Thread and Dead--The Apron Shop Series

Home > Other > Thread and Dead--The Apron Shop Series > Page 8
Thread and Dead--The Apron Shop Series Page 8

by Elizabeth Penney


  Sophie and Lukas stared at each other for a moment, as if deciding who should go first. Then Lukas cleared his throat. “Everything is wonderful. We, ah, how do you say it? Cleared the air.” He nodded in emphasis. “All is good now.”

  “We met the second day I was at school,” Sophie said. “And after that we were pretty inseparable. But then … with the pressure of exams plus his graduation and my return to the States looming, well, we had a huge fight. We were pretty young and certainly not ready to settle down.” She winced. “I left Belgium without saying goodbye.”

  I hated to admit it, but this sounded somewhat similar to Sophie’s situation with Jake. Things got too intense, tempers flared, and they broke up. What if Sophie and Lukas had made a huge mistake years ago? Should I be glad they’d found each other again, instead of sad about poor Jake? But, personal feelings aside, I wanted Sophie to be happy, whether she ended up with Jake or Lukas. Or neither.

  “It was very sad,” Lukas was saying. “I sent an e-mail or two…”

  Sophie screwed up her nose in a grimace. “I never got them. The college changed our e-mail addresses. And I wrote a letter but—”

  “I moved and it never got to me.” Lukas smiled at Sophie. “But here we are. And we have another chance. Maybe,” he quickly added, no doubt picking up on her deer-in-headlights expression.

  “Another chance to be friends,” Sophie said firmly. Her voice brightened with a change of subject. “Anyway, I wanted you two to tell Lukas about the research project we discussed earlier.”

  Everyone looked at me. Oh yes, Eleanor’s mother. “Eleanor wants to learn more about her mother’s background,” I said. “We thought since you’re also from Antwerp, you might know some sources over there. And help us translate them.”

  “Sources like what?” Lukas asked, spinning his empty beer glass a quarter turn at a time. “Family genealogy, that kind of thing?”

  “Exactly,” I said. “She knows Claudia emigrated from Antwerp but that’s it. Vital records can get quite sketchy when you go back almost a hundred years.” I knew that from my own family-tree research. Birth certificates, an important source of information, were often nonexistent or destroyed. Ellis Island immigration records were helpful but names were often misspelled and other information omitted or inaccurate.

  “I’d be glad to help,” Lukas said. He pulled out his phone. “What is her name?” He typed as I told him. “And she came here in what year?”

  “In 1932,” I said. “Then she got a job as nursemaid for the Brady family. After Mr. Brady’s first wife died, she married him and had Eleanor.”

  “Quite a story,” Lukas said. “Like a fairy tale.”

  Complete with fabulous jewelry and clothing. But I didn’t mention those details. “Thanks, Lukas. I’m going to try some ideas at this end.” Including Ellis Island and steamship records.

  “I hope we can help her,” Lukas said. “She’s a wonderful woman.” His face darkened. “And I hope they figure out what happened to poor Hailey. What a tragedy.”

  Me too. As Hailey’s professor, Lukas might know something important related to her death. I racked my brain, trying to decide how to best question him. I wanted to know more about the confrontation they had on the Grille’s deck, for one thing.

  “You know who didn’t show up for work today?” Sophie said. “Brendan.”

  At first her comment seemed like a total sidebar. Then I remembered. Brendan had dated Hailey. “Does he do that often?” I asked. I knew from talking to other small businesses that unreliable help was a big issue.

  “No.” Sophie made a noise of disgust. “Never. I tried calling him but it went right to voice mail. But I guess I’m going to cut him some slack. He’s probably upset over Hailey.”

  “He’s so cute,” Madison said. “I love seeing him buzz around town on that little blue scooter.”

  A blue scooter? “You know what—” I clamped my mouth shut, thinking better of mentioning my almost-accident with a blue scooter on Cliff Road. Had Brendan been driving? If so, what was he doing in that particular location so early? Had he been with Hailey? My stomach turned over. Had he killed her? I hadn’t thought to mention the incident to Anton during my interview. I really should do that right away, even though I hated to implicate the young server.

  They all gave me a funny look, so I quickly said, “I forgot what I was going to say. But Lukas, you must be devastated about Hailey. After all, she was part of your team.”

  “I really am,” Lukas said sadly. “She was so young. And brilliant, really.”

  Inhaling a deep breath, I went ahead and asked the question that had been bothering me. “But I couldn’t help but wonder though, why you two were arguing on the deck during Taste O’ the Sea? I hope it was nothing serious, and that you ended things on good terms.” A flash of heat made the top of my head tingle. I’d tried to lead into the topic subtly, but wasn’t at all sure I’d succeeded.

  Lukas lounged back in his seat, a puzzled expression in his eyes as he toyed with a napkin. “I wasn’t aware we had a witness, but since you asked…” I flushed in mortification when he paused to make his point. “Hailey was a very ambitious young lady. She and Theo are—were—competing for a prestigious and lucrative fellowship at my university. When you saw us, she was attempting to downgrade his work to me. Trying to put herself into first place.” His jaw clenched. “I don’t like such ploys and I told her so.”

  “I’m sorry I brought it up,” I mumbled. But in a way, I wasn’t. I now knew that Theo and Hailey had been rivals. And he’d been on the cliffs that morning. Another piece of information to give Anton.

  Lukas made a gesture that dismissed the topic. “It’s all moot now. And for the record, I’m never influenced by the antics of students. I have a very logical and systematic method of determining who comes out ahead.”

  “Oh yes, you do,” Sophie said, lightening the mood. “Remember those Frisbee competitions?” She and Lukas began to reminisce.

  I glanced around the room. Where was Ian? Once he showed up, I would suggest we get out of there before I put my foot in my mouth again. The last thing I wanted to do was insert myself into a police investigation. Earlier this year, I’d found myself digging into not one but two murders, mainly because my own sweet Grammie was a suspect. Hopefully Anton and his team would quickly figure out if someone had pushed Hailey off the cliff, as they suspected, and identify the culprit. The person wearing the ripped jacket.

  Dr. Ruben Janssen walked up to the booth. “Hey, hey, hey, Lukas. Here you are, with three very lovely ladies. How do you rate?” He winked at me. “Some men have all the luck.”

  Lukas greeted his colleague with a roar of joy. “Glad you could make it. Next round is on me.” He and Sophie slid out and started toward the bar.

  “Dewar’s on the rocks,” Ruben called after him. “Make it a double.”

  Madison pushed me gently. “Iris, please let me out.” Ruben moved to let me stand and Madison slipped out from behind me. “I’ll be right back,” she said. “Ladies room.”

  Ruben bowed with a sweeping gesture. “Have a seat.”

  I thought of making an excuse and escaping like everyone else, but I found myself sitting again while he took a seat opposite. Had he gotten along with Hailey, unlike Theo and Lukas? Then I scolded myself. Be good, Iris.

  He studied me with twinkling eyes, his tuft of dark hair and rosy cheeks reminding me of a good-humored elf. “I’m having fun tonight,” he said. “Are you?” He seemed to have successfully suppressed any sorrow about Hailey’s death, if indeed he felt any. He reached out a hand, attempting to take mine.

  No. I snatched back my hand but decided to play nice. He was Lukas’s friend, and Lukas was Sophie’s friend. “This is one of my favorite places,” I said.

  He leaned back and studied the room. “When Lukas said he wanted to do a project in Maine, I wasn’t very sure about it. But he was right. There is much opportunity here.” He slammed his fist down on the w
ooden table. “And we will make the most of it.”

  “In seaweed, you mean?” I asked. The street door opened, allowing a raucous group to enter. No Ian, though.

  A crafty light shone in his eyes. He leaned across the table, dropping his voice to a hoarse whisper. “We have discovered the secret. We are going to power the world with seaweed.” He chuckled. “I will fill your tank with the most efficient renewable energy the world has ever seen.” He wiggled his brows up and down.

  This last part was actually starting to sound interesting, but curiosity got the best of me. I had to know. “So,” I said bluntly. “That was awful. What happened today?” Ruben stared at me in confusion. “With your student.”

  “Oh. Yes.” His features twisted in dramatic sorrow. “Such a wonderful young woman. So bright, a promising future. She was in my advanced biochemistry class last semester.”

  “We happened to be out there, climbing. I was the one who found her.” I shuddered and paused, letting that sink it. “I saw Lukas and Theo on the trails too. Taking a morning walk. Were you with them?”

  His brows knit together, his expression sober. “No, I was in my room. Working. I get the most done before breakfast, I find.”

  Truth or lie? Not up to me to determine, I reminded myself. The front door opened again and this time Ian strode in, looking around for me. “Sorry, Ruben,” I said, leaping up. “Got to go.” He watched me like a pouting child as I hurried off.

  I caught up with Ian near the bar, tugging at his arm so he’d see me. “Hi,” I said, leaning close.

  He put an arm around me. “Sorry I’m so late.” He glanced at my empty hands. “What are you drinking?”

  I’d left my wine glass behind at the booth. “Wine. But Lukas is buying a round.” I tipped my chin toward the professor, who was leaning against the bar, talking to the bartender, Sophie standing next to him.

  Ian jerked in surprise. “What’s that about?”

  “You mean Sophie? Nothing.” I hoped. “They used to date in college.” I slid my arm through his. “Come with me a minute.”

  In the back hallway near the restrooms, I threw myself into his arms.

  “Hmm. To what do I owe this warm greeting?” he murmured.

  “Just you being you,” I said, kissing him again. The tension rolled off my shoulders as we snuggled close. What a long, terrible day it had been. At that moment, I was so grateful to be alive, an attitude I resolved to remember.

  The back door to the parking lot opened with a rattle, and we pulled apart. A tall, familiar figure sloped in. Jake Adams. Uh-oh. “Hi, Jake,” I said, my voice more high-pitched than normal. “What are you up to?”

  Standing with his hands in his jeans pockets, he shrugged. He was wearing the battered brown leather jacket Sophie loved, open over a T-shirt. “Not much. Thought I’d stop in for a quick beer.” He made as though to sidle past us, but I stepped into his path.

  “Wait,” I said, putting my hand up. “Don’t go in there.”

  He halted, frowning at my upraised hand. “Why not?” Then understanding flashed over his features. “Is Sophie here? And she doesn’t want to see me?” He craned his neck to stare into the main room.

  “It’s not that, man,” Ian said. “At least I don’t think so.” He gave me a helpless look. “It’s just—”

  It was up to me to rip the bandage off, I guess. Not fun. “She’s with someone, Jake.” His eyes flared in alarm. “No, not on a date or anything. But I wanted to warn you. So you wouldn’t be blindsided.” Or Sophie, either.

  Jake rubbed a hand over his face, his expression bleak. “I guess it’s really over, then. I better get used to it.”

  I exchanged a look of alarm with Ian. “No, it’s not, Jake. Lukas is an old … friend, from college. He doesn’t mean anything to her.” I hope.

  Ian clapped his best friend on the shoulder. “Buck up, man. It’s not over until it’s over. Fight for her.”

  Jake stared at the doorway to the main room, chewing his bottom lip. I sensed he was tempted to take Ian’s advice and go talk to Sophie. But then he pivoted on his heel and headed for the back exit. “I can’t do it, guys,” he called over his shoulder. “Later.”

  The door slammed behind him. To my fanciful ears, it was as though he was also slamming the door on his relationship with Sophie.

  CHAPTER 10

  In my experience, nothing was more corny yet heartwarming than a hometown parade. Ten minutes ’til ten the next morning found Grammie and me standing outside Ruffles & Bows, waiting for the kickoff of the Lobster Festival. On both sides of the street, visitors and locals were setting up folding chairs, and children wearing face paint ran around, bouncing in excitement. Once the parade ended, the rest of the festival would officially start at the waterfront park, with games, music, vendor booths, and the first big batches of lobsters and clams steaming away.

  I spotted Madison strolling down the sidewalk toward us, cup of Belgian Bean coffee in hand and the strap of a leather tote over her shoulder. I raised my own mug of Bean to her in salute.

  “How was the rest of last night?” I asked when she reached us. After seeing Jake, Ian and I had skipped out of the pub. We’d taken a ride out to the lighthouse in his truck and—well, enough said about that. But our time together was nice enough that I still had a glow.

  After handing Grammie her paper cup, Madison rifled through her tote. “I didn’t stay that long. Not after Dr. Ruben started putting the moves on me.”

  I hooted a laugh. “Seriously? He tried to hold my hand but I wouldn’t let him.”

  “Thanks for letting me know,” Madison said. “I almost said yes to a lunch date.” She must have felt me staring, because she said, “What? You-know-who hasn’t exactly asked me out yet.” She was referring to Anton. The pair had been circling each other for a couple of months now. The suspense was killing the rest of us.

  “Dr. Ruben?” Grammie asked. “Who is that?”

  “He’s one of the professors staying at Eleanor’s,” I explained, realizing she hadn’t met Ruben or Lukas. “Part of the seaweed group. Apparently he’s decided that he’s God’s gift to the women of Blueberry Cove.”

  Still rooting in her bag, Madison snorted in response to my comment. Then she pulled a booklet out of her bag. “Aha, found it.” She flipped through, then, holding the booklet with one hand, took back her coffee. “I want us to do this.”

  I studied the page over her shoulder, seeing that it listed various events taking place during the festival. “Which thing? Not the three-legged race.”

  “No, not that. We haven’t entered one of those since my growth spurt.” Madison was about six inches taller than me, which had made for interesting times when we hobbled along together. “The cardboard boat race.”

  A block away, the whooping of sirens echoed and a whirl of blue and white lights reflected off storefront windows. The parade was finally starting.

  Anton, as police chief, was naturally in the lead, sitting proudly at the wheel of the police SUV. When he passed Ruffles & Bows, he slowed even more, smiling over at us, well, at Madison. Grinning, she gave him a cheery beauty-queen wave in return. If he didn’t ask her out soon, I was going to play go-between and do it.

  The fire engine behind Anton gave an earsplitting blat, so he sped up. Behind the fire truck, a color guard of local veterans marched in formation. They got a huge hand and cheers from the spectators.

  Once the color guard gave way to a truck pulling a Coast Guard fast response boat, I responded to her suggestion. “The cardboard boat race? Why?” In this admittedly amusing event, people rowed across the harbor in crafts made of corrugated cardboard. Naturally they often fell apart, dropping their passengers into the freezing-cold water.

  “Because it will be fun.” Madison turned to look at Quincy, who was watching the parade from the safety of the store’s front window. She blew him a kiss and he touched his nose to the glass in response. “I think we should build a catboat. Shaped like Quincy.”<
br />
  “Oh, a catboat. Funny.” Actual catboats were small sailboats with the mast up front. “And I have an idea.” I pulled at my apron skirt. “The sail can be an apron.”

  Madison snapped her fingers and pointed at me. “Perfect. We’re going to win.” She grinned. “The grand prize is a spa day for two at the Sunrise Resort.” The Sunrise, the plushest, most expensive hotel around, had a fantastic spa. They were also one of Madison’s marketing clients.

  “That’s not a conflict of interest or anything?” I smiled at a group of children dressed like mermaids and pirates going by on a float. How cute.

  “No, they’re not putting on the contest,” Madison said. “Plus there are tons of prizes.” She handed me the booklet.

  “Oh yeah.” If we didn’t get the spa day, I saw we might win an oil change from a local garage or a pest-control assessment. We’d definitely have to flip coins for those. I gave her the booklet back. “I’ll do it.”

  “Yay.” Madison clapped. “I’ll enter us later. We can start working on the boat tomorrow.” She waved at the Captain’s Pub float, the servers all wearing eye patches and captain’s hats, male and female alike.

  “Sounds good.” I took a sip of coffee, almost choking when I saw the next float going by. It held a giant—I mean ginormous—bright red lobster made of foam, metal wiring, and clay. The thing had to be over ten feet long and three or four feet high. The kids around us went ballistic with excitement although one little girl cried. Probably imagining herself snatched up in one of its huge claws. The lobster’s revenge, a Maine coast version of Godzilla.

  “Miss?” a voice said. “Are you Iris Buckley?” I turned to see a tall, balding man standing at my elbow.

  “I am,” I said. “And this is my store.” I gestured toward the storefront. “How may I help you?”

  He handed me a piece of paper, one of the lobster bib contest applications all filled out, I noticed. “I was wondering … is there electricity at this event?” He chuckled. “I mean, for us contestants to use.”

  “Um,” I said, to stall. What a strange question, considering this was an apparel contest. I glanced at his name before folding the application and putting it into my apron pocket. “I’ll check on that for you, Mr. Buxton.”

 

‹ Prev