Pattern of Betrayal (Vineyard Quilt Mysteries Book 2)

by Mae Fox

  “Why did you kill Alice?” she asked.

  Gregory fixed her with a hard stare. “She knew who I was. And I knew why she was here.”

  “And you murdered her without so much as a second thought?”

  Gregory gave another of his devil-may-care shrugs. “I didn’t mean to kill her. It just happened. When the lights went out, I knew she was going to make her move. So I stopped her and made my move. If I hadn’t run into that crazy blonde in the hallway, I would have been long gone with that book days ago.”

  “You were the one Carrie took the book from,” Julie said.

  Gregory let out a bark of laughter. “Is that what she told you? Please. I dropped the book, but when I returned for it, it was gone. Then the lights came back on, and I had to high-tail it to the dining room before anyone realized I’d been gone.”

  His story made about as much sense as the one Carrie had told. But Julie supposed the truth was in the voice of the teller.

  “Now give it here.” He reached for the book. Daniel reluctantly handed it to him. “And you,” he pointed to Rutherford, “get over there with the rest of them.”

  Rutherford grudgingly did as he was told. They were quickly running out of options and time.

  Surely Gregory won’t shoot us all, Julie thought, praying she was right.

  “I’m not really a killer,” Gregory continued. “But I—”

  “Julie, I need you to approve this order for the kitchen.” In true Hannah form, she pushed her way into the office, only to stop dead in her tracks and stare at the gun that swung to face her.

  SEVENTEEN

  Everything seemed to happen at once.

  Daniel lunged toward Gregory. Julie dove for his gun, grabbing his hand and twisting it up and back. Gregory yelped in pain, and his hand went slack. Julie quickly wrenched the weapon away.

  Hannah squealed, spurred into motion by the attack. She jumped to one side as Rutherford pounced on Gregory. He knocked Gregory and Daniel to the ground. Daniel managed to roll away while Rutherford straddled a sputtering Gregory, wrapping both hands around his pudgy neck.

  Hannah fell to the floor and crawled behind the desk.

  Gregory turned blue in the face as Daniel tried unsuccessfully to pull Rutherford off of him. Julie didn’t think he was trying very hard. She snatched up Rutherford’s discarded gun and handed it to Hannah, who took it with trembling fingers.

  Then Julie pointed Gregory’s gun at the men.

  “Enough!” she screamed.

  Daniel gave up on Rutherford. He took the gun from Hannah, gave her his phone, and joined Julie.

  Rutherford eyed Julie warily. With a frustrated groan, he released his grip on Gregory.

  Alice’s killer coughed and then rolled to one side and scrambled to his feet. He glared at Julie. “And what do you think you’re going to do? Shoot us?”

  “Don’t tempt me.” Julie looked to Hannah who was trying to dial with shaky hands. “911?”

  “I’m on it,” Hannah said, though her voice lacked its usual gusto.

  Detective Frost scratched his head. “Never a dull moment around you, huh, Miss Ellis?”

  “I do what I can,” she said.

  Daniel caught her eye and smiled.

  Gregory Wilson had been taken away in handcuffs, growling the entire time about the journal and Julie’s interference. He’d been charged with murder, robbery, attempted robbery, attempted murder, and a host of other things the detectives tacked on for good measure. Julie wasn’t sure how many of the charges would actually stick, but one thing was certain: Gregory wasn’t getting out of jail for a long, long time.

  Eric Rutherford was taken away in a separate police car with his own list of charges including attempted murder and conspiracy to commit a felony.

  With any luck, now things could return to normal. Julie thought perhaps if she kept telling herself that, it would eventually come true.

  Detective Frost watched the two police cars that carried Rutherford and Gregory drive away. Then he turned back to where Julie stood on the steps next to Daniel. “It’s a fantastic story, to be sure.”

  She nodded. “I suppose. Everyone wanted the Civil War journal, and they were willing to stop at nothing to get it.”

  “Clearly,” the detective said with a shake of his head. “That must be some book.”

  “We’ll find out tomorrow when the other expert arrives,” Daniel said. Julie could tell from his tone that he had high hopes for the new assessment.

  “Let me know,” Frost said, heading toward his car. “And you might think about getting some kind of security system installed in this place. Especially if you plan on digging up more valuables from the basement.”

  Daniel looked at Julie. “No,” he said, shaking a finger at her. “You’re not allowed to go down there again. Ever.”

  All the remaining guests gathered in the tearoom for one last get-together before they went to bed—as if any of them would be able to sleep. Julie was so keyed up, she didn’t think she’d be able to sleep for a week.

  Carrie’s manager arrived that evening to whisk her away to Dallas. “CeCe” had a concert there the next day, and a lot of work to do to get ready. Julie hoped that the young star found her happy medium between who she wanted to be and who everyone thought she should be. It was hard to live a double life. This Julie knew from experience.

  The group decided that since Carrie had done the most work on the quilt, it should belong to her. The young girl was thrilled. Joyce and Sadie looked a little sad, but no one disputed that the young pop star was the most deserving of the handmade treasure.

  After Carrie left, everyone went to bed. Unable to sleep, Julie lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. She thought about texting Daniel to see if he was awake too, or even knocking on Liam’s door to see if he wanted to play a midnight game of checkers. But Daniel had looked utterly worn out when he left. And if Liam was awake, he would certainly be typing away at his laptop.

  She rolled over, punched her pillow, and closed her eyes once again. But they quickly popped back open as if they had a mind of their own.

  With a frustrated growl, she threw back the covers. Maybe a glass of warm milk would help her sleep. Then again, with all the excitement she had been through over the last four days, it might take a gallon.

  She wrapped her robe around her and padded down the two flights of stairs to the first floor.

  The inn was quiet; not even the sounds of Kenneth’s snores could be heard. Soft shades of moonlight spilled in through the windows, giving the grand Victorian inn an otherworldly glow. The threatening note had been painted over, and the ruined couch replaced. Everything was as it should be.

  But if that was the case, then why did she still feel so antsy?

  With a shake of her head, she continued toward the kitchen on nearly silent feet.

  Warm milk. She’d never gone in for it before, but there was a first time for everything, or so they said. She retrieved the milk from the fridge and found a pan. If only she had some chocolate. Now that sounded good. Not necessarily a cure for insomnia, but tasty all the same.

  “What are you doing up at this hour?” Hannah appeared in the doorway. Her glasses were firmly in place, not a trace of sleep in her eyes.

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  Hannah shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep. All the excitement, I guess. I keep waiting for the other shoe to fall.”

  “No more shoes, just milk. You want some?” Julie held up the jug.

  “Sure.” Hannah slid onto a stool at the island and propped her chin in one hand.

  Julie poured enough for them both and turned on the burner.

  “I’ve never seen this domestic side of you,” Hannah commented.

  “I only let it out on special occasions.” Julie winked at her friend who in turn rolled her eyes. “Do we have any chocolate to go in here?”

  Hannah slipped off the stool and walked to the pantry. Then, instead of handing Julie the c
ocoa and sugar, she bumped her out of the way and took over.

  Julie gave a half-hearted protest before taking Hannah’s place at the island. “We don’t happen to have any caramel?” she asked.

  Hannah shot her a horrified look. “If you eat that at this time of night, you’ll never get to sleep.”

  That was Julie’s favorite go-to comfort food, pickles dipped in hot caramel. And after the weekend she’d had, that was the least she could allow herself for managing to survive.

  “Fine. The caramel is in the fridge,” Hannah said as she poured them both a cup of steaming chocolate milk. “Just do me a favor. Wait until I’m done with this before you start in on that gross concoction. I don’t think I can watch it tonight.”

  “Deal.”

  Hannah sat down next to her. They were silent for a few moments, both listening to the sound of the clock ticking and the normal creaks and groans of the old house. “Would you like a cookie?”

  Julie smiled over the rim of her mug. “That would be almost as good as pickles and caramel.”

  Hannah pushed a sealed container toward Julie. Sweet molasses spice cookies were nestled inside.

  “Delicious,” Julie said around the first mouthful. She swallowed and took another bite. She hadn’t realized how hungry almost getting killed a few times in one night could make a person.

  “This hasn’t exactly turned out to be the quiet town we thought we were moving to, has it?” Hannah said.

  “Not even close.” Julie had long since decided that Straussberg was anything but quiet. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. She was an action junkie. She thrived on the unknown. The town was definitely starting to grow on her.

  “You’ve got that gleam in your eyes again.” Hannah raised an eyebrow in her direction. She knew Julie so well.

  “It’s nothing. Just thinking about this town.”

  “You’re not thinking of leaving, are you?” Hannah asked. Julie heard the unmistakable worry in her friend’s voice. She knew Hannah had grown fond of the new job and the people of Straussberg.

  Julie scoffed. “Are you kidding? And miss the all the excitement?” She raised her mug for a toast. “Here’s to our next adventure at the Quilt Haus Inn.”

  Hannah smiled and raised her mug to clink against Julie’s. “Here, here.”

  And for the first time in days, Julie saw Hannah relax.

  EIGHTEEN

  At ten o’clock the next morning, the remaining guests gathered to check out and say their goodbyes. Even Liam had shown up, though he wasn’t leaving.

  “I had such a wonderful time,” Joyce gushed, pulling Julie in for a quick hug. “I haven’t had that much excitement in years!”

  “I can’t wait to come back for the murder mystery weekend next year,” Sadie said. Not one to be left out, she snatched a hug as well. “Though I don’t know how you’ll possibly top this one.”

  “We’ve got to start saving this very instant,” Joyce said.

  “Immediately,” Sadie confirmed.

  Julie didn’t have the heart to tell them there wouldn’t be a murder mystery weekend next year—or any year in the foreseeable future if she had anything to say about it.

  “Most fun I’ve had in years.” Kenneth grinned, looking far more relaxed than he had when he arrived. “We’ll definitely be back next year.”

  Julie merely smiled.

  Everyone grabbed their bags and headed for the door, smiling and waving with promises to return.

  Julie shut the door behind them and turned to face Liam.

  “Don’t look at me,” he said. “I may not leave until next year. This place is very inspiring.”

  Julie rolled her eyes.

  Liam chuckled and headed up to his room.

  Still keyed up, Julie felt like she needed to do something, fix something, find something, investigate something. The weekend had been nonstop, and her mind and body were still in high gear.

  Instead, she channeled her nervous energy and crossed to the registration desk to check on the new guests that were due to arrive later in the day. She had a young couple coming in from Denver and a pair of sisters coming in from Oklahoma. Nice and normal—one would hope.

  The bell over the door rang. She looked up to see a man enter. He was small, on the mousey side, and balding with a thick ring of black hair around his head. His glasses were reminiscent of Buddy Holly’s, though somehow not as cool. He carried a briefcase in one hand while the other twisted nervously.

  “Can I help you?” Julie asked, straightening as he cautiously approached.

  “I certainly hope so.” His voice was surprisingly steady and confident. “I’m Aston Cooper. I’ve come to examine your journal.”

  “Oh, my. Yes,” Aston said.

  Julie looked to Daniel, who continued to smile with satisfaction. She had called him to join her for the big moment. He deserved it. Also, she was wary of being alone with a stranger and the Civil War book.

  Aston delicately turned the page of the journal and ran his magnifying glass down the page, examining every detail. “Yes, yes, yes. Uh-huh.” He continued to mutter to himself as he inspected the next page.

  “Well?” Julie prompted.

  Aston sat back in his seat and smiled at them both. “You have yourself a fine treasure here. A fine treasure.”

  “And?” Daniel asked. One would think the book actually belonged to him considering how excited he was.

  “The time frame is definitely correct. Clemens joined the Civil War in 1861, but he only stayed for two weeks. Their company was away from the war and didn’t get any attention from the commanding officers. This lack of direction was their downfall. The men disbanded and went their separate ways.” Aston opened his tablet and found the file he was looking for. “This is a copy of Samuel Clemens’s signature as both himself and Mark Twain. Now look here.” He opened the book and pointed out all the similarities in the script. The more he talked, the more excited Julie became until she rivaled Daniel in her enthusiasm.

  “The fact that this is one of the first rule books from baseball makes it very valuable in and of itself,” Aston continued. “But given that it was used as a journal by someone famous increases its worth exponentially. Add in the fact that there are notes which could be the start of a great American novel, and you have a priceless treasure on your hands.”

  “Told you!” Daniel crossed his arms and smiled at Julie, looking more than pleased with himself. “And you cannot put that in the school auction.”

  Aston’s expression morphed from happy to horrified. “Oh my. No. This treasure belongs in a museum.”

  “And I know just the place for it.” Daniel’s eyes sparkled.

  Aston ignored Daniel’s comment. “In fact, I’m willing to offer you a great deal of money for it.” He quickly wrote out a check and pushed it across the desk toward Julie.

  She didn’t pick it up. Instead she stared at it and all the zeroes. Money like that would keep the Quilt Haus Inn in the black for a long, long time.

  “I think you might have misunderstood, Mr. Cooper. The book doesn’t belong to me. It belongs to the inn’s owner, and she’s not here right now.”

  His face fell, but he recovered fast. “Would you be willing to contact her with my offer?”

  “Of course. I’ll try and reach her this afternoon,” she said. “But I can’t make any promises.” If there was one thing about Millie, she was anything but predictable.

  Aston stood and handed her a business card. Then he picked up the check and put it away. “You have my number, but just in case, I’m staying at the River Bluff Hotel. Let me know when you hear from her.”

  Julie nodded. “I will.”

  She walked Aston to the front door, thanking him for his time and for coming all the way to Straussberg.

  After he was gone, Daniel really let his excitement show. “Can you believe it?” he asked, jumping up to do a little victory dance.

  Julie grinned. What she couldn’t quite believe w
as how adorable Daniel was when his guard was down completely. “It is pretty amazing.”

  Millie called Julie back shortly after the Denver couple checked in. As Julie suspected, the eccentric owner wasn’t interested in money. She was more worried about preserving the heritage and well-being of their small Missouri town. She wanted to keep the journal in Straussberg. She agreed to donate it to Daniel’s new museum on the condition that he always keep it and make it a special exhibit.

  “Absolutely,” Daniel said. His museum was dedicated to the steamboat wreckage he had unearthed the previous year, but he could definitely find room for a priceless treasure like the book. “Let’s see, we’ll need a tighter security system and a special case.” He paced the floor, muttering to himself about making a video with images of the pages so that visitors could see the notes without actually touching the book. It was a good thing he came from money; otherwise, his elaborate project would be dead in the water before it even got started.

  Aston took the news fairly well, considering his strong personal interest in the book. But Julie had a feeling he’d be contacting Millie every six months to see if anything had changed.

  “Do you realize how many new tourists this will bring to our community?” Daniel asked.

  “I hope it brings better people than Gregory Wilson to Straussberg,” Julie answered.

  “It’ll mean so much to the town.”

  Julie nodded in agreement, although she doubted that half the citizens under the age of thirty would understand its worth. “That’s all well and good,” she said, locking the book inside the safe, where it would remain until Daniel had a place for it. “But there’s still an auction, and I have nothing to donate.”

  “I thought you found a couple of books in the cellar.”

  “I did, but I’m not sure that’s what I want to donate.”

  He crossed his arms across his broad chest and shot her a look that said he knew what was coming next. “I’ve already told you how I feel about you pulling anything else out of that basement. Who knows what can of worms you might open next?”