Pins & Needles (A Gracie Andersen Mystery Book 5)

by Wallace,Laurinda

  As she expected, Adriana didn’t answer her phone. Kevin, however, did.

  “Did you know that Adriana was complicit in taking my vases?”

  “Huh? Hello, Isabelle.”

  “Your cupcake was working with Art Walczak.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Kevin’s voice was gruff. “As you’ve made quite clear, you and I are no longer together.”

  “We aren’t. Did you give Adriana or Art a key to the house?”

  Silence reigned.

  Isabelle twisted her mouth in anger before speaking again. “Which one?”

  “Adriana needed to get in one afternoon when you weren’t available. I gave her the extra one you keep in the kitchen drawer.”

  Isabelle stalked into the airy kitchen with its white cabinetry, a mix of glass and solid doors. Opening the drawer next to the sink, she found that the extra house key was, indeed, not in its place. It must still be on her keyring when she’d taken it from Art. She had forgotten about that until now.

  “And she gave it to Art, who took my vases. Now, why would she do that?”

  “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but count me out,” Kevin said sullenly. “I guess I forgot about the key. I had no idea she’d hand it off to the yard guy, if that’s true.”

  “Is she there with you? I want to talk to her.”

  “She’s not.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I have no idea. Haven’t heard from her in weeks.”

  Isabelle ended the call and searched her handbag, which sat on the counter, for Investigator Hotchkiss’ business card.

  ***

  Theresa unfolded the quilt on the dining room table, showing the fine stitching to Gracie. Marc and Bob were watching college football. The aroma of homemade pizza filled the house.

  “Nice, Mom. I’m glad you won the bidding. Sounds like it was pretty competitive.”

  “If I’d had to bid two more dollars, I couldn’t have saved it from the clutches of the lady in the green coat, who bought three others. I’m pretty sure it was Franny’s cousin—the pushy one I told you about, who wanted the Stederman quilt. It was a good thing she got a phone call right before she bid again. I squeaked through because she was distracted. It seemed like she was on a mission to buy all of them.”

  Gracie fingered the soft material and lifted the corner. “It is very nice. Pretty heavy, isn’t it? Which bedroom are you going to use it in?”

  “The guest bedroom next to the stairs.”

  “That’ll work.”

  Gracie turned it over and examined the backing. She’d never have the patience to piece together rectangles and squares of fabric, never mind arranging them in an actual pattern. A loose red thread on one end caught her eye.

  “Better trim this, or something will come apart.”

  She gave the thread a gentle tug.

  Theresa put on her reading glasses, which lay on the sideboard. “Oh rats! Let me see.”

  She examined the long thread, which led her to the edge of the coverlet.

  “It’s just a whipstitch on this. Lulu would never do that kind of sloppy work.”

  “Maybe she was just in a hurry.” Gracie sniffed. “I think that pizza’s done. I’ll take it out.”

  Theresa nodded and looked at the seam again. Something about it struck her as odd.

  “What a minute,” she whispered, her mind churning. “What if…?”

  With a sharp intake of breath, Theresa hurried to the kitchen and grabbed a pair of small scissors from the junk drawer.

  “It’s done,” Gracie called out, setting a rectangular pan on the grates of the stovetop. The thick crust piled with sausage, pepperoni, mushrooms, and peppers made her stomach growl. “Everyone help themselves.”

  She grabbed the pizza cutter from the counter and began slicing large squares.

  “Gracie, get in here!” her mother yelled.

  Her urgent tone sent Gracie racing back to the dining room, pizza cutter still in hand.

  “What? What’s wrong?” she gasped.

  Theresa peeled the backing off the quilt and revealed the extraordinarily fragile, but intact Stederman quilt!

  ***

  Investigator Hotchkiss took Isabelle’s statement, nodding over her notebook as she wrote.

  “Do you have an address for Adriana Reynolds?” she asked.

  “It’s right here on this card.”

  Isabelle slid the colorful business card across the granite countertop.

  “Geneseo. Oh.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Well, yes. She lives in Livingston County, so I’ll have to contact the sheriff’s office there.”

  Isabelle sighed impatiently. “As long as someone finds her. I’m sure she was the one working with Art Walczak, as I said on the phone.”

  She ran her hand over the glossy magazine photo of her living room, still shocked to see her stolen vases on display. Adriana certainly had a twisted and unwelcome sense of humor.

  “We’ll do our best,” the investigator assured her.

  She snapped the notebook closed. A startling ring shook her cell phone, which lay on the counter.

  “Hello.” The woman’s brow furrowed as she listened to the call. “A what? A quilt?” Her tone was incredulous. “At the Clark residence … No, I don’t need directions. I know where they live … Okay.”

  Isabelle’s eyes widened, watching her reaction.

  “I don’t mean to pry, but was that call about the Stederman quilt, by any chance?”

  “I really couldn’t say, ma’am,” Hotchkiss replied, her face a blank. “I’ll be in touch as soon as we locate Ms. Reynolds.”

  The investigator took her leave. Isabelle stared after her, her face thoughtful.

  ***

  Raucous barking made it hard to hear. Gracie shut the office door against the din. Two agitated boarders had taken up a barking contest, egging everyone else on.

  “Jeepers creepers, Jim! We need to put those two in separate corridors,” Gracie said.

  “I know. I’ll take Maestro, the coonhound, to the “C” section. The population is low in that one. I think the old basset in there is practically deaf anyway.”

  Gracie shook her head and chuckled. “Sounds like a good plan.”

  The door swung open, and Isabelle steamrolled through, a grim smile creasing her airbrushed makeup.

  “What a surprise! What brings you out to Milky Way?” Gracie asked, wondering why in the world her cousin would be making an appearance.

  “I’m on my way to Geneseo, and I wondered if you knew where your mother is.”

  “I have no idea. Didn’t you call her?”

  “Of course, I did. But her phone seems to be turned off, and no one is answering at home.”

  Jim gave Gracie a miniscule wave and slipped out the door.

  “She’s probably with Gloria somewhere,” Gracie offered, glaring after him. “Why are you so keen to track down Mom?”

  “Oh. Well, I was talking with the sheriff’s investigator last night, and she took a call …”

  Gracie sat down at her desk, motioning for Isabelle to take a seat.

  “I’ll stand, thank you,” Isabelle said, giving the chair a disgusted glance.

  “You want to know about the Stederman deal. Is that it?” Gracie zeroed in on the actual subject of her cousin’s prying visit.

  Isabelle’s face softened. “I was curious, since it appears that Adriana helped Art Walczak steal my French vases.” Gracie was certain Isabelle exaggerated the “ah” for effect. “Did she have something to do with the quilt as well?”

  Gracie leaned forward, her hands splayed on the desktop. “Adriana did what?” she asked in astonishment.

  An exchange of information quickly passed between the cousins. It was quite satisfactory, from Gracie’s point of view. She reckoned that focusing on the misdeeds of third parties, rather than on each other, might help the conversation pass amicably … for once
.

  “I wondered why Adriana hadn’t sent any more wedding photos. I’ve tried calling her for days. I probably won’t see any more if she’s on the run.”

  Isabelle sniffed, finally deciding to sit down on the grungy chair. “Possibly. If the police do their jobs properly, she should be sitting in a cold, lonely cell very soon.”

  “At least she sent me a good sampling from the wedding.”

  “My vases will probably never be recovered. You know, they were an anniversary gift. Expensive with a great deal of sentimental value.”

  Gracie sighed. Back to transmitting on different frequencies. Situation normal, she thought, doing a mental eye-roll at Isabelle’s self-centered rant.

  There was a scratch at the door. Gracie opened it for Haley, who went straight to Isabelle and laid a wet muzzle on her skirt.

  “Get away, you awful dog! You’re all wet!” she shrieked.

  Isabelle shoved the black Lab away, abruptly standing and brushing at the wet marks on the beige skirt.

  “Haley, go to your bed,” Gracie commanded.

  The dog moped to the green cushion, flopping down with a dejected look. Leave it to Haley to ruin a momentary truce.

  “Where does this leave you and Kevin?” Gracie just had to ask, now that their “magic moment” was shot.

  “We’re working things out,” Isabelle said evenly, tightening her grip on her metallic-colored designer handbag. “We’re taking a trip next week.”

  “Really? Any place special?”

  Isabelle smiled, smoothing her already perfect coiffure. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing sapphire and diamond earrings. A makeup present from Kevin perhaps was Gracie’s conjecture.

  “Belize.”

  Gracie’s eyebrows shot up. Isabelle had to be crazy to give Kevin another chance. Deciding on the spot not to offer any relationship advice, she instead shared her own plans. They were pretty good ones.

  “Marc and I are taking a cruise of the eastern Caribbean in the spring. You know, Aruba, the Bahamas. We have several ports of call.”

  “Oh, you’ll love it. I’ve taken that cruise several times.” Isabelle’s tone was imperious.

  Truce well and truly kaput. The competition was on again.

  ***

  Gloria and Theresa walked slowly behind Albert to the car. The quilt had been officially transferred to the Stederman family without incident. Gloria felt as if she could breathe again. A rather subdued Lisa Stederman Kronk had actually been polite and even friendly today. Maybe her attorney had given her some pointers.

  “I wish Lulu was still around,” Theresa said wistfully.

  “I know. She would have some closure about that silly quilt.”

  The woman got into Theresa’s small sedan, while Albert drove off to complete his hospital calls. Two parishioners were flat on their backs at Wyoming County Community Hospital. One with pneumonia, the other with an infected toe.

  “Shall we go home?” Theresa asked, turning the ignition.

  “I’m taking the rest of the day off,” Gloria declared. “This estate of Franny’s has been nothing but drama. Poor Albert! He hasn’t caught a break until now. Hopefully, the worst is over.”

  “It must be. I just wish I knew where Lulu went. Isn’t that the weirdest thing?”

  CHAPTER 40

  The sand was warm under her feet, the foamy azure water receding as she padded down the beach. For the first time in over a year, Lulu was happy. Really happy. Her loose, gauzy beach cover-up blew softly against her skin. If she were in Deer Creek, she’d be bundled up to her chin in clothes. She reached the small table under a yellow-striped umbrella, joining a darkly-tanned man in sunglasses. His gray hair was long and tied back in a ponytail. He stood and kissed her. They both sank into webbed chairs. A waiter appeared almost immediately with tall glasses of sangria.

  “I still can’t believe I’m here,” Lulu said, taking a sip of the fruity drink.

  “Believe it, babe. Everything worked out perfectly.” The man slid his sunglasses to the top of his head.

  “Not everything. Franny would have loved it here.”

  “That was really unfortunate, but it’s in the past. Let’s focus on the present, all right?” He leaned forward and took Lulu’s hands.

  “Right. No looking back.”

  “We head to Roatan in a couple of days. The house will be ready by then. Honduras is perfect. We can live it up, better than we ever could’ve in the U. S.”

  “I can’t wait to see it.”

  “You’ll love it. And the best part is that it’s all paid for, thanks to your sewing skills and my planning.” He flashed a broad grin, taking the straw from the glass and gulping down the drink.

  Lulu closed her eyes, remembering the days of gut-wrenching grief after the accident, and the constant fear the subterfuge of stashing rolled-up cash in the quilts for the orphanage would be discovered by her friends, the postal authorities, or the orphanage staff. Piling all that stuff in the house had given her a sense of safety. She couldn’t even tell Franny everything. Just that they’d take a trip to Central America when the insurance money had come in for her.

  “You were lucky the quilts got there. I’ll never figure out how you were able to work at the orphanage.”

  He batted at the air with a careless hand, a satisfied look on his lean face. “It wasn’t hard. I remembered you talking about it when you were helping the place with the church group. I showed up with my new ID and offered to lend a hand. The administrator was buried in work, and I was a volunteer, after all. He gave me a place to lay my head, and I took care of the books. Even the American-run places need free help. I had to learn how to use a seam ripper and sew myself. That was the hard part. Picking up the mail was easy. Setting up our new accounts was easy too. Foreign banks ask a lot fewer questions than American ones.”

  Lulu bit her lip. “But, Ed, the guy in your truck. I still wonder about his family. You didn’t …”

  “It’s Rick, Lulu. You can’t keep calling me Ed.”

  “I’m sorry. But it’s hard to remember.”

  “Just focus, Lulu. I didn’t kill him. He was already gone when I found him on a trail near the cabin. No ID. There was no vehicle anywhere around other than my truck. He must have been a transient of some kind. He was the answer to my problem. I didn’t know what I was going to do, until I stumbled on him.”

  “But Ed … Rick, it was terrible for me. When you called me six months after the funeral, I almost had a heart attack myself.”

  He reached over and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. The lapping of the ocean steadied her jangled nerves, and she offered Ed a weak smile.

  “Oh, babe. I know. I’m so sorry about that. It was the only way. After thirty years of service, the company was going to downsize my position into extinction. Without any consideration for what I’d done for them.” His voice grew bitter. “I deserved everything that was coming to me. We got it all. The life insurance, the pension that comes to you now—everything.”

  It was true. Ed had been shattered when the news had come down from the top that the reorganization would eliminate several executives at the higher end of the pay scale. He’d taken off for an early fishing trip to get his head together. When she’d seen two New York State troopers at her door, she’d known something terrible had happened. She didn’t want to ask how Ed had changed his identity to Richard Talbot. He had a full set of identification papers with a U. S. passport. Now they were free. She could continue to collect Ed’s pension, and the generous life insurance proceeds had been transferred to an offshore account. Her own retirement accounts, along with house proceeds, would be handled by the island bank as well. No worries. No looking back. They would be comfortable the rest of their lives—in a new life, a tropical one at that, which suited her just fine. There would be no visits to Deer Creek. She was a different person herself. She lifted her glass, a slice of orange sloshing at the rim.

  “To new adve
ntures, Rick.”

  ***

  Isabelle thought the profiles of the man and woman under the umbrella-shaded table were familiar. The sunglasses and beach clothing gave her pause. The woman’s floppy hat hid a portion of her face, but the nose was … was Lulu Cook’s. That was impossible. Lulu was touring the United States. At least, that’s what she’d said. Was the man her new love interest? He had long hair and seemed quite fit. She looked hard at the man who seemed very interested in the woman facing him. If she didn’t know better, she would swear that it was Ed Cook. He was thinner and older than she remembered. It couldn’t be, could it? He was dead. Her eyes must be playing tricks on her. Yes. That was it, and maybe one too many drinks today. Her mind was just a little foggy.

  Kevin blocked her view, bending to hand her an icy mojito.

  “Need anything else, beautiful?”

  His lips brushed her cheek before she settled back into the low-slung beach chair. The sun was delicious on her skin. Kevin had been so attentive. She didn’t need to think about anything remotely related to Deer Creek, especially the Cooks. She sipped the citrusy drink and leaned back, stretching her legs out to catch every tanning opportunity. Gracie would be envious of her golden glow when they were together for Thanksgiving.

  More Information for Readers

  Thank you for taking the time to read Pins & Needles. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend and much appreciated. Thank you. –Laurinda Wallace

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Laurinda Wallace lives in the beautiful high desert of southeast Arizona where the mountains and night skies inspire risk taking. A lifelong bookworm and writer, she made her foray into the publishing world in 2005. She’s contributed to a variety of print and online magazines, and along the way created the Gracie Andersen mystery series. She believes there’s nothing more exciting than writing the next book and connecting with readers.

  Want to know more? Visit www.laurindawallace.com for more information and be sure to sign up for the Mystery Mavens Society. Subscribers receive free short stories and insider book news. Your email is never shared or sold.