Designs On Murder

by Gayle Leeson

“It’s weird.”

  “Very weird,” she agreed.

  There came a tap on the door, and then Connie popped her head inside. “Oh, you’re working on a design. How cool!” She came inside to take a look at the sketch, and I saw that she was carrying a mug of tea. “I brought you a cup of kava.” She placed the cup on my worktable. “May I?”

  I nodded, and she picked up my sketchbook.

  “Amanda, this is fantastic! You’re such an artist.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t drink that tea,” Max said.

  “I...I appreciate that,” I said, trying to ignore Max for the moment.

  “This dress is gorgeous,” Connie said. “Who is it for?”

  “Whomever wants it.” I smiled. “I thought it would be a lovely prom or bridesmaid dress.”

  “I don’t know about bridesmaids—the women who wear this would outshine the bride.” Connie chuckled and handed back the sketchbook. She lowered her voice. “Again, I’m sorry about last night. I just wanted to explain the situation before you met Guy, and I didn’t want you to say anything to Janice about it in case he changes his mind and decides to find someone else—which would be the best thing he could do.”

  “Right,” I said.

  “Anyway, I guess I’d better get back before some customer wanders in and thinks I’ve deserted the place.” She left by the same door she’d entered. I was guessing she intended to make herself some tea.

  “Do not drink that tea,” Max repeated as soon as Connie had left.

  “I’m not going to. Even though I think it’s fine.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “No. I don’t know that. I don’t know anything. I don’t know anyone here.”

  “You know me, kid. I won’t steer you wrong. Someone in this place was murdered, and you and I are the only ones we know for sure didn’t do it.”

  “There is that.” I was eager to change the subject, so I told Max what I’d learned about her friend Hazel.

  “Poor Hazel.” She gave me a sad smile. “She was such a pretty, vivacious little thing. I hate to think of her blind and frail.”

  “It’s too strange to be a coincidence, don’t you think?” I asked. “You got dizzy and fell, and a few days later she went blind. Do you think there was something you were both exposed to?”

  “All I know we were both exposed to was that hooch her cousin sent home with her from Knoxville.”

  AROUND ELEVEN A.M., I was altering one of the ready-to-wear dresses for a lady who’d been in and bought the piece earlier. I told her I’d have the dress ready for her to pick up at lunchtime. There was a knock on my door, and before I could get from the atelier to the front room, two husky men walked into the room. One was dressed in jeans, biker boots, and a black t-shirt. The other wore greasy coveralls and work boots. Thankfully, they closed the door behind them; but since Jazzy skedaddled under the table near the window, I didn’t have to worry about her running out into the hallway.

  I was guessing they were in the wrong place, but I smiled and said, “Hello. Welcome to Designs on You. I’m Amanda. How may I help you?”

  The man in the coveralls scowled as he glanced around the shop. “We’re looking for Ford.”

  “Oh, yes. You’ll want to go up the stairs and to your right. I was heading up there anyway. I’ll take you.” I wasn’t heading up there anyway, but I thought I could say hello to Jason and maybe call the police if the men were here to beat up Ford or something.

  I led the way out of my shop and closed the door. Then I walked up the stairs. One of the men fell into step behind me, and the other was at my side.

  “You know Ford?” the man beside me asked.

  “I do. I bought a copy of A Tale of Two Cities from him. What do you enjoy reading?”

  “Lots of things.”

  Ford’s door was open. I caught his eye and frowned as I glanced at the man beside me.

  “These men are here to see you,” I said to Ford.

  “Great. Thanks, Amanda.”

  “I’m going over to Jason’s office,” I said.

  “All right. See you later.” Ford ushered the men inside and closed his door.

  I didn’t immediately hear any loud crashes or grunts of pain. Maybe the men were readers after all.

  I tapped on Jason’s door before popping my head inside.

  “Hey, there.” He looked up from his computer and smiled. “This is a nice surprise.”

  “Thanks. I was in the neighborhood...”

  He chuckled. “I’m glad. Come on in.”

  I went inside and closed the door behind me. “I actually brought a couple of men up to Ford’s shop. I thought they might be here to cause trouble for him or something, but they seemed to be all right.”

  “Rough-looking characters, huh?”

  I nodded. “They didn’t look like your typical Antiquated Editions customers.”

  “And what do typical Antiquated Editions customers look like?” Jason asked.

  “Old people who like to read? Black horn-rimmed glasses perched on their skinny noses? Pocket protectors filled with expensive bookmarks?”

  “No way.” He scoffed. “They carry their expensive bookmarks in black velvet-lined cases.”

  “Oh, that’s right!” I laughed. “Actually, I’m an Antiquated Editions customer.”

  “Then where are you hiding your horned-rims?”

  “In my purse with my expensive bookmarks.”

  He stood and came around the desk. “I enjoyed last night.”

  “So did I. Thank you.”

  “Would you like to do it again sometime?”

  “I would.”

  We heard voices nearing the door.

  “That’s my next appointment,” Jason said. “I’ll come down and talk with you in a little while.”

  “All right. See you then.”

  I left and was nearly at the bottom of the stairs when a man came into the building with a bouquet of red roses. I thought I recognized him as the man who was with Connie last night, but I wasn’t certain.

  “Pretty flowers,” I said.

  “Thank you.” He brushed past me on the staircase. “Wish me luck.”

  “Good luck.”

  Ella hurried out of Everything Paper and craned her neck to watch the man’s ascent. “What’s going on?”

  I shrugged. “That man came in with some flowers, asked me to wish him luck, and then hurried on upstairs. I guess someone has an admirer.”

  “I couldn’t see him terribly well, but he looked like that man who used to date Janice.” Ella scoffed. “Although I’m not sure Janice ever really cut ties with Guy, even when she was going out with Mark.”

  “I’d heard that Janice and Mark were seeing each other,” I said. “But I thought they kept their relationship under wraps for some reason.”

  “They were trying to keep it from Mark’s mother, who’d be beside herself to learn that her son was dating a woman not much younger than she. Everyone here knew what was going on though.”

  “Did that man who just went to take Janice a bouquet of roses know what was going on? I can’t help but wonder if he did and if he’s the jealous type.”

  Ella patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry yourself overmuch about Mark’s death. Frank and I believe we’re safe here and that the person who killed Mark was a client. We let him upgrade our website for us.” She clicked her tongue. “He not only overcharged us, but he did shoddy work.” We believe that’s why the police took all his files and his computer. They think it was a client too. Don’t worry—they’ll probably make an arrest any day now.”

  “I hope so.”

  I walked back into my office, ready to get back to work. Max was at the table talking softly to Jazzy.

  “I’m sorry those palookas scared our sweet kitty,” Max told me. “They did look like a couple of ruffians.”

  “They did. It usually takes a lot to ruffle Jazzy’s feathers, but they sure got the job done quickl
y.”

  “I’ve been trying to find out more about what happened to Hazel, but it looks like other than reading and watching movies, I don’t have the hang of this contraption yet.” She nodded toward the tablet.

  “We’ll look for news on Hazel as soon as I finish these alterations, okay?”

  “That’s swell. Thanks.”

  Max resumed the book she was reading while Jazzy lay curled up near her, and I went back into the workshop. As I worked, my mind wandered to the various people who had visited Shops on Main just this morning, and I wondered if we’d ever find out who killed Mark.

  { }

  Chapter Twelve

  I

  was working on my customer’s dress alterations when Connie came into the front room.

  “Hello!” she called.

  “Back here.”

  She walked over to the sewing machine. “What are you working on?”

  “A customer bought this dress earlier today, and she asked to have it tailored for her.”

  “Oh...that’s great...isn’t it?”

  “It is,” I replied. “If she’s happy with my work, it’s likely she’ll be back.”

  “I don’t see how anyone could not be happy with your work. Your designs are beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  Connie rolled a chair over so she could sit near me. “I saw Janice leave with Guy.”

  I nodded. “I saw him come in with flowers...red roses, as a matter of fact. He looked like he meant business.”

  “Yeah. I hope things work out for them, don’t you?”

  I simply shrugged.

  “What?” she asked. “You don’t think they make a nice couple?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t even met him, and I’m barely acquainted with Janice,” I said. “But it seems to me that she doesn’t care about Guy if she was involved with Mark until...well, you know.”

  “True, but I don’t believe Janice was ever all that serious about Mark.”

  “Maybe not, but it must’ve been serious to Mark. I mean, he talked with his mother about her.”

  Max appeared at my right shoulder. “Except he didn’t tell Mommy dearest that his beloved was closer to the nursing home than she was!”

  I lowered my head until I could hide my smile. I really did wish Max would stop popping up unexpectedly to provide commentary, no matter how amusing it was.

  Connie sighed. “I can’t help it. I want everyone to be happy.”

  “That’s a noble goal,” I told her.

  Max snorted. “And about as likely as a pig growing wings and taking flight. Or me taking up knitting.” She paused. “Do you think I could take up knitting?”

  “I don’t know,” I murmured.

  “About what?” Connie asked.

  “About...about anything.”

  Connie patted my shoulder. “Poor dear. You’ve had a roller-coaster of an opening, haven’t you?”

  Ford opened the door leading to the workshop. “Hey, sorry for interrupting.”

  “No problem,” I said. “What’s up?”

  “I’m going out for food and wondered if you guys would like anything.”

  “Nothing for me, thanks,” Connie said. “I brought lunch from home.”

  “So did I.”

  Ford grinned at me. “Thanks for bringing my customers upstairs earlier, but I’m sure they could’ve found me on their own.”

  I looked down at my hands. “I was worried they were up to something. They didn’t strike me as particularly scholarly types.”

  He laughed out loud at my comment. Then he said, “Hon, I’m sorry Mark’s death got you off to such a rocky start at Shops on Main.”

  “I was just this minute telling her the same thing,” Connie said.

  “Well, I hope your fears won’t cause you to leave. You’ve brought a breath of fresh air to the place.”

  “Thanks, Ford. I don’t have any plans to go anywhere, but I do feel that we need to look out for each other.”

  “Excellent point.” Connie put her hands on her elbows and hugged her arms to her chest. “We should do that no matter what. By the way, Ford, did the men Amanda brought upstairs buy anything?”

  “One did—a 1960s collector’s edition of Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea.”

  “Ernie was a handsome bird, but I always preferred Fitzgerald’s writing,” Max said.

  I WAS SAYING GOODBYE to Martha Brighton, the woman who’d bought the dress and had it altered, when Olga, Taylor, and a diminutive young woman Taylor introduced as Hannah came into Designs on You.

  “I really want that green dress to wear to prom in the spring,” Taylor said. “Only I want it in a bright pink. Can you do that?”

  “Of course,” I said.

  Taylor shot Hannah a look of triumph. “Told ya. She can do anything.”

  “Well, I don’t know about anything—”

  “If I can find a dress I want, you can make it for me?” Hannah interrupted me.

  “Most likely.” I turned to Taylor. “Did you bring a fabric swatch with the color pink you have in mind?”

  “No...but I’ll know it when I see it. What have you got?”

  I opened my laptop and logged onto a favorite fabric wholesaler’s website. Taylor, Olga, and I looked through fabrics until we found Taylor’s desired shade of pink in a bolt of chiffon. Hannah was too busy scrolling through her phone to pay much attention to us, but she gave Taylor an obligatory thumbs up.

  I took Taylor and Olga back to the atelier where I took Taylor’s measurements for the dress.

  Hannah burst into workshop as I was measuring Taylor from the base of her neck to the center of her waistline. “I found it! I found my dress!”

  I wrote down the measurement before looking at Hannah’s phone. The dress she’d found was a white strapless gown accented with black embroidery. I immediately recognized it as the dress Hubert de Givenchy designed for Audrey Hepburn to wear in the movie Sabrina.

  “Well?” Hannah stared at my face, her blue eyes sparkling. “Can you do it? Can you make this dress for me?”

  “I can.”

  With a squeal, Hannah threw her arms around my neck and nearly knocked me down hugging me. I started to remind her that the dress wouldn’t be cheap, but, of course, Taylor’s dress wouldn’t be either. If the girls didn’t want one-of-a-kind dresses, they wouldn’t be here.

  I finished Taylor’s measurements, and Olga wrote me a check for the retainer. Hannah promised that she and her mom would be back on Saturday.

  “Jolly good,” Max said when we were alone in the shop. “You should be proud of yourself.”

  “I am.” I sat on one of the wing chairs by the window.

  Max appeared to sit on the other chair. “Then why don’t you sound happier?”

  “No reason. I suppose I’m just a little tired.”

  “Spill it. You know I’ll find out eventually.”

  “Jason told me this morning that he’d be down to talk with me later today. I thought we were going to make plans to go out again.”

  Jazzy came over and hopped onto my lap. I stroked her short gray fur and was soothed by the sound of her purring.

  “He’s been fairly busy today,” Max said. “Cut the poor man a little slack.”

  “I know he has work to do. I’ve had a lot to do myself.” I blew out a breath. “I just don’t want to get my hopes up where he’s involved, you know?”

  “Applesauce! The man likes you, or else he wouldn’t have taken you to dinner last night.”

  “I know.” I let my thoughts wander.

  “You promised to help me find out more about what happened to Hazel,” Max said.

  “All right.” I placed Jazzy onto the floor and went over to the desk where my laptop sat. I opened a new tab. “You said the only thing you two had in common was the liquor she brought from her cousin’s house in Knoxville?”

  “That’s right.”

  I typed 1930 booze into the search bar and found ar
ticles by Time and Slate that suggested the alcohol was to blame for what had happened to both women. I was skimming one article, and then I turned to Max. “We don’t have to do this.”

  “Yeah...please...I want to know.”

  The Time article pointed out that thousands of deaths per year could be traced to alcohol poisoning, but the really toxic substance that can end up in moonshine is methanol. I opened yet another tab and searched for methanol.

  “Methanol, or wood alcohol, can lead to blindness, paralysis or death. Methanol metabolizes into formaldehyde in the body...” I stopped and scanned. “Max, it says here that the effects of methanol include fatigue, headache, nausea, vertigo, dizziness... That’s what caused you to fall down the stairs.”

  “And what caused poor Hazel to go blind.”

  With a little more digging, Max and I discovered that the government added toxic ingredients to denatured industrial alcohols during Prohibition to make their consumption deadly.

  We were still reading about “the chemists’ war” in the 2010 Slate article when an older man ambled into Designs on You and sat on one of the navy wingback chairs.

  The man turned his rheumy eyes toward me and smiled. “Hello.”

  “Good afternoon,” I said. “Welcome to Designs on You.”

  He nodded toward the mannequin wearing the royal blue ready-to-wear dress. “My mother had a dress kinda like that one...quite a high-end garment, I imagine. Paid upwards of twenty dollars for it, if memory serves.”

  “I’m sure she looked beautiful in it.”

  “She did. I was awfully proud of her. She wore that dress when we went on the train. It was after Papa died during the war...in France.” He looked off into the distance as if he were watching the events unfold on a movie screen. “We rode the Birmingham Special from Pennsylvania to Bristol...Mother, Roscoe, and I.”

  “I remember the Birmingham Special,” Max said. “It was a passenger train that stopped at the Bristol Train Station. Mother, Dorothy, and I took that train to New York City once.”

  “Roscoe was four years old.” The man continued his narrative. “I was six and thought I was the man of the house now.” He chuckled. “A man at six. The things we get in our heads.”

  “It sounds as if your mother was a brave woman,” I told him.