On Pins and Needles

by Elizabeth Craig

  “The property,” said Goldie. “But, like I said, he might have had good reason to have been here, like I did.”

  “Maybe he wanted to get in touch with Devlin to sell the house,” said Meadow. “After all, he was packing when we were there. He sure isn’t planning on sticking around. And Devlin is the best agent in town. Or, well, he was.”

  Beatrice said, “But why wouldn’t he have just picked up the phone and called him?”

  Goldie shrugged. “Maybe he was restless or was tired of packing. Maybe he needed to walk and stretch his legs and clear his head.”

  It sounded as if those things were on Goldie’s list, as well.

  Beatrice said, “Maybe so. Did you see anyone else besides Arnold?”

  Goldie quickly shook her head, avoiding Beatrice’s eyes.

  Beatrice said, “I hate to bring this up, Goldie, but someone mentioned that you might have been more upset with Annabelle than you let on.”

  Goldie blinked at Beatrice for a few moments and then sighed. “I truly do love Dappled Hills. I only wish that residents were able to keep from gossiping over every little thing. As I told Ramsay, it stung when Annabelle sneered at my efforts in a public forum. But it didn’t set me on some sort of murderous path. I wasn’t homicidal. Besides, as I mentioned, I really did want to pick her brain for ideas for making Dappled Hills a better place.”

  She turned as her name was called by one of the police officers. “Looks like they want to talk to me again. Excuse me.”

  Goldie walked away towards the police officer and Meadow said with her hands on her hips, “Well, this has turned into quite the mess.”

  Beatrice said, “Shouldn’t we leave now? Besides, it’s getting close to dinner. Wyatt will start wondering what type of marathon guild meeting we’re having at the Patchwork Cottage.”

  Meadow said, “Send him a text. I want to wait until Ramsay comes over and gives us a little more information about all this. Besides, he’ll want to know what you think, Beatrice.”

  Beatrice said wryly, “I’m not sure that he will. He does have a forensics team and a lot more incoming information than we do, Meadow.”

  “Then how is it that you’re always the one who figures out the murderer?” asked Meadow. She peered at the group of police. “Look, he’s heading over here now!”

  Ramsay was starting to look tired. He said, “I thought y’all were at a guild meeting with Posy. Although I have to ask myself why I’m not really surprised that you two are over here?”

  Meadow said tartly, “You should have known when you phoned me that I’d be over here in a jiffy with Beatrice.”

  “What happened here?” asked Beatrice to Ramsay.

  He rubbed his face and sighed. “Well, it sure looks like somebody got rid of poor Devlin Wilson because he knew something. I can’t think of any other reason why someone would take him down. Although what he knew, I have no idea. He sure didn’t share it with me. Somebody must have been feeling pretty desperate to come up, hit Devlin on the head with a paver in bright daylight, and then get on their way,” said Ramsay.

  Beatrice frowned. “He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would blackmail someone.”

  Ramsay shrugged. “He wouldn’t have to. What if he’d simply seen something? After all, he was over there in the neighborhood at the time of Annabelle’s murder. He might have seen something and just not been real sure about what he saw. Then the murderer decides not to take a chance that he might say something and just takes him out, too.”

  Meadow said, “It did sound like he was paying a lot of attention to Annabelle’s house instead of the showing he was supposed to be giving. But then, I guess he was still in love with her.”

  “The funny thing was that he already said that he’d seen someone there. Arnold Tremont,” said Beatrice.

  “We’re working under the assumption that Arnold isn’t the one who killed Devlin,” said Ramsay. “But who knows? Maybe Devlin saw more than he let on about Arnold and Arnold wanted to ensure his silence,” said Ramsay.

  Beatrice said, “Goldie did mention to us that she saw Arnold leaving the property.”

  Ramsay nodded. “She told us the same thing. Sure is looking like the husband did it after all.”

  Beatrice glanced over at the forensics team in Devlin’s yard. “And no one saw anything? In the front yard?”

  Ramsay shook his head. “We’ve already gone around knocking on doors and no one saw a thing. For a town that knows everyone’s business, that’s pretty amazing. Although I will say that even Goldie didn’t notice anything, and she walked right up to Devlin’s front door.”

  Beatrice said, “It is a very shady spot, and he was obviously lying very still. I’m not sure anyone would really notice unless they were specifically looking for something in his front yard.”

  Her phone buzzed at her in the pocket of her khaki slacks. She made a face. “I have the feeling that’s Wyatt. I should have let him know where I am.”

  Ramsay said dryly, “Tell him you’re perfectly safe at a crime scene.” He started walking back toward the group of policemen. “Meadow, I’ll see you sometime tonight. Hopefully.”

  It was Wyatt on the phone. “Everything okay?” he asked with concern.

  “I’m fine, but Devlin Wilson is dead,” said Beatrice. “Meadow is here with me and we’ve been talking with Ramsay. I’ll fill you in when I come home.”

  When she hung up, Meadow said, “Should we get an early start tomorrow? I’m not even sure I’ll be able to sleep tonight, especially since Ramsay probably won’t be there most of the time. I have a tough time sleeping when he’s not there.”

  “I could lend you my Calvin biography,” said Beatrice with a smile.

  “No thank you! I’d rather just skip a little sleep. So back to tomorrow. Who do you want to start out speaking with?”

  Beatrice said, “Ordinarily, I’d say Arnold. But if we have an early start, it wouldn’t be right to go over to his house and wake him up. I have a feeling that he’s staying up late with the packing. Maybe we should see Trixie.”

  Meadow peered at Beatrice’s hands. “I think that’s a good idea anyway, considering that you’ve chipped your nails in several places. What have you been doing? Yardwork?”

  Beatrice grimaced as she looked at her fingers. “I’m just not used to having them painted. You’re right; they look like a disaster.”

  Meadow said, “And Trixie’s nail salon doesn’t open that early. I think it opens at ten. But still, I don’t want to be at the house by myself. How about if we go to breakfast before we head over to Trixie’s? And have Wyatt come with us before he heads to work? I don’t want to steal you all for myself.”

  Beatrice nodded. “That sounds perfect. See you at nine?”

  When Beatrice got home, she found that Noo-noo had been fed, the house had been tidied up, and Wyatt had made spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread. Not only that, but he had a glass of wine ready for her.

  “You’re too good to be true,” said Beatrice, taking a sip of her wine and reaching down to pet Noo-noo, who instantly rolled on her back for a tummy rub, tilting her head to one side and grinning up at Beatrice.

  Wyatt smiled at her. “It sounded like you had a rough day.” He frowned. “You weren’t the one who found poor Devlin, were you?”

  “No, fortunately. Goldie did. It was a weird day,” said Beatrice, cutting up a meatball. “Everything seemed completely normal at first. We had a good guild meeting and I actually finally learned what a brown bag exchange was. But then Meadow got a phone call at the end of the meeting from Ramsay about Devlin.”

  Wyatt chuckled. “Then he must not have been worried about keeping the information quiet.”

  “You know how it is in Dappled Hills—the news was probably on its way out, anyway,” said Beatrice with a shrug. “But no, I think his intent was to let Meadow know that he wasn’t going to be home for supper.”

  Wyatt scooped some spaghetti on Beatrice’s plate and
sprinkled it with Parmesan cheese. “At least you weren’t the one to find Devlin.”

  Beatrice shook her head. “No. Goldie was looking for Devlin to loop him in on the downtown initiative.” She sighed. “I feel so sorry for him. He was in bad shape when Meadow and I saw him at Cork’s wine shop. Cork said he’d become a very regular customer. He seemed to be distraught over Annabelle’s death and it also looked like he hadn’t gotten over their breakup. He’d mentioned that he was doing a lot of yardwork to keep himself distracted. Then this happens.” Beatrice shrugged.

  “Did Ramsay give any info that could help explain why Devlin was murdered?” asked Wyatt, taking a bite of his spaghetti. Noo-noo sat on the floor next to him, watching intently and clearly hoping that Wyatt would be clumsy enough to drop something and truly make the evening memorable for her.

  “Not really. He seemed to think that it was possible that Devlin knew something that the killer wanted to keep quiet,” said Beatrice. “And Devlin admitted to being across from the house when Annabelle was murdered, so maybe he did. But Ramsay said that he didn’t tell him anything.”

  Wyatt said, “What’s your plan for tomorrow?”

  Beatrice said, “We’ll start talking to folks again. We might see Trixie first since Meadow wanted to get an early start and get out of the house. Oh, and Meadow invited us to have breakfast tomorrow morning before we head to the nail salon.”

  Wyatt said regretfully, “I’d usually love to go, but I have the men’s prayer breakfast tomorrow morning.”

  Beatrice said, “Ugh, I’d totally forgotten that. This is what happens—I get so involved in trying to figure this stuff out that I lose track of everything else.”

  “At least you made the guild meeting and figured out the paper bag project,” said Wyatt teasingly.

  “Got to keep track of the big stuff,” said Beatrice with a grin.

  Wyatt said, “On another subject, and I don’t know how she would, but does Piper know about Devlin? I know she and Ash were using him for their house hunting.”

  Beatrice sighed. “No, I don’t think she does. I should call her real quick.”

  A minute later, Piper picked up. “Hi Mama,” she said.

  “I’m calling y’all during supper,” said Beatrice quickly, hearing the sound of cutlery in the background. “I can call you back.”

  “No, we’re just finishing up. What’s up?” asked Piper.

  “I just wanted to give you a quick call about Devlin. I have some bad news for you. Devlin has died.”

  “What? Was it some kind of accident?” asked Piper in a horrified tone. “I just saw him.”

  “Even worse. He was murdered at his home,” said Beatrice.

  “Oh no.” Piper’s voice was muffled.

  “I thought you’d want to know. I know you and Ash have been spending time together with him, looking at houses.”

  Piper sighed. “Yes. He was such a great guy and had lots of ideas for houses. It seemed like he worked all the time, too. He’d give us a call on the weekend so that Ash and I could check out a possibility. He even made phone calls to owners whose houses weren’t for sale to see if they might be interested in selling. He was just a really hard worker. Any ideas why this happened?”

  “Not really, although Ramsay thinks it’s probably connected to the first murder. I’m sorry,” said Beatrice.

  “So am I. It’s hard to wrap my head around. I’ll have to let Ash know—he’s rinsing off the plates in the kitchen. He won’t believe it either. And, of course, this isn’t nearly as important in the scheme of things, but it’s going to set back our house hunting a little. I’m almost embarrassed even to say that,” said Piper with a sigh. “I guess we’ll be contacting someone from Lenoir who won’t know the area nearly as well as Devlin did.”

  Beatrice said hesitantly, “About this move. Believe me, I’m delighted about having you closer, but there’s something I’ve been wondering. Your sudden desire to move back to Dappled Hills wouldn’t have anything to do with my injury a few months ago, would it?”

  Piper said slowly, “Your injury?”

  “You know—when I took a tumble at the church and had to be on crutches for a few weeks. Because Wyatt was great to help me. He’s always so patient! I think he could have made an excellent doctor if he hadn’t been a minister. Besides, there are so many church members who are dying to give us a hand. We were buried in casseroles and people offering to run errands for me. I was very touched,” said Beatrice slowly. And she had been. It was still amazing to her how quickly everyone had made her feel part of the church family.

  Piper said, “I know. I was so relieved when everyone stepped up to the plate to help out. I only wish that I could have done more.”

  “But that’s just the thing—I didn’t need more. And so I just want to make sure you’re not moving with some sort of misguided desire to look after me. I’m perfectly all right and ordinarily in wonderful health. I just don’t want you to rearrange your life around me,” said Beatrice.

  Piper said warmly, “I won’t, I promise, Mama.”

  THE NEXT MORNING, BEATRICE set off after Wyatt had left for the prayer breakfast. The restaurant was in an old building in downtown Dappled Hills. The original brick walls and tin ceiling gave it atmosphere and the smell of pancakes and sausage made Beatrice’s mouth water. It was a good combination.

  Meadow raised her eyebrows when Beatrice came into the restaurant alone. “Where’s Wyatt?”

  “Prayer breakfast,” said Beatrice succinctly as she slid her chair out.

  Meadow said, “Wow, I’d totally forgotten what day of the week it is.”

  “Apparently, that’s contagious,” said Beatrice. “I’d lost track of time, myself.”

  They ordered their plates, which came rapidly. Meadow went with the pancake breakfast with blackberries on top and Beatrice had the three-egg breakfast with sides of grits, turkey sausage, and toast and jam.

  As soon as they were done, Meadow said, “Want to walk over to Trixie’s? We may as well leave our cars when we can and it’s not a bad day out there today.”

  “Sounds good.”

  A few minutes later, they were over at Trixie’s salon. Fortunately, it wasn’t busy in there and Trixie looked up and greeted them as soon as they came in. She didn’t seem quite as pleased to see them as she had when they’d come in earlier.

  “Was there a problem with the manicures, ladies?” she asked, looking very much as if she hoped that wasn’t the case.

  Beatrice said, “No problem except with me. I’m not used to having my nails painted and I’ve chipped them pretty badly. If you can fill them in, I’ll try to be more careful.”

  Meadow laughed. “Or maybe wear gloves.”

  Trixie relaxed a little. “I can fix that for you.” She gave Beatrice a sideways glance. “I’m surprised that you weren’t used to manicures. Weren’t you in some kind of fancy business in Atlanta?”

  Beatrice gave a short laugh. “I don’t know about fancy. I was an art museum curator. Everyone was paying more attention to the art than they were to my nails. I just always kept them short and neat.”

  Trixie studied her nails and then walked to the wall where the polishes were displayed. “I think this is the right color,” she said, shaking the bottle and then holding it out for Beatrice to see.

  Beatrice said, “It looks like it. Thanks.”

  They sat down at a table and Trixie said in a casual voice, “So I guess y’all heard about Devlin Wilson’s death.”

  Meadow said, “We sure have. Poor guy.”

  Trixie gave a laconic shrug. “Somebody did him in for a reason. Maybe he wasn’t such a poor guy after all. Who knows what was going on?”

  Beatrice said, “Then you don’t think the two recent deaths are connected?”

  Trixie said, “Again, who knows? Maybe they are, maybe they aren’t. It makes you think, though, doesn’t it? Maybe they were both done by her husband.” Her mouth twisted into a smile as though this
thought was pleasing to her.

  “What do you mean?” asked Beatrice.

  “Well, he was probably upset that his wife was seeing other men, right? I mean, what husband wouldn’t be?” asked Trixie.

  Meadow said, “But they were separated. They were barely even seeing each other. And Beatrice says that they were even living that way when she knew them in Atlanta.”

  Trixie shrugged again. “Yeah, but maybe he wasn’t planning on giving his wife up altogether. That happens, you know? Anyway, so maybe the husband finds out his wife is messing around on him and kills her. Then he goes after the guy that she was messing around with.”

  Beatrice said delicately, “But, if that were the case, wouldn’t he also be going after your husband?”

  “Elias?” Trixie snorted. “Why on earth would he do that? That relationship is over, believe me. I think Devlin wasn’t so convinced that his relationship with Annabelle was finished though. I bet he tried to convince her to come back to him and Annabelle’s husband went berserk. Maybe Devlin called Annabelle while her husband was in the house. Or maybe he even dropped by.”

  Meadow said in as careless a voice as she could muster, “Has Ramsay been by the shop to speak to you, Trixie?”

  Trixie didn’t look up from her careful focus on her handiwork. “He’s been by a couple of times and the state police, too. I reckon they’re just trying to cover their bases, what with Elias and all. But I told them the truth. I was at the shop working late yesterday evening and Elias was at the construction site fitting pipes until the sun went down.” She stopped and looked at Beatrice’s nails with a critical eye. “I think that’s better, right?”

  Beatrice couldn’t even tell that the nails had ever been chipped. “Much better. What do I owe you?” she asked as she started reaching for her purse.

  Both Trixie and Meadow shrieked, “Stop!” at Beatrice, making her catch her breath in her throat.

  “For heaven’s sake, Beatrice! You’ll ruin your nails again,” said Meadow, rolling her eyes. “Just sit still and I’ll pull out your debit card.”