A PLUME BOOK
THE DOUBLE WEDDING RING
MARGARET SMITH
CLARE O’DONOHUE is a freelance television writer and producer. She has worked for a variety of documentary and informational shows on HGTV, Food Network, the History Channel, and truTV, among others. She is the author of the Someday Quilts series as well as the Kate Conway series.
Praise for The Lover’s Knot
“Clare’s first book is a fun read for those who love mysteries, romance, and, of course, quilting! Her twists and turns in the story line make this a delightful escape.”
—Alex Anderson, cohost of
The Quilt Show, host of Simply Quilts
“A stitch above most craft cozies.”
—Publishers Weekly
“O’Donohue debuts her Someday Quilts Mystery series with a promising story about women’s friendships and quilting. It is a pleasant, even a gentle read—except for the cheating boyfriend and the murder.”
—Booklist
“Fans and those who enjoy Monica Ferris’s knitting mysteries will snap this up. Not to be missed.”
—Library Journal
Praise for A Drunkard’s Path
“O’Donohue deftly weaves clever crime-solving with valuable quilting tips.”
—Publishers Weekly
“O’Donohue aims to make those who love quilts feel right at home.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“O’Donohue crafts a plot with all the twists and turns of the drunkard’s path quilt. But fear not—if you don’t quilt you will still enjoy this lighthearted mystery.”
—ILoveAMystery.com
“It’s easy to get wrapped up in Nell’s story. Charming.”
—ReviewingTheEvidence.com
“Clare O’Donohue’s Someday Quilts mysteries are as intricate and magical as a real quilt. For anyone who loves a mystery or just a good story about art and quilting, A Drunkard’s Path is the perfect read to snuggle up with.”
—BookLoons.com
“A captivating mystery, well told.”
—MysteriousReviews.com
Praise for The Double Cross
“A wealth of quilting information for readers so inclined. Like its predecessors, it’s a fine piece of work.”
—Richmond Times-Dispatch
“A delightful cozy, a mystery to be sure, but also a study of relationships. Nell [Fitzgerald is] as interesting and unique a character as any quilt. The mystery is enjoyable, but it’s the appealing characters—their friendships and romantic relationships—that set this series apart from its peers.”
—MysteriousReviews.com
“Interesting mix of characters. O’Donohue manages to keep all the threads interesting and the tension just high enough to keep you turning the pages. The Double Cross makes the point that cozy craft mysteries don’t lack for high tension and an exciting conclusion.”
—GumshoeReview.com
“I have greatly enjoyed Clare O’Donohue’s first two Someday Quilts mysteries, but The Double Cross is by far my favorite. The Double Cross proves that old-fashioned mysteries are not dead.”
—BookLoons.com
“A knotty new Nell Fitzgerald mystery in the series that’s beguiling cozy fans and quilters alike. A fast, warm read best enjoyed while wrapped in a handmade quilt on a blustery fall day.”
—MonstersAndCritics.com
Praise for The Devil’s Puzzle
“A modern-day Jane Marple on steroids.”
—Suspense Magazine
“Quilting details, a sharp picture of small-town life, likable characters, and two appealing romantic relationships add to the enjoyment of this mainstream cozy mystery.”
—Booklist
“A haven for those who love a good mystery as well as the history and colorful ambiance involved in the craft of quilting. A good story with a dash of romance.”
—BookPage
“A great cozy mystery.”
—Parkersburg News and Sentinel
“A clever whodunit with a slew of suspects, amiable characters, a wealth of local color, and a generous helping of quilting.”
—Richmond Times-Dispatch
ALSO BY CLARE O’DONOHUE
SOMEDAY QUILTS MYSTERY SERIES
The Lover’s Knot
A Drunkard’s Path
The Double Cross
The Devil’s Puzzle
Cathedral Windows (A Penguin Special eBook)
Streak of Lightning (A Penguin Special eBook)
KATE CONWAY MYSTERY SERIES
Missing Persons
Life Without Parole
PLUME
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA), 375 Hudson Street,
New York, New York 10014, USA
USA | Canada | UK | Ireland | Australia | New Zealand | India | South Africa | China
Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
For more information about the Penguin Group visit penguin.com
First published by Plume, a member of Penguin Group (USA), 2013
REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA
Copyright © Clare O’Donohue, 2013
All rights reserved. No part of this product may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
eBook ISBN 978-0-698-13749-3
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
O’Donohue, Clare.
The double wedding ring : a someday quilts mystery, featuring Nell Fitzgerald / Clare O’Donohue.
pages cm.—(Someday quilts mystery)
ISBN 978-0-452-29879-8
1. Quiltmakers—Fiction. 2. Quilting—Fiction.
3. Wedding rings—Fiction. 4. Murder—Investigation—Fiction. I Title.
PS3615.D665D76 2013
813'.6—dc23
2013014197
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
CONTENTS
About the Author
Praise
ALSO BY CLARE O’DONOHUE
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Epigraph
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
CHAPTER 51
CHAPTER 52
CHAPTER 53
To my niece Grace, a remarkable young lady who has given me the gift of teaching her to quilt
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A rchers Rest may exist only in fiction, but it has become a real place to me—filled with the wonderful memories of Nell, Eleanor, Jesse, and the quilt group. Through this place, I’ve become friends with so many wonderful mystery writers and readers, and have had the fun of meeting quilters around the country. I am so grateful to this tiny (and dangerous) town. Those who’ve helped me bring Archers Rest to life include my agent, Sharon Bowers, my editor, Becky Cole, her assistant Kate Napolitano, and my publicist, Mary Pomponio, as well as all the folks at Plume. Thanks all of you for your support, hard work, and friendship. Thanks to Alex Anderson, who helped me navigate through the quilt world, and to the writers and friends at Mystery Writers of America for helping me navigate through the publishing world. And thanks, especially to Kevin, V, my family, and friends for putting up with my staring into space, random mumbling, and occasional bouts of crazy.
There are four corners to my bed,
on which I now this new quilt spread.
May I this night in trouble be,
and the one I love come rescue me.
—According to quilt superstitions, this poem should be recited the first night using a new quilt
CHAPTER 1
It was dark. Whatever sliver there was of a moon had hidden behind the buildings along Main Street, leaving only the slightly open door to light my way. I grabbed the trash from the cutting table, bits and pieces of fabric so small that even seasoned quilters would find little use for them, and headed into the alley.
I threw the trash into the Dumpster, my last chore of a very long day, and turned toward the back door to the shop. The wind picked up—an icy January wind that made me glad I’d thrown on my coat before venturing outside. I heard a noise behind me, and just as I turned to see what it was, the wind slammed the shop door closed, locking it. I had my car keys in my pocket, but my purse, cell phone, and, most important, the keys to the shop, were still inside.
“Eleanor is going to kill me,” I muttered, my breath forming icy circles in the night air. The question was would I call her, and let her kill me now, or leave it until tomorrow. It wasn’t a hard decision. Jesse was waiting for me at his place with a hot meal and a tall glass of wine. Tomorrow would do.
I walked around to the front of the shop, checked the front door just to be sure. Also locked. I’d volunteered to stay behind and close up. We had post-Christmas markdowns out and everyone, especially my grandmother, had put in lots of additional hours. Eleanor Cassidy owned the shop and said the extra work was her responsibility, but she was in her seventies and had a lot on her mind these days. I wanted to help, both as a granddaughter and an employee. And now I’d locked my set of keys in the shop.
Someday Quilts would be fine, I decided. The place was locked up tight and the only thing I hadn’t done was put on the new alarm we’d had installed. It was Jesse’s idea after a string of vandalisms hit the town during the summer. He’d had something similar installed at his house, and both alarms went directly to the police station in the event of a problem. Jesse, the town’s chief of police, was still careful about setting his, but at the shop, once the culprit had been caught, we’d pretty much forgotten about the alarm.
Besides, Eleanor had made the bank deposit on her way home. There wasn’t anything to steal except some fabric and the twenty dollars in my purse. Assuming someone would bother to try. Things had been pretty quiet in Archers Rest lately.
“It’s fine,” I said to no one.
But as I spoke I thought I saw something through the window. I clenched my jaw and kept looking. As the moon moved slightly I could see that a pile of small fabric pieces, known to quilters as fat quarters, had fallen over. Fat quarters I thought I’d stacked low enough to stay in place.
“When the door slammed shut they must have gotten knocked over,” I said to myself. That made sense. One stack of fat quarters out of place was not a crisis. But my freezing in front of the shop was quickly becoming one. I headed to my car.
The streetlight that normally lit the way to Jesse’s driveway was burned out. No matter. My headlights worked just fine, and once I turned off the car, I was only a few feet from his front door.
I stepped out into the cold night and the silence that descends on Archers Rest when the sun goes down. I glanced to my left, suddenly nervous. I couldn’t tell what had attracted my attention. Maybe it was the smoke, small wisps of cigarette smoke escaping through the open window of a dark SUV parked just outside Jesse’s house. I could barely make out a figure inside. A man; that was all I could tell.
“Good evening,” I said, sounding cheery while letting him know I’d noticed him.
There was no answer.
I shrugged. It was cold and dark, and I wasn’t much in the mood to chat anyway. The man I loved was inside waiting for me, and he was making me dinner.
After more than a year of uncertainty, difficulties, and dead bodies, my life in Archers Rest was finally filled with good news. And I wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of just how happy it made me feel.
CHAPTER 2
“Snow.”
I opened my eyes and blinked slowly. Jesse was holding the curtain open so I could see what had happened overnight. A blanket of beautiful white snow was covering our town.
“Finally,” I said. “I thought we’d go the whole winter without it.”
Getting out of bed is harder in the winter. My toes hit the hardwood floor, and my bare legs felt the cold. I was wearing a long T-shirt, enough to keep me warm when Jesse was beside me, but not nearly enough for a cold January morning with snow on the ground.
“You need a quilt,” I said, as I joined him at the window.
“Make me one.”
“I keep meaning to,” I admitted, “but I can’t figure out exactly what I want to do, and it has to be right.”
I kissed him and immediately smiled. We were still in that stage, I realized, where we couldn’t keep our hands off each other, couldn’t stop smiling in each other’s presence. We would be annoying to the rest of the world, so thankfully we were alone—a pretty rare situation lately.
“Happy anniversary,” Jesse said. “One year today since our first date.”
“Not technically. It’s actually one year today since you stood me up for our first date.”
“We went on it eventually.”
“Obviously.”
“Big plans for today?”
“The wedding,” I said. “I have a lot to do.”
He chuckled. “You do realize you’re not the bride?”
“You wish.”
He leaned against my ear and whispered, “Just name the day.”
He stood behind me, wrapping his arms around me. I leaned into him, resting the back of my head on his shoulder.
“I have a lot to do,” I said as he kissed my neck.
“I’m not stopping you.”
“I have to go through the RSVPs and get some idea of how many people are coming to the wedding.”
“The whole town is coming.” He kissed my ear.
“It’s not exactly the whole town,” I pointed out. “Plus I still haven’t heard from my parents or my uncle Henry, or a few of Gran’s friends from quilt shops in the area.” He wasn’t listening, and I was losing my focus. “Did you lower the heat
?”
“No.”
“Where’s that breeze coming from?”
He wrapped his arms tighter. “Maybe we should go back to bed. I still have two hours before I have to pick Allie up from my mother’s house.”
“That’s weird.”
“That I have to pick up my daughter?”
“No, Jesse, out the window. That car.” I pointed toward a black SUV parked in front of Jesse’s house. “It was there last night. There was a man sitting in it. I noticed him when I was pulling into your driveway. I think he’s still there.”
Though much of the car was covered in snow, I could see what looked like an arm, dressed in a dark coat, leaning out of an open window.
“You didn’t say anything about it last night.”
“It wasn’t suspicious last night. I figured he was waiting for someone, or one of your neighbors was sneaking a cigarette.” I stared at the SUV. “But what’s he still doing there? Who sits in a car all night in thirty-degree weather with the window open?”
We watched for more than a minute and the arm didn’t stir. Eventually Jesse moved away from me, grabbing his jeans and a sweater, dressing as he talked. “I’ll go down and find out.”
I quickly pulled on my clothes and ran downstairs after him. As I passed the kitchen I noticed the back door was open, but Jesse had gone out the front. I quickly closed it and grabbed my coat. I was still trying to get my boots on when I reached the front door. Jesse was already at the curb. I watched as he reached in the open window to unlock the driver’s side door. As he did, the man sat motionless.
“What the hell?” Jesse took a step back.
“Is he okay?”
“He’s . . .” He didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, Jesse crouched in front of the man, first lightly tapping his face, then rubbing him harder on the chest with his knuckles. He didn’t get a reaction.
“Roger!” Jesse yelled. “Roger. It’s Jesse. Talk to me.” He turned back to me. “He’s a block of ice. Call 9-1-1. Get an ambulance here, and call the station. I might need detectives.”
“You know him?” I didn’t wait for an answer. Instead I rushed back inside, grabbed Jesse’s phone, and made the calls. When I came back out, Jesse had moved the man from the car to the sidewalk, and was performing chest compressions on him. Though he was putting considerable effort into saving the man’s life, I could see there was no point. The man’s lips were blue; his eyes were open and blank.
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