by Amanda Lee
“Right. And it wouldn’t raise eyebrows much at all if she kept Tawny as a middle name,” Reggie said. “Anyway, my friend said she’ll look into it further and let me know—hopefully, later today—any current information she’s able to dig up on Tawny Milligan. Carol also said that if she can find a working number for the woman, she’ll see if Tawny would be willing to talk with defense attorneys in the case.”
“That’s great. Thanks so much, Reggie.”
“I don’t know how much it would help matters, but it would at least satisfy your curiosity,” she said with a grin.
A woman who looked to be in her early to mid-seventies entered the shop. She had tight reddish brown curls and wore red-framed glasses. Her elfin figure was swallowed up in a scarlet sweater dress.
“Good morning,” I said.
“Hello.” She waved absently to Reggie and me as she approached the counter, where Jill the mannequin stood guard. “I need eight skeins of white angora yarn, young lady.”
My eyes widened, and Reggie covered her mouth with her hand. I rushed over to the counter, thinking it was time the lady got a stronger prescription for those red glasses. Reggie said she needed to get back to the library and scrambled out the door.
“Did you say you need eight skeins?” I asked.
“Yes, dear. I’m going to crochet an afghan for my niece. She’s getting married in June.” She looked at Jill, trying to include her in the conversation. You couldn’t accuse Ms. Magoo here of being rude. “I’m using an intricate old pattern. It was my grandmother’s.”
“I’m sure the afghan will be lovely,” I said. “Would you like to take a seat while I get your yarn?”
“Oh, no, thank you,” she said. “I’m fine right here.”
I decided to take the eight skeins of white angora from the storeroom rather than the yarn bins. I gathered the yarn and noted that my supply was nearly wiped out. I made a mental note to order more this afternoon. When I returned, the customer was squinting at the mannequin.
“Here you are,” I said brightly. “Will you need some hooks or anything else?”
“No.” She plucked one of the skeins of yarn out of my arms and inspected it carefully. “This will do very well.” She lowered her voice. “The girl behind the counter…is she new?”
Not sure what else to do, I nodded.
“I thought so. She’s a little shy, isn’t she?”
Again I nodded. I thought fleetingly of saying that Jill couldn’t talk, but I decided that was unnecessary. If the woman ever realized her faux pas, she’d think I was being supercilious.
I rang up the customer’s yarn and placed it in a large periwinkle Seven-Year Stitch bag. I took an embroidery class flyer and placed that in the bag as well. Handing the bag to the customer, I said, “Thank you so much for shopping with us. I hope you have a terrific day.”
“You, too.” She lifted a hand in Jill’s direction. “Hang in there, honey. You’ll get a feel for things in no time.” She gave me a little nod and left.
Grinning, I put my arm around Jill’s shoulders. “Yeah, kid. You’ll catch on.”
Mom called around lunchtime. She’d spoken with Carla and Roberto and had given them her friend’s contact information in Seattle.
“You were absolutely right, Marcella. I believe they really are fans of my work.”
“Told you so,” I said in a singsong voice.
“It was truly gratifying to have my work appreciated by someone who doesn’t know me…who doesn’t have any sort of stake in things,” she said. “By the way, while I had them on the line, I did a little snooping of my own.”
“What did you do?” I asked, half dreading her answer.
“I told Carla and Roberto that I’m concerned about you. I said that you hadn’t lived in Tallulah Falls for all that long, and now two of your friends are facing murder convictions.” She gave her usual throaty chuckle. “I made it sound as if I was terrified that you’d moved to Oregon and fallen in with a gang of ruffians.”
I laughed. “What did they say to that?”
“Though it struck me as odd, Carla—not Roberto—took the lead in answering the question about his friends. She assured me that the shooting was an accident and that neither man constituted a threat toward you.”
“Was Carla even there Friday night?” I mused. “I mean, I didn’t meet her at the party.”
“No, I’m pretty certain she wasn’t there because she said that based on what Roberto told her, everyone was drunk, angry, and resurrecting old grudges,” Mom said. “Roberto backed up Carla’s assertions, but he didn’t volunteer any new information.”
“He didn’t when they were here yesterday either.” I sighed. “I’d love to be able to talk with Roberto alone and try to get his version of events unfiltered by Carla.”
“Maybe you can. Before I asked about Blake and Todd and expressed my fear over you living in that gangster-infested town, we talked about some of the things they’d need in order to do the Depression-era setup right,” she said. “I told them everything I could think of off the top of my head but said I’d probably come up with more throughout the day. You know how set and costume ideas often come to me while I’m thinking about or doing other things.”
“Do I ever,” I said.
“Anyway, Carla mentioned that if I thought of anything else, she’d be out of the office the rest of the day today but that Roberto would be in until around six o’clock.”
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll call right now.”
“Keep me posted,” she said before hanging up.
I went into my office and got the business card Roberto had given me before he and Carla had left yesterday. I dialed the number and a man answered on the second ring. I thought it was Roberto, but I wasn’t entirely sure.
“Hi, this is Marcy Singer calling. Is Roberto or Carla there?”
“This is Roberto. Carla and I spoke with your mom this morning. She’s an incredible lady.”
“She is,” I agreed. “She was thrilled that you and Carla were so knowledgeable and appreciative of her work.”
“Thanks for putting us in touch with her,” said Roberto. “I’ve already talked with the guy she referred us to for the Depression-era movie, and Carla and I have an appointment to see him tomorrow. We believe he’s going to be a perfect fit for this project.”
“I’m glad Mom and I could help.” I felt my conscience pinch me when I asked, “Is Carla there?”
“No, she’s out. Is there something I could help you with?”
“Well, as you know, I’ve been wanting to talk with Tawny Milligan about the guys and their past histories, stuff like that,” I said. “Since Carla said she and Tawny had been friends at one point, I thought maybe she could fill me in on—”
“There’s no point,” Roberto interrupted. “Tawny is gone. Forget about her. She couldn’t contribute anything to the defense or to the prosecution either, for that matter, because no one has seen her in over ten years. If you want to know what happened Friday night, I’ll tell you. Graham pushed Blake to the breaking point, and Blake shot him.”
“Are you sure?” I asked quietly.
“Positive. I saw Blake get Todd’s gun out of his office. But please don’t repeat that,” he said, his voice losing the excitement it held mere seconds ago and becoming so quiet I could barely hear him. “Carla doesn’t want us to get embroiled in a trial that could put us months behind our production schedule. That would cost us a fortune. So…not a word. Please. Not even to Carla, okay?”
“Sure,” I said.
“Look, I gotta run. Take care, Marcy.”
I managed to mumble “You too” before ending the call. I dropped my phone onto the ottoman and ran into the bathroom. I felt nauseous, so I wet a washcloth with cold water and bathed my face. I began sobbing and sank onto the cool tile floor.
Roberto’s scenario made no sense. None of it made any sense. Why would Blake shoot Graham? Over Graham wanting Blake to open MacKenzies’ Moch
as franchises? That would be stupid. No matter how drunk Blake might’ve been—and he hadn’t seemed all that drunk when Sadie and I saw him at the jail—he wouldn’t have shot Graham over something as inconsequential as that.
Maybe Roberto was mistaken. He said he saw Blake take Todd’s gun from his office, but maybe it was something else…something Roberto had thought was a gun. Or maybe Graham had been threatening someone, and Blake took the gun intending to scare Graham off or something. Or Blake might’ve shot Graham in self-defense…although that didn’t make sense when there was only one gun found in the room.
No, no, no! Roberto was wrong. Blake couldn’t have shot Graham Stott. He couldn’t have.
A furry face pressed against mine. I lowered the washcloth and hugged Angus. He began licking my face and right ear.
Suddenly, Todd appeared in the bathroom doorway. I’d been crying so hard, I hadn’t heard the bells jingle when the front door had opened.
He stooped down and hauled me gently to my feet. “Marcy, are you okay?”
Fresh tears spilled onto my cheeks, and he pulled me into his arms.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “What’s happened?”
I jerked away from him and buried my face in the washcloth. He should’ve told me what happened Friday night. He shouldn’t have let me get blindsided by Roberto Gutierrez. Whether Roberto’s story was accurate or not, his version should not have been the first one I heard.
I had to hand it to Todd, though. He wasn’t about to be put off that easily. Placing his hands on my shoulders, he said, “I’m here for you. Please don’t push me away. I want to help you through whatever it is that has you so upset.”
I flung the washcloth into the sink and turned to glare up at him. “If you’d been honest with me, I wouldn’t be this upset right now!”
“Is it Keira? You still won’t believe I’m not involved with her? Look, I know I shouldn’t have dragged my feet on asking you to the masquerade ball last month. And then I shouldn’t have got jealous because you were going with Ted and asked Keira to go with me. But I did. Now I regret all that, but—”
“This is not about you, Keira, or the stupid masquerade ball!”
“I know,” Todd said. “It’s about the hand-holding yesterday.”
I let out a screech of frustration. “This is not about you at all! Roberto Gutierrez just told me that Blake shot Graham with your gun! Now, you either tell me right now exactly what happened on Friday night, or you get out of my shop…and don’t ever come back!”
“All right. Okay, I’ll tell you,” he said. “Can we go into your office or something so we can sit down?”
“Yes. Go on into the office, and I’ll be right there.” I went to the front door, locked it, and put the clock on the door that said I’d be back in half an hour. It was roughly lunchtime, so people would think I’d simply gone out for something to eat.
When I stepped into the office, Todd was sitting on the straight-back chair beside my desk. He looked pale. I sat down on the desk chair, stared at Todd, and waited.
“I’m not sure exactly what happened…even though Blake and I have been over it at least a dozen times since yesterday,” he said huskily. “It was all over in a heartbeat. I heard the gunshot, I hit the ground, not knowing what was going on, and then I rolled over and saw Blake standing there with the gun.”
“Start at the beginning,” I said, my voice softer and no longer accusatory.
“Okay. You were there shortly after the beginning,” he said. “You saw that everybody was in a decent mood, laughing and joking around. And you saw that we were drinking pretty steadily.”
“I did notice that.”
“We were there to have a good time.” He swiped his hands over his face. “I didn’t consider that not everybody has fun when they get loose. Some people make trouble.”
“Like Graham.”
He nodded. “Like Graham. Actually, I think he’d already been drinking before he got to the Brew Crew because it didn’t take much alcohol to put him in an ornery mood. And then he started trying to pick a fight.”
“With Blake?” I asked.
“With everyone. He called the Brew Crew a dirty little dive. He threw out a dig at Andy about his teaching job and then one at Mark for not being intelligent enough to do anything other than build up his muscles for a living. He called Roberto an Oliver Stone wannabe, and he said Charles was a hack.”
“What about Blake? Someone told me Graham was trying to get him to offer franchises of MacKenzies’ Mochas,” I said.
“Yeah, but that’s not what made Blake angry,” said Todd. “Graham and Sadie dated before she got together with Blake.”
“I heard that too.”
“Well, Graham never quite got over the fact that Sadie dumped him for Blake,” he said. “So it wasn’t so much that Graham wanted a coffeehouse franchise. He wanted to be close to Sadie. He’d have loved another chance with her. Heck, he’d have liked to have had her in his life by any means possible, and he didn’t make much of a secret about it.”
“But she and Blake are married,” I said. “Graham couldn’t just wish that away.”
“Well, that’s where he stepped across the line.” Todd stood. “Can I get a bottle of water from your fridge?”
“Sure. Help yourself.”
He got the water, opened it, and took a long drink before sitting back down. “Graham threatened Blake’s marriage.”
“How could he do that?” I asked. “Blake and Sadie have been married for five years—happily married. Graham couldn’t break up their marriage on a whim.”
“Yeah, well…” He lowered his eyes to the floor.
“You don’t think Sadie still had any interest in Graham, do you?” I asked.
“No. But I don’t think she knew about Blake and Tawny Milligan,” he said.
“They dated? So what?” I couldn’t see how that was a big deal all these years after the fact.
“So when Tawny left college, there were rumors that she was pregnant.”
I started shaking my head. “Blake was with Sadie then. He wouldn’t have fathered a child with another woman.”
“No, he wouldn’t have,” said Todd. “He didn’t. At least, I don’t think he did. But Graham knew Blake had never told Sadie about Tawny. And all he’d have to do is plant that doubt.”
“Where’s Tawny now?” I asked. “Robbie mentioned her to me on Saturday, and I’ve been trying to find her ever since. It’s like she disappeared off the face of the earth.”
“It would be just as well if she did,” he said softly. “If you want to help Blake at all, don’t bring that woman here.”
I clasped my hands together tightly. “Are you telling me you think Blake could be the father of Tawny’s baby?” When Todd was silent, I continued. “Or are you saying Blake really did shoot Graham Stott?”
“Graham and I were in the back room, and I was trying to convince him to leave. I was calling a cab for him.” Todd took another drink from his water bottle. “He was arguing with me. I heard the shot, and the rest happened like I told you. When I talked with Blake, he told me he didn’t shoot Graham. But if he didn’t, who did?”
Chapter Thirteen
After Todd left, I went into the bathroom to wash my face and to reapply my makeup. Todd was going to talk with Blake and Sadie later today to see if we could all meet at my house this evening after my class. Since it was such a gorgeous afternoon, he’d taken Angus to play at the beach first. I think mainly Todd wanted to clear his head and enjoy the freedom of romping on the beach. Freedom had to feel divine after spending the weekend locked up in jail. And, of course, Todd was faced with the knowledge that if he was convicted, he might lose his freedom for a lot longer than a weekend.
Who could blame him for holding hands with Keira? Or with anyone else, for that matter? He and I had hardly dipped our toes into the dating pond, and I’d also been out with Ted. Maybe Todd was simply being as cautious as I was.
&nbs
p; I unlocked the front door and then settled into my favorite chair with the Mountmellick embroidery project. I hadn’t had as much time to work on it as I would have liked. Still, it was coming along nicely, albeit slowly. Somewhere in the midst of my daisy-petal stitching, Andy called. He said he wanted to apologize for being rude during dinner Sunday evening.
“There you were, kind enough to buy me a meal, and I behaved like a jerk,” he said.
“Oh, no, you didn’t,” I said. “I’m the one who was asking inappropriate questions.”
“You were only trying to help your friends, Marcy. It’s just that I’m touchy whenever the subject of Tawny Milligan comes up.”
“It appeared to me that she’d been more to you than merely the cleaning lady…at least, at some point.”
“I loved her,” he said simply. “She was the first girl I ever fell for. But it was embarrassing to me because…well, I don’t think she felt the same way. Anyway, the reason I’m calling is to ask you to let me make it up to you.”
“There’s no need to do that,” I said.
“Please,” he said. “I’d like to. May I take you out tomorrow night?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t. I have embroidery classes on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday evenings.”
“Oh. Yeah. Okay…maybe some other time, then.”
I could hear the dejection in his voice and quickly said, “I’m free on Friday.”
“Really? That’s super,” he said. “We can have dinner on Friday night, then?”
“That would be nice.” Sure it would. Like I needed any more drama in my life. But he’d sounded so sad…and I had deceived him initially…and I had struck a nerve with him about Tawny Milligan and brought up hurt feelings. Besides, he may be able to give me more information on what happened at the Brew Crew on the night of the murder as long as I avoided bringing up Tawny ever again.
Shortly after I’d talked with Andy, a couple of women came into the shop to browse. I greeted them, told them to let me know if they needed help with anything, and then allowed them to look around as they pleased.
