The Long Stitch Good Night

by Amanda Lee

  I turned and waved to Andy as I unlocked my door and went inside. The first thing I did was go upstairs and trade in my pencil skirt for a pair of jeans. I kept the sweater and the black pumps, though. I had to admit, it was nice to look and feel feminine. And though I often wore heels to counter my height—or, rather, lack of height—I usually dressed tomboyishly unless it was some sort of special occasion.

  I went back downstairs and let Angus in. I fed him, and I ate a bowl of cereal and a piece of toast. I made Angus a piece of toast too. Then, since I’d left Angus home today, I took him back to the shop with me. Thankfully, the Jeep’s engine turned over on the first try…good as new. The bill I’d be getting in the mail wouldn’t be so hot, but at least I had my Jeep back.

  As I waited for my students to arrive, I busied myself with the Mountmellick project. I was almost halfway through it, and I was really pleased with how it was turning out. While I worked, I wondered what—if anything—the fact that Tawny was dead would have on the investigation. If Graham was her son’s father, then Drew was entitled to a share of his estate unless Graham and Tawny had some sort of legal agreement that Graham would have no financial responsibility for his child’s life. While I thought Tawny was living, this had given her an excellent motive to want Graham dead. But didn’t Drew’s guardian still have motive to want Graham dead? Maybe Tawny’s death had left her husband in a bind financially, and he’d been the one to confront Graham about money. They could’ve argued, and the husband could have taken advantage of the crowd at the Brew Crew to shoot Graham and then slip away unnoticed.

  I set my embroidery aside long enough to go back into my office and look up the article about Tawny’s mother again. I read it more carefully this time and learned that Tawny’s dad’s name was John Milligan. He still lived in Lincoln City at the time of his wife’s death. I was guessing he was still there because Andy said he’d gone to see Drew in February while the child was with his grandfather.

  I searched the white pages and came up with an address for Mr. Milligan. I decided I’d pay him a visit before coming to work in the morning to see what he could tell me about Graham, Drew, and Tawny’s widowed husband.

  I heard my students beginning to filter into the shop, and I exited out of the windows I’d opened on my computer and went to greet them. Tonight’s class was beginning needlepoint. It was a diverse group—teens, tweens, moms, and grandmothers. And Sadie. I’d finally convinced her to take the class so she could complete the kit I’d given her in October. So what if it was a bear dressed as a pumpkin for Halloween? She’d have it when Halloween rolled around this year.

  Angus was thrilled with all the attention he received from the students. Before class got started, they played fetch with him, rubbed his belly, and talked about how adorable he was.

  Class went smoothly, and afterward I asked Sadie to stay behind for a second. After everyone else had left, I told her about how I’d found the photo of Tawny and her son and that Andy was in the picture.

  “So I called Andy and asked him to come by,” I said. “He told me that he didn’t know who the father of Tawny’s child was, but Captain Moe said almost everyone thought the baby belonged to Graham.”

  “And this is important because?” Sadie asked.

  “Because it provides a motive for Graham’s murder. At first I thought maybe the killer was Tawny—that she’d needed money or got sick of Graham not supporting their child or something. But then Andy told me that Tawny had died in a car accident in January of this year.”

  “So that rules out that theory,” she said.

  I raised an index finger. “Not necessarily. Tawny was married. Andy doesn’t know who she was married to because he never met the guy. Tawny kept their friendship secret because she didn’t want her husband to know about her tarnished past.”

  “So you think the husband could’ve killed Graham? For money?”

  “Stranger things have happened,” I said.

  “Stranger than what?” Blake asked.

  Sadie and I were in my office and hadn’t noticed the bells signal Blake’s arrival. She told him about my discovery, my conversation with Andy, and my latest theory.

  “Who did Tawny marry?” Blake asked.

  “Andy didn’t know,” I said.

  “Well…I hope she was happy,” he said softly.

  Sadie frowned at him. “You sound a little sentimental there.”

  “Eh, she was a nice girl. She deserved better than she got from Graham,” Blake said.

  “Did you know her well?” Sadie asked.

  “We dated for a brief time,” he admitted.

  “How come you never told me that?” Sadie clamped her lips together in a firm line.

  Meanwhile, I wished I was somewhere else. Or at least invisible. This was a private moment between a wife and her husband, and I didn’t need to be witnessing it.

  “Babe, please,” said Blake. “That was a lifetime ago. Let’s just allow the past to be the past, all right?”

  Sadie said okay, but the strain was evident on her face when they left. I hoped it was simply because she was tired. I mean, she’d been through a lot the past few days, and this had to be one more straw on that poor camel’s back. I’d call and check on her after I got to work in the morning…and maybe tell her what I’d been able to find out—if anything—from Mr. Milligan.

  Chapter Eighteen

  On Friday morning, I dressed more sensibly than I had the day before. Today’s outfit consisted of jeans, sneakers, and a long-sleeved T-shirt. I fed Angus and put him outside with the promise that I’d come back to get him before I went in to work. I grabbed a protein bar and a Diet Coke, went out to the Jeep, and punched in the address for John Milligan. I then started the approximately half-hour drive to Lincoln City.

  When I got to John Milligan’s house, he was sitting on his porch in a sweatshirt and running pants. I pulled up to the curb and got out.

  Mr. Milligan was reading the newspaper and drinking a cup of coffee. He had thick gray hair that was kind of wavy, and when he looked up at me, I could see that he, too, had those violet eyes.

  “Good morning,” I said.

  “How are you, young lady?” He put the paper aside. “Can I help you with something?”

  “Are you Mr. Milligan?”

  He nodded.

  “I came by partly to express my condolences on the loss of your daughter. I only found out about her accident yesterday.” I took a step toward the porch, and he invited me to come on up and sit down.

  “You knew Tawny?” he asked.

  “No, I’m afraid I didn’t—but several of my friends did: Todd Calloway, Blake MacKenzie, Riley Kendall.…” I sat down on the wrought-iron chair beside him.

  “Are you here about Tawny or that business about Graham Stott getting shot last week?” His tone took on a less friendly tone.

  “I’m actually here about Drew,” I said. “I started looking into Graham’s past because I wanted to help my friends. I don’t think they’re guilty of murder.”

  He shrugged. “If they are, they did the world a favor, in my opinion. But I can’t help you.”

  I let his comment pass. “If Graham was Drew’s biological father, even if Graham denied paternity while he was living, Drew is entitled to a portion of his estate. And I think the boy should have it.”

  “Drew doesn’t need any of Graham Stott’s filthy money,” Mr. Milligan said.

  “Well, not now, maybe, but it would be good for Drew to have for college or for some unexpected emergency.” I looked into Mr. Milligan’s violet eyes. “I’m not trying to meddle. But it appears to me that Graham treated your daughter horribly, and her son deserves to be compensated for that.”

  He offered me a slight smile. “I believe your heart is in the right place, miss. But even though Tawny named Graham as the child’s father on the birth certificate, he wasn’t.”

  I frowned. “Why did she say he was, then?”

  “She wanted him to be,�
�� he said. “And I believe she honestly thought the child was his at first.” He dropped his head. “She loved Graham so much. She thought the baby would bring them together…and that even though Graham had denied the baby was his initially, that when he saw the boy, he’d know…and that he’d love the child and maybe Tawny too…and that they’d all live happily ever after. She was such a dreamer.”

  “I’m sorry it didn’t work out that way,” I told him. “Did Tawny make Graham take a paternity test? Or did she simply give up when he remained firm in his denial?”

  “Graham didn’t need to take a paternity test,” Mr. Milligan said, raising his eyes to mine again. “After she gave birth to the child, Tawny called Graham and asked him to come and see his son. Graham came, all right, but it wasn’t with flowers and declarations of love. It was with his medical records and an attorney. The medical records proved Graham had been sterile since being injured in a dirt bike accident when he was twelve. The attorney provided a legal injunction forbidding Tawny to use Stott as the boy’s last name.”

  “I’m so very sorry,” I said.

  He smiled sadly. “Me, too. My baby girl was heartbroken. After that, she changed her name to Sarah, and she and her son used the surname Masterson—it was my mother’s maiden name. And then Tawny took the boy and moved to Portland.”

  “That couldn’t have been easy for you or your wife.”

  “It wasn’t. We felt a little better about her after she married,” said Mr. Milligan. “Charlie was a good man she’d also known in school, and he had become a newspaper reporter and was doing well for himself.”

  “Wait,” I said. “She married Charles? Charles Siegel?” No way. It had to be a different Charlie who was a reporter in Portland.

  “Yes. Do you know Charles?” he asked.

  “Not very well. I met him through Todd Calloway recently. But I had no idea he was married to your daughter.” I frowned. “Is it possible that he is Drew’s father?”

  “No. The two of them didn’t get together until Drew was a couple years old,” he said. “Charlie loves the boy as if he’s his own, though.”

  “That’s wonderful,” I said, wondering why on earth Charles had decided not to mention his relationship with Tawny. “And it’s good Drew has his uncle Andy in his life too.”

  “Yeah.” Mr. Milligan smiled. “Andy stuck by Tawny through thick and thin. And he stays in touch with Drew even now. There were times when I wished Tawny would have married Andy. Anyone with eyes in his head could see how much Andy loved her.” He lifted and dropped his shoulders. “But she wound up with Charles, and he loved her too. And she loved him. It worked out for the best. It seems you’re acquainted with all Tawny’s old friends.”

  “It does seem that way,” I said. “I wish I could’ve known her too.”

  I stopped by the library on my way back through Tallulah Falls to talk with Reggie. I didn’t know what to make of this new development, and I wanted her input.

  The library was housed in a beautiful brick Victorian building about a mile outside of Tallulah Falls. Upon opening the main door, there was a cozy seating area to the right that contained two weathered leather sofas and some overstuffed chairs. I went into the room to my left where the circulation desk was located.

  “Hi, I’m here to see Reggie Singh,” I said to the fresh-faced young woman manning the desk.

  She dialed Reggie’s extension on an intercom and told her I was there. “She said to go on back. Do you know where her office is?”

  “I do. Thanks.” I walked down the narrow hallway, glad I wasn’t wearing heels today to clack on the hardwood floor. I tapped on Reggie’s semi-closed door, and she asked me to come on in.

  Reggie’s office was one of the most eclectically decorated I’d ever seen, and yet, it worked. Indian influences mixed with coastal photographs to create a pleasantly exotic look. Actually, Reggie herself had a pleasantly exotic look. Today she wore a pink beaded tunic with matching slacks and a white pashmina. The gold hoop earrings she wore set off her face, which was framed by her salt-and-pepper pixie-cut hair.

  I sat down on the armless Victorian silk-covered armchair beside Reggie’s desk. “This murder investigation just keeps getting crazier and crazier. When I think I have a motive and a potential suspect, everything flips and I’ve got nothing.”

  “So, who’s flipped?” she asked.

  I relayed the story about seeing who I believed to be Tawny’s child in the photograph with Andy, calling Andy, and having him stop by the office. “I thought Tawny had the perfect motive for murdering Graham, but then Andy told me Tawny was dead. So I paid a visit to Tawny’s dad this morning.”

  Reggie frowned. “You thought maybe her dad had killed Graham?”

  “No, but that is a thought…or, at least, it would have been if what I’d thought when I went to see Mr. Milligan had been true. You see, I believed Tawny’s child had an inheritance coming to him and that he should have it. Mr. Milligan let me know in no uncertain terms that there’s no way Graham Stott was the father of Tawny’s baby because Graham was sterile.”

  “Really?” Reggie turned down the corners of her mouth. “That’s something I wouldn’t imagine a man would want to advertise. I’d have thought that, given his position and money, Graham would have rather said the baby was his than to have owned up to being sterile.”

  “I don’t think he did own up to it until push actually came to shove,” I said. “Mr. Milligan said Graham even brought a lawyer to forbid Tawny to use the Stott name for the child. That’s when she changed her name, gave the baby the last name Masterson, and left town. And get this! She went to Portland, and two years down the road, she married Charles Siegel!”

  “And this Siegel news has you particularly vexed because…”

  “Because I’ve been giving him information about the trial in exchange for information about Graham,” I told her. “He barely talked about Tawny at all, and he certainly never mentioned that he’d married her and was raising her child.”

  “Maybe he thought it wasn’t relevant,” said Reggie.

  “Maybe not, but you can bet I’m going to ask him about it. All along I’ve been thinking Graham’s murder had to have something to do with Tawny Milligan or the baby she’d had. Now I’m back to square one, and I don’t have a single thing to go on.”

  Reggie placed her hand lightly over mine. “Marcy, let the police do their jobs. This is not your responsibility. You have plenty to do without getting stressed-out over this.”

  When I started to protest, she held up her hand.

  “I know Sadie and Blake and Todd are your friends,” she continued. “But the police want justice as badly as you do. Besides, Manu will be back home tonight. Maybe having someone look at the matter with fresh eyes will give the investigation an entirely new perspective.”

  “Thanks, Reggie. I hope you’re right.”

  Even though I hurried home to get Angus and we drove straight back to the shop, I was a few minutes late opening the store. Plus, when we got there, I noticed that the deliveryman had come and gone and had left a huge box outside the door.

  I parked the Jeep, got Angus out, and took him inside. I put my purse and tote on the counter and went back outside to wrestle the box into the shop.

  As soon as I bent to try to pick up the box, I heard someone say, “Stop.”

  I turned and saw Mark hurrying toward me with a to-go cup from MacKenzies’ Mochas.

  “Tell me you were not about to try and pick up that box that way,” he said.

  “Actually, that’s exactly what I was about to do.” I smiled. “You’re here in the nick of time.”

  “I’ll say. Let me set this cup down.” He went into the Seven-Year Stitch and placed his cup on the counter.

  Angus bounded over, and Mark gave him a quick pat on the head before coming back outside.

  “All right. Let me show you how to do this,” he said.

  “Okay.” I was still smiling. All my talk about not w
anting to be a damsel in distress flew right out the window when I had a heavy box to move and a strong guy around to move it.

  “If you’re going to try and pick up a box this size, you bend with your knees. That way you use your legs to help lift and take the pressure off your back.” He stooped and properly picked up the box.

  “Fantastic!” I opened the door.

  Mark put the box back down exactly where he’d got it. “Now you try it.”

  My smile went away. Far, far away. I had a bodybuilder at my disposal and he was not going to pick up my measly little box and carry it into my shop for me? What was up with that?

  I rubbed my hands down the sides of my jeans. I’d try to pick it up—the proper way—and when he saw that I wasn’t strong enough, then he’d bring it inside for me.

  I bent at the knees, wrapped my arms around the box and stood. I was able to pick it up, but I nearly dropped it and put it back down. Did I mention this box was huge? I looked at Mark. Surely he’d get it for me now.

  “You almost had it,” he said. “Try it again. This time get your arms under it a little better.”

  I stared at him. It was almost a glare, but I tried to temper it. This barbarian was setting back chivalry a thousand years!

  I wiped my hands on my jeans again, bent, and picked up the box. I’d get that stupid box into the shop or bust. I’d show him I didn’t need his help. I got up under the box, lifted it, and—when Mark opened the door for me—carried it into the shop. I rushed to the counter and set the box down.

  I turned to Mark triumphantly. “How’d you like that?”

  “I loved it,” he said. “How did you like it?”

  I grinned slowly. “I think I loved it, too…not at first, but…yeah, I feel good about being about to carry it in here myself.”