The Stitching Hour

by Amanda Lee

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Within minutes, Todd burst through the door as if he expected me to be at the mercy of a deranged killer. Angus enthusiastically ran to greet him. Todd petted the dog and then brushed past him to where I was sitting on the sofa.

  He sat beside me and took one of my hands. “Are you okay?”

  “No. It’s Sadie. She’s beside herself because Detective Poston implied there was something going on between Blake and Keira.”

  Todd looked down at the floor.

  “Please tell me it isn’t true,” I said.

  He released my hand and ran both of his hands through his hair. “They weren’t having an affair.”

  “Then what were they having, and why didn’t Sadie know about it?”

  “Keira’s dad was interested in opening a MacKenzies’ Mochas between Tallulah Falls and Depoe Bay,” he said. “Keira was going to operate the store, and Blake and Sadie would get a small percentage of the store’s net profit for the use of their logo.”

  “All right. I’m following you so far. Why would that entail Blake and Keira running around behind Sadie’s back?”

  “She wasn’t entirely on board with the idea. Initially, Mr. Sherman came into the coffee shop and approached both Blake and Sadie.”

  Angus, who’d gone to retrieve his tennis ball, came to sit by Todd’s side. He dropped the ball onto the floor. Todd picked it up and lobbed it across the floor. Angus quickly chased it down.

  “Blake told Mr. Sherman that he and Sadie would discuss it,” he said. “But Sadie was afraid that opening another shop would cheapen MacKenzies’ Mochas.”

  “And Blake disagreed.”

  “He saw it as a way to make easy money.” Todd shrugged. “Blake’s reasoning was that if Mr. Sherman was going to open a coffee shop anyway, why not let him capitalize on the popularity of MacKenzies’ Mochas so he and Sadie could enjoy a little profit from the venture.”

  “So he went through with it against Sadie’s wishes?” I asked.

  “Not exactly. He and Keira were sneaking around scouting locations for her dad’s coffee shop. Blake thought that if they found the perfect spot and could make a more concrete proposal to Sadie that she’d be persuaded that it was a good idea.”

  “Then he needs to be up front with Sadie now. Todd, she’s devastated. She thinks Blake is so upset over Keira’s death because he had feelings for her.”

  “Blake is beating himself up over Keira’s death because he feels like he could’ve prevented it.”

  “So what do I do now?” I asked. “Sadie needs to know the truth.”

  “Let me go talk with Blake,” said Todd. “I’ll let him know what Poston told Sadie. I just hope he doesn’t go medieval on the guy.”

  “You and me both.”

  • • •

  I had a customer come in just before the three o’clock slump to get some blending filament. Needle crafters use blending filament to add light reflection to their embroidery, lace making, weaving, and knitting. This woman bought all of the silver I had in stock. After she’d left, I went into the office, booted up the laptop, and ordered more.

  While I was on the computer, I reminded my social media network about my upcoming open house. That seemed a little cold given Keira’s death, but the event was still taking place and I—and many of my customers—were looking forward to it.

  Overall, it had been a depressing day. I called Ted. He’d had to work through lunch.

  “Hey, babe,” he answered.

  “You sound tired,” I said.

  “A little. You sound down.”

  “A little. Let’s do something fun tonight . . . something to lift our spirits.”

  “All right.” He paused. “How about Captain Moe’s?”

  “Perfect. I haven’t seen the captain in ages.” It had been only a couple of weeks, but where Captain Moe was concerned, that felt like ages.

  • • •

  If you were to picture Alan Hale from the old sitcom Gilligan’s Island with a snowy white beard, then you’d know what Captain Moe looked like. When Ted and I walked into the little Depoe Bay diner, Captain Moe came from behind the counter to encompass us both in a bear hug.

  “It’s been too long since I’ve seen wee Tinkerbell and her knight in shining armor,” he said with a grin.

  He and his brother, Norman Patrick—Riley Kendall’s dad—have called me Tinkerbell since the moment they met me. I didn’t know if it was because I was blond or short, but either way, it was a fun nickname and I didn’t mind it . . . especially from Captain Moe.

  After taking our order, he came back and sat with us at our table. “I’ve asked the chef to take over for me for a few minutes.”

  “I’m glad,” I said. “We don’t see enough of you. You need to come to Tallulah Falls more often.”

  “I’m there more than you think,” he said. “But Laura keeps me busy.”

  Laura was Riley’s baby daughter.

  “Wait until she figures out that you’re Santa Claus,” said Ted.

  Captain Moe laughed. “Somehow, I think she already has.” His smile faded. “I’m sorry about that business outside the Horror Emporium the other night.”

  “So are we,” I said. “When we came upon Keira, we thought it was planned . . . you know, part of the show.”

  “Is Ken Sherman hassling the police to find out who’s responsible for his daughter’s death?” Captain Moe asked, with a furtive glance in both directions.

  “Probably,” Ted said. “I don’t know the man. If he’s been in, I’m sure he’s spoken with Manu.”

  “Oh, I imagine he has. I’ve known Ken for a long time. He’s a bully during good times. It’s hard to tell what something like his daughter’s death would do to him.”

  “I feel sorry for the family,” I said. “You say you know Mr. Sherman? Has he ever tried to open another Captain Moe’s?”

  He nodded. “That he has, Tink. He hasn’t approached you about another Seven-Year Stitch, has he?”

  “No. He was wanting to open a MacKenzies’ Mochas though,” I said.

  “That sounds more up his alley,” said Captain Moe. “He seems to be more into food establishments than anything else. I believe he dabbled in the gas station market in the late nineties, but that didn’t go so well for him. So are Sadie and Blake considering his offer?”

  “It’s my understanding that they were,” I said. “Blake was all for it, but Sadie was needing a bit more convincing. Of course, I think Mr. Sherman wanted Keira to run the business, so I doubt he’ll still be interested.”

  “I don’t know. If Ken wanted the business, he probably still will.”

  “I don’t get it,” said Ted. “Why does the guy open businesses based on other people’s ideas? Why doesn’t he just establish his own name or brand? Or franchise with a larger business?”

  “In theory, he takes small local businesses that have already gained a solid reputation and clientele in the area,” Captain Moe said. “He builds on that foundation to grow both businesses. . . . At least, that’s what he pitches to potential customers.”

  “Then what’s he really selling them?” I asked.

  Captain Moe lowered his voice. “His products and management skills are so shoddy that he winds up hurting the original business rather than helping it. I have a friend whose business Ken Sherman ran into the ground.”

  “How?” asked Ted.

  “My buddy had a small but popular seafood place. People lined up down the street to get in on the weekends. It was called Jim’s Lobster Shack. Sherman came in and talked Jim into letting him use the logo, menu, whatever, and said he’d give Jim ten percent of the net profits made by the restaurant Sherman planned to open. Jim thought he couldn’t lose.”

  A waitress brought us our drinks. We thanked her, and so did Capt
ain Moe.

  “Cap, you want something?” she asked.

  “No, dear, I’ll be along in a few minutes,” he said.

  After she’d left, I asked Captain Moe what happened to his friend’s business.

  “Well, Sherman opened his place, and it tanked. The food wasn’t very good, the service was terrible, and the restaurant didn’t have the overall atmosphere of Jim’s place.” He stroked his beard. “People who had gone to the new place thinking it was managed by the same people were disappointed. But, rather than stop going to Sherman’s restaurant and returning to Jim’s, they didn’t eat at either establishment.”

  “They didn’t trust Jim anymore,” I said sadly.

  “Right. He was out of business within six months,” said Captain Moe. “Jim was close enough to retirement age that he said it didn’t bother him . . . that he’d been meaning to retire anyway . . . but I know better. Tell Blake and Sadie to stay away from Ken Sherman.”

  “I will,” I said.

  He gave me a one-armed hug. “I’d better go see what’s happening in the kitchen. Ted there looks hungry enough to eat a moose.”

  “Do I really?” Ted asked as Captain Moe returned to the kitchen. “I didn’t have lunch.”

  I smiled. “You look gorgeous. And I think the only moose you would eat would be a chocolate mousse.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to have any, would you?”

  “Not on me. But I think Captain Moe will hurry with our food,” I said. “That’s a shame about Mr. Sherman—taking what’s special about small establishments and then ruining them.”

  “I doubt that’s his goal,” said Ted. “He’s a businessman. I’m guessing he’s trying to make the business run more efficiently, but in so doing—like you said—he strips away the small-town charm that makes it special.”

  “I hope Blake explained everything to Sadie,” I said.

  “I’m sure he did. I hope she’ll forgive him for going behind her back. I mean, it’s wonderful that he wasn’t having an affair, but he was still keeping a secret from her.”

  “I think he was intending it to be more like a surprise, but you’re right. He was keeping something from her.”

  • • •

  When we got home, Angus happily accepted the grilled hamburger patty Captain Moe had sent him. Okay, he wolfed it down in just a couple of bites. Then he pawed at the back door to go outside. I hesitated because it was drizzling.

  “I’ll take him for a quick walk,” Ted said, removing the leash from the hook by the door and snapping it onto Angus’s collar. He kissed me. “Why don’t you find us a movie to watch when Angus and I get back?”

  “I can do that,” I said with a smile.

  The three of us left the kitchen. Ted and Angus went out the front door, and I walked into the living room, slipped off my shoes, and sank onto the sofa. It felt good to be putting this tiring day behind me.

  I was reaching for the remote when my cell phone rang. It was Vera.

  “Hi, Marcy. Hope I’m not interrupting anything. I just wanted to quickly let you know that Operation Act–Scam is a go.”

  I laughed. “Operation Act–Scam?”

  “Yeah, well . . . I had to call it something.”

  Actually, she didn’t, but I didn’t want to burst her bubble by saying so. Besides, she had found a way to put our plan into action.

  “Rather than involve Paul, I let on that I was sort of an assistant to your mom,” Vera continued. “The actors are coming in tomorrow morning in fifteen-minute intervals. That’ll give us a chance to speak with all seven of them with a few minutes to go over our impressions of each one once they’ve left. I got us matching notebooks so we’ll look official.”

  “Wow,” I said. “You thought of everything.”

  “I know. Maybe after this, I’ll open up my own detective agency. Wouldn’t that be something?”

  I agreed that it certainly would.

  After talking with Vera, I turned on the TV to see what movies were playing. I saw that one of the earlier pictures my mom had worked on as a costuming apprentice would be on in ten minutes. I hurried to the kitchen to make popcorn and to pour Ted and me some drinks.

  I heard Ted and Angus come in through the front door and Angus shake the rain off his coat in the foyer. I grabbed a handful of paper towels and was on my way to clean up the floor when Ted intercepted me and took the towels.

  “Do I smell popcorn?” he asked.

  “Yes, you do,” I said.

  “I’ll take care of drying the floor while you finish up with the snacks. I take it you found us a good movie?”

  I laughed. “I found us an interesting movie. It’s an old sci-fi film—one of Mom’s first when she was just an apprentice. The costumes are pretty good, but the story and special effects are lame.”

  “Sounds fun.”

  Ted wiped up the floor while I put our snacks on a tray and gave Angus a granola bone to keep him busy and not begging for popcorn or cookies for a few minutes. I carried the tray into the living room. Ted and Angus joined me. Angus stretched out in front of the hearth and began gnawing on his bone. Ted and I snuggled up on the sofa and began watching the movie.

  “Gor and the Saturnian Princess?” Ted groaned.

  “Did I mention that the costumes aren’t bad?” I asked, with a giggle.

  “You might’ve said something like that.” He reached into the bowl for some popcorn. “This is gonna be good.”

  At the first commercial break, we’d both laughed so hard we could hardly breathe.

  “Is this movie supposed to be so funny?” Ted asked.

  “No. It’s billed as a drama. Of course, they do tend to overact, don’t they?”

  He grasped my shoulders and stared into my eyes. “Yes . . . my beloved darling . . . they do . . . have a penchant . . . for theatrics.”

  I kissed him. “Come with me to the Casbah?”

  “You . . . know I . . . will.”

  The movie started back, and I became semiserious. “Speaking of theatrics, what do think will happen when our moms meet?”

  “They’ll be cool. And civil.” He grinned. “And they’ll circle each other like a pair of she-wolves.”

  Chapter Nine

  Since Vera had asked me to be at the shop by eight Saturday morning, Angus and I arrived at seven thirty to tidy up and make some coffee. Well, I was tidying up and making coffee. Angus was sniffing around to see if anything intriguing had happened while he was gone. It was a good thing we arrived early. Vera showed up at seven forty-five.

  She wore a fuchsia pantsuit with taupe pumps and a white gardenia lapel pin. And she was positively glowing.

  I, on the other hand, was wearing jeans and a powder blue sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up. And white canvas sneakers. I didn’t always embrace casual Fridays, but I glommed onto slouchy Saturdays with both arms!

  “You look like you just stepped out of Executive Vogue or something,” I said.

  “Thank you.” Vera dropped a kiss onto the top of Angus’s head and came over to sit on the red club chair that faced the store. She reached into her tan leather tote and brought out our matching notebooks. They were pink, I supposed, to coordinate with her suit, and they had elegant Bs on the front.

  I frowned at mine. “What’s the B for?”

  She rolled her eyes. “For Beverly, of course. We’re working on behalf of your mom, remember?”

  “Oh . . . right.”

  “Come on, Marcy. Get in the game! The actors will begin arriving any minute.”

  “Should I run home and change?” I asked, half-seriously.

  “No, hon. You’re fine. You’re her daughter. They’ll know she won’t hold you to the same standards she expects of the rest of the staff.”

  “Then they don’t know Beverly Singer,” I muttered. I smi
led at Vera. “Since you’re obviously the executive in charge, I take it you’ll be running the show?”

  “Please . . . I mean, if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind at all.”

  “Just, if I start to falter or something, jump in,” she said. “All right?”

  “Will do. Would you like some coffee?”

  She shook her head. Her hair—thanks to some really good hair spray—didn’t move. “Not yet. Let me get into character and get comfortable first.”

  I tried not to snicker as I went into the office for my own cup. This was going to be good.

  The first person through the door was a tall, thin young man with straight brown hair that fell to the middle of his back. He had a full beard and kind hazel eyes. I tried to place him but couldn’t remember seeing him at the Horror Emporium. He must have been wearing a mask.

  Vera consulted her notebook. “You’re Travis Stevens, correct?”

  “That’s right.” He backed away as Angus approached. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know there’d be a dog here. I’ve been afraid of dogs since I was a little boy.”

  “Let me put him in the bathroom,” I said. “I’m terribly sorry.”

  “Why don’t you take Angus up the street while Mr. Stevens is auditioning?” Vera inclined her head toward the door. “You know he’ll bark so loudly we won’t be able to hear Mr. Stevens if you shut him up in the bathroom.”

  That was true, but I didn’t want to leave Vera to question our first suspect on her own. Not that I was an expert by any stretch of the imagination, but I knew what I wanted to ask.

  Still, I took Angus’s leash from beneath the counter and snapped it onto his collar. “We’ll be back in about ten minutes. If you aren’t finished by then, Mr. Stevens, I’ll keep Angus on his leash so you’ll feel more comfortable.” I gave Vera a pointed look. “Please be sure and ask him everything Mom wanted to know.”

  Vera rolled her eyes and flicked her wrist. “Darling, you act as if I only started working for her yesterday.”

  All righty then.

  I took Angus up to the town square. At least, he made the best of the situation so I wouldn’t have to take him out again for a little while. Hopefully, the rest of the suspects would be more dog-friendly.