The Stitching Hour

by Amanda Lee

  “Fair enough. Then why are you so down today?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I just don’t want to miss anything,” she said. “I mean, I know you have your own life, but—”

  “You won’t miss a thing, Mom. I promise.”

  I was really glad that Ted came in with lunch and put an end to our awkward chat. I didn’t like to see Mom melancholy. It was so out of character for her. Had my leaving San Francisco last year taken such a toll on her? I didn’t think so. She’d been here to visit several times—and I’d been home to visit too—and we’d both been busy with our work. Was she more scared about her health than she wanted to admit? Or had something that she, Vera, and Veronica talked about yesterday reminded her of how fast time was flying past?

  I rose to greet Ted with a kiss. Then I put the clock on the door and suggested that we move into my office before any more of Mom’s fans came to visit.

  “I take it you’ve been mobbed by actors today?” he asked.

  “Yes. They were all really sweet though,” she said. “I enjoyed talking with them.”

  For today’s lunch, Ted brought cedar plank grilled salmon and green beans. It was delicious.

  “We should have this more often,” I told him. I turned to Mom. “We have salads and chicken salad croissants from MacKenzies’ Mochas fairly often, but this salmon is a really nice change.”

  “I was afraid it’d be cold by the time I got here with it. It came from that seafood place we like in Lincoln City.” He nodded toward Mom. “We’ll all go there before you leave, if you’d like—you, Marcy, Mom and me.”

  “That’d be nice. I really like your mother. We had a lovely time yesterday.”

  “She said she enjoyed it too.” He glanced at me, and I knew we’d compare notes later. The bad thing was I didn’t have any notes to compare. Mom had said very little about yesterday.

  I fed Angus a small bite of my salmon.

  “I spent the morning with one of your favorite people,” Ted told me.

  “Nellie Davis?” I asked.

  He laughed. “No. Mark Poston.”

  I explained to Mom that Detective Poston had been called in to help with the investigation since so many people were in the area when Keira was found.

  “Plus, he questioned those of us who were together that evening and recorded our statements,” Ted said. “Marcy found him to be rather harsh.”

  “Ted says he’s one of the best interrogators with the Tallulah County Police Department, but I don’t think he’s ever heard the old adage about catching flies with honey.”

  Ted grinned. “He’s not catching flies, babe. He’s catching criminals. And he’s doing a good job getting information about the people Ken Sherman is in business with.”

  “Has he found any evidence to support the suspicion that Ken Sherman is laundering money for criminals?” I asked.

  “You know I’m not at liberty to say.”

  I smiled. “I know. I just want this case to be solved.”

  “So do I. But I know your Mom doesn’t want to hear shop talk.”

  “You should’ve heard her shop talk this morning.” I looked over at Mom. “Did you watch the Atwoods’ DVD before you went to bed last night?”

  “No. I wanted to wait and watch it with you.”

  “I’d love to talk with Captain Moe about Priscilla and see what she was like growing up,” I said.

  “Maybe you can ask him tomorrow,” said Mom.

  I shook my head. “He has to be at the diner tomorrow night and can’t come to the open house. I gave him his goodie bag yesterday. But I’m sure I’ll get the opportunity to talk with him soon.”

  We finished our meal and walked out of the office. Mom and I thanked Ted for bringing lunch, and I noticed that Christine Willoughby was standing outside on the sidewalk.

  I hurried to the door. “Christine! Hi! Come on in.”

  “I can come back if this isn’t a good time.” She twisted her scarf in her hands.

  “No. We were just in the back eating lunch. You should’ve come on in.”

  “I didn’t want to intrude.”

  “I’m just leaving.” Ted kissed my cheek, nodded to Christine, and gave Mom a brief wave before stepping out onto the sidewalk.

  “Christine, I don’t think you’ve met my mom, Beverly Singer.”

  The two women shook hands.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Mom said.

  “Then, obviously, Marcy hasn’t told you about me.”

  I ushered Christine over to the sit-and-stitch square. “Don’t be silly. Mom and I both have been in the position you’re in right now, and we know it’s no fun.”

  “And we also know that you’ll be exonerated.”

  “Thank you. I wish I could be that sure.” Christine sighed. “I came by to tell you that I’d still love to come to class tonight, but I understand perfectly if you’d rather I skip it.”

  “Of course I want you to come to class! Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Because I’m a suspect in a murder case.”

  “Please, Christine, I know you’re innocent,” I said.

  “The police don’t think so.”

  “Ted always tells me that everyone’s a suspect, but I don’t think they give you any more weight than anyone else currently under investigation in Keira’s homicide.” I placed my hand on Christine’s arm. “Just be patient. Ted and Manu are wonderful detectives. They’ll find the real killer.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I know I am. Now let’s talk about something more pleasant . . . at least, I hope it’s more pleasant. Have you met Adalyn?”

  “The girl Jared’s been dating?” She nodded. “She seems sweet. I worry that she’s a bit young for him.”

  “Adalyn told me that Jared is thinking of expanding the garage,” I said.

  She sighed. “He’s mentioned it, but there’s no way he could afford an expansion right now. I’m afraid he could simply be telling this girl what she wants to hear.”

  “Or she could be projecting her wishes onto him,” Mom said. “I think girls these days move a little too fast sometimes. It seems they’re so desperate for a happily ever after, they try to orchestrate situations to bring about the result they desire.”

  Christine leaned forward. “That’s exactly it. I’m not saying Jared is innocent of filling these girls’ heads with white picket fences, but Keira was the same way. In fact, I don’t think Jared ever even considered expanding his business until Keira started talking about it. For goodness’ sake, they should date a while and get to know each other before they begin making all these grand plans.”

  “Did Keira ever offer to have her dad invest in Jared’s business?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. When I disagreed with Jared about the need to build onto the garage, he got angry with me and refused to discuss it with me anymore. Why do you ask?”

  “Apparently, that’s something that Mr. Sherman does.” I shrugged. “He was trying to get MacKenzies’ Mochas to allow him to franchise another coffee shop for Keira.”

  “I imagine it would’ve been nice for the girl to have had her own business, but—and I hate to speak ill of the dead—I seriously doubt she’d have been mature enough to operate it on her own,” said Christine. “Maybe her dad planned to help manage it.”

  “Maybe so,” I said.

  “Well, I’d better go.” She smiled. “Thank you for letting me attend tonight. I’m really enjoying this class.”

  “I’m enjoying having you in the class,” I said. “And I hope you’ll come to the open house celebration tomorrow too.”

  “I’m planning on it.”

  After Christine left, I turned to Mom. “So what do you think?”

  “I think Christine Willoughby is a smart woman and that it’s likely her son refu
sed to discuss his business dealings with her because he realized she was right but didn’t want to admit it.”

  “I’m wondering if Ken Sherman was offering to pay for the garage expansion. If so, then Jared would feel obligated to him—even more than for the cost of the add-on.”

  Mom nodded slowly. “Mr. Sherman might’ve even insisted on a partial ownership of the business.”

  “And then he could carry out whatever dealings he wanted, and there would be nothing Jared could do about it.”

  “Exactly.” She frowned. “Jared is still talking about the expansion even though Keira is no longer a part of his life. That makes me feel that if there is a business agreement of any sort between Jared and Mr. Sherman, it was independent of Jared’s relationship with Keira.”

  “I wonder if Keira knew that.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  A small group of coworkers came into the Stitch. They each wanted to make a cross-stitch or embroidery panel and then turn the panels into a quilt for a friend who was retiring from the company. I began asking questions about what sort of theme they were interested in. Did they want something vintage? Was there a hobby their friend had always liked that they could incorporate into the quilt?

  Angus went to the door.

  “I’ll take him,” Mom said, getting the leash from behind the counter and taking Angus up the street.

  The coworkers—one of whom was a man—went back and forth between Sunbonnet Sue and Sam, flowers, and birds. They finally decided on the flowers. Since there were six of them, they each took two flower patterns to make the embroidered quilt squares. They said they’d return when they got the squares completed to get what they’d need to complete the quilt. I invited them back to the anniversary open house and put flyers in their bags advertising the current classes.

  After they left, I began to get concerned about Mom. She should’ve been back by now. I stepped out onto the sidewalk and looked up the street. She and Angus were standing on the sidewalk in front of Scentsibilities talking with Nellie. I went back inside.

  I decided that after talking with Nellie, Mom might need a stiff drink. I made a fresh pot of coffee.

  “Mmm, that smells delicious,” she said when she returned. “Thank you for making it. I got cold while I was standing there talking with Nellie Davis.”

  Angus muscled past me to get a drink from his water bowl as I put two cups, the coffee carafe, sugar, and creamer on a tray and took it into the sit-and-stitch square. Mom had already sat down on the sofa facing the window and stretched her legs out in front of her.

  “So, how did you find yourself chatting with Nellie?” I asked. “Did she stop you as you walked by?”

  “No. Actually, I stuck my head inside the door and called to her.” She stirred creamer into her coffee. “I wanted to thank her for the diffuser and the bergamot.”

  “Did you try that, by the way?”

  “I did. I don’t know what health benefits it was supposed to have had, but it was a pleasant, refreshing citrusy smell. I liked it.” She sipped her coffee. “Back to Nellie. While I was thanking her, she came to the door to talk. I don’t know whether she’s lonely or not in the loop where the town’s gossip is concerned or what, but she wanted me to tell her what was going on with the investigation of Keira’s murder.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “The truth—that I don’t know a thing.” She leaned back against the sofa cushions. “I know she’s frightened. That’s why she was considering leaving. But she’s not as intrepid as you are. I think the thought of leaving everything familiar to her is even scarier than having a murderer in her midst.”

  “She thinks the murderer is in her midst?”

  “The murderer is in her midst, darling. Yours too.”

  “Well, yeah.” I shrugged. “But by now, I’m kinda used to it.”

  “That concerns me more than you could possibly know.”

  • • •

  I had to hurry to get back to the Stitch and get ready for class, so Mom and I had grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for dinner. Mom said she didn’t want to return for the class—that she’d prefer to relax and read for a while—so I left Angus with her. I also left her with strict instructions to call me if she needed anything. I was still concerned that she wasn’t feeling a hundred percent, but she assured me that she simply didn’t want a repeat of this morning.

  “I felt like I disrupted your work this morning when all those actors came in,” she said. “People will be there tonight to take your class, not visit with your mother. I’ll talk with them tomorrow at the open house.”

  I parked in one of the spaces in front of the building when I got to the Seven-Year Stitch rather than going around back. I was surprised to see a man standing on the sidewalk in front of the shop peering inside. I was even more surprised when the man turned and I saw that it was Ken Sherman.

  I got out of the Jeep and walked over to the sidewalk. “Mr. Sherman?”

  He smiled. “Hello, Marcy! I thought I’d missed you.”

  “I typically close at five, but I teach needlework classes on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday evenings.” I unlocked the door. “You wanted to talk with me?”

  “I . . . ah . . . just wanted to drop by and thank you again for your thoughtfulness the other night. I realize you didn’t know Keira all that well, but it meant a lot to me and Bethany that you came and expressed your condolences.”

  “Well, I truly am sorry for your loss.”

  We were still standing on the sidewalk. I didn’t particularly want to take Ken Sherman inside with me. I mean, if he did associate with criminals, then I wasn’t sure I would be comfortable being in the shop alone with him.

  “May I come in and see your shop? I know Bethany has been talking about stopping in.”

  Great.

  “Of course,” I said, walking into the Stitch. “Come on in. The students will be arriving soon. Do you mind if I tidy up while we talk?”

  “Not at all.” He wandered over to Jill.

  I went a few feet away from him and tidied the embroidery floss bins. They didn’t really need to be straightened up, but I wanted some distance between the two of us.

  He laughed and I started.

  “I love your mannequin,” he said. “What a beaut!”

  “Thank you.”

  “You have a nice little shop here, Marcy.” He blew out a breath. “I wish Keira had been interested in allowing me to set her up in business before . . . well, before.” His shoulders slumped. “She was always so flighty going from one thing—or one boy—to another. She was never settled and sure of herself like Bethany.”

  “Bethany appears to be quite an accomplished young lady.”

  “She is. She’s extraordinary really. Do you have any sisters or brothers, Marcy?”

  “Nope, I’m an only child.”

  “I imagine your parents are very proud of you,” he said.

  “I believe my mother is. My father died when I was young.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “You know, I think Keira would have really made a go of the MacKenzies’ Mochas franchise,” I said.

  “You heard about that?”

  I smiled. “Hey, it’s Tallulah Falls. There aren’t any secrets here . . . not for long anyway.”

  “I suppose that’s true. But, you know, some of the tales being told around here aren’t true.”

  My smile faded and my heartbeat quickened. Still, I tried to keep the conversation light. “Oh, I know! Ms. Davis who owns Scentsibilities has said time and again that she believes my shop is cursed and that I’m bad for everyone else’s business.” I lifted and dropped one shoulder. “I’ve had my share of things go wrong around here. Some people tend to get panicky.”

  “I understand that you have friends on the police force.�
��

  “Um . . . you mean Manu? I think he’s friends with everybody. And, of course, I’m dating Ted Nash.” I glanced toward the door. Surely one of my students would be here any second now.

  “I loved my daughter with all my heart,” said Mr. Sherman. “I wanted desperately to see her succeed at something—anything—and now I’ll never have that opportunity. I’ll never be able to help her succeed.”

  “I . . . I know. That’s t-terrible.”

  “Do you know who killed my daughter, Marcy?”

  “No, sir. I don’t have the foggiest idea,” I said.

  “None of your police friends have discussed any of their theories with you?”

  “No, they haven’t. They take their oath of confidentiality seriously.” I wondered if police officers did take an oath of confidentiality. I kinda doubted it, but I liked the sound of it. It was nicer than telling Mr. Sherman that Ted and Manu weren’t in the habit of spreading dirty laundry all over town.

  “I’m sure they do, but you seem to be the kind of girl people are drawn to—that they’d share secrets with.”

  “They haven’t, Mr. Sherman. I assure you that you likely know much more than I do about your daughter’s murder and the person or persons responsible,” I said.

  “Well . . . thank you for your time.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m sorry I couldn’t help.”

  As he left, I went into the office for a moment. I needed to collect myself before my students got here. I didn’t have time to converse with Ted, but I sent him a text:

  Ken Sherman was just here at the Stitch. He wanted to know if I knew anything about his daughter’s killer. I told him I don’t, and he left. Everything’s okay, but he kinda gave me the creeps. Don’t say anything in front of Mom about him being here.

  He immediately texted back:

  You’re there alone? Is Angus with you? I’ll be right over.

  I called him. “Hey, sweetheart, there’s no need to come over. Ken Sherman is gone, and my students are”—I heard the bells over the door jingle—“they’re coming in right now.”