by Amanda Lee
“I’ll have to wait and see what the coroner thinks about that,” said Paul. “Vera, darling, would you like to go on to the jewelry booth now?” He looked at Ted and me. “We’ll be back along shortly to let you know what we turn up.”
They headed out, and Ted and I remained where we were.
“I know she was killed here,” I said. “And I know that someone is bound to have seen something.”
“I agree with you, Inch-High. But Paul is being thorough . . . and that’s good.”
“It is. You know what, though? I don’t think he realizes I’m the one who found Clara’s body.”
“I don’t think he does, either,” said Ted. “Despite his not wanting to sound like a tabloid reporter, I’m afraid he’d jump on that tidbit if he knew of it. I mean, I trust Paul. I think he’s a good guy and all . . . but the fact that Clara’s rival is the one who found her body might be too juicy to ignore.”
I went back to the table and got a drink of my water.
Nellie Davis walked past my booth and into her own. I was glad I’d put all my purchases—especially the ones I’d gotten from her booth—under the table.
I started to speak to her, but she didn’t even glance in my direction. She stared straight ahead as she passed.
As unobtrusively as possible, I slid to the left, hoping to hear what Nellie might be saying to Sister Mary Alice.
Ted came up behind me and placed his hands on my waist. I started at his touch.
He suppressed his laughter as I glared at him.
I nodded in the direction of Nellie’s booth.
“I know,” he whispered. “I saw her.”
“I want to know what they’re saying,” I said.
We were both quiet and straining our ears, but although we could hear sounds, we couldn’t make out either woman’s words.
“I could just happen to wander into the booth,” I said.
Ted shook his head gently. “Wait to see whether Nellie leaves. Maybe you can speak with her yourself, or maybe you can go talk with Sister Mary Alice afterward.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to be rude . . . I just want to know what’s going on.”
He placed his fingertip on my nose.
“I might be nosy,” I said. “But we need to know what happened to Clara.”
“Even if Nellie did it, I doubt she’s confessing her sins to the nun . . . who isn’t really a nun,” Ted pointed out.
“I know. This is just frustrating.”
At that moment, Nellie came out of the booth. Ted and I quickly began looking at some patterns.
She stopped, turned, and stepped inside my stall. When she spoke, her voice was low and ragged. “My sister’s death will be avenged.”
“I hope it will be,” I said.
Nellie merely turned and left without another word.
“Still want to go over and speak with Sister Mary Alice?” asked Ted.
“No, I believe we’re pretty clear on what Nellie’s thinking. She’s convinced that one of us killed her sister . . . and I’m fairly certain she thinks I’m the one.”
Faux Jessica’s voice came to mind: Watch your back.
Chapter Twelve
It was nearly closing time when Todd came by my booth with two cups of apricot ale. I wasn’t a big beer drinker, but I liked Todd’s craft-brewed ale.
“Where’s Ted?” he asked. “I brought you guys some refreshment.”
“Thank you,” I said. “But he wanted to go by the police station before Manu left for the day, and he said he’d stop at the house and check on Angus.”
“Well, then, I guess I’ll have to drink his.” Todd put both cups on the table and came around to sit on the vacant folding chair. “Have you done good business today?”
“Pretty good.” I took a sip of the ale. “This hits the spot. Thanks. How about you? How’s your business been?”
“Fair. I expect it to be better tomorrow and Sunday.” He winked. “The rowdy revelers always come on the weekends.”
“I hope they bring the sassy stitchers with them. I’d hate to think you were having all the fun,” I said. “By the way, have you visited the fortune-telling tent yet?”
“Yet? You say that as if you actually expect me to go.” He took a drink of his ale.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
“And the very fact that you asked me the question lets me know that you’ve been there,” he said. “So, how’d it go? Did they tell you you’re going to fall in love with the craft brewer across the street, dump Marshall Dillon, and make sweet apricot ale with the other guy?”
“No, they did not. And it’s a good thing because I don’t want Deputy Dayton to shoot me.” Todd had been dating Deputy Audrey Dayton, and I felt certain she wouldn’t appreciate his joke.
He laughed. “So what did they tell you?”
“To watch my back,” I said.
“That’s fairly vague and common, right? Like a fortune cookie saying.” He shrugged. “It’s no big deal . . . is it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never got a fortune from a cookie telling me to watch my back. Good things will come your way maybe, but I’ve never been warned by a cookie.”
He pushed my cup closer to me. “Drink up. It sounds like you need it. I can’t believe you took that stuff seriously.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t found Clara strangled to death in her booth last night,” I said.
“Yeah . . . I heard about that. Are you doing okay?”
I took a small sip of the ale. I knew I’d be driving soon, and I didn’t want to overdo it. “I’m all right . . . pretty much.”
“Spill it.”
“I don’t know, Todd. I have to look like the main suspect to Manu. Clara opened her shop right beside mine selling the same types of things. . . . She even copied my decor!”
“But you were in your shop until late yesterday with your class,” he said. “Heck, even I can vouch for that.”
“Still, I found her. And Nellie has always hated me. She’ll try every way in the world to convince Manu that I killed her sister,” I said.
“Manu knows you,” Todd said. “And Ted knows you even better than that.”
“But Ted isn’t on the case anymore. Nellie has accused him as a suspect, too.”
“You’re kidding!”
“I wish,” I said. “This is such a nightmare.” I bit my lower lip. “You know . . . she likes you.”
“Nellie?”
I nodded. “You could stop by, see how she’s doing . . .”
“You want me to fly under the radar and get you some intel. That is what you’re saying, isn’t it?” He finished off his ale.
“Would you?”
“For you, yes.” He nodded at my cup. “Are you planning on finishing that?”
“No. I’ll be driving soon.”
“I have a higher tolerance level than you do,” he said, finishing off my ale himself. “And I need all the courage I can get before going to visit Nellie Davis.”
I hugged him. “Thank you, Todd.”
He kissed my cheek, and his breath was fruity. “You owe me . . . big. I’ll stop by and tell you what I learn, if anything.”
* * *
Before going home, I went by the Seven-Year Stitch to see how Julie had done. I hoped she didn’t think I was checking up on her. I suppose that is what I was doing, but I simply wanted to make sure everything went well and that there was nothing she needed from me before calling it a day.
“Hi!” I said when I walked into the shop.
“Oh my gosh, you look fantastic!” she said. “Spin around and let me get a three-sixty view of that dress.”
I did as she asked.
“That’s great, Marcy. You really look the part. Did you do well at the Faire today?”
“I did. I had a lot of fun . . . more than Ted did.” I laughingly told her about the elderly women who’d stopped by while he was watching the booth for me.
“Did they
ever come back?” she asked.
“No, they never did.” I giggled. “Poor Ted . . . he’d run his hands through his hair to the point that it was standing straight up. I hope your time managing the Stitch was a much better experience.”
“It was. Traffic was sporadic and of course there were a few lookie-loos who came in because they were passing by Clara’s shop and wanted to know if I knew anything about her death.” Julie shook her head. “I said I didn’t know anything and asked them if they preferred cross-stitch or needlepoint.”
“Oh, that was good,” I said. “I’ll have to remember that. I never know what to say when I’m put on the spot like that.”
“When you have a teenager in your house, you learn to think on your feet.” She smiled. “One odd thing, though. There was a young woman who came in looking for Clara. She said she’d heard about Knitted and Needled and came by but was surprised to see that it was closed. She wondered whether that was just for today.”
“What did you tell her?” I asked.
“I didn’t know if she was merely fishing for information or what, but she seemed genuine,” said Julie. “I told her that I was just filling in here for the owner today but that if I wasn’t mistaken, the proprietress of Knitted and Needled had suffered some sort of accident yesterday and I didn’t know when she’d be back.”
“Wow, you really are good at deflecting questions,” I said.
She spread her hands. “Again, mother of a teenager—what can I say? I couldn’t figure out if she was looking for the shop or for Clara, though, so I asked her if there was anything here I could help her with or have you order for her, but she said no.”
“I wonder who she was.”
“I have no idea, but I’ll find a way to ask if she comes in again,” she said. “I doubt she’ll be back if she was truly looking for Clara instead of the shop.”
“It couldn’t have been a member of her family because they would all have been notified by now,” I said.
“That’s what I thought, too. She seemed troubled, but I didn’t get the impression she was terribly upset. She could’ve been a distant relative who hadn’t heard about Clara’s death yet, I guess.”
“Did you ask if she knew Nellie?” I asked.
Julie shook her head. “I figured it was best if I said very little, which is what I did.”
“You’re probably right. I try to stay out of the middle of these things . . . and yet, time and again, I find myself right there.”
* * *
I was happy to see Ted’s car in my driveway when I got home. I went inside, and he was stretched out on the sofa watching the local news.
I dropped a kiss on his lips before stretching out beside him. “Are they saying anything about Clara?”
He nodded. “Paul was right. Clara’s murder is the big headline. The anchor reported that Clara had been found strangled to death last night in an apparent homicide in her booth at the Tallulah Falls Renaissance Faire. They asked for anyone with any knowledge of the incident or who might’ve seen something strange at the merchants’ building to come forward.”
“Do you think anyone will?” I asked.
“I hope so, but it isn’t likely. Manu questioned people all day, and if anyone saw anything, they’re not talking about it,” he said. “By the way, I fed Angus and let him go back outside for a bit. Are you hungry? I thought maybe we could make dinner.”
“I am hungry. What are you in the mood for?”
“I’m in the mood for lasagna, thick crusty bread, and a Caesar salad,” he said.
“Works for me,” I replied. “Do I have time to take a quick shower before we get started?”
“You go on and take your shower, and I’ll work on dinner. How’s that?”
I kissed him deeply. “You’re wonderful.”
“I know.” He smiled.
I went upstairs, took off my dress, and hung it up. I’d drop it off at the dry cleaners on the way to the fairgrounds tomorrow morning.
The shower felt wonderful. The warm water seemed to wash my fatigue away and left me feeling refreshed.
I dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and went back downstairs. I went into the kitchen and was a little surprised to see Ted and Todd sitting at the kitchen table.
“You smell amazing!” Todd said. He looked at Ted. “You’re a lucky man.”
“I know,” said Ted. “Now put your eyes . . . and your nose . . . back in your head.”
Todd laughed.
“Did Todd tell you I asked him to go see Nellie?” I asked Ted.
Ted nodded. “And the result of that visit is playing in the backyard with Angus.”
“What?” I hurried over to the door. Clover and Angus were lying near the door. Angus looked up at me, mouth wide and tail wagging.
I went back to the table. “How’d you end up with Clover?”
“Apparently, Nellie is allergic,” said Todd. “Plus, she’s grieving and doesn’t have time to care for an animal.” He spread his hands. “On top of that, she doesn’t strike me as the caregiving type. So I told her I’d ask around and see if I could find Clover a good home. Next thing I know, she’s packed up all its stuff and is handing it to me.”
“So now you’re the proud owner of a bunny,” I said. “Congratulations! Bring her by to see Angus whenever you want. They really do like each other.”
“Well . . . you see . . . I was . . . sorta thinking . . . you know . . . you might want to keep Clover,” he said. “I told you that you’d owe me big time for my going to see Nellie.”
“Aw, come on, Calloway,” said Ted. “It would be a great mascot—the Brew Crew Bunny.”
Todd’s eyes were pleading with me. “I have no idea how to take care of a rabbit.”
“Neither do I,” I said.
“It can’t be that much different from taking care of Angus, can it?” Todd asked.
“They’re two different species,” I said.
“We can talk about Clover in a minute,” said Ted. “Tell us what of value—if anything—you managed to glean from Nellie.”
“When I went in, I took her a pie from MacKenzies’ Mochas and told her how sorry I was about Clara,” said Todd. “Then I asked what happened. She said she didn’t know . . . that she’d gone out to get them something to eat and that when she got back—” He glanced at me.
“Go on,” I said. “I can take it. What would surprise me would be if she’d said anything nice about me—like the fact that I was trying to help.”
He swallowed and looked down at the floor. “She said that nasty Marcy Singer was there, of course, looming over the body and that she just knew the woman had killed her sister.”
“See? That wasn’t so bad,” I said. “I already knew she’d try to pin the blame for Clara’s death on me.” I shook my head. “I really did try to help Clara. I just didn’t know how. I didn’t know whether she’d had a stroke or a heart attack and had fallen over in her chair or what. I was afraid to attempt to move her, so I called Ted.”
“And I immediately called nine-one-one,” Ted said. “You did everything you could possibly do, babe.”
“Did she say anything about Ted?” I asked. “She told Manu that she saw him arguing with Clara, and that’s why Manu took him off the case.”
Todd looked at Ted. “Were you arguing with her?”
“I wouldn’t call it arguing,” said Ted. “I went by her booth, complimented her on her knitting—even though I was really comparing her to Madame Defarge, the evil knitter from A Tale of Two Cities, in my mind—and I encouraged her to have fun at the festival, to be gracious even to the customers who would try her patience . . . and I said I hoped she and Marcy got to know each other better during their time at the festival.”
“I bet that went over well,” I said.
“Yeah.” Ted nodded. “That’s when she started yelling at me and telling me that Marcy had been a detriment to this town ever since she arrived, that Nellie was a saint, yadda, yadda, yadda.
So, basically, I didn’t argue. Clara did.”
“That was it? Manu took you off the case because of that?” I asked.
“No, Manu took me off the case because Nellie made a stink over it,” he said. “She cited conflict of interest and a bunch of other junk. It really doesn’t bother me. I just want to get to the bottom of this so everybody can move on.”
“Me, too,” I said with a sigh.
“For what it’s worth, I did ask her if she honestly thought you’d hurt her sister,” Todd said.
“What did she say?” I asked.
He looked at the floor again. “She said, I’d hate to think so . . . but you’ve got to admit, a lot of people have come to harm since that girl has been in Tallulah Falls.” He raised his eyes. “Not that these people wouldn’t have wound up hurt anyway.”
“Yeah, well, a few months ago she actually entertained the thought that an exorcist should come in and . . . I don’t know . . . do whatever exorcists do . . . to the Seven-Year Stitch,” I said. “I think she’s a nut, but I agree with Ted. The sooner we find Clara’s killer, the better.”
“She didn’t let on to you that Clara had any other enemies?” Ted asked. “She didn’t say anything about Clara being upset or arguing with anyone else?”
“Not to me,” Todd said. “I’m sorry. I’ll keep my ear to the ground, and if I hear anything, I’ll let you guys know.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“About Clover . . .” Todd cleared his throat. “You guys don’t know anyone who might want him . . . or her . . . do you?”
Ted smiled. “I believe I do.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ted and I had invited Todd to stay for dinner, but after Ted said he knew of someone who might be willing to take Clover off his hands, he made a beeline for the Brew Crew. Not even the smell of a scrumptious pan of lasagna baking in the oven could tempt him to hang around.
With our tummies full and our moods uplifted—and me with a bunny on my lap while Ted drove the Jeep—Ted, Angus, Clover, and I headed off to see the wizard. Okay, she wasn’t the wizard, but she might as well be given the fact that she was the great and powerful Veronica . . . Ted’s mom. The first time I met the woman, she basically put a federal agent in time-out. I could hardly believe she was the person Ted thought would want Clover.
