by Amanda Lee
Mr. McQuiston stood, cleared his throat, and said, “I request the same of my client, please.” He sat back down.
I nearly groaned aloud. I didn’t know what Sadie was paying this guy, but the best he could do was basically “What he said”? The judge’s expression told me he felt the same way.
Judge Street looked at the file again. “A preliminary hearing in this matter will take place on Monday, April 4, at ten thirty a.m. Bail for each defendant is set in the amount of seven hundred fifty thousand dollars.”
My jaw dropped, and I slowly turned to look at Sadie.
“It’s all right,” she said softly. “Mr. Whitting and Mr. McQuiston had already warned that bail would be set high, if at all. We’re using a property bond against our house and MacKenzies’ Mochas.”
Chapter Nine
After the arraignment, I hurried home to get Angus. He and I made it back to the Seven-Year Stitch with only five minutes to spare. I didn’t like cutting it that close with regard to opening the shop, but with the busy evening I had scheduled, I knew that if I didn’t bring Angus into the shop, he’d be alone all day and most of the night.
I was putting my jacket and purse in my office when I heard the bell over the door jingle. “Be right there!” I called.
When I turned, I was startled to see Todd standing in the office doorway. He’d apparently sprinted from the front door. He bridged the distance between us and pulled me to him in a bear hug. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t come visit you in jail again after Saturday morning,” I said.
“Hush and just let me hold you for a minute.”
I realized he was slightly trembling. “Are you okay?”
“Not really. I’ve got a lot on the line right now.” He tilted my chin up with his index finger. “Thank you for everything you’ve done…everything you’re doing.”
“It’s nothing. I know you and Blake are innocent, and I intend to help you prove it,” I said. “Tell me what happened on Friday night.”
Todd released me and stepped out of the office. I followed him to the sit-and-stitch square.
“I’m not sure what happened,” he said, sitting on the edge of the sofa facing the window.
I perched on the red chair closest to him. “What do you mean, you’re not sure?”
“Exactly what I said. And I don’t want to talk about it until Blake and I can discuss it alone.” Angus came to sit on the floor in front of Todd, and Todd patted his head. “Hey, buddy. How’re you doing?”
I was beginning to get frustrated. “Here I am, putting all this effort into helping you prove your innocence, and you won’t even tell me what happened? You are innocent, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Marcy, I am. And I appreciate everything you’re doing. I just…” He shook his head.
“Do you think Blake is guilty? Do you believe he shot Graham with your gun?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Right now I’m doing my best to give Blake the benefit of doubt.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “He and I couldn’t talk in jail for fear of being overheard. Without talking with him, I honestly don’t know what happened.”
“Okay.”
“Do you believe me?” Todd asked.
I nodded, but there was an unpleasant nagging feeling that made me wonder if his and Blake’s conversation would uncover the truth or simply ensure they were telling the same version of events.
He stood. “Come on. Sadie is throwing Blake and me an impromptu celebration for getting out on bail. Let’s go have a latte.”
“I can’t leave the shop,” I said. “Congratulate Blake for me, though.”
“Sure thing,” he said. “Thanks again for your support.”
After he left, I realized how drastically his mood toward me had changed while he was here. When he’d first arrived, he’d been grateful and huggy and warm. When he’d left, he’d been cold. Had he seen the doubt on my face when he asked if I believed him? Because now, I wasn’t sure what to believe. Despite the fact that he hadn’t spoken privately with Blake yet, he could’ve told me what he saw…how he believed the events of Friday night had transpired. Did he not trust me? Was he afraid I’d tell Sadie or Blake something that he’d told me in confidence?
I glanced over at Angus and saw that he was looking apprehensive. He’d felt the vibe of the room change, too. I stood, gave him a kiss on the head, and got him a granola bone to chew on. He took it to his bed beneath the counter. All was now right with his little world. Too bad a tasty treat couldn’t turn a person’s world around—although hot fudge sundaes could sure make a bad day better.
And rolls. Fresh hot buttery rolls were pure bliss…bliss on a bun. Great. I was making myself hungry, and lunch was two hours away.
I glanced out the window and spotted Vera Langhorne heading for the shop. She’d been out of town all last week, and I’d missed her. She—and the crazy stories she undoubtedly had to tell me—would keep my mind off food for a while.
I noticed she was carrying gift bags, so I held the door open for her.
“Hello, darlings,” she said, including Angus in her hello. “I bring salutations and souvenirs from Washington.” She wore a long-sleeved coral shirt and matching espadrilles with dark denim jeans. She’d had medium blond highlights added to her brown bob, and chunky jewelry completed her casual chic ensemble.
“You look fabulous!” I gave her a quick hug. “Did you have fun?”
“Oh, I had the absolute best time ever. Since it was gals only and we had a suite, we spent most of our time in pj’s.” She giggled. “Of course, we didn’t stay in the suite all the time. We visited the spa more than once, tried the various restaurants in and around the hotel, went shopping…” She heaved a contented sigh as she sat down in the sit-and-stitch square. “And you remember Paul Samms, the newspaper writer I’ve been seeing since the masquerade ball?”
I nodded as I took a seat beside her.
“He called me twice last week,” she said. “We’re having dinner together this evening.”
Must be nice, I thought. Here Vera is a widow in her late fifties to early sixties, and she was having more romantic success than I was. Determined to be happy for her, though, I smiled. “Congratulations. As my grandmother used to say, it sounds like you’ve got the world by the tail on a downhill pull.”
“Things are definitely looking up.” She opened the first bag and presented Angus with a Kodiak bear squeak toy.
He took the toy, tossed it into the air, and then pounced on it. Vera and I laughed when the toy let out a loud shriek.
“And this is for you,” Vera said, handing me the larger bag.
“Thank you,” I said. I opened the bag to find a white spa robe, slippers, and milk chocolate truffles. “Wow, this is wonderful, Vera. I love it.”
“I knew you could use some pampering. I didn’t realize how badly, though, until I got back home,” she said. “I heard there was some trouble at the Brew Crew over the weekend. What happened?”
“That seems to be the million-dollar question,” I said. I told her about the shooting, the fact that neither Blake nor Todd seemed willing to divulge what actually happened, and that the men had both been released on bail this morning.
“Are you helping to investigate?” Vera asked. “I mean, after all, you’ve had your fair share of detective experience since you moved here to Tallulah Falls.”
“Please don’t remind me. But, yeah, I am doing a little asking around.” I lifted and dropped one shoulder. “It’s hard to investigate something, though, when the people involved aren’t willing to help you.”
“I guess it is. Plus, here you are, caught between two men on opposite sides of the law.” Vera’s face took on a faraway expression like the one I’ve seen on Mom’s face when she’s working out the costumes for a movie scene. Undoubtedly, Vera had cast me as “the dame” in some sort of film noir detective story.
“It’s really not like that,” I said.
I followed her gaze to the sidewalk outside the shop window. Keira and Todd were walking past, hand in hand. As they strolled by, Todd kept his eyes forward, but Keira turned and raised her free hand in a silly little wave.
I felt like an idiot. Here I was, running all over the place to help prove this guy’s innocence, and he was escorting Princess Prisspot down the street. Suddenly, I wanted to just forget about it and turn my back on the whole mess.
But I couldn’t do that—Blake and Sadie needed to learn the truth. I only hoped the truth wouldn’t be detrimental to them. Anyway, I already had the appointments with Roberto, Mark, and Charles. I couldn’t cancel on them now.
“Sweetie, are you okay?” Vera asked gently.
“Never better,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’m looking forward to kicking back and enjoying my robe, slippers, and chocolates. Thanks again, Vera. You rock.” And on the inside, I told myself one more time that I was perfectly fine with Todd dating Keira and that I didn’t need Todd or Ted in my life. But the feeling-sorry-for-myself part of me wanted to devour that entire box of truffles.
I took the gift bag to my office and returned with my Mountmellick embroidery project.
Vera leaned over to see what I was working on. “Ooh, that’s pretty. Is it candlewick?”
I explained that it was Mountmellick embroidery, an Irish form of embroidery that—according to the book by Pat Trott, which I had in stock—was introduced in the nineteenth century by Johanna Carter and developed in the town of Mountmellick in county Laoighis.
“The embroidery was used to help women earn money,” I said. “The technique uses a lot of different stitches, which could make a good learning tool.” That fact had just dawned on me, and Vera saw it in my eyes.
She smiled. “I get the feeling you’re thinking about teaching a new class.”
“You know, that’s not a bad idea.”
I was finishing up with a customer when Roberto and his wife, Carla, came into the shop. Angus greeted the newcomers enthusiastically, and they welcomed his attention. As I smiled and told them I’d be with them in a couple of minutes, they moved into the sit-and-stitch square to play ball with Angus.
The customer—an older gentleman who bought a beginner needlepoint kit for his granddaughter—paid and assured me he’d be bringing his wife to the store in a day or two. “She’ll love it here. I can’t believe she hasn’t found your place already.”
“Well, I’ve only been open for a few months,” I said.
“That explains it. We spent the winter in Hawaii with our son and his family,” he said.
“Now you’re making me jealous!” I laughed as I handed him the bag containing the needlepoint kit. “I hope your granddaughter enjoys it. And I’ll look forward to seeing you again and to meeting your wife.”
As the man left, I joined Roberto and Carla in the seating area. “Thanks for your patience…and for keeping Angus entertained.”
“No problem,” Roberto said. “We love dogs.”
“It’s nice to see you have such a thriving business,” Carla said.
Like me, Carla was short and compensated with sky-high heels. She had rich, chestnut-colored hair and green eyes. She seemed as nice as could be, but there was something in her demeanor that suggested she was the final decision-maker in the family.
“May I get you guys something to drink?” I asked. “I have water and sodas in my minifridge, and I have hot water for tea and instant cappuccino.”
“No, thank you. We just had lunch,” Carla said.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” said Roberto.
Angus, tired from the recent romping, took his new squeak toy and loped over to lie down by the window.
Roberto looked around at the dolls I’d dressed in elaborately embroidered outfits. “You made these clothes?”
“I did.” I sat on the chair nearest the counter. “Although my mom is, of course, the expert, I can do some costuming myself. What types of films do you make?”
“We do all kinds,” Roberto said. “We do small-budget indie films mostly, some documentaries.”
“We do horror, drama, action, coming-of-age,” Carla chimed in. “We had a film debut at Sundance last year. It was called Wicker.”
“I’ve been wanting to see that!” And I had…ever since I’d Googled Roberto’s company and learned they’d done the film. Until then, I’d never heard of it. It was about a woman who overcame financial hardship following her husband’s tragic death. The woman supported herself, her children, and her invalid mother by making wicker baskets.
“It’s based on a true story,” Carla said.
And there was my opening. “Speaking of true stories, maybe someone will make a screenplay based on the murder of Graham Stott. I attended the arraignment before coming to work this morning. Isn’t this whole thing a nightmare?”
“Yes, it is.” Roberto cast a weary sidelong glance at his wife.
“I warned Roberto not to go to that stupid party,” Carla said. “I knew there would be trouble.”
I leaned closer. “How did you know?”
“Because that group can’t get together sober without fighting,” she said. “A party at a bar was simply throwing gasoline on an open flame.”
“Graham was overall a good guy,” Roberto said. “But he almost always wound up acting like a jerk when more than a couple of us got together.”
“If no one really liked Graham and he was known for his bad behavior at these types of events, then why did Todd invite him?” I asked.
“He pretty much had to.” Roberto inclined his head. “Graham loaned Todd some of the money to get the Brew Crew off the ground.”
“So Todd and Graham were pretty close friends, then,” I said.
Roberto barked out a laugh. “Hardly. I don’t know of anyone who was all that close to Graham. It’s just that he and his family have always had money to burn. Whenever anybody needed money, they knew where to go.”
“Thank goodness we never had to stoop that low,” Carla said, although I noticed that Roberto averted his gaze.
“Roberto, while we’re on the subject of Graham and the Alpha Sigs, may I ask you a question?” I asked.
He briefly looked back at me, but he still appeared to be uncomfortable. “I guess so.”
“Did Blake ever date Tawny Milligan?” I asked. “Somebody was talking about her and mentioned that she’d dated several of the fraternity brothers. Since Sadie and I are best friends, I wanted to know if there’s anything I should avoid talking with her about. She told me she didn’t really know Tawny.”
“I don’t know if she and Blake dated or not,” Roberto said.
“Puh-leeze,” Carla said. “That little tramp dated any of the Alpha Sigs she could dig her long fake fingernails into, including Blake MacKenzie. I met Tawny our first semester in college. We were friends before I started dating Roberto.”
“It doesn’t sound like the two of you are friends anymore,” I said.
Carla shook her head vehemently. “Oh, no. That so-called friendship fell flat on its face when Tawny tried to steal Roberto away from me. As if!” She took her husband’s arm possessively. “After that, she moved on to the other Alpha Sigs. If you ask me, she was trying to snag a rich man to take care of her.”
“Did she?” I asked.
“Who knows?” Carla huffed. “She was with a different guy every time you saw her. She ruined her reputation. I heard that after college she even changed her name to try to escape her sordid past.”
“She changed her name?” That would certainly explain why I’d been unable to find a recent phone listing for Tawny Milligan. “That’s extreme. Who did she become?”
Carla shrugged. “I have no idea. I guess she wanted to start over, and she wanted to do so without people who knew the truth about her exposing her as a fraud.”
“Maybe she really
had changed,” I said.
“Maybe, but I doubt it,” Carla said. “I think she had to have had a very compelling reason to go incognito.”
“What do you think it was?” I asked.
“I’ve always thought she hit the mother lode, you know?” Carla leaned her head back against the sofa and looked up at the ceiling as she spun her tale. “I think she met some fancy-schmancy guy with a lot of money and clout. Together they came up with a new identity for Tawny so his family would accept her. She changed her name, turned her back on her past—along with everyone she ever knew—and she started living this new life.”
“That’s good,” I said. “Do you think you’d recognize her if you ever saw her again?”
Carla raised her head. “Oh, sure I would. I’d know her anywhere. No amount of plastic surgery could hide those violet eyes, and she was too vain about them to cover them up with contact lenses. She loved having eyes like Elizabeth Taylor’s.”
Roberto looked at his watch and then at his wife. “Babe, we need to talk about costuming. It is what we’re here for.”
“You’re right.” She gave me a half smile. “You have to forgive me. I tend to go off on tangents.”
“That’s okay. I do it, too,” I said.
Before Carla and I could go off on a tangent about going off on tangents, Roberto explained that for their current project they would need Depression-era costumes, furniture, and props. “Are you familiar with Madeleine Vionnet?”
“I know she’s famous for bringing the crosscut bias method to the fashion world,” I said. “Mom has done more gangster films than you can imagine.”
“That’s the type of elegant look we’re going for,” Carla said.
“We’ll also need some glass and dinnerware pieces from that era,” said Roberto. “Do you know where we can find those?”
“This sounds like a huge project, and I’m afraid I couldn’t do you justice.” I stood and walked over to the counter. I wrote Mom’s office number on the back of a Seven-Year Stitch business card and took the card back over to Roberto. “Here. Call Mom. She’ll put you in touch with someone who’ll do a fantastic job for you.”
