a projector next to it, was open in front of him. “Here you go, you two sleuths,” he said. “I’ve copied Kent’s files onto Haylee’s computer. The video from the fashion show was on his drive, plus a bunch of photos, probably from the same event. And don’t tell that detective, but I also searched among deleted files and recovered documents that look like correspondence and archived e-mails. They’re all on Haylee’s computer now.”
I pretended outrage. “You’re as bad as we are, Ben.”
With a boyishly innocent smile, he asked me, “What’s your e-mail address, Willow? I’ll send the files to you, too.”
Naturally, I told him. Not because I was snoopy, but because having more than one copy of important files was always a good plan.
“Okay,” Ben told me. “They’re on their way.”
He clicked on a file, and the screen hanging from the ceiling displayed the conservatory, with chairs rowed up on both sides of the runway. The unlit podium was in front of the closed blue velvet curtains. We heard voices calling to each other, and then people began filing into seats.
A man put his nose almost on the camera lens. “I hope this camera’s not turned on,” he said.
All three of us laughed, and Ben paused the video. “It’s all set.”
Haylee didn’t seem to be able to think of anything to do but smile at him. I scooted out of the classroom. “I’ll go let people in.”
“The door’s unlocked,” Haylee called after me.
“Then let’s pretend I’m watching for them when I’m really just admiring your fabrics.”
“Like Kent did,” she shouted.
I popped back into the classroom. “Were you watching Kent every second?”
“No.”
“Oh. So Kent could have left the business plan there.”
“That’s what I told Neffting. It could have been Paula, it could have been Kent, or it could have been the TADAM students who were here today.”
Macey? I asked Haylee, “Did it happen today, for sure?”
“Yep. I straightened everything in the shop last night.” She grinned up at Ben, who now stood beside her. “Want to have a look at the business plan with me while we wait for the others? It’s not rocket science, but I suspect you’ll understand it, anyway.”
Before Ben and his late wife bought the Elderberry Bay Lodge, Ben had been a mechanical engineer in the aerospace industry. He returned Haylee’s smile. “Let’s have a look. Willow can signal us when we need to put it away.”
“I’ll yell, ‘Thread!’”
“Thread?” Ben asked.
As I left the classroom again, I heard Haylee explain that Dora had come up with the word “thread” on Monday evening to warn us when someone was coming. Ben laughed.
I stood close to Haylee’s front door and watched the street. It was quiet in Threadville at that time of evening, with hardly anyone coming from or going to the beach.
From the classroom, I heard Haylee’s and Ben’s murmurs and occasional words, like Ben’s amazed “What?”
I was happy because they were obviously comfortable with each other and maybe beginning a more-than-friends relationship, but I was also a little jealous. What if Loretta kept working at it until she succeeded in wooing Clay away from me?
Mona walked up the hill, quickly for her, and crossed toward The Stash.
“Thread!” I called.
Mona opened the door, pranced in, and whispered loudly, “Is he here?”
“Who?” I hoped she wasn’t chasing Ben, even though I didn’t think she had a chance with him.
“Kent.”
“No.”
She turned her face toward the classroom as if sniffing in that direction. “I hear a man.”
“Ben’s helping Haylee get ready.”
She sprinted through the store and into the classroom. “Hi, Ben.” A pause. “Hi, Haylee. Ready for the first meeting between the director and cast of our first Threadville Theater production?”
I didn’t hear Haylee’s response. Edna and Naomi came in and greeted me warmly. Next was Opal.
So. Since Kent hadn’t stayed, and Ashley wasn’t coming, we were all there.
Unless, I thought wistfully, Clay showed up.
I told myself that if Clay came to the showing, Loretta probably would, too, and we did not need to have the entire set-building crew watch us make fools of ourselves on the runway.
With my head up, I marched into the classroom, reached for the light switches near the door, and sent Hayle
e a questioning look.
She nodded.
As I turned the lights down, Mona ordered, “Dim the lights for us, Willow, so we can get started.” Mona was In Charge.
Hiding a grin, I slipped into a seat next to Edna.
Mona cooed, “Start the video, Ben!”
We watched people seat themselves in the conservatory.
Mona edged forward. “Can we fast-forward to see ourselves?”
Ben answered, “We could, but we might miss something you’d like to use in your play.”
Mona wriggled back in her chair. “You’re so clever, Ben.”
He certainly was. He knew that the rest of us wanted to watch the video for clues about who might have deliberately harmed Antonio, and that we didn’t want Mona telling Kent about our sleuthing.
The stage curtains parted. In her off-white silk pants, top, and flowing jacket, Loretta stepped out through the gap, gave the gathering crowd an assessing look, and shoved a sheaf of papers into the podium. Had she written the entire script, including the seven threadly sins commentary, or was she only the gofer?
Seeing Antonio emerge between the curtains gave me a weird feeling. He didn’t know—no one knew, except his killer or killers—that he had only about three hours left to live. Smiling toward the audience, he shielded his eyes against the lights, then waved a piece of paper as if greeting someone. Or everyone, perhaps. He smiled directly at the camera. He pulled the papers out of the shelf where Loretta had put them, placed them on top of the one he’d been carrying, squared them on the podium, switched on the reading light, and tapped the mike. It was live.
Paula burst out through the curtains, grabbed Antonio’s jacket by the shoulders, pulled it off, and rushed offstage. Antonio grinned into the audience. They were still talking, but it was easy to understand what he purred into the microphone. “Women! Always trying to undress me!”
Ick.
Antonio pushed the curtains aside and hurried after his wife. The microphone didn’t pick up the stage-whispered argument that I had witnessed between the couple, which was probably just as well. Her comment about his addiction probably wouldn’t have gone over well with the audience.
Without his jacket, Antonio returned to the podium, read his welcoming remarks, and launched into describing us as we tripped down the runway.
The students were fine, and the Threadville ladies didn’t do too badly, but I had to cringe at seeing myself, especially in that ruffled confection with my long legs sticking out like toothpicks beneath it.
Mona sat forward, breathing quickly whenever she was onstage.
Finally, the fashion show ended, and Antonio started his “awards ceremony.” The looks of surprise on our faces when he first announced that we’d been guilty of seven threadly sins made us all laugh. Everyone singled out before Ashley had recovered quickly from Antonio’s jibes and played along with them, but when Ashley’s turn came, we saw the color drain from her face and watched her dart toward the opening in the curtains. Always attuned to others’ feelings, Naomi frowned in sympathy and followed the girl offstage.
Mona laughed when I made my comment about childery. “I put that remark into the play,” she announced.
I gave her a weak smile. I hoped the play wouldn’t turn into a play about a murder, with a stork-like woman in a Bo Peep dress as the villain. Neffting would probably decide that the person whom Antonio had forced to wear such a silly dress had to have arranged his death.
At the end of the awards ceremony, the models bunched up near the curtains. The chair holding Antonio’s jacket had prevented everyone from making a graceful exit.
Macey was last to disappear behind the curtains.
People in the audience stood, talked, laughed, and began leaving the conservatory’s domed main room.
Mona ordered, “Turn up the lights, Willow.”
I wanted to watch the rest of the video, but a copy was on Haylee’s computer, and Ben had e-mailed me one, so I obeyed her.
She stood and tugged her tight, stretchy dress farther down her thighs. “We’re done here for now. Our next rehearsal is tomorrow night at nine. Kent says we can use the carriage house behind the TADAM mansion for our rehearsals and for the play. Isn’t that fantastic?”
Haylee and I traded grins. “Fantastic” could be a good word for rehearsals and a play held in a building that had to be dim, dusty, and possibly about to fall down.
And what about Loretta’s plans for turning the carriage house into an apartment? Loretta and Kent had been united when they’d been arguing with Paula, but once they found out about each other’s plans for the carriage house, would they fight? And in the process, divulge secrets that would lead us—I meant the police—to the person who had killed Antonio?
Mona stared hungrily at Ben. “Your truck is parked near my shop, so you might as well walk me home on the way. Threadville is just not safe!”
Ben glanced at Haylee, who didn’t look at him but seemed to be holding her breath. He thrust his hands into his pockets. “Sure. And everyone else who is going that way . . .” He let the unended phrase act as a question.
Haylee’s mothers and I all jumped up. Opal said, “Let’s all go together.”
Mona showed a dimple. “But I’m the farthest away and the nearest to his truck, so he has to see me home last.”
Maybe she could have been more obvious if she’d tried harder.
Ben turned to Haylee. “I’ll come back afterward and help you tidy everything up.”
“This place looks tidy enough,” Mona stated. Compared to the usual clutter of merchandise in her shop, Country Chic, anything was tidy. But Ben had helped with the audiovisual equipment, and of course he’d want to make sure everything was put together again correctly. He may have brought some of the equipment from the Elderberry Bay Lodge, besides.
Mona asked, “What about the video? I need to give that back to Kent.”
Haylee said, “Kent was going to pick up his thumb drive at our next rehearsal, which you said is tomorrow night at nine. At the carriage house?”
Mona laughed, a sound that was both shrill and hollow. “Yes, at nine at the carriage house. I may see him before that, though. He and I have to plan those rehearsals, you know. That’s why the rehearsal can’t be earlier than nine. I’ll take the thumb drive.”
Ben pulled a red thumb drive out of his pocket and gave it to her.
He ended up walking us all home, except that none of us went to our own shops. We all accompanied Mona to Country Chic. Unlocking her front door, she inspected her porch as if expecting someone to jump out at her from among garden gnomes, bistro tables, and trellises. “No one’s here,” she said. “Maybe he’ll be along later.”
Edna, who occasionally lacked tact, said, “Kent’s boss was killed. Kent could be a murderer.”
Naomi added, “You shouldn’t be alone with him.”
Mona tossed back her hair. “Well, I have been alone with him, and nothing happened.”
I refrained from consoling her but couldn’t quite control a snicker.
Mona glared at me and corrected her earlier statement. “Nothing bad happened.”
Opal tried. “He could be dangerous.”
Mona stared at us as if we all, including Ben, had flown in on broomsticks. “For your information, I know for a fact that Kent did not murder his boss.”
25
I asked Mona, “How can you know that Kent didn’t murder Antonio?”
“He told me. Several things. One, as he told Ben, Haylee, you, and me last night, he wasn’t even at the fashion show that evening. He set up the camera, then went to Pier 42 until he had to go to the TADAM mansion and check that the students and caterers had everything ready.”
Edna burst out with, “But Antonio collapsed at the reception. Kent was at the reception. I saw him there.”
Mon
a had an answer for that, too. “Kent believes the poison or whatever it was that killed Antonio was administered earlier. It took time to work.”
That theory was similar to mine, which didn’t mean that Kent was not the one who had put a candy-covered almond or two into Antonio’s pocket.
Mona must have noticed our skeptical expressions. She raised her index and middle fingers. “The second reason I know that Kent didn’t kill Antonio is that he is investigating the murder himself because he’s afraid the police are going to try to pin it on him.”
“Exactly,” I said. “And maybe they’re right. Maybe he’s only trying to cast suspicion on someone else.” Like by leaving that business plan in Haylee’s shop, for instance. Maybe he was the one who planned to tell Detective Neffting to obtain a search warrant for a shop—Haylee’s, this time. Maybe both he and Paula had tried the same trick, in different places. Maybe they were working together. I doubted that they had separately come up with identical plans.
Mona shook her head. “No, you still don’t get it. The police might have a reason to assume that Kent was guilty of murder. But he wasn’t.”
That was too much for me. “What reason?”
“Antonio hadn’t paid him. Or anyone. And that includes that redhead.” She nodded as if expecting us to suddenly point fingers at Loretta as a murder suspect.
Not that I didn’t want to.
Opal demanded, “Then why did they continue working for Antonio, Mona?”
“Antonio told Kent he was going to pay him. Eventually. How would Kent get paid if he left TADAM? Antonio had also assured Kent that the fashion show would bring in so much money and so many more tuition-paying students that everyone would be paid.”
Ben asked, “And Kent believed him?”
Mona nodded. “At first. But then he began doubting and made a big mistake.”
I was sure I wasn’t the only one holding my breath and hoping that Mona would tell us more.
She did. “Poor Kent got impatient and wrote threatening notes to Antonio. He never should have put such things in writing. He says he didn’t sign them, but I know a lot about solving crimes. They can trace who wrote those notes.”
