Thread Reckoning

by Amanda Lee

  “Why did Todd kissing your cheek make you uncomfortable?”

  My eyes darted around the room. “Because you’re here? And I don’t know you?”

  “No, that’s not it. Are you seeing someone else?”

  I gaped. And then I stammered, “W-we—Todd and I—we aren’t in a serious relationship. We date . . . on occasion . . . but neither of us is ready to . . . commit.”

  Jason nodded. “Or, at least, you’re not. But you’re afraid Todd might be.” He shrugged. “That’s between the two of you. I was just curious, that’s all.”

  Wow. FBI people really are incredibly perceptive—or, at least, this one was. It was kind of spooky.

  “Let’s get to the jewelry.” He took some photographs out of the breast pocket of his sport coat. “Concentrate on the stones, not on the actual pieces, and tell me if any of these look like what you saw.” He placed the photographs on the desk in front of me.

  I leaned in to get a better look at the jewelry. “Ooh, I love this necklace.” There was a photograph showing a close-up of a triple strand of diamonds and pearls interrupted by larger cabochon blue sapphires. “It’s beautiful.”

  Beside the close-up of the necklace was one of a bracelet that was obviously a companion piece. It, too, had three strands of diamonds, pearls, and blue sapphires. I could imagine myself wearing the necklace and bracelet as part of my masquerade ball ensemble.

  “Are there matching earrings?” I asked.

  “Marcy, please look at the stones and tell me if they could be the ones you were using to embellish Cassandra Wainwright’s wedding gown.” He took a small case from his pocket, opened it, and removed a magnifying glass. “Maybe this will help you see the stones independent of their settings.” He handed me the magnifying glass.

  I peered through the magnifying glass at the stones. The sapphires could be the ones Francesca Ortega had delivered to the shop to be put on the gown. The pearls and diamonds were consistent with the gemstones she had brought as well. But that didn’t necessarily mean they came from these pieces. Did it?

  “Are they the ones you were working with?” Jason asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “They could be. But there were also some larger pearls.”

  “We haven’t looked at everything in the collection yet. But you believe the sapphires you saw could have been the ones composing this necklace and this bracelet. Is that correct?”

  I raised my eyes to his. “I can’t say for certain, but, yes, it looks like them.”

  “Very well. Let’s move on to the pearls.” He gathered the photographs of the triple-strand necklace and bracelet and returned them to his pocket.

  He took out a photograph of a pearl necklace. The pearls graduated in size from a sixteenmillimeter center pearl to five-millimeter pearls at the clasp.

  I looked at the pearls through the magnifying glass, but I was conflicted. “These might be the pearls I used or they might not. I’m not a jeweler. I thought the stones Ms. Ortega brought in were from a craft or beading supply shop.”

  “I realize that,” Jason said. “All I’m asking you is whether or not the stones in the pieces I’ve shown you were like the ones you were using or that you saw.”

  “Okay. Then, yes, they are.”

  “Now, are you ready to learn where these stones came from?” he asked.

  “Maybe.” Something in his voice told me I might not be.

  Todd opened the door and stuck his head in. “How’re you guys doing? Need more sodas?”

  Jason shook his head. “Nope, I’m good. Thanks.”

  “I’m fine, too,” I said. “Thank you.”

  Todd tilted his head. “Are you sure?” He glanced from me to Jason and back again. “You look a little pale, Marce. Are you feeling all right?”

  Guilt, guilt, double guilt.

  I gave him a tight smile. “I’m fine.”

  “I was just getting ready to tell her where I think the jewels might’ve come from,” Jason said. “Want to push up the door and stay?”

  “Sure.” Todd pulled another chair over next to mine. It was a folding chair that had been in the corner. I hadn’t noticed it before. He sat down and took my hand.

  His hand was warm and strong. My hand felt nice ensconced in his. I squeezed Todd’s hand, glad he was here. I didn’t know Jason, and he was making me a little uncomfortable with all his suspenseful buildup about where the jewelry had come from. Besides that, Jason knew I was keeping something from Todd. I didn’t look at Jason when I squeezed Todd’s hand. I kept my eyes focused on the photograph of the pearl necklace.

  “So, where do you think the jewels came from?” Todd asked Jason.

  “According to our JAG database—that’s the FBI′s Jewelry and Gem Database—these pieces were among jewelry reported stolen by a Mrs. June Santiago in October of last year.”

  Now I did look at Jason. “I’m guessing June Santiago is related to the Santiagos who own the Santiago Corporation?”

  “She’s the matriarch,” Jason said. “She’s married to Caleb Sr.”

  “And you think the jewels Francesca Ortega brought me to adorn Cassandra’s dress were taken from the necklaces and bracelet you showed me?” I asked.

  “Yes, I do.”

  I shook my head. “But I had dinner with Caleb Santiago Jr. on Saturday evening, and I asked him about the jewels. He never said anything about his mother′s jewelry being stolen.”

  “Maybe he was being evasive,” Jason said, picking up the photograph of the pearl necklace and putting it in his pocket with the others. “After all, he doesn’t know you. He couldn’t be sure what you might be after.”

  “But he wasn’t interested in anything I had to say until I mentioned the jewels,” I protested. “That’s when he said he’d talk with me after his meeting.”

  Jason inclined his head. “Still, wealthy people like the Santiagos run into a lot of people who want various things from them. What did he tell you when you asked him about the jewels?”

  “Not much. He said he suspected Francesca Ortega might have stolen them with the help of her son, Frederic,” I said.

  “I need to speak with Frederic,” Jason said. “Do you have a number where I can reach him?”

  “Wait.” I ran my free hand through my hair in exasperation. “I talked with Frederic earlier today. He was going to go through his mother′s apartment and see what he could find.”

  “Then you believe Frederic is innocent,” Todd said.

  “I think he’s innocent of his mother′s murder,” I said. “He obviously loved her very much. As for the jewelry, who knows? But I’m in a better position to find out than you are if you just start questioning him, Agent Daltrey. Besides, his mother′s funeral is in the morning.”

  Jason sighed. “I know the timing is off. But with Frederic’s mother dead and her funeral dispensed with, he and his fiancée would have no reason to stay here and be convicted of jewel theft after tomorrow. I won’t let him get away.”

  “Can’t you just follow him to make sure he sticks around after the funeral?” I asked. “Give me tomorrow to see what information I can find out, and then you can question him.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Jason spread his hands. “I’m a federal agent. You have no control over what I do.”

  “I realize that.” I dropped Todd’s hand and stood. I placed both hands on the desk and leaned toward Jason. “And I’m not trying to control what you do. I’m just asking you to be compassionate and to give me a chance to find out what I can from Frederic before you scare him off.”

  “She is good at finding things out,” Todd told Jason. “This isn’t her first investigation.”

  Jason blew out a breath. It was cinnamony, a fact for which I was grateful since his face was so close to mine. “One day. After that, I’m talking to Frederic myself.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  As soon as I got home, I went through the house to the back door to let Angus in. He was excited and playful. I h
ung up my coat and then threw his tennis ball down the hall for him time after time until he calmed down a little.

  When he was relaxed enough to lie at my feet and chew on a rubber bone, I checked my phone messages. I’d heard back from Ted. He said he’d try to reach me again later but that if he didn’t, he’d see me tomorrow.

  Mom had called. I knew I should call her back, but I put it off until tomorrow. I dreaded telling her about Francesca Ortega. After all, Mom was in New York, and I didn’t want her to catch the first plane out when there was nothing she could do, anyway.

  I called David, and he answered on the first ring.

  “David Frist,” he said.

  “You sound very official,” I said.

  “Sorry.” He chuckled. “I didn’t recognize your number, and I thought it might be someone calling me about a job. You wouldn’t believe how many résumés I’ve sent out.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you used to work with Frederic Ortega?” I asked.

  “Um . . . who? Frederic Ortega?”

  “Yes. You remember, don’t you? He was in my shop the other morning because his mother was killed on the sidewalk outside the Seven-Year Stitch.”

  “Oh yeah,” David said. “I thought that guy looked familiar. Man, I can’t believe I didn’t put the face with the name sooner.”

  “He recognized you, too. He said you worked at the Santiago Corporation together.”

  “Right.” He drew the word out. “Small world, huh? So, um, did you think about what we spoke about yesterday—relocating to San Fran?”

  “I don’t think so. I’m happy here, David.”

  “Maybe I need to expand my job search to include Oregon, then. Or call off the job search altogether and go into business with you.”

  “I’m not in the market for a business partner,” I said. Furthermore, I didn’t want to argue with David tonight. “I need to go. I’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

  “Too busy to have dinner with me?”

  “I’m afraid so.” I could’ve been cordial enough to suggest another evening, but I didn’t want to have dinner with David. I’d tried to make it clear to him that he and I were through. “Good night.”

  “Talk with you in a day or so.”

  “Good night,” I repeated, and ended the call.

  I still didn’t believe David was a murderer. But I was becoming more and more convinced that his being in Tallulah Falls had less to do with me and more to do with the Santiago Corporation.

  I wouldn’t say Tuesday was a sunny day, but at least it wasn’t raining. I was glad of that for Frederic’s sake. The funeral was at eleven o’clock. I planned to be at the shop by nine thirty and post a note that I’d be out from eleven until noon. I put on a black wool suit with a white silk blouse and left Angus playing in the backyard. Once again, getting into the Jeep wearing a pencil skirt was not an easy task. I sometimes regretted not buying a snazzy little sports car instead of the Jeep, but Angus would never fit into a sports car.

  Even though it wasn’t raining, it was cold. The first thing I did when I got to the shop was turn up the heat. I kept a pair of ballet flats stashed in my office, so I exchanged my stilettos for those while I worked. I replenished the yarn bins, and I made note of the colors I was getting low on. I didn’t want to overbuy, though, because spring was just around the corner. I’d probably need to invest in some lighter-weight yarns.

  The purse Vera wanted me to make for her led me to believe a ribbon embroidery display would be a good idea. I decided to make two ribbon embroidery purses and create a window display using the purse I wasn’t giving to Vera. I could add an assortment of ribbon and a couple of books on ribbon embroidery. I also considered offering a class on ribbon embroidery in the spring. I know a lot of people are intimidated by ribbon embroidery at first because they believe it would be hard to do, but it’s surprisingly simple.

  I went into the office and printed out a sign saying that I’d gone to a funeral but would be back at noon. I didn’t want to merely leave my little clock on the door indicating I’d return at twelve p.m. without further explanation when I was going to be away from the shop for such a long period of time.

  I was able to finish up the Kuba cloth quilt before I had to leave, and I was happy about that. Now I could get the quilt to the Lincoln City antique festival next week and, hopefully, get some good publicity for the Seven-Year Stitch.

  The funeral was being held at the graveside. Although it wasn’t raining today, it had done enough yesterday to ensure that the ground was a muddy mess. Having put back on my stilettos, I slid out of the Jeep and instantly sank, oh, about four inches. Fortunately, Ted had been watching for me. He came over, put one arm around my waist, and lifted me out of the mud.

  “I think I just plucked the fairest flower in the garden,” he whispered, barely suppressing a laugh.

  The funeral director had placed green indooroutdoor carpet around the casket. The carpet allowed them to place three rows of chairs facing the casket and the flowers behind it.

  “Can you just help me get over there to that carpet?” I asked. “I can stand behind the chairs until the service is over.”

  With the arm he had around my waist, Ted picked me up and strode over to the carpeted area. He set me down but kept his arm around me to steady me.

  Harriet—in sensible detective shoes—came to stand beside us. She handed me a tissue. “For the mud.”

  “Thanks.” I took the tissue and cleaned the mud off my heels, grateful that Ted was still supporting me with his strong right arm. Then I looked around for something to do with the tissue. Harriet handed me another. I folded the dirty tissue into the clean one and dropped it into my purse.

  I followed Harriet’s gaze to where Frederic and Cassandra were sitting in the front-row-center chairs. Frederic was staring at his mother′s coffin. Cassandra was looking at her watch and then looking around to see what the holdup was. She was obviously eager to get the funeral over with.

  Harriet shook her head in disgust. “She doesn’t care about him. She only cares about herself.”

  “He knows that,” I whispered. “I don’t think he’ll marry her.”

  She turned toward me, her eyes sparkling with interest. “Really? You don’t think so?”

  “We’ll talk later.” I was glad the rookie detective was treating me with some emotion other than disdain, but this wasn’t the time or the place to discuss Frederic’s relationship.

  A black limousine pulled up. A chauffeur exited the car and opened the door for Caleb Santiago Sr. Mr. Santiago, walking with a cane, struggled over to sit in a chair near Frederic. He leaned over and said something to Frederic, and Frederic nodded.

  I looked up at Ted, who gave a slight shrug.

  Several more people arrived. I was looking around at the other grave sites when I felt Ted’s arm tighten around my waist. I glanced up to see that his hard gaze was fixed somewhere to my left. I followed his gaze to see David. He was speaking with Mr. Santiago.

  When I recovered from my shock, I hissed, “What’s he doing here?”

  “Shh,” Ted said. “They’re about to begin.”

  After a brief, emotional service, the mourners began to disperse. I didn’t see David among them.

  “Take me over to Frederic,” I said to Ted.

  “All right.”

  Even though the carpet was there, the ground was still soft and uneven. Ted helped me keep my balance as we walked. Harriet went with us.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said to Frederic.

  “Thank you.” He hugged me and whispered, “We’ll talk in a while.”

  I nodded.

  Frederic hugged Harriet, too. Cassandra didn’t even shake anyone’s hand. She appeared to be irritated by the intrusion.

  “Frederic, we should have lunch now, don’t you think?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Sure.” Frederic held Harriet’s eyes a moment before squeezing her hand. “I’ll talk with you later, Harriet. Thank you for ev
erything.”

  Mr. Santiago was waiting for his chauffer to come and escort him to the car.

  I held out my hand. “Hello, Mr. Santiago. I’m Marcy Singer. We spoke on the phone a few days ago.”

  “Of course,” he said. “Thank you for calling me, Marcy. I appreciate your thoughtfulness. May I buy you dinner this evening? I’m only in town the one night, and I hate to dine alone.”

  “I’d love to, Mr. Santiago.”

  “Please give your address to my chauffeur.” He nodded. “He’s on his way over here now.”

  When the chauffeur arrived, I gave him a card with the address of the shop. Mr. Santiago said he’d pick me up at five thirty, and I told him that would be great.

  Ted and Harriet walked me to the Jeep.

  Ted lifted me into the driver′s seat. “What’re you up to, Inch-High?”

  I ignored his question and spoke to Harriet. “He calls me Inch-High Private Eye. That’s not very flattering, is it?”

  “I’m with him. What are you up to?”

  “Can you come by the shop?” I asked.

  “We’ll bring lunch,” Ted said. “Chicken salad croissant from MacKenzies′?”

  “Sounds great. See you in a few.”

  As soon as I got to the shop, I began calling the students in tonight’s class and canceling. I was on my last one when Ted and Harriet came into the shop. I held up an index finger for them to give me a minute to finish my call.

  “That’s right,” I said. “Same time next week. Sorry for any inconvenience.”

  Ted set the bag from MacKenzies′ Mochas on the coffee table. “We didn’t get drinks.”

  “I have sodas in my minifridge,” I said as I pressed the button to end my call. “What would you like?”

  “Let me see what you have,” he said.

  “A diet soda would be great if you’ve got it,” Harriet said.

  “Let me see what you have?” I mocked once he and I were alone in the office. “Could you be more obvious?”

  He chuckled and pulled me to him for a hug. “The flowers look good.”

  “They’re gorgeous. Thank you.”

  “So, will you go with me to the masquerade ball?” he asked.