The Quick and the Thread

by Amanda Lee

  “No. It was shortly before Tim’s death.”

  “What I can’t understand is how Four Square Development was—or is—still operating with the four partners in prison,” I said. “But your husband tried to scratch a message on my storeroom wall about Four Square’s fifth. And I . . . well, I’m starting to think that maybe he wanted to talk with me because he knew my name was in that ledger.”

  “Today I took a look through Tim’s papers, like I promised Riley, and it seems to me that Tim knew quite a lot about Four Square Development, Bill Trelawney, and his silent partner. I think that’s why he’s dead.”

  My heartbeat sped up. “Lorraine, are you telling me you know the identity of Four Square’s fifth partner?”

  “No. At first, I thought it was Bill Trelawney, but in an e-mail he had printed out, Tim called Bill small potatoes and insisted Bill introduce him to the fifth partner.” She took a drink of her coffee. “Tim thought he was working his way up through the ranks and that he would eventually work his way into one of the positions vacated by the members of Four Square Development who’d gone to prison.”

  “Why would he want that?” I asked. “He saw where it got the other four.”

  Lorraine closed her eyes. “I believe he thought lightning wouldn’t strike in the same place twice.” She opened her eyes and expelled a long, sad breath. “He’d tell me he was working on something that could make enough money to get us out of Tallulah Falls. I never really knew what it was, but I didn’t ask, either. I didn’t care.” A tear trickled out the corner of her left eye. “I drove him to this with my materialistic attitude. I know I did.”

  “He was responsible for his own actions,” I said, taking a drink of now-lukewarm coffee and remembering what Detective Nash had said about Lorraine’s greed and how she’d browbeaten poor Timothy.

  “What happened?” I asked. “Didn’t he ever get what he considered enough money for the two of you to follow through with your plans?”

  “No. Then he lost the store, and I left him.” She reached for a napkin and dabbed at her eyes and nose. “I thought it would make him come to his senses and stop chasing whatever crazy scheme he was involved with.”

  I got up to get the coffeepot and topped off our cups. There wasn’t a delicate way to ask Lorraine if she’d screwed up and the money had meant more to Timothy than she had, so I didn’t say anything. Instead, I sat back down, poured milk into my coffee, and watched it turn a delicious shade of caramel.

  “The day he died, he’d called me and said, ‘By tonight, we’ll have everything we’ll ever need.’ Then he said he’d be by to get me and . . . and he . . . he told me he loved me.” She sobbed into the napkin. “I waited for him until the police came that next morning.” She reached for another napkin.

  “I’m sorry I blamed you. I needed to blame someone.” Her shoulders shook as she buried her face in her hands.

  “We have to find the person who’s really at fault,” I said. “We have to find the silent partner. None of us will be safe until we do.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  I sat up late that night, stitching and thinking. By the next morning, I’d finished my tote bag, and had brought it with me to share with the class that day. Now I was working on the first of Riley’s baby bibs—the sleepy teddy bear. I figured it shouldn’t take long to finish, and it was so adorable, it was a pleasure to watch it come together—sort of like a jigsaw puzzle. Plus, it was a welcome distraction.

  After Lorraine had left the night before, I’d cleaned up the kitchen, let Angus inside, and tried to come up with a plot worthy of a television mystery.

  Charlie’s Angels would have me go to work as a teller with big hair in a short dress with a revealing neck-line to determine whether or not the “silent partner” worked at the bank.

  Columbo would have me wearing a trench coat and questioning the residents of Tallulah Falls with such inquiries as “Ah . . . Blake . . . I . . . ah . . .” I’d scratch my head. “I can’t seem to recall. Where were you the night of the murda?”

  Kojak would have me going from person to person, asking, “Who loves ya, baby?” while sucking on a lollipop. Plus, I’d be bald. I shuddered at the very idea.

  Remington Steele would have me working side by side with Detective Nash, who’d suavely take all the credit while I did all the work.

  Murder, She Wrote would have Todd demanding, “What business is it of yours that my name was in Bill Trelawney’s ledger, Ms. Singer?”

  By the end of the evening, I’d decided to turn this case over to Psych, Monk, or The Dukes of Hazzard. The first two because I love the shows, and those guys can figure anything out. And make you laugh while doing it. The third because, at this point, it would be such a welcome relief to blame everything on Boss Hogg and call it a day. The trouble was Boss Hogg was a buffoon, not a murderer.

  Sadie came in after MacKenzies’ Mochas’ morning rush. Since some brain fog lingered from last night, I didn’t think to conceal what I was doing until after Sadie had already seen that I was working on a bib.

  Seeing the look in my eyes, she said, “Blake told you.”

  I figured I’d probably gotten Blake into enough trouble already, but then I reasoned it wasn’t my fault his name was in Bill Trelawney’s ledger. It took me so long to respond to Sadie’s statement that I didn’t have to.

  “What did he tell you?” she asked.

  “This is for Riley Kendall, actually,” I said softly. “But Blake did tell me a little. Only that when you found out you had the flu, you were disappointed you weren’t pregnant.”

  “I was disappointed,” she said. “Now I’m thinking maybe it’s for the best. Maybe Blake and I aren’t ready to have a baby after all.”

  I didn’t respond to that one. It wasn’t for me to express an opinion on whether or not Blake and Sadie were ready to start a family.

  She picked up the picture of the finished design I was stitching. “This is sweet.” She set it back down. “What do you think?”

  “Oh, I love it. I think it’s as cute as can be.” Whenever possible, go for the easy answer.

  “You know I wasn’t talking about the bib.”

  Unfortunately, it’s not always possible to get away with the easy answer, especially with someone who knows you well. I sighed. “Only you and Blake can decide when you’re ready to take that step.” I should’ve quit while I was ahead, but I didn’t. “Blake spoke as if you’d already made that decision.”

  “We had. But now he’s raised all these trust issues. First, there was the ledger, and then he told you something he and I had agreed to keep between us.”

  “Maybe he thought you’d already told me or that you wouldn’t care if I knew.”

  “That’s beside the point, Marcy. I’ve always had the utmost trust in Blake, and now that trust has been shaken.”

  I silently went back to cross-stitching the bear.

  “So how come you’re making this for Riley?” Sadie asked.

  “She commissioned it,” I said. “She just learned she’s pregnant with a girl, and she wants me to make some bibs and a blanket.”

  “I see. Well, good for her.” She gave me a wry laugh. “You should start doing seminars: How to Make Your Enemies Your Bosom Buddies.”

  I smiled. “Maybe I should. Last night, I had coffee with Lorraine Enright.”

  Sadie blinked. “You had coffee with Lorraine Enright? The same Lorraine Enright who barged into your home and threatened to file a wrongful-death suit against you?”

  “That’s the one. With all the sugar she put in her coffee, I doubt she ever went to sleep last night . . . even though the coffee was decaffeinated.”

  “Are you out of your mind?” she asked. “First you buddy up with Riley, and now Lorraine? Would you like to go down to the beach and throw chum in the water so we can draw more sharks in?”

  I laughed. “That’s a good one. Seriously, though, I need those women’s help if I’m ever going to find out what really
happened to Timothy Enright and Bill Trelawney. What’s that old saying? ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’ ”

  “Just don’t lose sight of who your enemies are. Neither one of those women is trustworthy. When Riley dumped Todd a few years ago for Keith Kendall, I knew she was a backstabber.”

  “Wait. If Todd and Riley were an item, then why had Todd and Norman Patrick never met before we visited Mr. Patrick at the prison?” I asked.

  Sadie rolled her eyes. “Because Todd wasn’t good enough for Miss High-and-Mighty to introduce to her father, that’s why. Todd was only a stepping-stone on Riley’s path to Keith. And, believe me, she stomped all over him.”

  “Maybe so. But Todd told me he’s known Riley for years, and, in fact, he couldn’t say enough good things about her.”

  Sadie looked down at her folded hands.

  My eyes widened. “He’s still hung up on her! That’s why you fixed the two of us up the night of my open house. I’m supposed to be Todd’s rebound.” I slammed the bib I was working on down onto the ottoman and stood up. “Thank you so very much, Sadie. I truly appreciate it.”

  “Look, it’s not like that. Todd has dated since the breakup with Riley. After all, that was more than three years ago. But there haven’t been any serious relationships.” She shrugged. “Kind of like you and David.”

  I shook my head. “Don’t even go there. I cannot believe you raked me over the coals for a little harmless flirting with Ted Nash after you fixed me up with someone who’s still pining over another woman.”

  “He isn’t pining,” Sadie said. “He’s over Riley. I just didn’t want to see him get hurt again, that’s all.”

  “You didn’t want to see him get hurt? That’s precious. Thanks again.”

  “What? I don’t want to see you get hurt, either.”

  “Why did you even want me to come here, Sadie?” I asked, my eyes filling with tears. “Why did you even bother?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered, heading for the door. “Maybe it was a mistake.”

  “Maybe it was.”

  After Sadie left, I went to the bathroom to dry my eyes and repair my makeup. I heard the bell jingle and knew someone had come in. I wondered if Sadie had returned, so I waited a second to give her a chance to call out for me before I came back out into the shop. I needn’t have wasted the thought. It wasn’t Sadie. It was Vera, and she had already settled in on the navy sofa facing the window and begun stitching.

  “Hello,” she said, smiling at me. Her smile faded. “You’ve been crying.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “No, you aren’t.” She patted the sofa cushion. “Come sit here by me. Is it that identity-theft thing?”

  “No.” I sank onto the sofa beside her. “It’s a fight-with-my-best-friend thing.”

  “You mean Sadie?”

  I nodded. “We got into a huge argument, and I asked her why she even bothered getting me to move here, and she said it was a mistake.” Fresh tears threatened, and I placed my index fingers beneath my eyes to dam them. I refused to give Sadie the satisfaction of making me redo my makeup a second time. Even if she didn’t know it.

  Vera clucked her tongue. “You know as well as I do your moving to Tallulah Falls was not a mistake.”

  “I wish I did know that.”

  “I believe deep down you do,” Vera said. “As for you and Sadie, the two of you are enough like sisters that you probably fight and make up on a regular basis. Am I right?”

  “We’ve fought a lot more since I moved here.”

  “Because you’ve seen each other more. You’re like Lucy and Ethel. They fought and made up every other episode of I Love Lucy.”

  I almost grinned at that.

  “Tell you what. John is out of town this week for some sort of banking business. Let’s you and I go out for a nice meal before class tonight. It will do us both a world of good.”

  I did smile at that. “You’re on.” I nodded toward her tote bag. “How are those half stitches coming?”

  She held the tote up proudly. “You tell me.”

  “You’re doing fantastic.” And she was, too. I could now make out the entire teacup and part of the teapot.

  Vera’s cheerful attitude was contagious. I picked up Riley’s teddy-bear bib, and Vera and I stitched and laughed and enjoyed the rest of the afternoon.

  At closing time, I left to take Angus home. Vera and I decided to meet at the restaurant in half an hour. I’d no sooner parked the Jeep than my cell phone rang. It was Todd.

  “Hey, are you busy tonight?” he asked.

  “As a matter of fact, I am.”

  “That’s right. You have class tonight, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Would you like to grab a quick bite to eat before class, then?”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t,” I said. “I have plans.” I didn’t elaborate. Let him think whatever he’d like.

  “Well, then . . . I hope you have a good time,” Todd said.

  We ended the conversation, and I ranted to Angus the entire time I was feeding him and getting myself ready to go back out.

  “Let him take some other rebound girl out to dinner,” I said. “Besides, I didn’t treat him like he did me when I asked about his name being in the ledger, did I, Angus? When he asked about dinner, I could’ve simply answered ‘Nope’ and left . . . I mean, hung up.” I turned to get Angus’ reaction. “Right?”

  He slurped his tongue up the side of my face.

  I smiled and kissed the top of his head. It was nice to know somebody loves me no matter what.

  The restaurant was so dimly lit I had a difficult time finding Vera at first. Then she stood up, yelled “Yoohoo, Marcy!” and waved.

  I grinned and refused to be embarrassed. I was here to have a good time. If Vera wanted to swing from the chandelier by her toenails, so be it. I might even be persuaded to join her.

  That scenario became more likely than I’d dreamed when I arrived at the table and saw that Vera was three-quarters of the way through her second margarita.

  The waitress came by for my drink order.

  “Water, please,” I said. “I’m the designated driver.”

  “Oh pooh,” Vera said, flinging her wrist. “You really must try the margaritas. They’re delightful.”

  I shook my head at the still-waiting waitress, and she went off to get my water.

  “This place makes the best margaritas in the whole wide world,” she said.

  I tried to steer the discussion toward more sober ground. “Does John have to work out of town often?” I asked.

  “Oh, sure. Once a month or so. It varies. Sometimes he’s gone a day, and sometimes it’s a week. You never know.” She finished the margarita. “I should have another one of these.”

  “Why don’t we wait until after we eat?” I asked. “It’ll taste so much better then.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “It will.” She grimaced. “I just remembered I forgot to each lunch today.”

  “Which is probably why those margaritas went straight to your head,” I said with a smile.

  “Better to go straight to the head than straight to the hips,” she said.

  The waitress returned with my water and took our orders. I requested the chicken Parmesan, and Vera ordered the same.

  Once the waitress left, I asked Vera, “Do you and John have any children?”

  “No.” Her eyes welled up a little. “I can’t.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Mentally, I was kicking myself. Hard. Of course Vera had no children. If she did, she’d have talked about them.

  “I’d have been a good mother,” she said.

  “I know you would have.” I quickly scanned the restaurant for something else to talk about. I saw a red-haired woman seated a few tables away with her back to us. “Say, is that Lorraine Enright?”

  Vera turned. She squinted back at me and then looked toward the redhead. “I think that is Lorraine.”

>   The woman turned to look at something to her left, and I saw that it was indeed Lorraine Enright. She noticed us and quietly said something to her dining companion, an older male. Her father, maybe? He nodded in response to whatever Lorraine said and patted her hand. She grabbed her purse and left the restaurant, going the opposite way from where Vera and I were sitting.

  After we ate, I convinced Vera to let me take her home. I told her she could call me tomorrow morning and I’d leave the shop long enough to bring her to retrieve her car.

  Class went well. Everyone seemed to like the tote bag I’d made featuring Angus’ face and embellished with dog-bone buttons. When Reggie wondered aloud where Vera could be, I mentioned we’d had dinner together but that Vera wasn’t feeling well afterward and I had taken her home.

  When I got home, Lorraine Enright had left a strange message on my answering machine.

  “I saw you and Vera Langhorne at the restaurant this evening. I’m sorry I left in such a rush. That guy I was with is a private investigator I hired to help me find out what happened to Tim and to our bank account. I didn’t want anybody to see me talking with you. It could be dangerous. For both of us.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  I stopped by MacKenzies’ Mochas before opening the shop the next morning. I’d overslept and hadn’t had time to make coffee, and I desperately needed a latte.

  “The usual?” Blake asked as I stepped up to the counter.

  “Please.”

  “So . . . how was your date last night?”

  “She was a barrel of laughs last night,” I said, “but I doubt she’ll be all that chipper this morning.”

  He gave me a lopsided grin. “She?”

  “Vera Langhorne. John is out of town, so we had dinner together before class.”

  “Ah.” He nodded and chuckled. “And here we were thinking you had a date with our resident Wyatt Earp. Todd mentioned you were busy, so we thought you might be out with Ted.”

  “We?” I asked coolly.

  “Sadie, Todd, and I.”