Road Trip

by Jan Fields

  Mrs. Beecher had snagged the envelope from the floor. She thrust the sealed envelope into Kate’s shaking hands, along with a folded note. Then Kate and Annie managed to make their way back to their seats without tripping—a small miracle in itself, Annie thought.

  The announcer called up the keynote speaker, and Annie sat half-numb with happiness over Kate’s good fortune. She could hardly wait until they could get together with the others to celebrate, but she turned her face politely toward the keynote speaker and listened as best she could.

  14

  Kate stared down at the envelope in her hands. She heard laughter around her as the keynote speaker shared a story of crocheting and cats. Although Kate was allergic to cats, she normally would have been laughing right along with everyone else, but she found she could barely hear the speaker. Her mind kept darting back to the envelope in her hands.

  Kate knew what was in the envelope even though she hadn’t opened it. It was a check. She even knew how much. She hadn’t expected to win, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t paid attention to what winning meant. It meant Vanessa would be going to the drama camp easily and with a few new clothes. And Kate wouldn’t have to pray her way past the scary noise in the car anymore. She could take it in to the mechanic.

  At the sound of applause, Kate’s vision jerked up to the stage, and she applauded with a small tight smile on her face. The announcer stepped back up to the microphone to dismiss everyone for the morning workshop events.

  Kate opened her purse to slip the envelope in. It was then that she noticed the folded paper again. She’d been so engrossed in the prize envelope that she hadn’t given a thought to the note. She hoped it wasn’t from the convention telling her she’d need to stand up in front of everyone and speak again.

  She unfolded the note and looked down at it. “Please, do not sign an exclusive contract until I speak to you.” Roger Munderlay, Creative Inspirations Publishing.”

  Kate blinked. A contract? Why would anyone be offering her a contract?

  “Congratulations, Mrs. Stevens.”

  Kate jumped, jerking her gaze away from the note and right into the dark blue eyes of Detective Matthews.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “That’s OK,” she said. “I’ve been in a daze since I found out I won. Thank you for the congratulations.” Then she looked at him sharply. “You weren’t the one who laughed when I knocked heads with the announcer, were you?”

  It was the detective’s turn to flush slightly at that. “I couldn’t help it,” he said, recovering quickly to grin at her. “I’m a lifelong fan of The Three Stooges.”

  “Oh—and which Stooge am I?” she asked, frowning.

  “Ma’am, no one could possibly confuse you with any of them,” he said.

  “Do you need something, Detective?” she asked, still miffed to know the embarrassing burst of laughter had come from him.

  He studied her a moment, and then said, “Is there anything I can say to undo the last minute or so?”

  She didn’t answer but only looked at him expectantly.

  “I’ll have to work on it,” he said. “I still haven’t managed to catch Cat Reed at home. Have you seen her?”

  Kate shook her head as someone spoke from behind her. “I have.”

  Kate turned to face Annie. “Again this morning?”

  “No, last night,” Annie said.

  Detective Matthews looked at Annie expectantly, eyebrows raised. “So she got away from her kidnapper?” He had the faintest trace of amusement in his tone, and Kate bristled afresh at the thought of him laughing at her friend.

  “We were mistaken,” Annie said smoothly. “She left yesterday with her brother. Apparently what we saw was normal big-brother bossiness, only on an adult level. I saw them last night, and she told me she spent most of yesterday with her brother.”

  “It looked to me like most everyone at the convention was in this room for the morning meeting,” he said. “Did you see her in the crowd?”

  “I’m afraid I wasn’t looking much at the crowd,” Annie said. “In fact, I tried not to look at the crowd. I was nervous enough.”

  He nodded. “Well, I’ll keep trying to reach her.”

  “I did learn something else,” Annie said. “I don’t know if it means anything. Apparently Max Lessing worked for Edgar Harvester. Mr. Harvester is here at this convention.”

  “Oh?”

  Despite her annoyance at the detective, Kate couldn’t help adding. “And he’s shown a lot of interest in Annie’s grandmother. The old man is a little obsessive about it.”

  Detective Matthews raised an eyebrow again. “Well, you Stony Point ladies are just full of surprises.”

  Kate frowned again, suspecting the detective was again making fun of them. “If you don’t appreciate the information,” she said, “Annie and I have a workshop to attend.”

  Detective Matthews looked surprised. “I do appreciate the information. Thank you both. What matters is solving the case, and I’m grateful for your help.”

  “Do you know if it really was a murder, Detective?” Annie asked.

  The detective looked at her for a moment, and then said, “We know he hit his head on the edge of the table. That’s how he died. We don’t know what caused him to hit his head.”

  “Maybe he tripped,” Annie said.

  “Maybe. His blood alcohol level was high enough that he was probably a little unsteady,” the detective agreed. “All we know for sure is that he hit it hard. And we know he didn’t die right away, though he probably lost consciousness within a few minutes.”

  “Oh, how terrible,” Kate said, her anger evaporating with the thought of someone dying all alone. “Do they think he might have made it, if he’d gotten to the hospital?”

  The detective shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m no doctor. But apparently head injuries can be tricky. I’ve seen people walk away from getting shot in the head while other folks get a nasty knock and don’t make it.” He smiled a little sadly. “This job constantly reminds me of how fragile life is, and how short.”

  “I’m sure it does,” Kate said quietly.

  “Well, it looks like I need to track down Mr. Harvester and Miss Reed,” the detective said. “So I have plenty on my plate. As always, it was nice to see you ladies.”

  Annie’s attention was drawn to something over the detective’s shoulder, and she leaned forward to whisper. “Mr. Harvester is standing in the door, looking this way.”

  Detective Matthews spun around as Kate looked toward the door. The sudden movement clearly startled Edgar Harvester, and he jerked back out of the doorway. The detective walked in that direction, his long legs covering ground quickly. Kate couldn’t see how the shorter, older man would be likely to get away.

  Annie hurried along behind the detective, and Kate had to admit her curiosity was raised as well, so she followed them both. The detective outdistanced them; neither Annie nor Kate wanted to resort to running. For one thing, the detective would be sure to notice and shoo them away before they could see anything.

  When they reached the doorway, the detective was a few feet down the hall, towering over the older man. “I don’t know what I can say to help you,” Mr. Harvester was saying.

  “The victim worked for you,” the detective said.

  “Yes, I believe he did,” Mr. Harvester answered nervously. “I have a number of employees, of course.”

  “Mr. Harvester, I also understand that you had a strong attachment to Betsy Holden,” the detective said.

  “Elizabeth and I were friends. That’s no secret.”

  From where Kate was standing, she could see the shorter man was sweating, and his mustache twitched at each question.

  “And I believe you wanted to acquire some of Betsy Holden’s artwork?” the detective said.

  “The landscape I had by Elizabeth was destroyed in a fire. I did hope to buy something from Mrs. Dawson to replace the p
iece I lost. I simply wanted some memento. I have high hopes still of purchasing something. Mrs. Dawson is a very kind woman, like her grandmother.”

  “But your initial efforts were not successful,” the detective said, making careful notes each time the other man spoke.

  “No, but I wasn’t discouraged,” Mr. Harvester said. “I knew that once she really understood the situation, Mrs. Dawson would understand my deep affection for Elizabeth.”

  “Or maybe you weren’t discouraged because you’d found a thief to steal something for you,” the detective said. “And not something small either. You wanted the big portrait, didn’t you? I understand that piece is worth a great deal of money. Perhaps more than you were willing to part with for sentiment.”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about,” Mr. Harvester said. “I am an honest businessman. I do not associate with thieves.”

  “Not even Max Lessing?”

  “Mr. Lessing was a salesman for my company,” Mr. Harvester said. “He was not a thief.”

  “So you’re telling me you weren’t aware of his background?” the detective said. “You hired him without knowing he was a convicted felon?”

  “I don’t hold a man’s past against him,” Mr. Harvester said. “Not when he’s paid for his past crimes. Everyone deserves a second chance.”

  “So you did know he was a thief?”

  “I knew he’d spent time in prison, Detective. Past tense,” Mr. Harvester said. “The man I hired was a salesman. He was quite gifted and an asset to the company.”

  “Not to mention convenient when you were pushed to desperate measures to get a piece of Betsy Holden’s work.”

  “This conversation is over,” Mr. Harvester said. “It’s clear you want to make your job easier by making insinuations instead of finding out what really happened to Mr. Lessing. If you want to talk to me any further, I’ll have to insist my lawyer be present.”

  “Then you may want to give your lawyer a call,” Detective Matthews said. “Because I suspect we’re going to need to talk again, and at length.”

  Mr. Harvester’s bushy eyebrows drew down until they rested on the rims of his eyeglasses as he glared at the detective. Then he bustled down the hallway, fishing a cellphone from his pocket as he went.

  As Detective Matthews turned, Annie and Kate ducked back into the meeting room. They heard the tap of the detective’s boots grow closer. Then his rugged face peeked around the door frame, and he smiled at them. “Did you hear everything clearly?” he asked.

  “Yes, thank you,” Annie said.

  “As much as I appreciate the wonderful help you ladies have offered,” he said, “I can probably handle it from here.”

  “Good luck to you,” Annie said. Kate could see her friend was definitely blushing as she stepped around the detective and hurried down the hall. Kate began to follow her, but the detective stepped into her way.

  “Am I forgiven for being rude earlier?” he asked seriously.

  “Does it matter?”

  “It does to me,” he said. Then he smiled a little. “You have a lovely smile, Mrs. Stevens. I was hoping to see it at least once more before I have to spend the rest of the day in my sordid task of crime fighting.”

  Kate felt her lips twitch. “Crime fighting? You sound like Batman.”

  “Would you be more impressed if I told you I have a cape and a cowl?” he asked.

  “You don’t really,” she said skeptically.

  He laughed. “Actually I do.” At Kate’s look of surprise, he raised his right hand as if swearing to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth. “I was Batman at a costume party a few years ago.”

  Kate considered his jawline. He probably looked really good in the costume as he had the rugged jaw for it and the height. Then she smiled back at him. “Admit it,” she said. “You picked that costume to cover up your hair.”

  He ran a hand through his black hair, making still more of it stand up wildly. “You don’t like my hair? I’ve been told it’s rakish and endearing.”

  “It’s certainly unusual,” she said. Then she realized the conversation was turning far too personal. “I should let you get back to work, Detective. I have a workshop to attend, and I’m already late.”

  “Maybe I’ll see you later,” he said. “Again, congratulations for winning the fashion contest. The dress was beautiful.”

  “Thank you again. Annie made it look good.”

  “I would rather see it on you,” he said.

  Kate was suddenly hit with a realization that both Mary Beth and Annie might be right, and her eyes widened. “Detective, are you flirting with me?”

  “Maybe a little. Would that be a problem?” he asked.

  “It would certainly be a surprise.”

  “Why is that?” he asked. “You said you’re not married anymore. Is there some lucky guy back in Stony Point?”

  “Detective,” she said, feeling a bit off-center at the sudden seriousness in his voice. “I’m here for a convention, and you’re hear for a murder. Maybe we should stick to the original plan.”

  He looked disappointed, but recovered quickly. “Then I’ll wish you a good day at your convention,” he said.

  “And I wish you good luck with your investigation,” she said, edging around him to reach the hallway.

  He nodded, and she nearly dashed down the hall to put more distance between her and the confusing emotions he brought up. She glanced at the door signs as she went, trying to remember which room the workshop on craft blogging would be in.

  “Excuse me,” a male voice spoke behind her. For a moment, Kate marveled at all the men who seemed to be at this particular convention. Then she turned to face a blond man about her age. He had a pleasant smile and mild laugh lines around his eyes. “I’m Roger Munderlay from Creative Inspirations Publishing in Indiana. I asked Mrs. Beecher to slip you a note.”

  “Yes, you did,” Kate said, smiling slightly. “I think you have me confused with someone else. I’m not fighting off people offering me contracts.”

  “Good. That means I’ve beaten them,” the man said. “My company is starting a new magazine called Hook and Needle Artistry. I’m attending this convention hoping to line up new designers to feature and to tempt into writing for us.”

  “I’m not a writer, Mr. Munderlay.”

  “But you are a designer of impressive skill,” he said. “We’d like to do a feature on you for our premier issue. And I’d like to tempt you into trying a regular column.”

  “A feature?”

  “Yes, I can do the interview here at the convention,” he said. “I know you’re probably packed out today with workshops, and I don’t want to keep you from things you’ve already signed up for. But I was hoping tomorrow to do a quick interview and take some photos of you and your winning design—and anything else by you that you might have with you.”

  She blinked at him. “Well, I know I have a vest with me. And I can ask my friends if they brought anything with them. Are you certain you want to put an article about me in your magazine? I haven’t done much.”

  “I find that hard to believe after seeing the dress you designed,” he said. “I believe your works are presently showcased only in Maine? At a shop there?”

  “How did you know that?” she asked.

  “It was part of your biography that the convention wrote for all of us who come especially to track amazing talent like yours.” He smiled again. “You won’t be the only one featured in the issue, of course. I’m planning to ask Priya Bodach and Allyson Freeman as well. But you’ll be on the cover.”

  “On the cover?” Kate squeaked out. “You mean my dress will be on the cover?”

  “That would be great,” Mr. Munderlay said. “With you in it, of course. So, could you spare us some time later today or tomorrow for the photos and interview?”

  “I’ll need to check the schedule,” Kate said.

  Mr. Munderlay handed her a card. “Please do, and call me as soon
as you can. I’ll make every effort to meet your schedule. You’ll be perfect for the cover.”

  Kate nodded mutely as she took the card. She backed away toward the door to her workshop, and quietly pinched the back of one hand hard. It hurt, but she still had trouble believing she wasn’t dreaming.

  “Oh, and Mrs. Stevens?”

  Kate looked back up at the smiling publisher.

  “If you are willing to do a column for us,” he said. “I assure you that we’ll pay a competitive rate.”

  She just nodded, having no idea what a competitive rate would be.

  “You think about it,” the man said. “And call me.”

  Kate nodded again and slipped through the door into the workshop. Every eye in the room turned toward her as she scanned the room for a table, and she felt her face flush again. Then she noticed most were smiling at her warmly.

  She quickly took a seat beside Mary Beth. Her friend reached over and squeezed her hand and mouthed, “Congratulations.”

  Kate smiled back. She felt like the win was as much for Mary Beth as for herself. After all, Kate would never have entered the fashion contest in the first place. She would have been sure she couldn’t win. And she’d have been terrified at the thought of standing in front of all those people. Yet, she’d done both things, and she’d survived. Maybe she could catch a little of Mary Beth’s courage yet.

  Kate turned her full attention toward the speaker at the front of the room and the slides of different crafting blogs. As she listened, she wondered about the possibility of doing a column of her own for the new magazine. She’d been thrust into so many new things with this convention—would she soon be doing that as well?

  15

  Annie walked out of her last workshop for the day smiling. The leader had been full of tips on how to turn an ordinary pattern into something really special. The instructor had the participants write lists of their favorite things, and then they brainstormed for ways to include those as elements in choosing how to embellish a pattern.