The Stitching Hour

by Amanda Lee

  “I don’t know why Jared acted so strange,” I said. “It’s not like it was wrong for him to be on a date . . . right? I mean, he and Keira had broken up.”

  “He was awfully jumpy though. In fact, he acted like a man with something to hide. You can bet I’ll be looking even more closely into his whereabouts on the night Keira died and talking with their acquaintances about their relationship. I’ll be going back and reviewing Ms. Daye’s statement as well.”

  “You don’t think they had anything to do with Keira’s death, do you?”

  He glanced over at me and raised a brow. “Now, Inch-High, what’s my motto?”

  “Everyone’s a suspect.”

  • • •

  Since Ted was working on Sunday—likely following the leads he’d gained on our date the night before—I called Riley Kendall to see if she was free for lunch.

  “I’m thrilled that you called,” she said. “Everyone decided I needed a day off—everyone, that is, except me. Mom took Laura, and Keith went to play basketball with his brother. I’d love to have lunch with you.”

  “Wonderful. I’m having sort of a lonely day myself, and some girl time will do us both good.”

  “I’ll bring a bottle of merlot.”

  “Does merlot go well with cheddar and bacon quiche?” I asked.

  “Merlot goes well with everything.”

  When I got off the phone, I went straight into the kitchen and got to work on that quiche. Of course, it was necessary to explain to Angus why I was rushing around, but he was delighted to hear that Riley was coming over.

  I think he was happier still to learn that she wouldn’t be bringing the baby. Not that Angus didn’t like Laura—he did. And he wanted desperately to snuffle the tiny creature that smelled so intriguing from a distance. But every time Riley brought Laura around, both Riley and I shielded her from Angus’s curiosity.

  We knew—I more than Riley, naturally—that Angus would never purposely harm the child, but he was so large that we thought it best to wait until Laura was a little older and bigger before allowing the two to interact. Today, he didn’t have to share Riley with the baby. He decided to take a nap so he’d be refreshed when she arrived. I deduced this from the way he lay down on the floor and fell asleep.

  • • •

  Even casually dressed, Riley had an air of sophistication and confidence about her. She made me feel as if she could step into a courtroom in the jeans and sweatshirt she wore and still sway a jury as if she was dressed in a designer suit. The adage clothes make the woman didn’t apply to Riley.

  “Mmmm. . . . something smells great.” She gave me a hug and then handed me the bottle of merlot. “Don’t think I forgot you, mister.” She took a large cookie that was shaped like a peanut out of the small white bag she carried. “Did you know they’re selling these at the pet shop now? They’re organic and even gluten-free. What’ll they think of next?”

  I laughed and admitted that I had no idea. Angus took his cookie to the living room to savor it privately.

  I’d already placed the quiche in the center of the table and had blueberry mini muffins in a napkin-lined basket on the counter. I moved the muffins over to the table before we sat down.

  “It’s nothing fancy,” I said. “More of a brunch than a lunch, I suppose.”

  “I think it’s super. Thank you again for inviting me. Maybe Mom and Keith were right about my needing a little time for myself.”

  I poured the wine into our glasses and served the quiche. As we ate, Riley asked me about Christine. “I don’t know her all that well—only from the classes we’ve been in together at the Stitch—but she seems like a super-nice person.”

  “She is,” I said. “I haven’t spoken with her since the night Keira was found and we all had to go to the police station to give our statements, but she was terribly distraught about everything.” I shook my head. “And you know the strongest piece of circumstantial evidence they have against her? A Seven-Year Stitch key ring.”

  I explained that I’d gotten the key rings in only on Thursday and that they were for the open house goodie bags.

  “Christine was there in the shop right after the key rings arrived. She was upset about Jared—her son—and his relationship with Keira, so I handed her a key ring as sort of a pick-me-up. Then, lo and behold, the key ring was found beneath Keira’s body.”

  “And Christine is the only person to whom you gave a key ring?” She’d clearly shifted into lawyer mode.

  “Yes, but I took Angus for a walk and left the box open on the counter, so theoretically, someone could’ve come into the shop while we were gone and taken one,” I said. “Not to say anyone would steal a key ring from the shop—they weren’t all that valuable or anything—but someone could’ve come in, realized they were free, and—”

  “Have you counted them?”

  “What? No.” I closed my eyes. “How dumb am I? That’s the first thing I should’ve done Friday morning.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up. You’ve had a lot on your mind,” said Riley. “We’ll go over there and count them now.”

  My eyes popped open. “No way! You can’t spend your day sitting with me on the storeroom floor counting key rings. I’ll go in early and do it tomorrow.”

  “Let’s do it now. The two of us will be able to verify that the key rings weren’t miscounted or that you didn’t pocket one to help Christine.” She smiled. “Besides, my curiosity has the best of me now.”

  • • •

  Riley and I thought it best to leave Angus at home this trip. We shouldn’t be gone long, and he was—as Riley had pointed out—another variable that could call the accuracy of our count into question. On the chance that more than one key ring was missing, the prosecutor could ask, “How can you be a hundred percent certain that your dog didn’t carry off one while you were counting them?” Riley really did think of everything. I hoped I never found myself in trouble with the law but that, if I did, Riley Kendall was on my side of the courtroom.

  I parked the Jeep at the back of the shop. When we started to go inside, Sadie came out of MacKenzies’ Mochas with a bag of trash.

  “Hey,” she said. “Is anything wrong?”

  “No,” I said. “Riley and I are just here to count key rings.”

  Sadie frowned. “Key rings?”

  “One of Marcy’s promotional key rings was found underneath Keira’s body Thursday night,” said Riley. “The only person Marcy gave one to was Christine Willoughby.”

  “I did leave the open box on the counter when I took Angus for a walk Thursday morning,” I said. “You were here when I came back. You didn’t notice anyone coming into or leaving the shop around that time, did you?”

  “No. I was so tired and frustrated, I don’t think I even paid attention to a box being on your counter that morning. And I certainly didn’t take a key ring.” She frowned. “So you guys are planning on counting the key rings because you’re hoping it’s the only one missing or because you’re hoping more than one is missing?”

  “I’m hoping there’s at least one more missing,” I said. “That key ring is the only evidence tying Christine to Keira’s death. And I know she’s innocent.”

  “Don’t be too sure of that,” said Sadie. “There’s very little we know for certain.” She lowered her eyes and shook her head slightly. “I need to get back inside. I’ll try to come over later and help you if you need it.”

  “Um . . . okay . . . thanks.” I unlocked the door, and Riley and I went inside.

  I flipped on the lights and we walked into the storeroom.

  “Sadie does have a point about not knowing everything about everyone,” Riley said softly. “I’ve been an attorney too long not to realize that people are often capable of things we’d never thought them to be.”

  I realized she was probably thinking of her own
father, who was currently serving time in prison for fraud.

  She shook off her melancholy and smiled. “Sadie’s gloomy mood must’ve been contagious. Let’s put these grim thoughts aside and get to counting those key rings.”

  Thirty minutes later, we’d counted and recounted the Seven-Year Stitch key rings. Rather than the four hundred ninety-nine I’d expected there to be, there were four ninety-seven.

  I looked at Riley. “So now what?”

  “You let Ted know, and we’ll both make a note of this on our calendars,” she said. “That way, we have the exact date, time, and number of key rings logged. We don’t know when the other two key rings were taken, and we can’t even be a hundred percent sure that the company sent five hundred since you didn’t count them upon arrival.”

  “But there’s now reasonable doubt that the key ring found on the sidewalk beneath Keira’s body is the one I gave to Christine?”

  “Precisely.”

  We put the key rings back into the box, and I turned the lights off.

  “I’ll call Ted after we get back to my house,” I said, opening the door.

  I stopped when I heard angry shouting and shot Riley a questioning glance.

  “Shh.” She reached around me and pulled the door up, leaving it cracked so we could see who was arguing.

  A short man with neatly trimmed black hair and a full beard was pointing his finger at someone. I eased the door open a tiny bit farther so I could see who the short man was pointing to. It was Blake.

  “You’ll pay for this!” the short man shouted. “My daughter’s death is on your hands!”

  “That must be Ken Sherman,” I whispered.

  Riley nodded.

  “Should we do something?”

  She shook her head. “This is something else you need to report to Ted . . . and then stay out of.”

  • • •

  After Riley went home, I let Angus out into the backyard and sat on the porch swing. Angus typically liked to lie on the swing beside me, but he became interested in a squirrel and chased after it until it scampered up a tree. Angus lay at the bottom awaiting its return.

  I breathed in the scent of the pine trees mixed with the briny sea air and wondered what to do with all the information I’d gathered over the past couple of days. This puzzle kept getting more and more complex.

  While Christine Willoughby was the primary suspect due to the Seven-Year Stitch key ring I’d given her, Riley and I now knew there were three missing key rings from the box. Of course, Christine had said she lost the key ring, so the one found with Keira could very well have been hers. But what about the other two? Had someone taken them, or had I received only four ninety-seven from the factory? Should I contact the company to ask how certain they were that their shipments were a hundred percent accurate? Or would that make any difference in the eyes of the police?

  And what about Jared and Adalyn? Had Keira known about their relationship? Had Adalyn known about Jared’s relationship with Keira? Jared had to have known that with the two working in such close proximity—and with MacKenzies’ Mochas doing concessions for the Horror Emporium—they would have to cross paths eventually.

  My mind wandered back to Ken Sherman yelling at Blake. Why did he blame Blake for his daughter’s death? Did he—like Blake—feel that Blake should’ve been helping Keira with the concessions rather than touring the Horror Emporium? Or was there something more to Mr. Sherman’s accusations? I wondered whether I could find a way to casually talk with Mr. Sherman . . . or, if I should do as Riley had suggested and stay out of it.

  There simply had to be something I could do to help find Keira’s killer. I was completely lost in thought when my cell phone rang, and I started so violently that I almost fell off the swing. The ringtone was “You Don’t Have to Be A Star,” so I knew it was Mom.

  “Hi, Mom. What’s up?”

  “I just had you on my mind. I’m really looking forward to seeing you on Tuesday.”

  “I’m looking forward to it too. But”—I took a deep breath—“there’s something I need to tell you.” I explained about the murder and how Vera and I had interviewed the Horror Emporium’s actors to see if any of them had known Keira. “So now they think that you’re scouting for new talent.”

  “You told them I’m a talent scout?” she asked.

  “No. They know you’re an acclaimed costume designer. But they also know that you have connections.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do!”

  “It’s all right. We’ll deal with it when I get there,” she said. “Did your plan work? Did you find anyone who knew Keira?”

  “I didn’t think so, but then I saw Adalyn Daye—one of the actresses—with Jared Willoughby.”

  “And Jared had been dating Keira.”

  “Right,” I said.

  “If I were you, I think I’d look at that a little closer,” she said. “When you and Todd were going out, Keira was certainly aware of you.”

  “Yeah, and she hated me because she wanted Todd.”

  Chapter Eleven

  After talking with Mom, I got to thinking about Keira and her obsessive behavior over Todd. I gave Todd a call.

  “Hi,” I said when he answered. “Do you have a minute to talk?”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “When you dated Keira . . . what was she like?”

  “I didn’t go out with her but a time or two, and you know what she was like,” Todd said. “I hate to speak ill of the dead, but Keira had problems. She was insecure, clingy. . . . Notice I’m not saying nuts.”

  “I did notice that.” I told him about Jared Willoughby’s visit to the Seven-Year Stitch the day before. “He said she was a better person than everyone realized but that he couldn’t deal with her immaturity and negativity, so they broke up. He moved on quickly—Ted and I saw him at dinner last night with one of the actresses from the Horror Emporium.”

  “Oh, I can imagine how happy Keira would have been had she known Jared was dating someone who worked right up the street from her,” said Todd.

  “Do you think she knew?”

  He barked out a laugh. “Of course, she knew. She made it her business to know everything about every guy she was interested in . . . and about every girl he was interested in.”

  “I guess you’re right. By the way, Riley and I went to the Stitch today. As we started to leave, we saw Ken Sherman yelling at Blake. He apparently blames Blake for Keira’s death.”

  “Ken Sherman is probably blaming everyone except himself for his daughter’s death. I don’t know much about him, but he strikes me as that kind of guy.” He paused. “I did talk with Blake, and he was planning on confessing everything to Sadie. He swore to me that there was nothing between him and Keira except a business relationship.”

  “I know,” I said. “And I believe that’s true. But he still went behind Sadie’s back, and that’ll take her a while to get over.”

  “You don’t think Sadie suspected there was anything going on between Blake and Keira before Detective Poston put the thought into her mind, do you?”

  “No. I believe she’d have come to me if she had. Friday morning, she was so hurt.”

  “I’d hate to think she killed the competition.” He chuckled, but there wasn’t his usual teasing warmth in the laugh. “Hey, I need to go. I’m picking Audrey up in half an hour.”

  “All right. Have fun.”

  I shook my head as I ended the call. There’s no way that Todd Calloway would even consider that Sadie had something to do with Keira’s murder. He knew better . . . and he had laughed. I was just being touchy.

  So I was back to where I’d begun when I’d sat down—who had killed Keira and why? I mulled over everything that had happened and everything everyone had said. I wondered if Captain M
oe knew more about Ken Sherman than he’d been at liberty to say in his crowded restaurant Friday night.

  I called Ted.

  “Hi, babe,” he said. “I’m heading your way in just a few minutes.”

  “I wanted to ask you if you’d mind my asking Captain Moe to join us for dinner.”

  “I don’t mind in the least, but I would like to know what you’re up to, Inch-High.”

  I explained my feeling that Captain Moe could probably tell us more about Ken Sherman here than he could at his restaurant. “And since Riley and I heard Mr. Sherman shouting at Blake today in the alley behind MacKenzies’ Mochas, I’d like to know more about the man.”

  “You and Riley just happened to be lurking in the alley?”

  “No. We’d gone to the Stitch to count the key rings. There were four hundred ninety-seven in the box.”

  “Good to know,” he said. “If Christine Willoughby is innocent, then who was trying to set her—or you—up with that key ring?”

  “That is the million-dollar question. And why runs a close second.”

  • • •

  By the time Ted got to my house, I had oven-fried chicken baking, a tossed salad chilling in the refrigerator, green beans on the stove, and a turtle cheesecake thawing on the counter.

  He gave me a kiss. “You sure have been busy.”

  “Does the house look okay? I cleaned before I began cooking. I gathered all of Angus’s toys and put them in his basket in the living room, I mopped the kitchen, I—”

  He silenced me with another kiss. “Everything—especially you—looks wonderful.”

  “Thanks. After all that cleaning, I had to shower and change, of course.” I reached up to make sure my hair was dry. It was slightly damp but almost there. It occurred to me that I hadn’t gone on my cleaning frenzy before inviting Riley over. But, then, Riley visits often. Captain Moe had never been to my house before.