Thread and Buried

by Janet Bolin

  Gord rose to his feet and sang, quietly for him, in French. His song sounded very welcoming. He loved opera and had an amazing voice, even when he tamped it down by barely opening his mouth.

  When he finished, we applauded. He bowed, sat down beside Edna, and tucked her against him.

  “How are you feeling, Edna?” I asked.

  “All better!” she chirped.

  She certainly looked fine, though the glitter-coated silver spikes in her hair did make her appear wired for sound, and not exactly as cuddly as Gord seemed to think she was.

  I asked him, “Any idea what caused the outbreak?”

  “Maybe a virus,” he said. “Could have been food poisoning.”

  That led to my next question. “If asparagus had been fertilized with fresh manure shortly before it was harvested, and then not thoroughly washed and served raw, could that have caused symptoms like the people around here had?”

  “Sure it could.” He frowned, obviously perplexed. “That’s why they fertilize asparagus plants after the harvest each year, and also why they compost the manure before they spread it.”

  “But,” I persisted, “what if they used fresh, uncomposted manure, and someone didn’t notice that the asparagus they picked had been too recently fertilized with uncomposted manure, and then they served it unwashed and raw?”

  “Yuck, please!” Edna frowned in an exaggerated way that showed the discussion wasn’t bothering her as much as it might have the day before.

  Naomi asked, “Uncomposted manure? Who could fail to notice that?”

  “You’re right,” Haylee confirmed. “It’s impossible to miss. But we saw—and smelled—someone picking asparagus in a field that reeked of manure. Maybe if we want to know who gave half the community food poisoning, we should search for someone with no sense of smell.”

  Opal shook a finger at us. “You two shouldn’t search for anyone.”

  Haylee corrected herself. “I meant we should tell the police to look for someone with no sense of smell.” She walked toward Opal. “Speaking of things that don’t smell quite right, we met this guy on the beach. He thought I was his aunt. Auntie Elbow, he called me.” Watching Opal’s face, Haylee thrust Max Brubaugh’s card at her.

  The red drained from Opal’s cheeks. “Elbow?” she faltered. She took the card but didn’t look at it, just ran her fingers across it as if feeling the expensive card’s raised ink. She glanced from Haylee to me.

  I tried to calm the apprehension I saw in her expression without raising false hopes. “He’s the man I told you about earlier. He seems nice,” I said. What an inane comment. “He has a sister with him. Zara. They’re staying at the newly restored lodge.”

  Opal swallowed. “For how long?”

  “Probably until they get whatever they came for.” Haylee’s voice was filled with scorn.

  “Haylee,” Naomi cautioned.

  Edna’s laugh broke the tension. “He thought you were our age, Haylee? No wonder you’re miffed.”

  Slowly, Haylee began to smile. “It is sort of funny, isn’t it?”

  Gord shook his head. “Men. No sensitivity at all.”

  Edna sat up straight and looked him in the eye. “Gord! That’s not true. You’re very sensitive.”

  He only gave her a smile and toasted her with his glass of wine. And with his eyes.

  Running a thumb around the edges of Max’s business card, Opal stared at me as if I could make everything come out all right for her.

  But how could I? I needed to ease away from the unwanted burden that I probably only imagined she was putting on my shoulders. “I’d better go,” I managed in a small voice. “I’ve left those two kittens alone far too long. No telling what they may have done.”

  “I’ll come, too,” Haylee said.

  Naomi offered to see us out, but we told her to stay with her guests. Not that any of the three of them appeared to be paying Naomi much attention at the moment.

  We clattered down the back steps and out the door into the parking lot. I muttered to Haylee, “I hope I haven’t caused Opal trouble.”

  She took Sally’s leash from me. “You haven’t. If anyone has, it’s those people.”

  I let Tally pull me down the alley behind the post office. “You don’t mind about Gord?” I asked Haylee.

  “Mind what?”

  “That he’s always with Edna and often with your other mothers.”

  “Of course I don’t mind. He’s a good person. Edna deserves someone like him.”

  We passed the front of the post office and started up Lake Street. I thought aloud. “I wonder if we could find men for the other two.”

  “Ha. Believe it or not, my father was the love of Opal’s life. Can you imagine? A summer love. He was eighteen. He went off to college and after a few letters, she never heard from him again. Then her parents disowned her, and Naomi and Edna joined her to help raise me. When I was about eight, Naomi got engaged. I liked the guy. He was going to be my brand-new father. Then some drunk driver put an end to Naomi’s and my dreams, and Naomi hasn’t been interested in anyone since. Someone asked her out recently, but she turned him down.”

  “Who?”

  “She wouldn’t say. But you know her. She felt guilty for possibly hurting his feelings.”

  I laughed. “Poor Naomi. She’s too sweet for her own good. Why did Edna wait so long? She seems to love having a man in her life.”

  “Edna was dedicated to her work in chemical research and to helping with me. She never took time just for herself. She deserves some fun now. And maybe she was waiting for the right guy. Gord is good for her.”

  “And she for him.”

  We angled across the street toward In Stitches. There was more I wanted to know about Haylee’s three mothers, but I caught a glimpse of someone on my front porch. I nudged Haylee and stopped talking.

  22

  THE SUN HADN’T QUITE SET. THE PORCH roof cast shadows, and the person I’d seen was mostly eclipsed by fat pillars. Sniffing the air, tails high, Sally-Forth and Tally-Ho pulled Haylee and me up the stairs and onto the porch.

  Cassie was hunkered down in one of my rocking chairs. She sat on her feet and had her arms wrapped around her chest as if she were cold. The now-familiar pink plaid shirt wasn’t covered by a jacket, and was short-sleeved. But the evening was still warm.

  Although on leashes, Sally and Tally ran to Cassie. She uncoiled her legs, plunked her feet on the floor, and bent forward to pet the dogs. “I saw you on the beach heading this way. So I followed.” She glanced toward us, then away. “I thought maybe we could hang out . . .” Her voice, hoarse and slightly muffled, dwindled to a sigh.

  The poor thing must be lonely and nearly friendless in our small village. Her boss was dead, and maybe she didn’t even know those two women I may have seen her with, the ones who had fought over Haylee’s fabrics at the Midsummer Madness Sidewalk Sale. Haylee and I could be the closest thing to friends that Cassie had here. With a pang of sympathy, I unlocked the front door. “Come in. Haylee and I were about to have tea and cookies.”

  Haylee didn’t refute my sudden plan. I closed the door, unsnapped the dogs’ leashes, and urged everyone downstairs to my great room.

  Busying myself with mugs, plates, cookies, setting water to boil, and greeting the kittens, I sneaked glimpses at Cassie, perched on the front edge of my couch. Her mouth was thin, her shoulders were tense, and she held her arms close to her body as if trying to keep her feelings inside a fortress. I wanted to say something comforting, but I was afraid she’d crumble if anyone mentioned Neil. If she’d come to talk about his death, she would. I didn’t need to prod.

  Haylee relaxed in one of my cushy chairs across from the couch. Rubbing Tally’s ears, she was obviously as aware of Cassie’s distress as I was.

  I knew Cassie wouldn’t want me talking about food poisoning, so I asked her if she’d caught the stomach flu that was going around.

  “Maybe a bit of it, not a bad case like Neil h
ad.”

  We both told her we were sorry about Neil.

  She acknowledged our condolences with a watery smile, then leaped from the couch and paced, commenting on my handmade and machine-embroidered decorating touches. “Someday—” Her voice caught. “I’d like a place like this. Of my own.” She plunked down on my couch again and slumped forward, her head lowered and her white-knuckled hands clasped between her knees.

  Mustache and Bow-Tie climbed into her lap. Nudging the kittens with her nose, Sally leaned against Cassie. If those animals couldn’t cheer the girl up, nothing could. She unclenched her hands and stroked the kittens. Sally wormed her snout underneath Cassie’s hands so that Cassie couldn’t help petting her, too.

  I swished boiling water around inside the teapot to warm it up. “I didn’t get this place until I was thirty-three,” I told her. And I’d worked extremely long hours on Wall Street while running an embroidery business on the side for ten years to make it all happen. I dumped the hot water out, then added tea bags and filled the pot with more boiling water. “You have a few years yet.”

  “Managing La Bakery was my dream job.” She lifted her head. “Why did Neil have to go and die on me?”

  Her wording was strange enough, but the simmering rage underneath her tone put me on high alert. Haylee darted a look at me.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Cassie wailed. “With no job, I won’t even be able to stay where I’m living.” She peeked at me between her lashes as if checking whether I believed her, then added, “Lazy Daze Campground.”

  I asked, “Didn’t I see you inside a cottage at the beach this evening?”

  She looked down at the kittens. Her answer took a millisecond too long. “It wouldn’t have been me.”

  She seemed scared. Of being caught in a lie? Maybe she was afraid that Neil’s murderer would come after her. Meanwhile, what about Neil? Didn’t Cassie have sympathy for him? Restraining myself from pointing out that all of his dreams had ended permanently, I imitated Naomi, and tried to encourage Cassie. “You got that job. You’ll land another one.”

  “It took me a whole year to find that one. I graduated from college last June.”

  Haylee must have been channeling her mothers, too. “The Elderberry Bay Lodge has just opened. Even if they’ve hired their permanent staff, they could probably use help at the gala this Friday. You should apply.”

  “I suppose,” Cassie mumbled.

  “And you helped Mona organize the community picnic, right?” I asked her. “That will look good on your resume.”

  “Knowing Mona, you did most of the work,” Haylee added.

  That got a weak grin from Cassie. “I didn’t care.”

  I put a plate of cookies on the coffee table. Sally and Tally knew they weren’t allowed to help themselves to anything from the low table and didn’t try. I hoped that the kittens, who were nodding off in Cassie’s lap, wouldn’t wake up and discover that cookies worked as pucks in a rousing game of floor hockey.

  Haylee leaned forward and counted on her fingers. “You rented the bouncy castle, found people to paint faces, got that adorable petting zoo to bring their animals, and enlisted caterers.”

  I had to admire Haylee’s interrogation methods. “That’s a lot,” I said.

  Cassie waved the notion aside. “It was fun. And the caterers were easy—Neil was glad to provide the desserts, and everyone said that Tom did the best fish fry around.” She shrugged with one painfully thin shoulder.

  She’d left at least one caterer out. On purpose? “Who provided the soft drinks?” I asked.

  “Mona arranged that.”

  “And there were funnel cakes. And corn dogs,” I prompted.

  Cassie shrugged again. “I found them on the Net.”

  “And salads,” Haylee said. “From a white van.”

  “Mona got her . . . I mean them, to supply salads.”

  I held my breath, and Haylee probably held hers, too.

  Cassie looked down at the sleeping kittens. “I gave Mona a brochure from someone I met on the beach. Maybe that’s who she called. I don’t know.”

  Brochure? Mona had handed us slips of paper with Cassie’s number and a number for someone named Yolanda who could make salads, and I was pretty sure that the same person had printed both numbers. Who besides Cassie would have done that? Mona hadn’t mentioned a brochure.

  To hide my skepticism, I turned around and poured tea into our mugs. The kittens slumbered on. I handed Cassie her mug. “The kittens seem to like you, Cassie.” Again, I sounded like Naomi.

  Cassie sniffled. “Cats always head for the most allergic person in the room.”

  I immediately apologized. “We can take our tea and snacks outside.”

  But Cassie said it was fine, she wasn’t that allergic, and she would hate to wake them up. “I saw your posters. How did you get the kittens?”

  “I think someone dumped them.” I couldn’t hide my scorn for whoever might do that.

  While we ate cookies and sipped tea, we discussed suitable punishments for people who left pets to fend for themselves.

  Cassie stood up and handed me the warm, dozy kittens. “I guess I’ll go back to the campground now.” She gazed around as if memorizing every corner and every bit of machine embroidery in my great room. “This is a fab apartment. I’m jealous. You wouldn’t consider renting a room, would you?”

  Behind Cassie, Haylee glared at me, but I didn’t need the warning. I didn’t know Cassie. She was not remotely like the honest and upright Chief Vicki Smallwood, and there was no way I would offer to let her stay with me.

  I shook my head. “Wouldn’t work. You’re allergic to cats.”

  “Oh, I thought you were trying to get rid of them.” She let the last word hang in the air like a question.

  I hugged the fragile, purring little bodies closer. “If they were dumped, they’re staying with me. Want us to walk you back to Lazy Daze?”

  She paused as if weighing the offer. “No, thanks, I’ve got my car.”

  It was still dusk at this time of night in mid-June. I set the kittens on the couch, took Cassie upstairs, turned on lights in the shop, and let her out the front door. The streetlights had already come on, and the air had the softness of warm spring evenings at the exact moment when night-blooming flowers release their scents. Cassie should be able to find her way to her car, wherever she’d left it.

  I turned around in the doorway and nearly bumped into Haylee and my complete four-animal zoo.

  “Make sure you lock that door tonight,” Haylee muttered.

  At the sidewalk, Cassie waved and turned north toward the beach. I counted to three, then tiptoed out onto the porch. After convincing all of the animals to stay inside, Haylee joined me.

  Cassie disappeared down the hill. We didn’t hear a car door slam or an engine start. We heard only the breeze and the waves hitting the shore.

  And Tally whimpering.

  We went back inside. I leaned against the door. How to word my unease?

  Haylee did it for me. “Something’s off about that girl,” she said.

  23

  “CASSIE WAS CERTAINLY CAGEY,” I AGREED.

  Haylee made a show of turning the deadbolt and locking my front door. “She seemed to stretch the truth a lot this evening, ending with saying she brought her car, but when she left, she walked toward the beach.”

  “Maybe she left her car in the beach parking lot?” I suggested.

  “Okay, I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt on that one. But she also said she’d seen us on the beach this evening. Wouldn’t you think she might have followed us on foot instead of hopping into her car and driving here?”

  I had an excuse for lying about a car. “Maybe she did come on foot. Maybe, when I offered to walk her back, she made up an excuse so we wouldn’t go out of our way. More likely, she didn’t want to admit that she’d been in that cottage.”

  “We should have followed her down the hill.” Haylee un
locked the door. “It’s not too late to learn something.”

  We scrambled out. I took time to lock the door behind us, and then we raced as quietly as we could down Lake Street.

  Two cars were in the beach parking lot. No one appeared to be in either one.

  We jogged all the way to the water’s edge and peered west.

  A solitary figure tramped through the hard, damp sand.

  “Is that Cassie?” Haylee breathed.

  “I think so.” Although I didn’t quite trust Cassie, I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. Her posture projected a bravado that reminded me of my first morning of kindergarten. I’d reluctantly let go of my grandmother’s hand and had held my head up in a show of courage that I didn’t feel. Although I’d wanted desperately to run back to safety, I’d kept going, into the scary unknown. Now I wanted to protect Cassie from whatever was frightening her.

  She turned away from the water, toward one of the cottages, perhaps, or onto one of the walkways that would take her to Beach Row and eventually to the Lazy Daze Campground.

  “Are you certain she was the person you saw in a cottage?” Haylee asked me.

  “Not positive. I only caught a glimpse.”

  We turned around and started up Lake Street toward In Stitches. “What got me most about Cassie,” I said, “wasn’t the lie about having brought her car and maybe lying about being in that cottage, but the way she seemed to be angry at Neil for dying. Dying? He was murdered. Shouldn’t she have been angry at his murderer, not at him?”

  “And she took it so personally. Neil was dead, so she was out of a job.”

  “Self-centered,” I said. “On the other hand, did you notice the way Neil looked at her in the bakery tent at the picnic? Like he really liked her?”

  “It didn’t seem appropriate for an employer-employee relationship,” Haylee agreed. “Do you suppose she had to fight him off, and she fought a little too hard, and he, as she put it, died on her?”

  “She’s kind of small to drag someone into my yard.”