Wicked Stitch

by Amanda Lee

  I spoke with officials of the Tallulah Falls Police Department shortly after the popping sounds were heard, and I was assured that the residents of Tallulah Falls were in no immediate danger. While I wasn’t told definitively what generated the noises heard by Mr. McCormick and other residents, I was told that the matter is under investigation. The Tallulah Falls Examiner will follow up this report as soon as more details are known.

  Ted blew out a breath. “Well done, Paul.”

  “That was an excellent cover,” I said. “If the shooter reads this, it will be apparent that his—or her—efforts to either kill or scare Marcus West failed.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” said Ted. “West acted scared half to death. But if the evidence he has on that flash drive is legitimate, then we’ll need him to testify against Lacey Palmer.”

  “Tell me about Lacey Palmer,” I said. “I know you told me before I knew the names of anyone involved that she got a sizable settlement from the insurance company when her husband died. And Vera told me that Joe Palmer was poisoned. What kind of poison was used? I mean, if there was any question of the wife being suspected in her husband’s death, then why did the insurance company release the money?”

  “Like us, they couldn’t prove the poisoner was the wife.” He took a sip of his coffee. “See, the poison discovered in Palmer’s system was ethylene glycol—antifreeze. In the days before his death, Palmer had become sick enough to go to the emergency room. That day he’d had his typical breakfast at home and lunch at work. He hadn’t noticed anything unusual about his food at either place.”

  “So he could have been poisoned at either place,” I said, pinching off a piece of blueberry muffin and popping it into my mouth.

  “Right. Both his wife and his partner had motive, both had means, and both had opportunity,” he said. “We have to get good solid evidence against one of them—in this case, the widow—to take to the district attorney before he can indict, much less convict. We didn’t have that five years ago. But with West’s help, we might have it now.”

  “What about Clara?” I asked. “Do you think it’s possible that Lacey Palmer had anything to do with Clara’s death?”

  “Manu says she has a rock-solid alibi for the entire day of Clara’s murder.”

  “And West? Is there anything that might tie him to Clara?”

  Ted smiled slightly. “Why are you so determined to put those two murders together?”

  “I just want to solve—I mean, I want you to solve—Clara’s murder,” I said. “I can’t begin to put it behind me until that’s done. I mean, I keep asking myself if Clara’s killer is the one who trashed my booth . . . if that person is out to get me, too. I mean, for all I know, it’s another embroidery shop entrepreneur whose intention was . . . or is . . . to take us both out.”

  Ted put down his fork and took my hand. “Don’t be afraid. You have plenty of security surrounding you right now.”

  “Right now. But who’s to say this person isn’t biding his or her time for another opportunity to strike?”

  “Do you really believe the person who killed Clara is out to get you, too?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe. Whoever vandalized my booth was vicious and cruel. That person meant to hurt me, and did.”

  “I realize that, babe, and I’m sorry.” He raised my hand to his lips and kissed it. “And if there’s a connection, trust me, I’ll find it.”

  “I know you will.”

  “And I’ll find Clara’s killer,” he said. “I promise.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  When I got to the Renaissance Faire Wednesday morning, I met Amelia and Herodias as I was heading to the merchants’ building. The young redhead wore her typical black ensemble, but today she also had on a light blue jacket. The jacket had a yellow patch with the logo OSOC over the left breast.

  “Good morning,” I said.

  “Hey,” Amelia said. “I heard about your booth. That’s rough.”

  “Yeah, it was very upsetting . . . as you can probably imagine.”

  “Is everything okay now? Was everything replaced?” she asked.

  “Not everything.” I explained how I’d hand-embroidered several shirts in Elizabethan-style blackwork. “The vandal ripped those to shreds.”

  “That’s terrible! Were all the shirts ruined?”

  “All but one,” I said. “I saved it to use as a demo, and a few people have ordered them based on that shirt.”

  “I’d like to see it,” she said.

  “Sure. Just stop by the booth whenever you have time.”

  “I have time now. Herodias and I will walk with you if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind at all.” I smiled slightly. “Seeing you with Herodias makes me miss Angus even more. I’ll be glad when this festival is over and everything gets back to normal. I usually take Angus to work with me every day. I wonder if he’s confused by having to stay home all of a sudden.”

  “I doubt it,” she said. “He still sees you when you get home, and I’m guessing you shower him with attention. That’s likely good enough for him, you know? Animals typically don’t have the insecurities and need the reassurances that we people do.”

  “Lucky them.”

  She laughed. “True. And you always know where you stand with an animal. Unfortunately, that can’t be said with most people.”

  I wouldn’t have said anything to Amelia for fear it might’ve hurt her feelings, but I had no clue where I stood with Herodias. The bird might be okay with me, or it might try to claw out my eyes any second now—I just didn’t know. So you might always know where you stand with an animal, but I wasn’t too sure about falcons.

  “Here we are!” I opened the door to the merchants’ building and led Amelia to my booth.

  “Cool.” She glanced over at Clara’s uninhabited booth. “Does that bother you? Being right next to the booth where that woman was found?”

  “Not really. I try not to think about it.” I didn’t remind her that I was the one who found Clara’s body. I handed her the shirt with the blackwork-embellished collar and cuffs. “I had ruffled Elizabethan collars and cuffs with blackwork, too, but none of those survived.”

  “This is really pretty,” said Amelia. “I hope the police catch whoever did this to you.”

  “I hope they do, too. I can’t imagine who would do such a low-down thing.”

  “This shirt is my size,” she said, handing it back to me. “Are you planning on selling it?”

  “I’m going to sell it the last day of the Ren Faire,” I said. “Quite a few people have asked to buy it, so I tell them that whoever gets here first can have the shirt.”

  She smiled. “Then I have a fairly good chance.” She looked around the merchants’ building. “It looks like there’s some interesting stuff in here. I should look around and see what I’ve missed by not coming in here before now.”

  “Yes, you should,” I said.

  Amelia wandered into Nellie’s booth, and I tidied mine in preparation for the morning visitors—hopefully, customers.

  I was surprised to see Nellie come into the building. She was headed straight for her booth. She wore her usual Parisian artist–inspired getup of a black turtleneck, black cigarette pants, and black ballet flats. All she was missing was the beret on that unruly white hair. Still, she looked pale and gaunt. I felt a stab of pity for her.

  “Nellie, do you have a second?” I asked as she walked by my stall.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “I just wanted to say that I know Clara’s funeral was yesterday and to tell you that if there’s anything you need . . . anything I can do for you . . . just ask.”

  Nellie balled up her fists. As she came closer to my booth, I could see that she was shaking.

  “You’ve already helped me more than you could ever know.” Her lips curled into a snarl. “You know when? The night I came in here and tore your stupid booth to shreds!”

&n
bsp; I gasped and tears pricked my eyes.

  “Yeah, that’s right! I did it! I took the scissors to those ugly shirts; and as I did, I imagined all the hours you’d put into them . . . and I hoped you’d pricked your fingers over and over . . . making it hurt even worse that it was all for nothing! But you know what? Your loss is nothing compared to mine. Nothing!”

  Amelia came around the side of the booth. “Hey! Back off, lady!”

  At about the same time that Amelia stepped up, the undercover-cop-slash-knight crossed the room.

  “Ms. Davis, did I just hear you confess to vandalizing Ms. Singer’s booth?” asked the knight.

  “No, you didn’t!” Nellie cried.

  “Yes, you did,” Amelia said. “I heard it, and I’d say these people did, too.”

  A crowd was beginning to gather around my booth, and many of the spectators nodded in agreement with Amelia.

  “Ms. Davis, I’m taking you to the police station for questioning,” said the knight.

  “I refuse to go!”

  “If you refuse to go, then I’ll go ahead and arrest you here and now,” he said.

  She huffed. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  The knight motioned to a man who was dressed as a minstrel. When the minstrel joined us, the knight instructed him to take the statements of everyone in the merchants’ building.

  As the knight led Nellie away, the minstrel took a notepad out of a leather pouch attached to his belt.

  “I’m Officer Newland,” said the baby-faced minstrel. “Tell me exactly what happened here.”

  Officer Newland was looking at me, but Amelia jumped in with her version of the tale.

  “Okay, I’d just stepped into that aromatherapy booth when I heard Marcy here asking somebody if there was anything she could do,” she said. “Somebody’s funeral was yesterday.”

  “It was Nellie’s sister, Clara,” I said. “Clara was the woman found dead in her booth on Thursday evening.”

  “Was she”—her voice dropped to a whisper—“the not so nice woman with the sweet bunny?” Amelia asked.

  I nodded.

  “I guess that woman and the one who was here a minute ago were a lot alike,” she said. “I hope the one was at least nice to the bunny. She seemed like a sweet little thing.”

  “Could we get back to what happened here this morning?” asked Officer Newland.

  “Yeah, sure,” said Amelia. “After Marcy asked if there was anything she could do, the older woman began yelling about how much pleasure it gave her to destroy Marcy’s booth.”

  Officer Newland looked at me, and I nodded.

  “That’s basically it,” I said.

  “Still, I want to take everyone’s statement individually,” he said, turning to the crowd. “Go back to your booths if you’re a merchant. If you’re here shopping, then please stay in this area until I get your name and information and take your statement.”

  He drew Amelia aside slightly and finished questioning her.

  Afterward, she came by the table where I was sitting. “Hey, I’m sorry about everything. I am glad they caught that old bat, though. She’ll pay for what she’s done.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Ms. Singer, may I take your statement now?” asked Officer Newland.

  “Of course,” I said. I told him what had happened that morning. I also reiterated that Manu had instructed the crime scene technicians to take photographs of the damage done, and I gave him the estimate of loss I’d prepared for the insurance company.

  He asked me a few additional questions—had I known Nellie Davis long, that type of thing—and then he went to take the statements of the other bystanders.

  About half an hour after Nellie had been taken away by the knight in shining armor—actually, he’d been wearing chain mail—Ted called.

  “Hey, babe, how are you? Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I’m okay. I’ve been giving my statement to Officer Newland,” I said. “Besides, I knew you’d call once Sir Officer of Tallulah Falls brought Nellie in.”

  “Deel,” Ted said.

  “What?”

  “The knight. His name is Officer Deel. Anyway, Nellie has been arrested and charged with criminal trespass and criminal mischief.”

  “Criminal mischief?” I asked. “That makes her sound like a naughty little scamp who toilet-papered my lawn or something. I mean, I realize she just lost her sister, but . . .”

  “Trust me. Criminal mischief is a serious crime in the state of Oregon,” he said. “She could be charged with jail time and a steep fine.”

  “Jail time? How much?”

  “Not much . . . and since it’s a first offense, she’ll probably get off with probation since her lawyer will plead that she was grieving over the loss of her sister, et cetera,” he said. “But your insurance company will go after her for compensation of your damaged property.”

  “She has a lawyer?”

  “Apparently,” said Ted. “She’s waiting at the station until he arrives and gives her advice.”

  “I still can’t figure out why Nellie would do such a horrible thing to me,” I said. “While it’s true that we’ve never been friends, I never actually thought she was my bitter enemy. Do you think she truly believes I’m responsible in some way for Clara’s death?”

  “I don’t have a clue what’s going on in Nellie’s head, Inch-High. And what does it matter what she thinks? You know the truth. And you know you did nothing to deserve that woman’s wrath. Try to let it go.”

  “Okay. I’ll try.”

  “I’ll be there soon with lunch,” he said.

  “Let’s meet somewhere. I’m leaving here early today so Julie can start her training with Riley and Camille. I told her I’d be at the Seven-Year Stitch at one thirty this afternoon.”

  “Pizza place at noon?”

  I laughed. “How could I say no when you sound so hopeful?”

  After I spoke with Ted, I noticed Officer Newland making his way around the booths, talking with all the merchants. He must’ve finished with the shoppers.

  I suddenly had an influx of business. Some people, no doubt, wanted to see how I was holding up after Nellie’s outburst. But some seemed genuinely interested in my products.

  Sadie stormed into the merchants’ building and over to my booth. She stood there tapping her foot, with a tight grimace that she was trying to pass off as a smile.

  I excused myself from two ladies who were looking around my booth. “I’ll be just outside the stall if you need me.”

  “I take it you heard,” I said quietly to Sadie.

  “Yes, I heard. I want to throttle that old hen! How dare she do such a thing to you?”

  “What got me was how gleeful she seemed about the whole thing,” I said. “She told me that it had helped her to rip my things to shreds.” I glanced down at the floor. “I know she’s grieving, but how does hurting someone else help her?”

  Sadie pulled me to her in a big-sisterly hug. “I wish Nellie Davis would just leave Tallulah Falls. She’s a hateful, bitter woman, and no one is going to want her around when they hear what she’s done.”

  I gently broke out of the hug, knowing it would make me cry if I accepted Sadie’s sympathy. “I’m all right.”

  “You’re better than all right. And you’re way better than her,” she said. “You might have lost some things, but you have more of all the things that count than Nellie Davis will ever have.”

  I nodded. “I know. Thanks, Sadie.”

  “I’d better get back. See you later.”

  “See you,” I said.

  After my two customers paid for their purchases and wandered into another stall, I called Ted back.

  “Hi,” I said. “Can you keep Nellie there until I get there?”

  “Yes,” he said. “She’s in an interrogation room right now with her attorney.”

  “Make her stay until I get there. I’m coming to talk to her. She and her attorney have to grant me that, d
on’t they?” I asked.

  “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll see what I can do.”

  * * *

  Ted met me at the door of the police station. He pulled me into his office, closed the door, and after giving me a kiss, told me that he’d persuaded Nellie’s attorney to let me have a word with her. “The attorney is hoping that by talking with you, Nellie will show remorse and he can use that to have a judge give her a reduced sentence.”

  “If she shows any remorse, she deserves an Academy Award,” I said. “And I want to talk with her alone . . . without the lawyer present.”

  “I’ll see if he’ll allow it.” Ted ushered me into an interrogation room.

  He came back a few minutes later and informed me that I could speak with Nellie. An officer would be in the room to ensure that no physical altercations took place, and Nellie’s attorney would be with Ted and Manu on the other side of the one-way glass.

  “If anything is said that the attorney deems inappropriate, he’ll stop the interview immediately,” said Ted.

  “Fair enough.”

  Within five or ten minutes, Nellie came into the room accompanied by a female officer I’d never met.

  Nellie sat down across the table from me. “Are you here to drop these outrageous charges?”

  “No.”

  “Then why am I talking with you? Now that Clara is dead, I have no one!” She took a deep, shuddering breath and looked down at the table. “Of course, when life was good for Clara, I didn’t have her. I don’t even know Clara’s family. I only met her second husband once. I haven’t seen Clara’s boys since they were small.”

  “Then don’t you think this is a good time to reconnect with them?” I asked. “One of Clara’s step-granddaughters came looking for her on Friday. They must’ve been close. Maybe you could help fill the void left by Clara’s death.”

  “Clara wasn’t close with any of her late husband’s granddaughters,” said Nellie. “At least, I don’t think she was. She didn’t speak of any of his family members favorably.”

  “How many are there?”

  “There are three granddaughters, I think. What’s it to you, anyway? You think I’m going to get all mushy about people I don’t even know?” she asked. “They don’t know me, and they don’t want to. I feel the same way about them. Now that Clara’s dead, I’ve got no one . . . and it’s all your fault.”