The Long Stitch Good Night: An Embroidery Mystery

by Amanda Lee

  “I will. Tell Sadie I’ll see her soon.”

  I took the muffin basket and walked back up the street to where I’d parked my red Jeep. I appreciated Sadie looking out for me—she’d been like a sister to me since we’d roomed together in college—but she didn’t have to punish Keira for liking Todd. If they had a connection, then they should be able to date without any interference. I made a mental note to talk with Sadie about that later.

  Before I started driving to the hospital, I checked my phone to make sure I didn’t have any voice or text messages from Keith asking me to bring something. Nothing. I guessed the muffins would suffice.

  When I got to the hospital, I hurried to the maternity ward. The nurse manning the information desk directed me to Riley’s room. I noticed the difference in this area of the hospital compared to the other floors. The maternity ward was serene. The walls were painted a neutral beige rather than the icky green of the other floors, and there were beautiful prints lining the hallway.

  The heavy wooden door to Riley’s room was slightly ajar. I tapped before noticing Keith sitting by the bed holding Riley’s hand. They looked like they were part of a painting themselves—one I’d call Blissful Anticipation. Both Riley and Keith were dark-haired, tall, and lean—except for Riley’s huge baby bump, of course. They were staring into each other’s eyes with joy, love, and expectation. I felt a pang. Had I not already made my presence known, I’d have taken the muffin basket and left it at the nurses’ station for delivery to the Kendalls later. But Keith was already rising to open the door the rest of the way.

  “Come in,” he said.

  I handed him the muffin basket, and he and Riley both thanked me.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked her.

  “Nervous,” she said. “But otherwise fine.”

  “I won’t keep you,” I said. “I only wanted to drop off the muffins. You guys need some time to yourselves.” I knew that before long, Riley’s mother and uncle and Keith’s parents would be arriving at the hospital. Riley’s father was serving time in a federal prison for real estate fraud, but I guessed he was as nervous as any of the other grandparents. Maybe more so, since he couldn’t be here.

  “Thank you,” Keith said. “I’ll keep you posted.”

  As I left the hospital, I couldn’t help thinking that if my former fiancé David and I had gotten married last year as planned, I might be having our baby now. Of course, I was over David. I’d finally come to realize how very wrong we’d been for each other. But if we’d been as devoted to each other as Riley and Keith were…well…

  I shook off the thought as I drove out of the parking lot. There was no point in imagining what might have been. It was better to think of what could be. I imagined myself in Riley’s place—one hand on my stomach where my baby was still resting, one hand being held by…Ted? Todd? Someone else?

  I realized I could let myself get into a funk this evening if I wasn’t careful. I supposed it was only natural for a woman to feel a maternal pull when she walked into a birthing center. And that time would come for me…eventually. For now, I’d have to settle for nurturing Angus. I’d rented the Irish-themed Ondine for Sadie and me to watch with him this evening. Before you think I’m completely cuckoo, I don’t think Angus will watch a movie—I just want him to know I’m thinking about him and celebrating his nation’s holiday. Okay, so maybe I’m a little cuckoo.

  By the time I arrived at the Brew Crew, the party was in full swing. And loud. Music, laughter, shouting, billiard balls slamming into each other or into the targeted pocket…Did I mention it was loud? Several people saluted me with mugs of green beer as I made my way through the crowd. I spotted Sadie standing in front of the bar to my right.

  “Sadie!” I shouted.

  She turned. “Hi!” She was holding a glass of green…liquid.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Believe it or not, it’s water.”

  I wrinkled my nose in distaste.

  “It’s okay,” she assured me. “It’s like regular water, only green.”

  “I’ll pass,” I said. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Yeah. Just let me say good-bye to Blake and Todd.” She glanced around the pub until she spotted them sitting at a couple of tables that had been pushed together. “Come with me.”

  I dutifully followed Sadie as she zigzagged through the people and tables to where Todd, Blake, and their fraternity friends were sitting. Each man had a drink in front of him—most of them had green beers, but one or two had cocktails—and the overall mood appeared to be jolly.

  “You are coming back to drive Blake home, aren’t you?” I asked Sadie.

  “Oh, yes,” she said. “Guys, Marcy and I are off.”

  “Aw, come on, don’t go,” Todd said, his chocolate brown eyes twinkling. “You just got here, Marcy.”

  “I know,” I said. “But I need to go home and check on Angus, and—”

  “At least dance with me before you go,” he said. He dug in his pocket and retrieved some quarters. “Blake, my man, play us something on the jukebox.”

  “There’s already music playing,” I pointed out.

  “Sure, but it isn’t the kind we can dance to,” he said.

  He was right about that. The music that was playing—some sort of Irish tune that sounded like a funeral dirge—was not a dance tune. But Blake was already poking quarters into the jukebox, and within seconds, a slow pop song started to play. Todd took me into his arms and spun me into a waltz.

  He was wearing jeans and a kelly green button-down shirt. His dark hair brushed against the hand I had at the back of his neck, and I couldn’t resist tugging on a wavy curl.

  He smiled. “I’ve missed you, Marcy. Where’ve you been the past couple of weeks?”

  “Across the street,” I said. “I have a shop over there. Maybe you’ve seen it.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said with a laugh. “I remember it now.”

  “You should,” I teased. “You used to come visit often enough. Now you hurry past on your way to MacKenzies’ Mochas.”

  “Are you being the green-eyed monster on Saint Patrick’s Day?”

  “Me? Jealous? Nah.” I smiled. “Seriously, if you’re happy with Keira, I think that’s great.”

  “I’m not happy with Keira. We only went out once.” He stopped dancing. “What about you? Are you happy with Ted?”

  “He and I aren’t a couple,” I said. “Is this really the time and place to discuss all this?”

  “Probably not,” he said, swaying once again to the music. “But I do want to discuss it…later. Come meet some of my frat brothers.”

  “Okay.”

  He led me back to the table where Sadie, Blake, and five other men were waiting.

  “May I have the next dance?” a tall man with a receding hairline asked.

  “Sorry, Graham,” Todd said. “I’m afraid the lady has other plans for the evening.” He turned to me. “Marcy, this joker is Graham.” He gestured around the table, introducing me to the others. There was a rumpled-looking guy who reminded me of a young Peter Falk as Columbo—his name was Charles. Then there was Andy, who appeared to be shy and unassuming behind his black, rectangular glasses. Mark was obviously a bodybuilder, and he sort of reminded me of Denzel Washington. Last was Roberto, a short, olive-skinned man with a mustache and a ready laugh.

  “It’s nice to meet all of you,” I said. “Do most of you live around here, or are you just in town for the reunion?”

  Graham, Andy, and Mark were locals. Charles was from Portland, and Roberto lived in Seattle. I told them I hoped to see them again, and then Sadie and I left.

  “What did Todd say while he was dancing with you?” Sadie asked as soon as we got out onto the street.

  “I could tell you it’s none of your business,” I said.

  “You could, but you’re not that cruel. Come on. What did he say?”

  I shrugged. “He said he’s very happy with Keira, and I wished the
m well.”

  “He did not!”

  I had to laugh at the way she was standing there gaping at me indignantly. “No, he didn’t. But you didn’t have to make Keira work so that she couldn’t go to Todd’s party tonight.”

  “I didn’t,” Sadie said. “She asked to work because she needed the overtime pay. Her sister’s birthday is coming up, and she’s been saving to get her something special.”

  “Oh.” I bit my lower lip. “Sorry.”

  “Apology accepted. But now you have to tell me what he really said.”

  “He told me he and Keira aren’t a couple, and he asked me about Ted. We decided we’d talk about things later.” I sighed. “I’m not sure I want to talk about things later, but I guess it’s inevitable.”

  “Why don’t you want to talk about these…things?” she asked. “It all sounds pretty vague, if you ask me.”

  “I don’t want to talk about my feelings because I’m still not sure how I feel. I like both men, Sadie. I’m just not sure which one I like best.”

  She smiled. “You’ll figure it out. And since you don’t have to make a decision tonight, let’s go watch Almondine.”

  “Ondine,” I corrected. “You’re thinking trout.”

  “I am kinda hungry.”

  The movie had just ended. Angus was asleep on his back in front of the television. His long gray legs would twitch occasionally, making me wonder what he was chasing. Sadie and I were sitting on my white, overstuffed sofa with an empty popcorn bowl between us. The credits were rolling, and we were debating who looked better scruffy—Colin Farrell, who had starred in this particular movie, or Johnny Depp, who had not. My vote was for Johnny.

  “Come on,” I said. “Can you beat Johnny Depp for scruffy, swarthy hotness? Captain Jack Sparrow, Mort Rainey…? Hello?”

  Sadie smiled. “While I’ll admit—”

  The phone rang.

  I held up an index finger. “Hold that thought.” I answered the phone with a chirpy hello.

  “Marcy, I need to speak to Sadie,” Blake said.

  He sounded odd, so I didn’t tease him about drinking too much and needing his ride home. I merely handed Sadie the phone. “It’s Blake.”

  “Are you ready for me to come get you?” she asked.

  I watched her smile fade.

  “You’re where? I’ll be right there.” She turned the phone off and returned it to the table. “He’s in jail.”

  Chapter Two

  Sadie and I shared a look of fear and revulsion as we walked through the metal detectors and into the jail. I wondered if the place was always this crowded on Friday nights, or if Saint Patrick’s Day and an overabundance of green beer and other liquors was the cause.

  Sadie stepped up to the counter where a forty-something female officer with her hair in a tight bun sat staring at a computer screen. “Excuse me,” Sadie said. “My husband is here, and I want to see him.”

  The officer barely glanced up. “What’s his name?”

  “Blake MacKenzie.” Sadie spoke softly, obviously not wanting to announce to everyone within the sound of her voice that her husband had been arrested.

  “Excuse me?” the officer asked. “You’ll have to speak up.”

  “Blake MacKenzie,” Sadie repeated a little more loudly.

  The officer typed what I assumed was Blake’s name into the computer. In a moment she instructed, “Wait here. I’ll have someone take you back.” She pressed an intercom button and called for Deputy Flaherty.

  Within just a couple minutes, a red-haired policeman of average height and build arrived. “Mrs. MacKenzie?”

  “That’s me,” Sadie said.

  “Right this way,” he said.

  “Is it okay if my friend comes too?” she asked.

  “Sure.”

  We followed him down a corridor that led to the cells. Prior to going through the door, Deputy Flaherty waved a metal detecting wand over us to further ensure neither of us was carrying a weapon.

  “You may talk with your husband for about five minutes,” he told Sadie. “There is to be no physical contact, and I’ll remain with you while you speak with him.” He pressed a button and the door opened automatically.

  The nearly deafening din coming from inside the cellblock reminded me of stepping into a dog kennel at an animal shelter. And the similarities didn’t end there. As I looked into the eyes of those behind the locked cage doors, I felt compassion for some and fear of others.

  And, of course, my heart broke for Blake. Now wearing a standard-issue orange inmate jumpsuit, he sat on a cot in a cell by himself looking hungover and sad. His usually gleaming hair was limp and sweaty. His face brightened a little when he saw Sadie. He stood and hurried over to the bars. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “Let’s just get you home.”

  Blake looked ruefully at Deputy Flaherty and then back at Sadie. “That’s not gonna happen, babe. At least, not until Monday.”

  “What?” Sadie stepped toward the officer until she was nearly nose to nose with him. “I can pay his bail right now. Why can’t he leave?”

  “Bail hasn’t been set,” Deputy Flaherty said patiently. “And it won’t be set until the judge presides over the arraignment Monday morning.”

  “Isn’t there something you can do?” she demanded. “Someone you can call? I don’t know what charges you have him on, but I’m certain this must be a mistake. My husband is a good man.”

  The officer spread his hands. “I’m sorry. In cases as serious as this, the accused must appear before the judge for the arraignment and bond hearing before there is even a possibility of his being released.”

  Sadie went back to stand before Blake. “When you called, you said there had been some trouble at the bar. I thought you’d been in a fight or something. What do the police think you’ve done?”

  Blake sighed. “Graham Stott is dead.”

  She gasped. “Graham? How? What happened?”

  “He was shot,” Blake said.

  Shot? At the bar? What on earth had happened after we’d left? Was Todd okay?

  “B-but who? Why?” Sadie’s eyes filled with tears.

  Blake simply shook his head.

  “The police think you had something to do with it?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  The automatic door swung open, and another uniformed officer—this one short, heavy, and bald—escorted Todd into the cellblock.

  “Todd?” I asked, relieved to see that he did appear to be all right. Like Sadie, I was desperately trying to get a handle on what was going on.

  He managed a weak smile. I noticed his hands were cuffed.

  The officer instructed us to step back while he placed Todd in the cell with Blake. After shutting the door, he had Todd put his hands through the bars so he could remove the cuffs.

  Sadie spun around to face Deputy Flaherty. “Will somebody please tell me what’s going on here?”

  “Mr. MacKenzie and Mr. Calloway have been charged with the murder of Graham Stott,” he said.

  Sadie, her face drained of color, turned back to Blake. “What…what happened?”

  “We don’t know,” Todd said.

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” Sadie said, her eyes boring into her husband’s downcast eyes. “What happened?”

  “It’s like Todd said, we don’t know,” Blake said.

  “How can you not know?” Sadie demanded. “You had to have been there, or else you wouldn’t be here now.”

  Deputy Flaherty cleared his throat. “I’m afraid your time is up, Mrs. MacKenzie. You and your friend will have to leave now.”

  “How can I help?” I asked Todd quickly.

  “Go check on the pub. Make sure the manager, Robbie, took the receipts to the bank and put them in the overnight depository. He’s probably home by now, but I doubt he’s gone to bed yet,” Todd said. “I’d also like you to talk to my dad first thing tomorrow morning. I don’t want to call him tonight and scare h
im and Mom to death, but I need his help with this mess. His name is Nolan, and both his and Robbie’s—Robert Barlow’s—information is in the Rolodex on my desk.”

  “In your office at the Brew Crew?” I asked as Deputy Flaherty took me by the arm and began nudging me toward the door.

  With his other hand, Deputy Flaherty began propelling Sadie out of the cellblock.

  “Yes,” Todd called.

  “I’ll take care of it,” I said. “Anything else?”

  “No.” He sighed. “Just—thank you. I appreciate this.”

  “Blake, I’ll be back,” Sadie called over her shoulder.

  “Not until tomorrow morning,” Blake said. “Please. You need your rest.”

  She scoffed. “Like I’m going to be able to sleep while you’re in jail.”

  “You can sleep with me!” one of the inmates yelled, setting off a round of wolf whistles and catcalls.

  “I’ll be back in the morning,” she shouted to Blake.

  Deputy Flaherty escorted Sadie and me back to the lobby.

  “I’ll go now and see if the police will let me take a look at that Rolodex,” I said to Sadie.

  “I’ll go with you,” she said firmly.

  “What’s the deal with Blake and Todd being charged with murder?” Sadie asked the officer. “That’s ridiculous. Graham was their friend.”

  Deputy Flaherty shrugged. “All I know is that when our men arrived at the Brew Crew to investigate a reported shooting, Graham Stott was dead. The gun used to murder him was registered to Mr. Calloway, but the fingerprints of both Calloway and your husband were on the weapon. And they were alone in the room with the victim.”

  When Sadie and I arrived at the Brew Crew, the crime scene technicians were still scrutinizing every inch of the pub. There was yellow crime scene tape up as well as a barricade overseen by two officers—one at each end. Sadie tried to barrel past anyway and was threatened with arrest.

  “On what charges?” she shouted.

  “Trespassing, interfering with the investigation of a crime, tampering with evidence,” one of the officers began rattling off.

  I spotted Ted and waved both arms to get his attention.

  “Something told me I’d be seeing you tonight,” he said wryly as he approached Sadie and me. “But I didn’t expect you so soon.”