Night of the Living Thread (A Threadville Mystery)

by Janet Bolin

  Downstairs, Brianna was listening to music and spreading peanut butter on toast, but she rushed toward her room with her snack.

  I called to her, “Wait! We need to talk.”

  She said over her shoulder, “No, we don’t.”

  “Yes, we do. Why did you accuse me of shoving you into the lake?”

  She only half turned toward me. “I thought it was you.”

  “You made it up,” I accused. “No one pushed you.”

  She shrugged. “So? I made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes.”

  Despite what my mother would say, I was tempted to toss the wretch out. “I don’t have to keep letting you stay here, you know.”

  “You owe me!” she snapped. “You and your mother both owe me. I don’t get a cent from my father. He gives it all to your mother. The least you can do is give me a place to stay, feed me, and pay for my phone calls.”

  “He gives all of his money to my mother?” I repeated. “He must keep some for himself and his . . .” I paused, then made a wild guess. “. . . his current wife and her kids.”

  She bit into her toast. “That doesn’t count. You get more than I do.”

  “I do not! Where did you get that idea?”

  She turned toward me then, but made a sulky face at my great room. “Look at this place. My father gives your mother money, and she gives it to you.”

  “Wrong on all counts. Your father donates to my mother’s campaigns. My mother supported me up to and through college, but I paid back my tuition before she ever ran for office, before your father ever donated to one of her campaigns, and I’ve worked very hard to buy this place by myself and build up a business.”

  She didn’t look convinced.

  I suggested, “You should double-check with your father about the reason he donates to my mother’s campaigns. He knows how she votes, so he wants to help keep her in office.”

  “Your mother accepts bribes.” She went into her room and slammed the door.

  I toyed with the idea of calling my mother and telling her what I thought of Brianna Shrevedale, but all I would receive in return would be a lecture about Southern hospitality and not sabotaging her political career.

  Besides, a morsel of compassion for Brianna welled up in my insides. The girl apparently felt like her father had discarded her in favor of, I guessed, a bunch of half siblings.

  But that didn’t mean she could stay with me forever. I went upstairs to my computer and made a quick list of sewing and quilting shops that she might visit on her way back to South Carolina. I left the list in the middle of the kitchen counter where Brianna would see it the moment she left her—my—guest suite.

  My pets deserved an outing. Mustache and Bow-Tie quickly returned, as if Sally had been telling them stories about trolls lurking in flower beds. The kittens watched from inside while Sally and Tally tore all over the yard, gnashing their teeth, crashing into each other, and growling in mock ferocity. Tongues lolling, the dogs trotted inside, and I shut all four pets into my suite with me so I could spend a luxuriously long time getting ready for Edna and Gord’s rehearsal dinner.

  Bass thumped from Brianna’s room. She was leaving soon, I reminded myself. Maybe even that night.

  I polished my nails, all twenty of them, and enjoyed a relaxing soak in a bathtub piled high with bubbles. I dried my hair and coaxed it into long, shining curls.

  I’d made a dress for the rehearsal dinner, and another for the wedding. I removed the pale teal linen one from its hanger, slipped it on, and checked the mirror.

  It fit perfectly. I’d decorated the hem with a narrow band of hardanger embroidery, but I had left the neckline unadorned so I could show off the necklace of silver and teal beads that Edna had made for me. I fastened it around my neck, put in the matching earrings, and grabbed a silver cuff bracelet.

  Knowing I might be away from my apartment for a long time during the evening, I put on sneakers and took the pets out one more time.

  Back in my room again, I slid my feet into black patent high-heeled sandals. A gossamer shawl that Opal had knit from fine silk yarn the color of my dress and a silver beaded evening bag completed the outfit. The bag was adorable, and almost too small for my phone. Why would I need a phone? I’d be with Clay, and almost everyone else who might call me would also be at the lodge. And even if my mother tried to reach me, I wasn’t about to answer calls or look at texts during dinner. I crammed the phone into the bag, anyway.

  After checking that the door to my room and the door to the patio were locked, I climbed the stairs to In Stitches so I could watch for Clay.

  He was already on the porch. Even from the back, he looked yummy in his navy suit. He turned around the moment I opened the door. His smile and eyes warmed me so much I was tempted to simply walk into his arms. Flustered, I locked the door.

  When I looked up again, he smiled and held out his arm. I happily grasped it. My heels were a little high for negotiating the stairs by myself.

  “I’m afraid I still don’t have a vehicle besides my pickup,” he apologized.

  I grinned up at him. “I’d have preferred a bulldozer, but your truck will have to do.” The two of us were almost never alone together—the cab of a pickup would be an improvement.

  Clay opened his passenger door. I climbed in quickly so he wouldn’t feel the need to give me a helpful push from behind.

  He got in, gave me another wonderful smile, and headed toward the Elderberry Bay Lodge.

  I asked him, “How did the rehearsal go?”

  “Fine. The wedding will be perfect, as long as no one minds that the bride and groom may break into unplanned songs and dances.”

  “No one will mind.” I thought about it a second. “Except maybe Edna’s mother.”

  “I hope she won’t. I’ve brought copies of the sketches of Blueberry Cottage for her,” he said. “Do you think she was serious about helping with the interior design?”

  “Definitely! And maybe about renting the cottage after it’s finished, too.”

  “I thought so, too. It might be fun to have her around.”

  “Maybe. But I’m reconsidering winterizing the cottage. Maybe I don’t want a year-round tenant after all.”

  He laughed.

  During the rest of the way to the rehearsal dinner, we discussed flooring materials. Maybe not terribly romantic, but I enjoyed it, and Clay seemed to know everything.

  He parked next to Naomi’s SUV. Naomi, Opal, Haylee, and Mrs. Battersby were getting out of it.

  I was all set to link my arm in Clay’s for the walk to the inn, but Mrs. Battersby took one look at me, pointed down at her royal blue lace dress and matching jacket, and stated, “You and Haylee both have to stay away from me. We clash. Haylee, you and Willow walk together. I’ll walk with your friend, Willow. He and I don’t clash.”

  Haylee was in a perfectly tailored hunter green dress and jacket that she’d made. I didn’t think her green went terribly well with my teal, or that Clay’s navy really set off Mrs. Battersby’s royal blue, but I didn’t say anything. Naomi was in a goldenrod silk dress that Haylee had made for her, and Opal wore a hand-crocheted persimmon gown. Mrs. Battersby directed them to walk together. They led the procession, with Clay and Mrs. Battersby in the middle, and Haylee and me trailing behind.

  No zombies were in sight, but lots of people in dressy outfits milled around the lodge’s lobby.

  I was surprised at the number of tables in the banquet hall. They were decorated with white linen, silver candles, gardenia plants with big white flowers, gleaming china, crystal stemware, and sterling cutlery. Everything sparkled, including Edna, in yet another glittery silver dress. Throwing us kisses, she stood at a table on a temporary dais at the far end of the room. She pointed toward the wall behind her, bowed toward us, mouthed, “I love it,” and threw more kisses.

  In
all its glory, the wedding quilt that Threadville had made for her covered a large amount of the wall behind her. The quilt was, to put it mildly, stunning. And probably too big for any bed. The embroidered lace bride and groom dolls in their garden were in the place of honor in the center square, but because the quilt was hanging on a wall, they seemed to be gazing up at the ceiling, which was better than staring down at the floor, maybe.

  Looking quite formal except for the twinkles in his eyes, Gord strode toward us and pried Clay from Mrs. Battersby’s grip. “You’re at the head table,” he told her. “Clay, do you mind escorting Opal and Naomi to the head table to join us?”

  Clay winked at me and offered Opal and Naomi each an arm.

  In a well-tailored black suit and smiling broadly, Ben showed up beside us. He must have followed us from his office across the lobby. “You two are at a table with me,” he said. “May I show you to your table?”

  Of course we accepted. We each took one of his arms.

  “Good bones,” I said seriously.

  Haylee burst out laughing, and Ben grinned. The ice, if any, was definitely broken.

  Edna had created the place cards, with names in silver calligraphy on white and a spray of rhinestones and glitter decorating each one. Ben led us to a table.

  As we rounded it, I read the names.

  Cards for Patricia, Juliette, Dare, and Brianna were also on our table.

  39

  In their excitement, Gord and Edna must have invited almost all of Elderberry Bay, plus our houseguests, to their rehearsal dinner. The evening might not turn out to be as much fun as I’d hoped. Although disappointed, I reminded myself not to let the presence of relative strangers, including my nemesis, Brianna, spoil my evening with friends. Including Clay . . .

  He was devastatingly attractive. He was also charming and a gentleman. From my seat, I watched him hand Opal and Naomi to Gord, who seated them and then put an arm around Edna’s shoulders and pulled her to him. Happiness shone from both their faces.

  Haylee had quailed at asking Ben to be her date, but Edna and Gord must have conspired in a little matchmaking, and had seated them side by side.

  I caught Edna’s eye and winked. Her big grin told me she knew exactly why I’d winked. But as soon as Clay joined us at his place between Haylee and me, Ben excused himself. “I’ll have to check on things from time to time, so I won’t be able to sit with you three as much as I’d like.”

  I’d have to tease Haylee later about her revealing blushes.

  I hoped that Brianna wouldn’t show up, but she did, wearing black leggings and a matching turtleneck, which she’d dressed up with heavy chains that looked like real gold. Scowling, she sat at her place, right beside me.

  Patricia and Juliette arrived together. Juliette wore a floor-length white velvet gown. A rainbow of ribbons of different widths and lengths, each of them attached at only one end, dangled and floated from the dress. As if determined to resemble a rodent, Patricia wore a brown faux suede dress that was too loose. She sat beside Ben’s empty place, and Juliette sat beside her.

  That left one seat at our table—Dare’s, between Brianna and Juliette.

  I didn’t recognize a man at the next table until he smiled at me.

  Lenny.

  Gord and Edna had invited zombies, too.

  Lenny was now a real man, with no makeup. He’d lost that wandering undead look of puzzlement, and his blond hair looked dry instead of wet. The suit he wore was for business or dinners out, and he looked great. Next to him, a tall but nondescript man gave me a tentative wave. Floyd. The fake blood and the black slicked-down hair were gone. His hair was a nice shade of light brown, and his suit was from today, not from the 1930s, but he still wore a dissatisfied expression, maybe because Edna had seated him next to Vicki Smallwood.

  Apparently, Vicki wasn’t on duty. I’d never seen her in frothy chiffon before. The tangerine color suited her. She looked great, but not particularly happy. And no wonder. Toby Gartener, her favorite detective, must have had to work that night, and she was beside Detective Neffting and his glued-down comb-over instead.

  Detective Neffting stared at Edna as if expecting her to march to the podium and confess that she’d murdered Isis.

  Waiters began serving amuse-bouches. Gord went to the microphone and welcomed us.

  Wearing his signature black slacks, turtleneck, blazer, and loafers, Dare sauntered in while Gord was talking. Juliette stood and waved him to the empty seat between her and Brianna.

  The people at our table were an odd group. Ben, Haylee, Clay, and I were happy to laugh and chat together during all the delicious courses, but Ben had to leave the table frequently, and he tried to pay some attention to Patricia, who was on his other side and being ignored by Juliette. Patricia blushed and answered Ben’s questions, but didn’t seem to ask any of her own.

  Beside Patricia, Juliette flirted with Dare and laughed at everything he said, most of which seemed to be nasty comments about other dinner guests and the locals in general.

  Brianna didn’t speak to Dare, me, or anyone else. Staring at her plate, she made angry-sounding sighs between bites.

  As the day outside turned to dusk, the candles inside provided most of the light.

  Edna and Gord contributed light of their own. Beaming and probably missing some of the wonderful food, they visited every table.

  “You’re radiant,” I told Edna.

  “Add bling to your dress and you’ll radiate, too,” she answered. “I hope I don’t wear out my smiler before tomorrow, but I just can’t help it.”

  Juliette beckoned to Gord. He bent to listen to her. She seemed to be asking him a quiet question. He asked her to repeat. She glanced nervously toward us, then asked if anyone would be making speeches later. He nodded. She pointed to herself and murmured something to him, and I thought she said something about making a speech herself. After a tiny delay, he nodded.

  Everyone loved Gord. He probably shouldn’t have been surprised that if he invited mere acquaintances to his rehearsal dinner, some of them might want to give the couple their best wishes publicly.

  Looking concerned, Ben emerged from the kitchen and asked Clay to go with him to check on one of the refrigerators. “I’m not sure the thermostat’s working, and we need to keep everything cool for tomorrow night’s dinner.”

  Clay apologized, patted my shoulder, and headed off with Ben.

  Juliette went back to chattering to Dare. I overheard her tell him where she’d gone to college.

  It was the school where Isis’s son, Heru, had died in his freshman year.

  I froze with a forkful of roasted eggplant halfway to my mouth.

  Juliette was approximately Patricia’s age and therefore would have been close to Heru’s age, also. Juliette could have been a student at Heru’s school during his short time there.

  Reminding myself that it was a huge school and Juliette might never have met Heru or even heard of him, I forced myself to continue eating as if nothing had happened.

  Dare seemed bored by the conversation, but Patricia seemed to shrink away from Juliette. Was Patricia afraid that Juliette had ferreted out her past battles with Isis Crabbe and Isis’s son, Heru?

  I’d have to find a way of suggesting to Vicki that even the alibi that Dare had given Patricia was flimsy. Times weren’t precise, and Patricia had been eager, it seemed, to accept a possible alibi from Floyd, and then, later, a contradictory one from Dare.

  Dare could have lied about seeing Patricia in Opal’s dining room, either to provide an alibi for himself, or to stir things up for the sake of pure devilment.

  During dessert, various people toasted Gord and Edna. I thought that Gord might forget about Juliette’s request, or that maybe I’d misunderstood what she wanted, but he did call on her to come to the microphone.

  Juliette set her inheri
ted two-tone brown vinyl bowling bag on the table, unzipped it, and lifted out her crystal ball. She carried the sphere of rock to the podium. Multicolored ribbons fluttered from her gown. Adjusting the mini light beside the microphone this way and that, she gazed into the ball.

  The banquet hall was almost dark except for flickering candles and a strange glow that seemed to come from inside that polished ball of quartz. As Juliette probably expected, everyone quieted.

  Juliette frowned and bit her lip. She moved the light again. Finally, she looked at the audience and gave us a huge smile. “I see a wonderful future for Gord Wrinklesides and Edna Battersby,” she announced in a drama-filled voice.

  Everyone clapped.

  After the applause subsided, Juliette continued telling Gord’s and Edna’s fortune. “Gord and Edna will spend many years of beauteous happiness, encircled in light.”

  40

  Juliette’s words chimed through my brain. Beauteous happiness, encircled in light.

  Haylee and I had found the words “beauteous happiness” hand-printed on a piece of paper in Juliette’s room and we’d commented that people don’t use the word “beauteous.”

  We’d also seen “encircled in light,” written out longhand on one of the torn pages that Naomi had found in her wastebasket. We’d assumed that Juliette had printed the fortunes we’d found in her room. Had she also written the light-encircling method of breaking a curse? On a piece of paper that a quilter had found in Naomi’s recycling?

  I shivered. What had caused that sudden draft, like a door opening to a real graveyard? The glass doors leading out to the porch were all closed.