Chapter 22
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THE FERRY CUT THROUGH the cold water to Seattle. The Monday morning commuters chatted quietly or sat mute. Gilly stared out the window. Her mom and dad shooed her off to school after it was decided that they would take Gramps to the emergency room in Port Gamble and then stop at the vet to tend to Agatha’s tail. Her dad called the police and was immediately patched through to Deputy Kracker. Hearing what had transpired, the deputy had snapped in a sharp voice that he was on his way.
The ferry bumped the pilings, jarring Gilly back from the horrible scene finding Gramps lying on the floor bleeding. She left a message on Edward’s cell saying she was sorry but she couldn’t meet him today—maybe on his next trip. Picking up her tote, she joined the line waiting to get off the ferry and called Skip.
“Gilly, you’re an early bird.”
“Skip, you were right. Gramps … Aggie …”
“Where are you?”
“Seattle. I’m about to get off the ferry. Oh, Skip, it was.” A lump formed in her throat. She couldn’t talk.
“Stay at the terminal. I’ll be there in ten minutes. You got that? I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Not more than twelve minutes later, Skip pulled into a no-parking zone, flashed his reporter’s badge and raced to the redhead slumped on a bench inside the ferry terminal.
Gilly saw him running to her and stood up. He scooped her in his arms and held tight. Unable to stem the flow of tears another second she began to cry. Holding her close, her head buried in his chest, the cries turned to racking sobs. He felt her legs giving way and sat her down on the bench continuing to hold her, his hand stroking her red curls until finally the sobs subsided. She looked up, her tear-stained face breaking his heart. Fishing his handkerchief from his blazer pocket, he gently mopped the remaining tears from her eyes.
“Skip, you were right. Someone tried to kill Gramps.”
“Gilly, they tried? He’s okay?”
“Yes. Skip … I came home … opened the patio door and he was lying there in a pool of blood. Aggie was against him her head on his stomach, whining.”
“My God, Gilly. What did you do?”
“I kept screaming at him to keep him awake. Called 9-1-1. I don’t know how they got there so fast. I swear they arrived in minutes. They said it was a flesh wound. Honestly, I was sure his shoulder was blown away with the amount of blood.”
“Did they take him to the hospital?”
“No, no. The medics stopped the bleeding and mom and dad took him to his doctor this morning. But, Skip, Aggie was still whining and I went to her. There was a pool of blood under her paws. One of the medics tended to her … he said she was hit in her tail. Skip, mom just called. The vet said he had to cut off a few inches of her tail. Oh, Skip, I’m so sorry.”
Skip started to laugh, and Gilly feeling relief after letting go in Skip’s arms, giggled with him. “Aggie will wear whatever is left of her tail as a badge of honor. You wait and see.”
A new tear fell from Gilly’s eye and Skip tenderly blotted it away with his damp handkerchief.
“Now, young lady, I presume you are on your way to school. Is that where you want to go, or head back across the sound?”
“Go to school.”
“Okay, I’ll drop you off. You call me when your classes are over and I’ll pick you up, take you to the ferry, and then we’ll drive to your grandfather’s. I want to be sure he’s okay and then pet my dog, if she’s not too embarrassed to be seen.”
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THE SUN DIPPED IN the sky as Gilly parked behind her dad’s car and Skip pulled in beside her. He jumped out, scooted around to her door and helped her out. Hand-in-hand they walked down to the house. Anne opened the door, smiling at her daughter who suddenly appeared as a couple with the reporter by her side.
Will joined his wife as hugs and handshakes were shared. Agatha squirted between the grownup people her bandaged stump moving slightly, and jumped up on her master who quickly knelt beside her. Whining she bathed his face as he scratched her long floppy ears.
Gilly ran down the hall to the kitchen to give Gramps sitting at the kitchen table a kiss and a very gentle hug. Skip strode into the kitchen and took Gramps hand on his good arm and squeezed. “Nice to see you, sir. From what Gilly’s told me, you had quite an adventurous night.”
“Yes, you could say that, son. That dog of yours saved my life. Warned me. Course, I walked right into a bullet, sort of.”
Anne and Will joined the group, putting their arms around their daughter.
“Will, I think we would all enjoy a bottle of Gramps merlot tonight. Would you do the honors?” Anne said putting five goblets on the table.
“Bring out two bottles, son. I feel like celebrating,” Gramps said. “Skip you sit right here next to me so Agatha can be next to us both. She’s feeling a little sorry for herself. No dog likes to lose part of its tail.”
“I suspected we’d want to have a hearty dinner together, and how nice Skip could join us.” Anne pulled a tray of biscuits from the oven, piled them into a basket, setting it on the table. Gilly served everyone a bowl of stew, piping hot out of the Crockpot.
Sitting down, Anne put her hands out for everyone to join in saying Grace. “Will, would you please.”
They bowed their heads as Will swallowed a lump in his throat. “Dear Lord, thank you for bringing all of us to your table this day. We thank you for sparing my dad and, of course, his faithful friend. Amen.”
Gilly was gripping Skip’s hand, afraid to let go. Raising her hand to his lips, he kissed the top—showing her everything was alright. She let her breath out releasing her grip. Her dad hopped up and poured the wine.
The tension was easing.
Dinner turned lively mostly at the expense of Agatha’s tail. Lying between Gramps and Skip she kept licking her bandage. Coco sitting by her side watched with interest.
“What do you bet, the two of them have that bandage off before morning,” Gramps chuckled.
Anne presented a pineapple upside-down cake and a canister of whipped cream. “Everyone want coffee, except the tea-man?”
Gilly cleared the table and was surprised when Skip jumped up to help. Was there nothing about this man not to like? In only a few visits he had eased into her life. Not only hers, but seemed to fill a void in her family as well. Walking back and forth clearing the table he purposely kept brushing her arm. Of course, each time she leaned in … just a little. Remembering the strength of his arms when he comforted her this morning, a warm feeling flowed through her body. She quickly sat down after serving the coffee, her mom setting a teacup in front of Gramps.
“Clay, unless you’d rather not, I sure would like to hear what happened last night,” Skip said. “Did you recognize the man? I guess it was a man?”
“No problem, son. Yes, it was a man. Although I couldn’t see much of him with the slicker he had on—covered his head. It all happened so fast. Honestly, I could have interrupted a robbery, but … with everything that’s been going on with that John Doe, I just don’t think he was a robber. That deputy—
“Kracker?” Skip asked.
“Yes, that’s his name and a forensic officer, questioned me. The forensic guy dusted the patio door for fingerprints but, being we all use that door, he didn’t think he’d be able to pick up a clean print. None of us could figure why the man picked this house, except we kept coming back to John Doe, and that cup of tea I gave him.”
“Skip, I guess you have another incident to write about,” Will said, cutting into a piece of cake with his fork.
“No. No story. I feel bad enough I put your name in the paper the first time, Clay.”
The Wilder’s looked at him, surprised. He was a reporter, a crime reporter.
“I don’t want to draw any more attention to you and your family.” He looked down into a pair of warm green eyes, sparkling back at him. A hint of a tear developed a
s she turned and kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Skip cleared his throat and added, “Of course, you do have the best guard dog in the world protecting you.”
Gramps smiled and, bending slightly, gave Agatha’s silky head a pat. She raised her tail about a half inch in response.
Chapter 23
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STUDENTS STREAMED INTO THE Design Academy classroom, their Wednesday assignment in hand: present sketches of two pieces to be designed during the quarter.
Miss Blackstone was to offer a critique to help students avoid design flaws—part of her Technical Design Sketching curriculum. Next week the students were scheduled to meet in the sewing room with their fabric to sew samples of the designs—an important step bringing the sketches to life.
Gilly and Maria laid out their sketchpads on the table. They sat ready to listen to the instructor critique the student’s designs. Her intent—they could learn from each other’s mistakes as well as ideas.
“You may find the pieces you design for this class suitable for inclusion in a collection. By the way, please raise your hands if you plan to enter the competition?”
Everyone raised their hands—thirteen girls and four young men.
“Very good. Because you’re all going to enter, next Monday we’ll start work on five looks. As you design your pieces, keep in mind your story. Colors and fabrics should complement each other—nothing helter-skelter. A story idea could be the use of animal prints—one piece dominate, the rest featuring a trim, a play on the colors creating a cohesive unit or a look inspired by a movie, a city, a culture, a country such as Africa or China. Ideas are endless. Use today’s two pieces you’re crafting as a springboard to the remaining three looks for the competition’s spring-collection.”
One by one the students were called to the front of the room to show one of the two designs they had sketched, and to describe the fabric they intended to use, the color, and construction method—type of seams, contour and draping of the garment, and why a patron might choose to buy the piece.
Miss Blackstone gave the presenter useful tips as to how their design could be improved, and areas where the student might have trouble with the fabric they chose.
Gilly was up next. She walked to the front of the class with an air of confidence which she didn’t feel inside, her legs numb as if they would give way at any moment. But the critique went well and Miss Blackstone complemented her on the design, her ideas for fabric, and particularly why a career woman would choose the design. She sat down as Maria walked passed to give her presentation.
“Nice job, Gilly,” she whispered trying to hide her nervousness, but the slight shaking of the paper in her hand gave her away. Maria held her sketch up to the class and began to describe the design but the instructor interrupted her midsentence.
“Maria, this design is not going to work at all with the fabric you are suggesting.” Miss Blackstone pointed to the sketch. “Draping as you envision is not possible. You must start over. I want to see your revised sketch on Monday.”
Maria’s mouth hung open. Horrified, she turned to stone.
“You can return to your seat, Maria. Class dismissed.”
Gilly ran up to her friend, gently tugged her arm, guiding her back to the table. She packed both of their shoulder bags, and led her friend from the classroom. Maria robotically moved one foot in front of the other, staring ahead, her face expressionless.
“Miss Blackstone was just tired, Maria. You were the last one up. Don’t worry about it. Come on let’s go outside and eat our sandwiches,” Gilly said, linking her free hand through Maria’s arm.
Maria’s blank eyes filled with tears. “Gilly, is my design that horrible? Why am I even here? I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can. Chalk it up to a bad day. Here, here’s a tissue. We’ll eat our lunch and then we’ll go over your design. You’ll see. It’ll be okay.”
Gilly took her hand and led her outside. The girls sat on the grass under a large maple tree. The dappled rays of the sun warmed the air on this first day of October and, with Gilly’s help, Maria made changes to her design. Finishing her lunch, Maria returned to the building to repair her makeup. Gilly told her she’d meet her in their next class.
Leaning against the tree in the warm sunshine, Gilly thought about Miss Blackstone’s harsh words. “O’Malley, I think I just saw an inkling of how brutal this new world of mine can be. I have to toughen up. Oops, there’s my phone … Skip, hi.”
“How’s your grandfather?”
“Gramps is great other than he can’t raise his right arm much.”
“And, Aggie?”
“Oh, my, are we missing our doggie?” Gilly giggled as she picked a big yellow dandelion from the grass. “Her tail seems to be healing nicely … with Coco’s help, of course.”
“Glad to hear it. I bought her a rawhide bone, a big one and I’m looking at her favorite toy. Can I meet you at the ferry on your way home … unless you have a hot date, in which case I’ll—
"Stop it, Mister Reporter. I’d be happy to meet you at the ferry being as you have such a fine get-well present. Agatha will be happy to know your thinking of her. Do you remember what I whispered in your ear at lunch the day you suggested Agatha should stay with Gramps?”
“Gilly, I’ll never forget. You nibbled my ear.”
“I did not. You turned your head. That’s what happened my friend.”
“We can replay your nibble if you like,” he said loving the moment. “I do remember enjoying myself with your family.”
“I did not nibble! I said you may lose your dog because Gramps won’t let her go back home with you and he will spoil her rotten.”
“Everyone spoils her, even Coco. What ferry are you taking?”
“The 3:45. Meet you out front so you don’t have to park. What’s her favorite toy?”
“A stuffed camel I bought years ago when I was in Scottsdale with my parents—Camelback Mountain. Stuffed camel.”
“I got it. Meet you at 3:00, camel-keeper.”
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SKIP HUNG UP THE phone, leaned back in his rickety desk chair with Agatha’s stuffed camel sitting on his knee. A smile crossed his face at the thought of seeing Gilly later. Maybe she’d have dinner with him … take the next ferry. He glanced over the afternoon’s edition of the police report.
“The Edmonds police reported that Lester Tweed was found dead in an alley as the result of an apparent overdose. No next of kin could be found.”
Chapter 24
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THE BUS ROLLED UP to the ferry terminal and stopped. Gilly quickly moved into the aisle and stepped off. She found a spot to wait for Skip her mind elsewhere, mulling over the day’s events and the angst she felt for Maria when Miss Blackstone tore into her design.
“Hey, Gilly.” Skip rolled down the car window calling to her. “Do you have time for a drink before heading across the sound?”
Gilly hurried up to the car, stooping to see in through the open window. “Sure. I can catch the next one—an hour.”
“Stay here, I’ll park and we can walk over to Elliott’s Oyster House. The bar shouldn’t be busy. Early for commuters.”
Entering the restaurant the hostess glanced at the Seattle Times reporter badge and ushered them to a prime spot. Gilly smiled up at him raising her eyebrow as he slid her chair into the table. Was it because he was a reporter, or the casual way he wore his navy blazer, or the fact that he was so darn handsome. There she was sitting opposite Skip at a window table, sipping white wine and holding a stuffed camel on her lap.
“So, Agatha is behaving herself?” Skip tilted a brown bottle, pouring beer into his glass, a nice head forming on top.
“She’s a love. Before she was wounded Coco slinked within a few feet of her. They just stared at each other. If one moved too quickly, the other scooted away. Now, they sleep curled up next to each other.” Gilly took another sip of her ice-cold wine and clos
ed her eyes. “This is very nice. Glad you suggested it.” Sighing, she looked at him. “How is my fav crime reporter today?”
Skip smiled. “I like that … fav crime reporter.” He tapped his glass to hers. “He’s pretty good but I can’t put the puzzle together. Missing a key piece. Probably more than one.”
“Is John Doe the beginning of your dream—becoming a big-time reporter?”
“Yes and no. After earning my journalism degree at the University of Washington two years ago, I worked up from copywriter to reporter at the Times. But I’m not giving up on the big stuff. My dream, as you call it, is to write … crime still, but like Agatha Christie.”
“You’re kidding. The famous mystery writer?”
“Absolutely. That’s why I named my hound Agatha. At my house, dad had the police scanner on high volume. Drove my mom nuts. Then he and I would spin a story around what the police found. He’d check the paper every day to see if we were right. If not, we’d continue putting the clues together trying to solve the crime.”
“He must be crazy proud of you. Do the two of you still listen to the scanner?”
“We sure do. Not as much because I’m now a big guy with a job,” he said smiling, taking a sip of beer and wiping the foam from his upper lip. “And, guess what?”
“What?” Gilly loved to see Skip get so excited about his dad and his job.
“He also thinks John Doe was murdered.”
“Well then, murder it is. Thanks, by the way, for not writing about Gramps being shot.”
“I called Deputy Kracker after leaving you on Monday. He thought it could have been a robbery gone bad, but—
“But—
“His gut, and Troxell’s, his partner, think it had something to do with John Doe.”
“Seems like a lot of body parts—guts, bones—are saying the same thing.” Gilly looked out the window. She didn’t want to think about that night, Gramps lying in his blood. Turning, she looked back to Skip, her eyes crinkling with a smile. “Have you written any stories about the father and son crime fighters?”
Murder by Design Trilogy Page 12
