The Long Stitch Good Night: An Embroidery Mystery

by Amanda Lee

  “Good.” He smiled. “When I was showing you how to pick it up, I was also testing its weight. If I’d thought you’d hurt yourself bringing it in, I’d have done it for you. I knew you could handle that box.”

  “Thank you. If you hadn’t pushed me, I wouldn’t have done it.”

  “That’s what a personal trainer does,” said Mark.

  “Can you believe it’s been a week since Graham was killed?” I asked, trying to find a way to draw him into a conversation about the shooting. “Have they scheduled his funeral yet?”

  “I haven’t heard,” he said. “I do know he has family that lives out of town, so maybe the service has been postponed until they get here.”

  “Maybe. Prolonging the funeral and the closure it would provide is bound to be hard for his parents, though. But I guess it’s good he doesn’t have any children or anything.” I watched Mark’s face, but he was giving nothing away. “I’d heard he fathered a child with Tawny Milligan, but that turned out to be just a rumor.”

  “I’d always heard her baby belonged to Graham, but I never gave it much thought,” he said. “I feel sorry for the child, though. He’s what now? Ten?”

  “I imagine so.”

  Mark shook his head. “And he’s growing up without a father.”

  “Well, not totally, from what I can understand. Tawny married Charles Siegel, and he’s been like a father to the boy,” I said.

  “It’s not the same,” Mark said. “I grew up with plenty of uncles and cousins. But my dad wasn’t around. That was tough. I always felt like he hadn’t wanted me. If he had, he’d have been around.”

  “You don’t seem at all surprised that Tawny and Charles were married.”

  “I know more than a lot of people give me credit for knowing. I just don’t talk about what I know or what I don’t know. I learned a long time ago not to go poking my nose around in other people’s business…especially if I didn’t want them poking around in mine.” He gave me a pointed look. “Messing in other people’s business is a good way to get yourself shot in the back room of a bar.”

  Long after Mark had left, I kept mulling over what he’d said. He was definitely warning me. Did he know who’d really killed Graham Stott? Did he know the identity of Drew’s father? As far as I knew, the father could be Roberto, Andy, Charles—despite what John Milligan thought—or Blake. Todd had said he didn’t think Blake would have slept with Tawny while he was dating Sadie, but he hadn’t sounded very sure of that. And Sadie had been upset last night to learn that Blake had dated Tawny and hadn’t mentioned it to her.

  What if Blake was the father of Tawny’s child? Granted, he dated Tawny before he ever met Sadie. But could he have hooked up with Tawny in a moment of weakness? And if so, would Sadie ever forgive him for giving another woman a child when they’d had so much trouble conceiving? I tried to put the thought out of my head. That baby had to belong to someone other than Blake.

  Chapter Nineteen

  When I had a break between customers that morning, I called Charles.

  “I didn’t expect to hear back from you so soon,” he said. “Have there been some new developments in the investigation?”

  “Not really,” I said, trying to keep my voice sounding casual. “I’m just wondering why you didn’t tell me you were married to Tawny Milligan.”

  He was silent for a moment before saying, “I wasn’t married to Tawny Milligan. I was married to Sarah Masterson. Sarah and I had left Tawny far in the past. Besides, my personal life is none of your business.”

  “I agree. But I learned about your wife’s passing, and I am sorry for your loss and for your son’s loss,” I said.

  “How did you hear about Sarah’s death?” Charles asked.

  “I’d been trying to find her because I thought she might know of someone who could have wanted to kill Graham,” I said.

  “Why would she know anything about that?” he asked. “Even if she was still living, she hadn’t seen the man in a decade.”

  “True, but it was widely believed that Graham was the father of her child. I figured she would have kept up with him.” I took a deep breath before dropping another bomb. “Up until I found out Tawny—or Sarah—was dead, I thought she might have had something to do with Graham’s murder.”

  “Where are you getting your information?” he asked tersely.

  “I went to see Tawny’s father. Mr. Milligan—”

  “You intruded on a grieving father?” Charles interrupted. “You’ve got a lot of nerve.”

  “Had I known about your marriage to Tawny, I wouldn’t have gone. I didn’t know at that time that Drew had a dad in his life, and I thought Mr. Milligan might want to petition the court for whatever inheritance the child had coming from Graham’s estate,” I said.

  “What’s it to you?”

  “Graham Stott treated your wife like dirt, and I thought he should pay for it! And I wanted to make sure her child was provided for.”

  He sighed. “He did treat Sarah poorly, but as I told you, we put the past as far behind us as we could get it.”

  “Then what were you doing at a party with Graham?” I asked.

  “I didn’t know he’d be there. None of us really liked him—a few of the guys tolerated him at best.” He paused. “What else did John tell you?”

  “He told me Graham wasn’t Drew’s father.”

  “Did he tell you who is?” Charles asked.

  “No,” I said. “He didn’t know. Is it you?”

  “I am now. That’s all that matters,” he said quietly.

  “That is all that matters. I’m glad he’s got you.” I was thinking And Andy, but I didn’t say that. Andy had made it clear that Tawny’s husband hadn’t known about their friendship, and Charles had made it clear that he thought his wife had cut all ties to her past.

  “You take a lot on yourself, you know that?” he asked. “You should really leave the detective work to those trained to do it, Ms. Singer. They’re a lot more capable than you are.”

  “I don’t doubt their expertise,” I said. “But I believe my friends are innocent, and I’ll do whatever I can to help prove it and to find out who really killed Graham Stott. Do you have any theories as to who shot him?”

  “Yes, I have one—the only plausible one there is. Graham was killed by either Todd Calloway, Blake MacKenzie, or both of them. I’m not sure which one pulled the trigger, but you can bet one of them did. You can’t mix old grudges with liquor and expect a pleasant outcome. My advice to you is to stop wasting everybody’s time—including your own—and put your energy into throwing your buddies a going-away party.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way,” I said.

  “I suppose our so-called partnership is off,” he said. “Just so you know, the Seven-Year Stitch is being featured in Sunday’s edition of the paper. So I figure we’re square for the information you’ve provided to date.”

  “I guess we are,” I said.

  I ended the call, went into the storeroom, closed the door, and screamed into a bolt of fabric. This, naturally, made Angus bark at the door because he wondered what was making me scream. The next thing I knew, Todd was flinging open the storeroom door.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “I came in and saw Angus having a fit at the door and was afraid you might be hurt or something.”

  “Not so much hurt. Just furious.” I put the bolt of fabric back onto the shelf and left the storeroom. “Why do you always catch me at my worst?”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Todd said. He followed me out and closed the door.

  We went into the sit-and-stitch area and both sat down on the sofa facing the window.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

  “Yes and no. I just had an argument with Charles Siegel. I’d initially hoped he could provide information about the shooting, so I agreed to send him information about the trial and investigation in exchange for publicity for the Seven-Year Stitch.” I threw my head against the
back of the sofa and closed my eyes. “Then I found out that he was married to Tawny Milligan, who had changed her name to Sarah Masterson, and that he is raising her child.”

  “He and Tawny were married? When did that happen? And why is he raising the child? Where is she?” Todd asked.

  “She’s dead. She was killed in a car accident in January,” I said.

  “Oh, man.”

  I raised my head and looked at Todd. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend that to come out so abruptly. I’d forgotten the two of you were friends.”

  “It’s all right,” he said. “Finish your story.”

  “Charles got angry that I was poking into his wife’s business, and he insisted that the police have the right people in custody.” I folded one leg under me. “See, all roads kept leading back to Tawny Milligan. All of you knew her, many of you had dated her, and she left town supposedly carrying Graham’s child. And when Graham found out she was pregnant, he treated her like dirt. I thought if anyone had a motive to want him dead, it was her.”

  “But why would you think she’d wait ten years to get her revenge?” Todd asked.

  “I thought maybe she or the child needed money for some reason. I’d decided that maybe Tawny had gone to Graham, asked him to do the right thing, he refused, and she thought she’d have a better chance at getting what she needed from him if he was dead.” I spread my hands. “If the father wouldn’t give the child money while he was living, maybe she could get it from his estate.”

  “Graham wasn’t the father.”

  “I know that now,” I said. “Of course, I had to find out from her dad because no one else volunteered the information. How did you know Graham wasn’t the father?”

  “He had a dirt bike accident when he was twelve. I was with him.” Todd smiled sadly to himself. “He told me afterwards that he couldn’t get a girl pregnant anymore. And he was thrilled. He was too young to consider the seriousness of that.”

  “At twelve, he was happy he couldn’t get a girl pregnant?” I asked.

  “We were seeing all the sex ed films in school. He was looking ahead.” He shrugged. “Just stupid kid talk.”

  “Who was the father of Tawny’s baby?” I asked softly.

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  “You don’t know, or you don’t want to tell me?”

  He turned his head slowly toward me. “It isn’t me.”

  “I didn’t think it was. Is it Blake?” I asked.

  He lowered his eyes. “I doubt it.”

  “You doubt it, but you don’t know for sure.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “That’s ancient history. Digging in it now would only jeopardize Blake’s marriage to Sadie.”

  I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. “Why in the world did you have to invite Graham Stott to that stupid party? You knew how much animosity there was between him and most of the other Alpha Sigs. Was it because he’d given you money when you first opened the Brew Crew?”

  “No. He offered me money, but I didn’t take it. I didn’t want to be indebted to Graham Stott…or to anyone else, for that matter,” said Todd. “I invited Graham because I felt sorry for him. I wanted to try to get back the friendship we’d had when we were kids.”

  “Look how that worked out for you. You’re getting ready to stand trial for his murder,” I said. “And someone else who was in the Brew Crew last Friday night—maybe another of your Alpha Sig brothers—is more than happy to stand by and let you and Blake take the blame.” I was so angry that I was a little out of control. “The two of you need to start helping the police figure out who killed Graham, or else you’re going to be serving life sentences in prison!”

  Todd’s chocolate-colored eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched. “Are you doubting the valiant Detective Nash? Do you no longer think your hero can swoop in and save the day?”

  “I believe Ted is an excellent detective, but he didn’t know Graham Stott. You and Blake did, and you’d better start feeding Ted some possible leads. Take responsibility for your life, Todd!”

  “Fine.” He got up and strode out the door.

  Angus peeped timidly out from behind the other sofa.

  I heaved a deflated sigh. “It’s all right, baby.”

  He trotted over and sat down at my feet. I kissed the top of his head and gave him a hug. It’s wonderful to have a friend who always loves you no matter what.

  Later that afternoon I was restocking monk’s cloth, Aida fabric, and items (such as towels, baby bibs, and blankets) with spaces for embroidering. The phone rang, and it was Mom.

  “You might not want to talk with me today,” I warned her. “I’ve made everyone else I’ve talked to angry.”

  “Oh, darling, you could never make me angry,” she said.

  “And you shouldn’t lie. At least, that’s what you always told me.”

  “Okay, so you can make me angry. I’ll take my chances. What have you done to everyone else?” she asked.

  “It’s this stupid murder investigation.”

  “Which you should probably not be involved in, but that’s beside the point,” Mom said. “I know you can’t help yourself. Please continue.”

  I told her about how I’d been so sure this Tawny Milligan had been involved with the murder somehow, especially since I found out she was pregnant presumably with Graham Stott’s child when she left Tallulah Falls. “But now I don’t know who the father is—not that it has any bearing on this investigation at this point—and I’ve wasted my time chasing leads that don’t matter. And, on top of that, I made Todd angry this morning by telling him he needed to take responsibility for his life and help the police find out who really killed Graham.”

  “Well, he does need to take the wheel on this, darling. You were right. And as for Tawny, don’t count out the vengeance of a woman scorned even from the grave,” Mom said. “Remember that movie I worked on, Vengeance from the Grave?”

  “I remember.” And, unfortunately, I did. That movie had been a real stinker. “But I don’t think Tawny Milligan came back as a zombie and shot Graham Stott.”

  “That’s beside the point. All I’m saying is that just because Tawny’s child didn’t belong to Graham doesn’t mean that the Alpha Sigs’ past didn’t factor into the shooting,” she said. “Now, granted, it could’ve been a random thing carried out by a stranger, but I doubt it. Sometimes old resentments fester until they simply explode with no further warning.”

  “I guess that’s true. But, Mom, what if Blake is the father of Tawny Milligan’s child?” I asked.

  “If he is, then what he’ll do about it is up to him, love. And it will be up to Sadie to decide whether or not she cares about him enough to stand by him no matter what he decides. If it’ll make you feel better, talk with Blake privately and ask him if he thinks it’s possible the boy is his. He might not have even considered it a possibility.”

  After we hung up, I called MacKenzies’ Mochas. I’d already decided that if Sadie answered, I’d tell her I’d made Todd angry and ask her whether she thought I should give him some space or try to make up. If Blake answered, I could ask him to come over and talk with me when he got a chance. Fortunately for me, Blake answered.

  “Hi,” I said. “How’s it going?”

  “Okay. You need Sadie?” he asked.

  “No, actually, I want to talk with you. Privately. Could you come to the shop when you get time?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” He drew the word out. “What’s up?”

  “I’ll explain when you get here.”

  While I waited for Blake to arrive, I worked on the Mountmellick piece. I was couching the petals of a daisy when he walked in.

  His face showed his concern as he looked around the shop to see what might be wrong.

  “Please come and sit down with me,” I said as Angus bounded over to Blake to be petted.

  “Okay.” He patted Angus absently and came to sit on the red club chair opposite me. “What’s going on, Marce?
You’re freaking me out.”

  “Is there any possibility you could be the father of Tawny Milligan’s child?”

  He ran his hand over the lower portion of his face. “Why are you asking me about that?”

  I explained that after I’d learned about Tawny’s pregnancy and shoddy treatment by Graham, that I was convinced Graham was the father of her child and that she’d been involved in his shooting. “But then I found out Graham wasn’t the father of Tawny’s baby.”

  “I repeat—why are you asking me about it?”

  “Because if you are, I thought you—and Drew—had the right to know,” I told him. “You don’t have to do anything about it if he is your son, but I thought you should know in case he is.”

  His jaw worked, and he gripped the arms of the chair.

  “Say something,” I said at last.

  “Um, all righty.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice. “I’ll jump up from here and rush down the street to tell my wife—with whom I’ve been trying unsuccessfully to father a child—that I might already have a son by another woman. She’ll be ever so delighted!”

  “So you’re thinking Drew is yours?” I asked.

  “I don’t know what to think. Could a one-night stand with Tawny Milligan when I was on a break with Sadie result in a child? Possibly. Could it destroy my marriage if Sadie ever finds out? Definitely.” He stood. “I’ve got to get out of here and clear my head. If Sadie calls, tell her I had to run an errand. I’ll think up something to tell her later.”

  Fantastic. More lies.

  I needed to do something to fix this. I didn’t want to be responsible for Blake and Sadie’s marriage falling apart. Although, technically, the events that would be responsible for that wouldn’t be my fault, but I’d be the one who set the revelation of them in motion.

  I called Charles Siegel. When he answered, I quickly asked him to please not hang up.

  “What is it?” he asked impatiently.

  “Is Blake MacKenzie Drew’s biological father?” I asked.

  “Why don’t you ask him that?”

  “I did,” I admitted. “He says it’s possible. But I thought that maybe your wife had told you the truth, and I’m praying the father is someone other than Blake.”