The Long Stitch Good Night

by Amanda Lee

  “Please tell me you haven’t been drinking,” I said.

  “I haven’t.” At my skeptical expression, he breathed in my face. His breath wasn’t minty fresh, but it didn’t smell like alcohol. “See?”

  “Thanks for that,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

  “Made you believe me, didn’t it?” He grinned.

  “You could’ve given me a cross my heart or a Scout’s honor or something.” I unlocked the door and flipped on the light. “Does Sadie know you’re here?”

  “She doesn’t know where I am. When I left your shop, I called her and told her I needed to clear my head. I told her that with her parents at our house and people thronging the coffeehouse to gawk at the killer, the stress was too much for me and that I needed to get away for a little while.”

  “‘A little while’?” I asked. “That was hours ago. She’s bound to be worried sick.”

  “How did you figure out I’m not the father of Tawny Milligan’s son?” he asked.

  “I remembered when you and Sadie had that falling-out and broke up for about a week. It was around New Year’s. I figured that’s when you and Tawny…you know…reconnected.” I put my purse and keys on the hall table and avoided Blake’s eyes. “Andy said Drew’s birthday was December 30. That’s how I knew it didn’t add up.”

  “Andy?” Blake scrunched up his nose. “What were you doing with Andy?”

  “He asked me to have dinner with him. And I went—as friends. I felt like I owed him that, since I was so deceitful with him when I asked him to dinner to see what he knew about Graham’s murder.” I told Blake to go ahead and have a seat while I let Angus in.

  I went through the kitchen to the back door and opened it for Angus. He bounded inside and jumped up to give me a hug. Afterward, he followed me into the living room. When he saw Blake sitting on the sofa, he ran over, placed his front paws on Blake’s knees, and began licking his face.

  “Thanks. I love you too,” Blake said, trying to avoid Angus’s slurps.

  I went back to the kitchen and got Angus a chew toy. “Here, baby.”

  He scrambled off Blake’s lap to get his treat.

  “You were right about the timing,” Blake said. “That is when I got together with Tawny. We were at a party, we’d both been drinking, I thought it was all over with Sadie.…” He sighed. “It was a huge mistake. Drew could have been mine. I was stupid.”

  “Everybody does stupid things. It’s over now.”

  “Not entirely. I have to tell Sadie,” he said.

  “I’m not sure that’s wise,” I said. Yes, I was surprised at myself for saying that because I felt strongly that couples should be completely honest with each other, but…“That’s way in the past. It’s irrelevant now. Wouldn’t it be better to let it go than to hurt Sadie with it now?”

  “Maybe, but if she finds out from someone else, she’ll be even more hurt. And she’ll resent me for not telling her.” He looked up at the ceiling. “You know we’ve had our trust issues in the past. I don’t want her doubting me. I have to tell her.”

  “Well, you can’t tell her with her parents there,” I said. “This is definitely not something they need to know.”

  “It can’t wait.”

  “Then call her and have her come here.” I handed Blake my phone. “When she gets here, I’ll leave you two alone.”

  Blake took the phone, and I went into the kitchen to make a pot of decaf coffee. I figured they could use it.

  When Sadie arrived, she was a little bewildered. She wasn’t sure what she was doing there. I told her that Blake thought the two of them could use some time to talk privately and that he and I didn’t know where they might be able to accomplish that other than here. Then I gave Sadie a hug, and Angus and I went upstairs to my bedroom.

  I slipped off my shoes and stifled a yawn as I propped myself up in bed with the television remote. Angus climbed up and lay down beside me. I clicked on the TV and surfed around the channels trying to find something interesting. Of course, my mind was in large part with Sadie and Blake downstairs. I was relieved when the phone rang because, no matter who was calling, I’d have to concentrate on the call.

  Fortunately, it wasn’t a telemarketer. It was Todd.

  “Hey,” he said softly. “I’m sorry for getting angry and leaving the shop in a huff today.”

  “I’m sorry I was bossy and interfering,” I said. “The investigation is really none of my business, and I wound up causing more problems than I solved.”

  “No. You were right, Marcy. I do need to take some responsibility and get more involved in the murder investigation. In fact, I talked with my attorney, and we’re going to set up a meeting with the police.”

  “I’m glad. I hope you can help them find the person who killed Graham.”

  “I suppose I was just hoping the whole situation would resolve itself,” Todd said. “I mean, Blake and I are innocent, and I thought that would be proven in the end. But the circumstantial evidence kept mounting up. After I left the Seven-Year Stitch, I realized I did need to be more proactive in defending myself.”

  “Well, then, I’m happy my bad mood rubbed off on you in a good way,” I told him.

  “When we’re finished talking, I’m going to call Blake and suggest he do the same thing.”

  “Um…you might want to hold off on that for tonight,” I said. “Blake and Sadie are downstairs.”

  “Downstairs? They’re at your place? What happened?”

  I gave Todd a brief rundown of the situation.

  “I hope they’re able to work everything out and put this behind them,” Todd said.

  “So do I. I feel like it’s another fine mess I’ve gotten everyone into.”

  “Come on, Marce. Don’t you think you’re being a little hard on yourself?” he asked. “You didn’t cause any of this. You might’ve revealed it, but you didn’t cause it.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Still, if they’re not hunky-dory fine, it’s not going to make me feel any less crummy.”

  Not long after I talked with Todd, I heard Sadie’s car leave. A few minutes later, I heard the van start up. I went downstairs to make sure the coffeepot had been turned off. It had been, even though the coffee hadn’t been touched.

  I said a silent prayer for my friends before going back upstairs.

  Despite getting little sleep, I woke up early Saturday morning. I took Angus for a jog on the beach. Then we came home, I took a bath, and we still got to the shop an hour before we were scheduled to open. I put my tote and purse in my office. I saw the dumbbells and considered working my arms, but I decided maybe later. I wasn’t feeling that energetic.

  I took my embroidery project to the sit-and-stitch square, and Angus found one of his chew toys. It was immediately forgotten, though, when he looked out the window and saw a familiar face he hadn’t seen in a while. Manu.

  Angus jumped against the glass and began barking.

  Manu and Reggie were walking past with a to-go bag from MacKenzies’ Mochas. They were an adorable couple, despite the fact that they were so different. While Reggie dressed in somewhat traditional Indian apparel, Manu preferred Western dress—he was practically a cowboy with his jeans, flannel shirts, and boots.

  They came into the shop, and Reggie had to hold the bag up near her ear to keep it from being knocked out of her hand by the bouncing, excited dog. I took the bag from her and put it on the counter.

  “He’s missed you,” I said to Manu. “And so have I.”

  “I’ve missed all of you,” he said, giving his wife a one-armed hug.

  Reggie nodded toward the bag. “That’s for you. Blake sent it.”

  “Okay.” I wanted to see what it was, but I didn’t want to be rude. “Come and sit down. Tell me about your trip, Manu.”

  “Well, I’m sure Reggie has already told you the good parts,” Manu said. “Then tragedy struck, and I had to stay behind and help settle my uncle’s affairs. My father has been dead for several yea
rs now, and so I’m the man of the family where my mother is concerned.”

  “It’s good you could be there to help her,” I said.

  “It was,” he agreed. “But now I’m glad to be back at home…even if I can’t turn my back on you people for an instant.”

  I smiled. “Hey, it wasn’t me this time.”

  “No, but I hear you’re up to your neck in it just the same.” His heavy-lidded eyes regarded me shrewdly.

  “I can’t help myself,” I admitted. “I want to fix things.”

  “Fix embroidery things. Leave investigating crimes to the police,” he said.

  Behind his back, Reggie rolled her eyes. She knew I wasn’t capable of that. Maybe I’d missed my calling. Maybe I could be Marcy Singer, embroidering private eye. Another noir fantasy started forming in my brain, but I quickly put it out of my head.

  “Speaking of the investigation, you haven’t been briefed on it yet, have you?” I asked.

  “No.” Manu grinned. “I was going to go to the station later this morning. But if you’d like to go ahead and brief me now, Detective Singer, feel free.”

  I blushed. “That’s all right. I think I’ll leave it to the professionals.”

  Manu looked at Reggie. “Put that on the calendar, my love. Marcy said she’d leave something to the professionals. That’s bound to be a first.”

  “And likely a last,” Reggie said with a wink in my direction.

  We chatted awhile longer, and then Reggie and Manu had to leave. He was supposed to be at the station by eleven a.m. After they’d left, I opened the small bag that was still on the counter. Inside were a cinnamon raisin muffin and a note from Blake, which read Thanks for letting us borrow your living room.

  I didn’t know if that meant everything had turned out okay or not. I decided to pretend it had…at least, unless and until I learned that it hadn’t.

  Approximately an hour after Reggie and Manu left, a bus full of seniors rolled into the square. The bus doors whooshed open, and older folks with sunglasses, fanny packs, and orthopedic sneakers fanned out in all directions. After the bus’s occupants had all disembarked, the driver closed the doors and pulled around the back of the shops so the bus wouldn’t be in anyone’s way.

  I was happy I—and the other merchants—would have plenty of business today. But, boy, was I glad Blake had sent me a muffin. I was going to need all the energy I could get.

  Three hours later, I stood in the doorway waving at the departing busload of seniors. They were smiling, talking to each other, and waving to me and the other shop owners as they boarded, bags in hand. They’d been a lot of fun and had been wonderfully generous in their spending. Plus, they’d had many fascinating stories to regale everyone with. I truly enjoyed having them in the Seven-Year Stitch today.

  When I turned back and looked at my shop, though, it was a mess. I went to my office and got a steno pad so I could make notes about what I needed to restock from the storeroom. That would also help me keep track of what I was running low on in the storeroom so I could reorder.

  I needed to restock all my kits, many colors of embroidery floss, yarn, fabric, monk’s cloth, needles, and frames. I took two of my canvas shopping baskets into the storeroom, got as much as I could carry in one trip, and checked those items off. As I restocked, I put the shelves back in order. Three trips later, I was done. I saw that I needed to reorder fabric, frames, hoops, and tapestry needles. I was low on kits, but I was expecting some new ones to come in sometime in the coming week.

  After I’d finished, I flopped onto the sofa with a soda and a bag of baked barbecue chips. Angus was snoozing in the corner. He was so tired that he didn’t even raise his head at the sound of the chip bag being opened.

  My phone buzzed, indicating I had a text. It was from Blake.

  I need to see you. It’s URGENT. Meet me at the lighthouse, and please don’t tell Sadie where you’re going. Thanks, Blake.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  I closed up the shop, and Angus and I went out to get into the Jeep. It was only four thirty, but Blake had said he needed to see me urgently. Why he didn’t want to meet at my house was beyond me. It would have been a lot better than a practically deserted lighthouse on a cloudy, windy March afternoon.

  I wasn’t watching where I was going when I stepped out the door, and I nearly ran into Todd.

  He put out his hands to steady me. “Where’s the fire?”

  “It’s at the lighthouse,” I said. “I mean, there isn’t a fire, but I have to meet Blake. I don’t know what’s going on, but Blake said it was urgent and not to tell Sadie where I was going. Things must not have worked out well last night after all.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?” he asked.

  “No. He probably feels that I’ve betrayed him enough as it is without knowing I confided his problems to you.” I raised and dropped a shoulder. “No offense.”

  “None taken. Just call and let me know if there’s anything I can do…for either of you,” he said.

  “Thanks. I will.” I put Angus into the Jeep, not bothering with the restraint. I drove as quickly as the curvy, narrow road to the lighthouse would allow. When I got there, I saw the MacKenzies’ Mochas van in the parking lot. Blake wasn’t inside.

  Angus was still pooped from the tourists’ visit, and he was lying in the backseat panting. I rolled all the windows down and left him in the Jeep. Since the Jeep and Blake’s van were the only vehicles in sight, and since I was planning to come back for Angus as soon as I’d located Blake, I thought he’d be okay.

  I started up the gravel path to the black and white lighthouse. “Blake! It’s Marcy! Where are you?”

  I listened as I continued to walk, but there was no answer. When I got closer, I tried again. “Blake!”

  “Marcy! What’s wrong?” He came around the side of the lighthouse.

  “Nothing’s wrong with me. What’s wrong with you?” I asked.

  “I got your message. You said it was urgent that I meet you here.”

  I frowned and shook my head. “No, I got your message.”

  Charles Siegel came around the other side of the lighthouse. “Actually, you both got my message. I didn’t know whether you’d come to assist me, but I knew you’d come to each other’s aid.”

  “You could’ve just asked,” I said. “And why did you want to meet here?”

  “Because it’s the off-season, and I didn’t want us to be interrupted,” Charles said. “What I’m about to say cannot be repeated.” He looked from me to Blake and back again.

  Blake and I both murmured our consent.

  “I have to tell you I was relieved when Graham Stott was murdered. He’d long been a thorn in my side,” said Charles. “I’d wanted to adopt Drew ever since I married his mother seven years ago. I looked into it and saw that she and I would have to petition the court for adoption and that we’d have to have the birth father’s permission. Sarah wouldn’t let me ask Graham for permission.”

  “Because he wasn’t really the birth father,” I said.

  Charles flattened his lips. “I know that now. Why she didn’t tell me that then is beyond me. I didn’t have any idea until last Friday night when I called John Milligan to tell him the news about Graham. I told him I no longer had an obstacle to the adoption because Graham had been shot and killed. That’s when I heard for the first time that it wasn’t possible for Graham to be the father and that the attorney had forbidden Sarah from using the Stott surname.”

  “You’d been married seven years, and she never told you that?” I asked.

  “No.…Her past was a particularly sticky subject between us. She’d changed her name and buried her past, and I preferred that it never be resurrected.” Charles sighed. “Maybe if I’d been more forgiving of her past, she’d have trusted me with the truth. I don’t know.”

  I wondered if Sadie had been forgiving of Blake’s past and thought that, if not, she could learn something from Charles’s sad tale. And then a
nother thought struck me: Charles called John Milligan on Friday night?

  “Anyway, after John told me about Graham, I tried my best to remember who’d been with Tawny—or, rather, Sarah—around the time she got pregnant,” Charles continued. “We’d buried her past so deeply that I had no idea. I have to confess, Blake, I’m the one who broke into your house the night of the shooting and stole your OSU yearbook and some of your other alumni papers. I wanted to see if my wife might’ve written something in the Beaver hinting at who she’d been involved with. Or I thought that if you were the guy she’d been with, maybe you’d kept articles that had been about her for sentimental reasons or something.” He raised and dropped his hands. “Other than answers about Drew’s possible paternity, I had no idea what I was looking for.”

  “Charlie, you could’ve just asked me for the book,” Blake said. “For that matter, you could’ve just asked me if I was the father of Tawny’s child.”

  “It’s irrelevant now,” said Charles. “I know you are.”

  “No I’m not,” Blake told him emphatically.

  “But you and Sadie had the argument.” Charles’s eyes darted from Blake to me. “Marcy remembered that. You’d broken up for a week or so. Didn’t you get back together with Tawny—I mean, Sarah—at that time?”

  “Yes. I mean, no. We didn’t get back together.” Blake looked down at the sand, finding it difficult to talk to Charles about a tryst he’d once had with the man’s now-deceased wife. “It was a onetime thing. We were drunk, and we regretted it immediately.”

  “Still, that one night was enough to produce Drew,” Charles said. “All I’m asking is that you sign over your parental rights. Then I can raise Drew as my own son … as I have for the past seven years. With Sarah dead and without me being granted legal guardianship over Drew, he and I have a tenuous arrangement. I wouldn’t even be able to sign him into a hospital if he got sick.”

  “I’m telling you, Charlie, I am not Drew’s father,” Blake insisted. “Tawny and I slept together the first week in January. Marcy said Drew was born at the end of December.”

  Charles drew a shuddering breath. “Please. Just sign your rights away. Then John will testify that I’ve been a good father to the boy, and the judge will grant me custody.”