Thread and Dead--The Apron Shop Series

by Elizabeth Penney

  Come on, Sophie, I urged silently. Snap out of it. This isn’t junior high. I guess my mental-telepathy transmitter wasn’t working very well because she didn’t budge. She didn’t even look up.

  Gretchen Stolte, an attractive divorced transplant to town, got up from the next table, waving her armful of bangle bracelets to get our attention. She pointed at Jake and the dance floor in front of the band, moving her hips and pumping her fists to mimic dancing, long tawny hair swinging.

  Jake studied Sophie’s bent head for a long moment before give a shrug. “I guess I’m being paged. See ya.” He loped off to join Gretchen and, chatting and laughing, the pair made their way through the tables toward the band.

  Bella muttered an Italian swear word under her breath. “That woman. First my ex-husband and now Jake?” She gave Sophie a sharp look. “I’d go cut in if I were you.”

  Sophie’s headshake was furious, her cheeks flaming with humiliation and suppressed anger. She leaned back in her seat and called, “Lukas? Hey, Lukas.” When he turned her way, she asked, “Want to go dance?”

  He scrambled out of the bench seat, excusing himself to Zadie, who he bumped with his leg. By the time he reached Sophie, she was waiting, and arm in arm, they headed off.

  “This is so not good,” Madison said, watching them go.

  “Certainly not what I was hoping for,” I said. To the rest of us, it was obvious Sophie and Jake belonged together. Would they figure that out themselves before it was too late? I sure hoped so.

  CHAPTER 17

  When I arrived home just before midnight, all the lights were on, which meant Grammie was still up. Good. I could use a grandmother fix.

  “Iris?” she called from the dining room when I entered the kitchen. “How was the dance?” She’d left the clambake right after dessert, planning to stop by an old friend’s house.

  “It was fun. For the most part.” I stood in the dining room doorway, looking at yards of white cotton fabric laid out on the table, pattern pieces pinned every which way. “What are you making?”

  Grammie’s shears flashed when she picked them up. “I wasn’t sleepy so I thought I’d get a start on those little girls’ aprons.” The scissors cut cleanly through the cloth with a satisfying snip. “We can make two of each size and display the duplicates in the shop. Maybe we’ll get some more orders that way.”

  “Great idea. Totally brilliant as always.” I swooped in to give her a kiss on the cheek. “We can stitch them up in the side room at the store, you know.” I was trying to get us used to the idea of working at the shop after years of sewing at home.

  Grammie’s brows rose. “Sure we can, when there isn’t a cardboard boat cluttering up the room.” Her smile was teasing.

  “Oh, what a disaster that turned out to be.” I groaned at the memory of the race—and the discovery that someone had sabotaged our darling catboat. “Want some hot cocoa? And are there any peanut butter cookies left?” After several hours of dancing, I was actually hungry again.

  “Yes to both. Let me do a little more cutting and I’ll come join you.”

  Hearing me clatter around in the kitchen, Quincy came to greet me with a stretch and a yawn. Of course he went right to his dish. “Seriously, Quince. Eating at this time of night?” He sat and stared at me as though saying, “You can do it, why can’t I?” As always, I caved and gave him a spoonful of wet food and a few more nuggets of kibble.

  I made hot chocolate the old-fashioned way, with cocoa and milk and real vanilla stirred slowly on the stovetop. After filling two mugs with the steaming brew, I put four cookies on a plate. “Cocoa’s ready,” I called.

  Grammie left her cutting and slid onto the adjacent stool. “Thanks, dear.” She picked up the mug and inhaled. “Such a comforting drink.”

  “It is.” I sipped my cocoa, then asked, “How was your visit?” I picked up a cookie and bit into it, enjoying how well peanut butter went with chocolate. A match made in heaven.

  “Wonderful. She loved the chowder I brought her. And we chatted for hours.” Grammie touched her face with a laugh. “My jaw practically aches from all the gabbing.” She slid a curious glance my way. “What did you mean when you said the dance was mostly fun?”

  I told her about the scene between Jake and Sophie and how, the rest of the night, the pair had pretended the other didn’t exist. “It was almost ludicrous,” I said. “I think the whole world could see that they were totally fixated on each other.” Even the usually tenacious Gretchen had gotten the message and turned her attention to Ruben.

  Grammie chuckled. “They’ll be back together before fall, mark my words.” She broke off a piece of cookie. “What I can’t figure out is why your boat fell apart. I saw how hard you two worked with the glue and tape.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “You don’t know what we discovered later.” Where should I begin? And how much should I tell her? Although I didn’t want to worry her unnecessarily, I had to mention the sabotage before she heard about it from someone else. And fill her in about Theo. She didn’t know about that incident either, since she’d left the landing before I went to look for him. “Well, Grammie. Get comfortable. I’ve got a lot to tell you.”

  She listened, only asking a question or two, and when I was done, I waited for her final verdict. “Follow your instincts, Iris,” she said. “I’d love to brush off the boat as a prank and Theo’s mugging as unrelated to anything, but I can’t do that.”

  “Me, neither,” I said glumly. “I really hope the police crack the case soon.” I attempted a smile. “I practically have Anton on speed dial.”

  “Perfect,” Grammie said. “Anton’s sharp. And he’s going to solve this, I have no doubt.” She stared into her mug, her expression pensive. “I can’t stop thinking about Hailey. I remember when her parents died, what a loss that was to the community. They were good people. Poor Hailey was left alone to fend for herself. But sadly, from what you told me about her and Theo, it seems she went down some dark paths.”

  “Unfortunately, yes. She wasn’t above taking an unfair advantage.” And was that why someone had killed her? Or was there another motive we hadn’t discovered yet?

  Grammie went to bed soon after, but I was kind of wired from chocolate and sugar. I even washed the cups and pan by hand, dried them, and put them away, I was so full of energy. Normally I would have left them until morning.

  Thinking that reading might help me relax, I wandered into the living room to find a magazine. Before I got started, my gaze fell on Claudia’s trunk, which stood empty near the fireplace. We’d carefully wrapped the couture clothing in acid-free tissue paper and muslin, then placed the pieces in archival garment boxes. Amazingly the clothes were in excellent condition despite being stored in an attic for almost one hundred winters and summers.

  But disappointingly, there had been nothing on or in the trunk to indicate that Claudia owned it or how she had traveled to the United States. But maybe I should take another look, just in case.

  With Quincy looking on, I sat on the carpet and lifted the lid of the old trunk, which was lined with faded, fragile cloth. The arched top had a couple of pull-down compartments to explore. Empty. Next I pulled out the tray and set it to one side, taking a look in the main part of the trunk. There were a few fabric pockets along the walls, and I explored those with my fingers. Nothing, not even a stray bobby pin.

  But in back, behind one pocket, I felt something inside the liner, where it had ripped. Working carefully so as not to cause further damage, I teased it out with my fingertips.

  A postcard showing an ocean liner called the T.S.S. Lapland, part of the Red Star Line. I flipped it over. On the back was printed TO NEW YORK AND CANADA.

  Excitement hummed in my veins as I placed the card on the carpet and reached for my cell phone. If the Lapland ran between Antwerp and New York, then it might well be the boat Claudia traveled on during her journey.

  In less than a minute, I confirmed that the Lapland did indeed traver
se that route, with the last voyage departing on April 29, 1932. After that, the boat sailed between London and the Mediterranean. My nerves knotted with anxious hope. If we could prove that Claudia had been on that boat or one before it, her innocence would be confirmed. At least we now had a place to start.

  * * *

  The next morning, I wandered out to the barn with my coffee to check on the cardboard boat. I set the mug in the grass while I unlocked the door and pushed it open, the wheels at the top squealing. Then after retrieving my cup, Quincy and I ventured inside, which still held the pleasant scents of long-departed livestock and hay.

  Ian and I had draped the cardboard over sawhorses so it would dry as best it could. I touched a corner with my hand. Still damp, but better than yesterday. Of special interest was the corner in my compartment where the water had first entered, so I circled around to that spot.

  Tires crunched on the gravel, and through the open door I saw Madison’s Mini pull up. “Hey, lady,” she called when she got out, holding a car cup. “I got your text.”

  “Perfect timing.” I gestured for her to join me. We studied the seams of the boat in that spot and several others, coming to the same conclusion as the day before.

  Someone had sliced the seams and tried to hide it with new pieces of tape. Now that the boat was drier, you could plainly see the slit in the original tape.

  “Wow.” I shook my head in disbelief. “What a nasty thing to do.”

  Madison bit her lower lip, a look of thunder in her eyes. She pulled out her phone and punched in a number. “We are definitely reporting this. You could have drowned.”

  So could she, but I appreciated the sentiment, which echoed mine. Don’t mess with my people.

  “Hey, Anton,” she said, a very informal greeting for our illustrious chief, I noted with amusement. “Can you swing by Iris’s house? We’ve got something to show you. Related to the boat race yesterday.” She disconnected. “He’s on patrol so he’ll be right here.”

  I didn’t see Anton yesterday at the race, I realized. Or at the clambake. He’d only appeared briefly when I’d had to call 911 for Theo. No doubt he’d been busy working on the homicide case. Whenever a big case occurred in this small town, our officers often had to cover double shifts. In any event, he must have been nearby, because within five minutes, the Blueberry Cove police SUV was wheeling up the drive.

  Madison tensed beside me when Anton got out and looked around. He wasn’t terribly tall but he was extremely buff. He had the type of rugged features that looked good with a military haircut.

  He glanced toward the barn and I knew the moment their eyes met. Seriously, I saw electricity crackling between them as a sultry Barry White song played. Hoo-boy. His gaze never left her face as he strode toward us, duty belt clanking.

  “Good morning,” he said as he entered the barn. He took in the cardboard sprawled over the sawhorses. “This it?”

  The spell broke and we started talking, both of us explaining the situation in turn. He got the picture right away, his features grim when he saw the cuts in the cardboard. “Any idea who could have done this?”

  “No,” I said. “It must have happened when Ian was parked behind the library. Before that, it was at the store.” Quincy leaped up and landed right in middle of the action, a typical move. I quickly grabbed him and set him down with a gentle scolding.

  “You’re both okay?” His eyes were on Madison again. “No lingering aftereffects?”

  She stared back, oddly mute.

  I cleared my throat to get their attention. “Uh, no. Oh, we got a good soaking but we’re fine. We weren’t in the water long, plus we were wearing wet suits. Madison’s idea.”

  “Good thinking,” Anton said. He pulled out his tablet. “I’m going to make a report of criminal mischief. Lucky for whoever it was that neither of you were hurt or else they’d be facing other charges.”

  “Do you really think you can ID the person?” I asked. Unless someone came forward with an eyewitness account, I didn’t see how we’d ever figure it out.

  Anton shrugged. “We won’t know until we try. I’ll talk to the librarians and see if they saw anything.” He finished entering information. “Next I’ll take a few photos of the boat.”

  “Would you like a cup of coffee when you’re done?” I asked. “Grammie made blueberry coffee cake this morning if you want a piece.” Both of them looked at me with wide, eager eyes. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  I scooted out of the barn and across the yard to the house. It was a beautiful morning so I decided to bring the coffee cake and Anton’s coffee out to the porch.

  By the time I got to the porch with my tray, the two of them were strolling out of the barn, chatting. When they saw me, they changed course and came along the garden path to the porch. By their body language, I guessed things were coming along nicely.

  It was about time. I’d first gotten inklings of mutual interest between them months ago. Anton wasn’t her usual type, physically, but he was solid and smart and totally trustworthy. I sometimes joked that I wouldn’t mind if he stopped me for a traffic violation, he was that fair-minded and respectful.

  After they sat down with cake and coffee, I excused myself, pretending I needed a refill. Grammie looked up when I closed the French door. “I’m leaving the lovebirds alone.” I held up two pairs of crossed fingers. “I think something’s finally happening.”

  “About time.” Grammie smiled and went back to whisking eggs in a bowl.

  By the time I slowly poured coffee and added milk, Anton was standing, ready to leave. I went back out to the porch. “Heading out?” I asked.

  He nodded, patting his midriff. “Thanks for the snack. But I just got another call.” He glanced at Madison. “Six o’clock okay?”

  “I’ll be ready.” Her cheeks were flaming and she had a dreamy look in her eyes. Good. Obviously leaving them alone together had done the trick.

  After assuring us the department would take our report seriously, he got into the cruiser and drove away. Madison sagged back into her seat, both hands to her cheeks. “Iris, what have I done?”

  I pulled out a chair and sat. “I’m guessing you accepted a date with Mr. Hot Stuff Policeman.” That characterization startled a laugh, which is what I was going for. “It’s one meal. What are you worried about?”

  Madison used the pads of her fingers to pick up stray coffee-cake crumbs. “I don’t know. That it won’t work out?” She swallowed. “Or maybe that it will?”

  Through the years, Madison had held my hand more than once during my relationship dramas. It felt really good to be able to advise her in return. “It’s just dinner, Madison. Go, have fun, and then decide if you want to see him again.”

  “You make it sound so logical,” she said with a wry smile. “I have a bad habit of thinking too far ahead.”

  “A lot of us do.” Now it was my turn to be wry. “Imagining our wedding day before the guy even talks to us.” A bit of an exaggeration, but not much. I hesitated then said, “Besides, you’re perfect for each other.” They were, although you might not think so at first blush. Solid, dependable Anton and adventurous, creative Madison. It could work. Plus they’d have the cutest babies ever.

  She squawked and hit at me as I ducked away, laughing. “You’re not helping.”

  “What are friends for?” I picked up my first piece of blueberry cake and took a bite.

  CHAPTER 18

  Grammie had an appointment this morning, so Quincy and I opened the store. This end of Main Street was quiet right now, with most people enjoying the Maine blueberry pancake breakfast and clown show down at the festival. That was fine with me, since once in a while I needed a break to catch my breath. Plus I find clowns creepy, so you wouldn’t catch me anywhere near the park right now.

  After the opening tasks—making coffee, turning on the point of sale system, and checking inventory of bags and wrapping tissue—I made a list. Related to the store, I still had to contact auct
ion houses about the couture clothing and jewelry for preliminary interest. Despite several mental reminders to myself, the task had slipped to the bottom during these last few busy days.

  Related to Eleanor’s situation, I wanted to look for the Lapland’s passenger lists. And, if I had time, I wanted to google Eleanor’s nephew Craig and the members of Farming the Sea. First, to help Eleanor deal with her mercenary relative; and second, to figure out who might have killed Hailey and why.

  Days had gone by and no arrests had been made. Not good for the police, who liked to close cases quickly. I should have asked Anton for an update earlier but I hadn’t wanted to spoil the mood between him and Madison. Without thinking too much about it, I picked up my phone and sent him a text. Maybe he would answer me. If not, I’d corner him soon.

  I poured a cup of coffee then booted up my laptop. I’d already made a list of auction houses with contact names, phone numbers, and e-mail addresses. First, I called them all, but had to leave messages, which I expected. Hardly anyone actually answered the phone anymore. Then I fired off e-mails with a couple of photographs attached, a double-barreled approach. At least the pictures might convince them I had something worth looking at. And we did, I was totally confident of that.

  The shop bells jingled, announcing the arrival of a customer. When I got a closer look at the newcomer, I let out a squeak of dismay. And so did Quincy. A tall adult in a loose polka-dot clown suit complete with red nose and orange wig waddled toward the counter, huge shoes flapping.

  I didn’t want to see the clowns, so they came to me. Awesome. “Welcome to Ruffles and Bows,” I said in what I hoped passed for a friendly tone. “How can I help you?” Quincy, instead of running to greet a new customer as was his habit, hid under the counter near my feet. Cats know.