On Pins and Needles

by Elizabeth Craig

  When they were nearly finished, Georgia Potter came in. She didn’t see Beatrice and Meadow at first and seemed to be in a rush. She picked up a sandwich and then spotted them, coming over with a smile.

  Meadow gave her a big hug. “How are you doing?”

  Georgia gave a rueful smile. “I’m a little stressed out, to be honest. It’s been rough lately. It’s a good thing I ran into you—I wanted to let somebody know that I won’t be able to make the guild meeting on Monday. I’m just swamped.”

  Beatrice said, “I’m so sorry. Sometimes life just gets crazy. Don’t worry at all about it.”

  Meadow said, “You come back whenever you can. Just take care of you right now.”

  Georgia blinked back a few tears at the kind words. “Sorry. I’m such a baby lately. It’s just that everything was so great and I’ve been so happy with Tony and being married. But at the same time, life has been pretty tough. Tony spent so much time in school and worked so hard. It seems really unfair that he hasn’t been able to find a job.”

  Beatrice said, “We’re all keeping an ear out to see if we hear about anything. Just hang in there.”

  “And be sure to take some you time,” said Meadow. She held out her hands. “It might sound really silly, but Beatrice and I had our nails done by Trixie this morning. We both felt a lot more relaxed afterward. And her prices are good.”

  Georgia nodded and sniffed a little. “That’s a good idea. I could use a little pampering.” She held up her sandwich. “Although I feel bad about even doing things like this. But I haven’t had anything from a real restaurant for so long. I was craving their pimento cheese wrap.”

  Beatrice grinned. “You and me both.”

  Meadow asked, “How is your sister doing?”

  Beatrice realized that she hadn’t filled Meadow in on Savannah’s conversation with her at the festival. But then, it had sounded as though Savannah had wanted to keep it quiet.

  Georgia apparently had no such qualms about sharing her concerns. She grimaced. “You know, I think Savannah is going through a rough patch now, too. I feel bad because I’d like to be the one to help her out, but I’ve been too busy.”

  Meadow frowned. “What kind of rough patch?”

  Georgia said, “She just has a lot of time on her hands. I haven’t been able to hang out with her much and her hours have been cut back at work. Thank goodness for little Smoke or I don’t know what she’d do! She plays with him most of the day and is quilting the rest of the day.”

  Meadow said, “What about Edgenora? Don’t they usually do things together?”

  “Usually. Except that Edgenora has been so organized at the church that now she’s heading up more stuff,” said Beatrice with a laugh. “That’s the problem with being good at something. The next thing you know, you have tons of work.”

  Meadow said, “Well, don’t you worry. I’ll put on my thinking cap. If there’s one thing that I’m good at, it’s knowing how to use up someone’s free time.”

  Georgia and Beatrice both had to laugh at the truth of that. Meadow was a time suck all by herself and then she had a talent for pulling people into clubs and events before they even realized it was happening.

  Georgia glanced at her watch. “I’d better take this home with me. I’ve got a slew of stuff to grade. Y’all take care.”

  Chapter Six

  MEADOW AND BEATRICE walked out a few minutes later. “I hope things start looking up for Georgia,” said Meadow with a shake of her head.

  “I’m sure they will. Tony’s a great guy and a hard worker. He’ll find something soon,” said Beatrice.

  Meadow said, “So, back to the case. I’m assuming that we’re going to speak with Devlin now, since Goldie brought up the fact that they were seeing each other?”

  Beatrice said, “Probably should. Do you have any ideas about where to catch him? As a real estate agent, I’m guessing he’s around and about a lot.”

  Meadow said, “Well, there’s one way to go about it. He has a really distinctive car—an old station wagon. The kind with the wooden panels.”

  “That seems like an odd choice for a Realtor,” said Beatrice slowly.

  “You’re still thinking like an Atlanta resident,” said Meadow with a chuckle. “Out here, Realtors don’t shuttle buyers around in fancy cars because it just doesn’t matter. There are only a few in town, so your choices are limited. Basically, Devlin can drive whatever he feels like.”

  Beatrice squinted. “Is that his car there? It fits your description.”

  The car was indeed an old station wagon with wooden panels. It also was in immaculate condition as if the owner put a lot of care into it.

  “That’s it!” said Meadow excitedly. “Right outside of Cork’s wine shop.”

  “I wonder if that’s indicative of anything,” said Beatrice thoughtfully as Meadow parked a few seconds later.

  “Maybe a broken heart,” said Meadow. “We should tread carefully.” She sighed. “It sure sounds as if Annabelle couldn’t make up her mind who she was involved with romantically. You’d think having a husband would keep anyone busy, but Annabelle was also seeing a married man and now Devlin, too!”

  Beatrice hid a smile. She would like to see Meadow tread carefully. Her well-intentioned attempts usually resulted in a stampede instead.

  “Besides, Ramsay and I are nearly out of wine,” said Meadow.

  “During a murder investigation, that sounds like a disaster for Ramsay,” said Beatrice.

  “Exactly,” said Meadow. “It’s the perfect excuse.”

  They walked into the small shop and a bell rang as they came in. They saw Cork, who was talking with another customer and lifted a hand to wave as they entered the store. Devlin was in the section of the shop that sold huge bottles of wine. They were not necessarily the type of wines that a connoisseur would thoughtfully enjoy.

  Meadow, naturally, walked right up to him. Beatrice sighed. So much for subtlety. She didn’t really know Devlin very well, aside from working with him when purchasing her own cottage when she first moved to town. He was a classically handsome man with blond hair and a nice smile.

  Meadow appeared to be deliberately chatting with him in a dizzying array of subjects steered away from crime in general and Annabelle’s in particular. Devlin was being polite, but appeared to have a hard time keeping up with the ever-changing conversational topics.

  Finally, Beatrice broke in. “I haven’t seen you in a while, Devlin. How have you been doing?”

  Devlin blinked at her in response and then, to her horror, broke down in tears.

  Meadow gave Beatrice an accusing look as if Beatrice had somehow not followed their plan to tread softly. Cork frowned with concern from across the wine shop as the customer he was speaking with looked startled.

  Devlin managed to get control of himself as Beatrice pulled out a packet of tissues from her purse and thrust it at him. He put down his jug of wine and gratefully swabbed his face with several tissues.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said finally. “You wouldn’t have realized what a minefield that question was. It’s just that I haven’t been so good lately and it’s hard to face up to that fact.” He looked ruefully at the wine as if it had been the primary factor in helping him to avoid facts altogether.

  Beatrice asked, “What’s been going on?”

  He sighed. “Well, business hasn’t been great lately.” Then he stopped, shaking his head. “I don’t even have it in me to pretend that’s the whole reason my life has been awful lately. The truth is that I was seeing someone, and she dumped me. What’s more, she just turned up murdered.”

  “Annabelle Tremont,” said Meadow, nodding so that Devlin wouldn’t launch on an unnecessary story of the murder. “Beatrice actually . . . discovered what had happened.”

  Devlin’s eyes grew wide. “Did you really? Could you tell me then if she suffered at all? The police were no help in giving me details.” He paused and gave Meadow an apologetic glance. “Sorry. No
offence intended about Ramsay.”

  “None taken. He’s awful about giving me details, too,” said Meadow, making a face.

  Beatrice said, “I don’t think she must have suffered.” She certainly wasn’t going to tell Devlin otherwise, regardless.

  Devlin’s face immediately brightened, and he gave Beatrice a grateful look. “Thanks for that. It’s just so awful to think that she might have needed me and I wasn’t there.”

  Meadow said with a confused frown, “I must be losing my mind, but I could have sworn that someone said Annabelle was married.”

  “Separated,” said Devlin, quickly. “They were about to start filing for divorce. I wasn’t some sort of home-wrecker or anything.”

  Beatrice asked, “Were you the one who sold Annabelle the property?”

  Devlin looked pleased with himself. “Actually, I was. She’d sent me instructions from Atlanta to look for a particular parcel of land—it needed to have a great view, along with other specifications. That’s how she and I got to know each other, actually.” He gulped down a big breath as if trying to stave off more tears.

  Meadow said, “Had you been dating for very long?”

  Devlin shook his head. “A couple of months. But then she broke it off with me. Pretty abruptly,” he added miserably, looking as though the memory stung.

  Beatrice said, “I’m so sorry. That must have been awful. Did she give any sort of reason?”

  “She wanted to see someone else,” said Devlin bitterly. “It was terrible. But then it was even worse when I realized that she wasn’t even leaving me for someone who was actually available to date. Annabelle left me for, of all people, Elias Campbell.”

  Beatrice and Meadow did their best to pretend that this was news to them. Devlin, however, didn’t seem to realize they were faking their surprised reactions.

  Beatrice said, “I know you really must still care for Annabelle. Just judging from your reaction to her death.”

  Devlin shook his head automatically. “No, I’m over her. Although I’m having to work very hard to be over her. I’ve taken on this huge landscaping project at the house and I’m doing it all myself just to keep busy. But I’m still really broken up that she’s dead. We had a lot of fun together. She was always thinking of things to do. She packed up a huge amount of food one time and we took a hike. We ate right at the top with this magnificent view. She made the best conversation, too. Annabelle had been everywhere and had seen everything. She gave me a tour of her house and every piece of art had a story attached.”

  Beatrice wondered if Annabelle had told the story about how she’d acquired the sword. Now that would have been a story.

  Devlin continued sadly, “Annabelle seemed so alive that it’s hard to believe that she’s gone.”

  Beatrice nodded. “I’m poking around a little to see if I could help Ramsay figure out who could have done something like this. That’s why I’m asking so many questions.”

  Devlin said, “That would be great if you could. Ramsay is wasting a lot of time treating me as a suspect. Nothing against Ramsay,” he said again, quickly.

  Meadow nodded.

  Devlin said, “It’s just that he could spend that time looking for the real killer. I wouldn’t have hurt a hair on her head. I was working that evening, too, showing someone a property. Besides, I could never do something like that, anyway, to anyone. It’s just not in my nature.”

  Meadow asked, “Did you tell Ramsay that? If you have an alibi why is he still treating you like a suspect?”

  Devlin colored a little but shrugged. “It’s just that the property that I was showing was right across the street from Annabelle’s, near Gene’s. And the client and I met there in separate cars. Apparently, Ramsay thought that that didn’t eliminate me as a suspect.”

  Beatrice asked, “Did you see or hear anything?”

  Devlin shook his head immediately. “Not a thing,” he said.

  Beatrice said, “Then do you have any ideas who might have done something like this?”

  Devlin said, “Arnold Tremont could have. Annabelle’s husband. Even though they were separated, Annabelle said he still became furious when she saw other men. I was always a little nervous that he might show up at the house when I was there, to tell you the truth.”

  Beatrice asked, “Did you see him there at all? My understanding was that he was out of town but not too far away.”

  Devlin said cagily, “How could I have seen him if I was working at the time? Besides, even if I did look over there, that property is so full of tall bushes and trees that Arnold could have concealed his car there, killed his wife, and then left again to go out of town.”

  It seemed to be a popular theory for Devlin.

  Meadow put her hands on her hips. “I just don’t get it. If he agreed to the separation and was planning on them to be divorced, what business is it of his if his soon-to-be-ex-wife ends up seeing someone else?”

  Devlin said, “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Annabelle said he could be incredibly jealous. She even mentioned that he thought he might try to prevent her from filing from divorce—that maybe he wanted to try to get back together again.”

  “But Annabelle didn’t want to?” asked Beatrice.

  “That’s right. She was tired of his temper. She was definitely planning on divorcing him. So, as far as I’m concerned, I think Arnold makes the most likely suspect. He had the most to lose,” said Devlin.

  Meadow beamed at him. “On to a happier subject. I hear that you’re helping our two favorite people to relocate back to Dappled Hills.”

  Devlin gave her a smile in return. “Guilty, as charged. They’re a great couple and I’m trying to find a place as special as they are.”

  “Is there much on the market right now?” asked Beatrice. “I have a friend whose new husband had a tough time selling his house.”

  “You’re talking about Tony? But his place was tiny—a one-bedroom. Surely there have to be more options on the market right now,” said Meadow, looking alarmed.

  Devlin said in a calming tone, “There are plenty of options for two or more bedrooms. Right now, we’re just going through all the possibilities. It’s a leisurely process because they’re not in a huge hurry and because they’re so busy.”

  He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Guess I’d better go ahead and check out. Um, this wine is for later, of course. I still have a house to show.”

  He walked over to the cash register and Cork checked him out while Meadow looked for a bottle of wine. It was a much smaller specimen than the one that Devlin had left with.

  Cork’s usually taciturn face broke into a grin as Beatrice and Meadow walked up to the counter.

  Meadow said, “How’s everything going, Cork?”

  “Oh, it’s okay. Not complaining. Did I tell you that my bluebird family is back in my birdhouse?” asked Cork as he checked out the wine.

  Beatrice said, “That’s the same couple from the last year or so? How do you know they’re the same ones again?”

  Cork nodded. “They have these really distinctively colored eggs, you see. Usually you see blue eggs, but this particular female bird lays white ones. There were also a couple of chickadees that wanted to nest there. Finally, one of the bluebirds stood on top of the house to chase off the chickadees and the other one flew back and forth to build the nest. Nice little couple and in the past, they’ve work so hard to feed their little guys when they hatch.” He pulled out his old cell phone and pulled up a few pictures.

  Beatrice said, “They’re beautiful. Although I’m distracted by the pretty birdhouse, too! You made that one, didn’t you?”

  Meadow said, “Of course he did! Cork can make anything.”

  They admired both the birds and the decorative birdhouse that was modeled after the Dappled Hills public library.

  Cork put his phone away and said, “Now what’s goin’ on with Devlin? He’s been drinking up a storm. Usually he’s a regular customer of mine, but he’s real
ly been stepping it up lately.”

  Beatrice said, “He was upset to hear about Annabelle’s death.”

  Cork nodded solemnly. “Was he the only one who was?” he asked gruffly.

  Meadow said, “It seemed like Annabelle didn’t make very many friends in the time she was here. But Devlin was definitely one of them. Did you know about the two of them?”

  “Nope,” said Cork. “Figured he was dating somebody for a while, though. His choice in wine got pretty extravagant for a short period. Then, when they stopped seeing each other, you could tell because he started drinking a lot more.” He glanced at Beatrice. “You trying to find out who did it, I guess?”

  “You don’t seem very surprised,” said Beatrice.

  “Well, when a person is good at something, they usually try to keep doing it,” said Cork with a shrug.

  Meadow said, “The only person we haven’t talked to yet is Annabelle’s husband. They were separated, and he lived in Atlanta.”

  “Or elsewhere,” said Beatrice. “We don’t really know where he was based except that it wasn’t here. He had lived with his wife in Atlanta when I was there, but he could have moved in the interim. Have you seen him in here at all, Cork? His name is Arnold.”

  Cork said, “Sure have. He was in here earlier today. He must not have been partial to the wines his wife had purchased here or something because I know there should have been plenty of wine in their house. But he was a lot more pleasant to deal with and didn’t say anything negative about the shop or the selection.”

  Beatrice glanced over at Meadow. “Maybe we should run by and bring Arnold a meal or something.”

  Meadow beamed at her. “That’s the perfect solution. That way we can talk to him for a few minutes and can also do something nice. The way people in Dappled Hills felt about Annabelle, it sounds like he may not be getting too many casseroles and things.”