The Long Stitch Good Night: An Embroidery Mystery

by Amanda Lee

  One noticed the Mountmellick piece I was working on. She was a tall, pencil-thin redhead with dark green eyes.

  “That’s lovely,” she said. “Brenda, come look at this!”

  Brenda, a brunette with her hair in a messy updo, hurried over from the other side of the shop to see what her friend had discovered. “Ooh! That is pretty. Is it hard to do?”

  “Not really. This is my first Mountmellick project,” I said. “I got the books in because I wanted to have some Irish embroidery patterns on hand in honor of Saint Patrick’s Day. When I began looking through one of the books, I fell in love with the style and had to try it myself.”

  “Wow. That’s cool,” the redhead said. “Where are the books?”

  I stood and led them over to the rack holding the Mountmellick books. They sat down in the sit-and-stitch square and within minutes were ready to buy the materials needed to make their own pieces. Luckily, I’d had the foresight to stock several yards of white denim, and varying weights of white floss for the various Mountmellick stitches.

  As the women checked out, I asked if they’d be interested in taking embroidery classes.

  “I might be,” Brenda said.

  I placed a flyer in her bag and asked her to call me if she had any questions.

  They were leaving the Seven-Year Stitch as Mark, the personal trainer, was coming in. I noticed them both giving him admiring glances. He didn’t seem to pay attention to them other than to politely hold the door open for them to pass through. The women thanked him, stepped out onto the sidewalk, and then turned to look at Mark again. They were whispering and giggling as they walked away.

  “I believe you made their day,” I said.

  “Now they know chivalry isn’t dead, I guess.” He smiled. “Do you have your weights?”

  “I do. They’re in my office, if you’d like to come on back.”

  “You have a nice place here,” Mark said, looking around the shop appreciatively as he followed me to the office. “I like how you’ve set the seating area apart. It’s almost as if it’s another room, and yet it’s inclusive.”

  “Thank you. You have a keen eye for detail. I liked how you had your gym set up too.” I laughed. “I’d have hated to have had to work on my exercises in front of guys who so obviously knew what they were doing when I just as obviously didn’t.”

  “Yeah, well, when people pay for private instruction, it should be private,” he said.

  “I agree wholeheartedly.” I remembered Todd telling me that Graham had criticized Mark for making his living off his muscles rather than his brain. “People who don’t own their own businesses have no idea how hard it can be.”

  “Ain’t that the truth?”

  We reached my office, and Mark spotted my dumbbells on the floor by my desk. He grinned. “I didn’t realize someone had designed a line of fairy-tale princess sporting goods.”

  “Oh, sure. They had pink ones, too, but I thought those were a tad over the top.”

  “Unlike these,” he said, picking both up in one large hand and holding them out toward me. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  I began doing the biceps curls.

  Mark straightened my wrists. “Like this.…There you go.”

  The shop’s doorbells jingled.

  “Would you please excuse me for just one second?” I handed Mark the dumbbells. I stepped into the shop and saw that it was Todd and Angus who’d come in.

  “Come say hi to Mark,” I said, mainly to let Todd know we weren’t alone. I wouldn’t want him to blurt out anything—especially about the case or Blake—that he wouldn’t want Mark or anyone else to hear.

  “Mark’s here?” Todd asked with a frown.

  I nodded. “He’s checking out my form.”

  Angus had already bounded into the office to see who was there. When Todd and I walked into the room, Mark was rubbing the dog’s tummy.

  Mark and Todd shook hands.

  “How’s everything going, man?” Mark asked.

  “It’s going.” Todd gave a weak smile. “I’m trying to have faith that everything will be all right.”

  “If there’s anything I can do, let me know,” Mark said. He handed me the dumbbells. “Marcy, let’s see your overhead triceps extensions.”

  “Sorry for interrupting,” Todd said. “You guys get back to work, and I’ll talk with you later, Marce. Thanks for letting me borrow Angus.”

  “Anytime,” I said.

  Angus followed Todd back into the shop—probably thinking they were going to return to the beach—as I demonstrated my triceps extensions to Mark. I had very good form on that one, by the way.

  I tried to engage Mark in conversation about entrepreneurship, self-employment critics, Todd… Nothing. The guy was singularly focused on the task at hand. After checking—and often adjusting—my form on each of the exercises he’d given me to do, he told me he’d check back on me in a couple of weeks to see how I was progressing. And then he left. Mark was the epitome of the “strong, silent type.”

  By the time Mark left, it was around three o’clock. Since I usually had a slump about that time—I guessed it was due to school being dismissed around then—I took a bottle of water and my phone to the sit-and-stitch square and called Riley.

  “Hi,” I said quietly when she answered the phone. “Is this a bad time?”

  “No. Why are you whispering?” she asked. “Is anything wrong?”

  “No. And now I feel utterly stupid. I was whispering because I thought the baby might be sleeping.”

  We both laughed.

  “Actually, she is sleeping,” Riley said. “But how are you doing? Suddenly, it’s you I’m worried about.”

  “I’m all right…just a little loopy. How are you holding up?”

  “I’m doing great. Laura is only waking up about once during the night,” she said. “I’m hoping she’ll start sleeping all the way through by the time I have to head back to work in a couple weeks. Mom says I’m being overly optimistic, but I think Laura and I will have worked out an agreeable schedule by then.”

  “I hope so,” I said. “How’s Keith?”

  “He still has his head in the clouds,” she said with a giggle in her voice. “However, he does come back to earth for diaper duty, feedings, and snuggle time—with Laura and with me.”

  “That’s sweet.”

  “Yeah…So tell me what’s going on with the murder investigation,” she said.

  “I imagine you’ve heard about the arraignment,” I said.

  “I have. I’m a little surprised at Judge Street granting bail. Cam must’ve been fairly convincing on the ‘strong community ties’ argument.”

  “He was,” I said. “And Blake’s attorney pretty much said ‘Ditto.’”

  Riley groaned. “I don’t know why in the world Blake went with McQuiston. He’s competent in other areas, but he has almost no criminal law experience.”

  “I believe he’s a friend of Sadie’s parents,” I told her.

  “Well, there are friends of the family, and then there’s somebody like Cam Whitting who can keep your butt out of prison for life.” She expelled a long breath. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. But that sort of thing really strikes a nerve with me. I’ve seen so many—” She stopped herself from finishing the thought. “So, what else is new?”

  “Not a lot,” I said. “I’ve been doing what I can to help, which isn’t much. I’d hoped to talk with some of the fraternity brothers and their friends to see if anyone had any long-standing grudges with Graham.”

  “And what did you dig up?”

  “Well, one name that keeps popping up is that of Tawny Milligan. I tried to get in touch with her, but I can’t find her. Were you and Todd dating while he was in college?” I asked. “I thought that, if so, you might’ve known Tawny, since she was friends with so many of the Alpha Sigs.”

  “Todd and I were together his last year at OSU, so, yeah, I did know Tawny. She was standoffish toward me, and I ch
alked that up to her being jealous because she was a little infatuated with Todd.”

  “Had she and Todd dated before?”

  “No. Blake had dated Tawny briefly,” Riley said. “Even if Todd had been interested in Tawny, he’d have adhered to the unwritten guy rule that says you don’t date the girl who dumped your best friend.”

  “Are you telling me Sadie was Blake’s rebound?” I asked incredulously.

  “Well, she was obviously more than that. I mean, look how long the two of them have been together. Right?”

  “Yeah.” I tried to dispel the doubt nagging in my noggin. “Who else did Tawny date?”

  “She ultimately wound up with Graham—who broke her heart, by the way, and might be why she left OSU, never to be heard from again,” she said. “But in addition to her dating Graham, it was rumored that she’d also had flings—or more like one-night stands—with Roberto and Andy.”

  “How about Mark or Charles?” I asked. “Did she have any sort of relationship with them?”

  “She was friends with both of them. That was the extent of it, as far as I know.”

  “She must have been very beautiful,” I said. “Roberto’s wife said she had violet eyes like Elizabeth Taylor’s.”

  Riley laughed softly. “Carla would’ve clawed those violet eyes out of Tawny’s head if she’d known about Tawny and Roberto. But, yeah, Tawny was pretty enough. Not Elizabeth Taylor stunning but certainly not ugly.”

  “I’m just dying to see what this seductress looks like. Don’t forget, Sadie and I didn’t go to OSU. And Sadie never even met Tawny.”

  “That’s not surprising,” she said. “I can’t imagine Tawny would want to meet the woman that Graham was so enamored of.”

  “Sadie’s relationship with Graham confuses me too. She and I were roommates in college, but I’d never met Graham until Friday night at the party,” I said. “I did notice that Sadie wasn’t with Blake and the group of fraternity guys when I went by to pick her up, but I supposed she just didn’t want to hang out with a group of guys. Sadie didn’t mention that she and Graham had dated.”

  “She and Graham only went out for a couple of months. Sadie was a freshman then.…”

  “That explains it. Sadie was at the school for a year and had already changed majors by the time I got there. I am surprised, though, that Sadie never mentioned their relationship,” I said. “Especially after Friday.”

  “Maybe she was just too caught up in worrying about Blake’s predicament…and her own, for that matter. I mean, if Blake goes to prison, what will that mean for her and for the coffeehouse?” asked Riley. “Besides, I don’t think her relationship with Graham was all that serious as far as Sadie was concerned. Like I told you, Graham was head over heels for her. But after he introduced Sadie to Blake, those two only had eyes for each other. I’m not sure Graham ever forgave Blake for that.”

  “What was to forgive?” I asked. “They couldn’t help the way they felt about each other.”

  “True. But you have to admit, if you introduced the guy you loved to one of your best friends, and they hooked up, you’d be pretty ticked at both of them,” she said. “And Graham was definitely ticked. He’d still try to act like he was Blake’s buddy, but he’d undermine him every chance he got.”

  I could hear Laura beginning to fuss in the background. “It sounds like duty calls.”

  “More like doody calls,” Riley said with a bark of laughter.

  “Give her a kiss for me…you know…after the cleanup. I’ll be by to see you guys soon.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sadie came into the Seven-Year Stitch just as I was getting ready to lock up and take Angus home. I always took him home, fed him, and let him out into the backyard before returning for class.

  Sadie was carrying a MacKenzies’ Mochas takeout bag. “I brought that chicken salad croissant I promised you yesterday. In fact, I’ve got us both one. Would you mind if I went with you to take Angus home?”

  “Not at all,” I said. “I’m happy for the company—the extra company, I mean.” I patted Angus on the head.

  I put my clock sign on the door indicating I’d be back by six p.m. for class. Then I locked the door, and Sadie, Angus, and I went out to the Jeep. I opened the back door on the driver’s side, and Angus hopped in. I put up the pet barrier to keep him out of the front seat, but he could still hang his head over the front to be petted by Sadie during the drive home.

  I wondered what Sadie wanted to talk with me about that she didn’t want to discuss in front of Blake and Todd. Since Sadie hadn’t told me Blake’s version of Friday night’s events, I didn’t have a clue what she believed happened. Furthermore, I didn’t know what Sadie knew—or maybe more importantly what she didn’t know, since she’d never met Tawny Milligan—about Blake’s time in college before she began dating him. I decided my best bet was to keep my mouth shut until Sadie opened up with whatever was on her mind.

  She didn’t say much until after we arrived at my house. While I fed Angus, Sadie got out plates and placed our croissants on them. She added the sea salt chips and brownies she’d also brought with her. I got us a couple of diet sodas—to offset the brownie calories, of course—and we sat down at the table. Angus abandoned his bowl to see if he could score bites of our dinner. With those big brown eyes? Of course he could.

  Finally, Sadie started talking. “Todd told Blake and me that you felt betrayed…that you thought we didn’t trust you enough to tell you what happened on Friday night.”

  I didn’t really have a response to that, so I had a bite of my croissant.

  “We trust you,” she continued. “We’re just not sure of what happened ourselves. Even after Blake and Todd had their little private sit-down, Blake walked out not knowing any more than he had going in. What did Todd tell you?”

  I took a drink of my soda. Then I looked Sadie in the eye. And…I took another drink. I realized there was no courage in the bottom of a soda glass. So I took a deep breath and told her, “Todd thinks Blake shot Graham. If he did, I know it had to be self-defense.”

  Sadie shook her head. “Blake did not shoot Graham. Graham was arguing with Todd, and he kept getting more and more aggressive. Blake overheard Graham threaten to kill Todd, so he got Todd’s gun from his office and rushed to the back room where Todd and Graham were arguing.” She took a steadying breath. “As Blake got to the doorway, he heard a shot ring out. At first, he thought Graham had shot Todd because Todd immediately hit the floor facedown. But then he saw that Graham had also fallen, only Graham had fallen onto his back and Blake could see that he was bleeding. Blake dropped the gun onto the floor and went to check on the men.”

  “Where was the gun that was used to kill Graham?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. Blake said he didn’t see it,” said Sadie. “And as nice as it is that Todd’s playing the hero like he’s protecting Blake, he’s got it backward. Blake has been protecting Todd. He’s the one who shot Graham.”

  “Would you and Blake come over after class so you can talk with Todd and me?” I asked. “Maybe the four of us together can figure out what actually happened and why.”

  “Sure. I’m fine with that. If nothing else, it’ll get me out from under Mom’s thumb for a while.”

  I bit my lip. “They’re still staying with you?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Once again, I’m sorry about that,” I said.

  “You meant well.” Her words were forgiving, but her tone was not.

  Class was…interesting. Reggie was there. Julie and her teenage daughter, Amber, were there—they were two of my most loyal students and had been taking classes since I first opened the Seven-Year Stitch. Vera was in attendance, and surprisingly enough, so was Margaret Trelawney. Since her husband Bill died, Mrs. Trelawney had been my landlord. She sometimes dropped in on my classes, but she had never signed up for one, nor had she ever worked on an embroidery project.

  As the students came in, I offered
them a bottle of water. I also took their coats and jackets and hung them on the rack in my office. When I returned to the sit-and-stitch area, Mrs. Trelawney was unwrapping a Starlight mint she’d taken from the bowl I’d put in the center of the coffee table.

  I sat down beside Mrs. Trelawney on the sofa. “I’m so glad you could make it this evening,” I said. “How’s Sylvia?” Her sister-in-law had acted like a shrew when Mr. Trelawney had first died, but she appeared to have mellowed within the past few months.

  “She’s fine,” Mrs. Trelawney said. “She’s driving down this coming weekend, and I’m going to go back home to Portland with her for a few days. We’re going to do some shopping.”

  “That’ll be fun,” I said.

  “It will be unless she starts making an issue of how much of Bill’s hard-earned money I’m spending.” Mrs. Trelawney huffed. “But I’ll have her know he didn’t earn it all by himself. And another thing: he’s gone now, so that money belongs to me.”

  I turned to the group in general. “How did everyone do on her project this week?”

  They—with the singular exception of Mrs. Trelawney—began taking their works in progress out of their tote bags. Everyone’s project was progressing nicely, and since no one had any immediate questions, we got to work. As we stitched, we talked about Manu’s homecoming and Riley’s beautiful baby girl. Inevitably, the subject of Graham Stott’s murder arose.

  “That was a terrible ordeal at the Saint Patrick’s Day party,” Julie said softly, brushing the light brown hair out of her eyes. “Have the police figured out what happened?”

  “I don’t think all the facts in the case are known yet,” I said.

  “Who had a party, and what happened?” Mrs. Trelawney asked. “I miss all the fun.”

  Reggie broke the group’s collective awkward silence by saying, “The party was at the Brew Crew, and Graham Stott was shot.”

  “Who’d he shoot?” Mrs. Trelawney demanded. “That Graham always was an impudent cuss. I’m not a bit surprised he had the gall to shoot somebody.”