Night of the Living Thread (A Threadville Mystery) (16 page)

I
nearly spewed my tea. “Arrest me?” I repeated.

Her mouth tightening, Vicki shot me a quick glance and gave her head a nearly imperceptible shake.

Okay, I got it. I was supposed to let her handle this. I clutched my hot mug against my chest.

“Drink your tea and warm up,” Vicki told Brianna in a calm voice. “And tell me why you want me to arrest Willow.”

The corners of Brianna’s mouth turned down. “I already told you.” Like a petulant child, she still didn’t look at me. She also didn’t touch the tea.

Vicki shoved the plate of cookies toward her. “Humor me, okay? Tell me again why you want me to arrest Willow.”

Arms tight against her sides, Brianna muttered, “She pushed me into the lake.”

I managed not to sputter, but my eyes opened rather wide for that time of the night—morning—whatever.

Vicki asked, still in a deceptively sympathetic voice, “Do you have proof, Brianna?”

Brianna exploded, “Proof? You saw me. I was soaking wet. I could have drowned.”

“Willow says she was asleep.”

“Well, she’s not going to confess, is she?” Brianna still avoided looking my way. I hoped that meant she was ashamed of lying. “She’s not going to admit she goes around trying to drown people. She’s probably the one who pushed that other woman in.”

Dangerous sparks lit Vicki’s eyes. “Who says that other woman was pushed?”

“Everybody. Anyone could figure that out.”

“That woman was tangled in a heavy, um, contraption. You weren’t. She ended up in the river, which gets deep dangerously quickly. You told me you were on the beach when someone pushed you. The slope at the beach is gradual. If someone pushed you, you’d get your feet wet, but you wouldn’t be all wet like you were when you flagged me down. Did you resist your assailant?”

Finally, Brianna did look at me, for less than a second, with frightening rage. “Okay, I get it. All you hayseeds stick together. She goes around murdering people and blaming others and you stick up for her.
Your
cases are solved and
she
stays out of jail. Nice little game you two have going.”

“Just tell me the truth, Brianna,” Vicki demanded.

“I am.”

“Okay. Tell me where you were and who you saw and what happened.” Vicki’s exaggerated patience should have frightened Brianna.

But Brianna only sulked. “I told you.”

“Tell me again. With details.”

Brianna heaved a dramatic sigh. “I was standing on the beach looking out at the lake, and she suddenly ran up behind me. I couldn’t hear her coming on the sand, and I didn’t know she was there until she shoved me into the water. I went right down on my face. If my head had hit a rock or something, I’d be dead now, thanks to your friend there.”

How did I luck out with this houseguest? Even though she gave no sign of wanting to touch the plate of cookies, I wanted to yank it away from her.

Vicki asked, “What part of your body did she shove?”

Brianna scowled. “I don’t know. It happened fast, you know? My back, my shoulders, I guess.”

Vicki didn’t raise her eyes from her notebook. “We’ll have a doctor examine your back and shoulders for bruises.”

Pouting, Brianna picked at the edge of my counter.

Vicki asked, “And your knees? Did they get skinned?”

“You saw me. I was wearing jeans.”

Vicki gazed at her face. “Show me the palms of your hands.”

Brianna averted her eyes and slid her hands into the armpits of the bathrobe. “I don’t have to.”

“Okay, fine.” Vicki was being extra agreeable, another danger sign that Brianna probably didn’t recognize. “Look at Willow’s face.”

Brianna didn’t. Instead, she complained, “Why should I look at her after what she did to me?”

Vicki answered easily, “You don’t have to, but when we first got here, she had a crease on her cheek.”

I clapped my hands to my cheeks, but couldn’t feel any creases. Not that being Brianna’s hostess wasn’t enough to give anyone wrinkles. My hair was probably going gray that very minute.

Brianna stood a little straighter, slumping less. “So maybe I did get a swing in at her. It was self-defense.”

Vicki shook her head. “No, it’s the kind of crease she’d have gotten from sleeping in one position for a while.” She tapped her pen on the counter. “So you didn’t see the person who pushed you, but you
know
it was Willow. How?”

Brianna stared at her hands. “She was following me down Lake Street.”

This was too much. “What was I wearing?” I asked.

Vicki frowned at me but didn’t object.

Brianna continued to speak as if I weren’t there. “What she has on.”

“I guess you didn’t splash her when you fell in.” By this time, Vicki’s polite and encouraging tone barely masked a challenge.

Brianna’s face turned red. “How would I know? I had my back to her. She probably jumped out of the way. You’re not going to arrest her, are you.” It was an accusation, not a question.

Vicki maintained her calm equilibrium. “Not tonight,” she said.

I said to Brianna, “What were you doing at Edna’s shop, Buttons and Bows? Trying to enter?”

Vicki cautioned, “Willow . . .”

Brianna glared at me. “Nothing.” She turned to Vicki. “See? She was following me.”

I retorted, “I was looking out the window of In Stitches.”

Vicki reworded my question to Brianna, “Why were you peeking into Edna’s store at that time of night? Had you, perhaps, given Isis something that you wanted back?”

Brianna answered with an abrupt, “No.”

“That’s good,” Vicki went on, “since the police have taken away everything that was Isis’s, including a check you wrote her.” Vicki shook her head as if to clear it. “For a
curse
, of all things?”

Brianna mumbled, “Not a real one.”

Vicki pressed her, “A fake curse that cost two hundred dollars?”

Brianna changed the subject. “I guess I did look into that store for a moment. To see if she sold thread.”

“You could have asked,” I pointed out.

Brianna only shrugged.

Vicki said slowly and clearly, “In the morning, I’ll get the surveillance tapes from the bank down the street, and we’ll see where all you went and who was following you.”

Brianna’s face turned redder. “She started following me later, way past the bank. I think she came along the hiking trail.”

Vicki grabbed a cookie and stood. “And
I
think your story keeps changing. I don’t know who pushed you, if anyone, but I’m almost certain it wasn’t Willow. But after accusing her, you probably don’t want to stay here, so I’ll tell you what I’ll do for you. I’ll wait for you to pack up your things. I don’t think you need an ambulance, so I’ll take you to Emergency myself and you can be examined for signs of an assault.”

“I have a car,” Brianna said.

“I’ll take you, or a state trooper will. It’s policy.”

“I don’t need to go to any hospital.”

“I’m not charging anyone with assault without evidence of an assault or a witness to the assault.”

Finally, Brianna must have recognized the steel hidden in Vicki’s exaggerated politeness. Brianna pointed at me. “She did it! You’re letting her get away with murder!”

Vicki took a step toward her. “Do you need help packing?”

Instead of answering, Brianna swore, flung herself into my guest suite and slammed the door.

Vicki sat again and bit into the cookie. “These are delicious. Don’t worry, Willow, I’m not leaving here until she does, and then I’m telling the state trooper who takes over after my shift to swing past on Lake Street often after Brianna leaves the hospital. That is one angry young woman.”

I grasped my mug by its handle. “I don’t know why, either. I’ve tried to be a good hostess, and she’s been like this—well almost like this but not quite as bad as tonight—ever since my mother foisted her on me.”

“Maybe she feels like your mother foisted you on her?”

“Well, she can just get herself unfoisted. I’ve had enough.”

“So even if she comes out here all contrite and retracts her accusation, and I have no real reason to drive her to the hospital, you’d still like her to leave?”

“I would, but my mother would disown me, so no, I guess I’d have to say she could stay here until the end of the craft fair. But after that, she’s going.”

“I’d feel better if she left now,” Vicki said.

“Yes, well . . .” Sipping at my tea, I glanced at the phone. “Look at that little light. She’s on the phone again.”

“She must need to talk to that boyfriend in Australia.”

Why did people keep saying outrageous or funny things when I was drinking my tea? I nearly snorted tea out my nose. As soon as I could speak, I said, “It’s going to take her hours to pack. You wouldn’t believe the mess.”

With a strange look on her face, Vicki slipped off her stool. “I’d better go help.” She tried the door to my guest suite.

Brianna had locked it.

Vicki sorted through the gadgets hanging from her belt, stuck one of them into the hole in the doorknob, opened the door, and walked into my guest suite.

I stayed in the kitchen, which didn’t prevent me from hearing Brianna’s startled protest. “You can’t come in here without a search warrant.” The light on my phone turned off.

Vicki hollered, “Willow, do I have permission to go into your guest suite?”

“Be my guest!” I yelled.

My phone rang. Maybe it was the weather station in Australia.

Of course it wasn’t.

“Willow . . .” I cringed at the honeyed-over disappointment in my mother’s voice. “What are you doing
now
?”

N
ot sure I wanted to answer my mother’s restrained question, I managed, “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Exactly. Why are you kicking Todd Shrevedale’s daughter out at this hour?” The disappointment turned to hurt empathy. For me or for Brianna?

“I’m not.” I squeezed my hand around the receiver so tightly that my fingernails stabbed into the heel of my hand.

“That’s not what I heard.”

“What did you hear?” I might as well find out what lies Brianna was spreading. She’d certainly lost no time.

“That you called the police to kick her out of your apartment. In the middle of the night.”

“Um, that’s not how it happened. She went to the police with some ugly allegations, and the police brought her here to confront me. Her story didn’t hold water.” Uh-oh. Bad choice of words.

“Why kick her out? It’s nearly two. She needs a place to stay.” There it was again—the sugar, the warmth, the compassion for Brianna, and the pain-inducing disappointment in me.

I repressed a sigh. “The
police
are taking her to the hospital so she can be checked for evidence of the assault she claims took place.”

“Assault?” There was silence on the other end of the line, then a cautious, “Willow? What have you done?”

Her tone made me feel about five years old, but I defended myself. “Nothing. I was asleep. Brianna went for a walk on the beach in the middle of the night. She accused me of pushing her into the lake. She keeps changing her story. When she resisted being taken to the hospital, it was clear to me and to the police that she was making it all up, and the police don’t think it’s appropriate for her to continue staying here.”

“The police.” My mother managed to sound like she was weighing the evidence and managing to remain objective. “I hear it’s one policewoman and she’s your friend. When are you going to learn to stay out of trouble?”

“I do.” Especially when my mother didn’t send me unwanted houseguests. But I didn’t dare say that or my mother would be positive I was taking out my frustrations on the unwanted houseguest. “And our chief of police would arrest me or anyone else she thought she should.”

“I’ve told you before not to get involved in murders. Doesn’t my career matter to you, if only for the sake of your father, who is as sweet as he can be, but will never earn a penny with those inventions of his?”

I bit back a reminder that my father, her husband, was brilliant. Yes, he might be a bit obsessed with his inventions, and yes, he might never earn anything, and yes, my mother had been supporting him for years. And she’d also supported me and put me through school. She was basically a good person and she loved both my father and me. I said evenly, “I have not been involved in any
murders
.”

“Investigations, then. Can’t you at least stay out of the newspapers? Unless you’re running a fund-raiser or something that could attract voters.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“So, that’s settled.” Her voice became crisp and optimistic. “Brianna can continue to stay with you.”

“That’s not up to me. Isn’t it against the law to make false accusations?”

“Only if it’s knowingly done. I’m sure she just made a little mistake. Everyone does. Including you. And
you
would want to be forgiven.”

“Mother, she’s been using my phone to make long-distance calls to Australia that go on for hours.”

“I’m sure she has a good reason.”

Right. She wanted to hear the weather report for Sydney repeated umpteen times. “She’s using it as an alibi, pretending she’s inside when she’s really outside. She did it Thursday evening while a woman was being murdered nearby.”

I heard my mother’s sharp intake of breath. “Now who’s making wild accusations?” I could almost see her smoothing her forehead with one long and elegant finger. When she finally broke her silence, I again heard her sorrow over my shortcomings. “Try to give that child a break, honey. Todd Shrevedale is an honest, upright man. He’s not paving the way for his children with gold. He expects each of them to start a company and make their own way. Don’t even think of charging her for those phone calls, honey, or charging her rent, or anything else. She’s only
just
finished college with lots of debt and has only
just
started out in this thread business. She’ll have barely a cent until she gets established.”

Only two hundred dollars to pay for a curse against me or you . . .

My mother urged, “I hope you’re buying lots of thread from her.”

Finally, we were in territory where I should be able to please my mother. “I have. She’s representing some wonderful lines. I’ll continue to order from her.”
If she keeps herself out of trouble.
“But I can’t force our police chief to let her stay here.”

“Willow, honey, I hope you’ll do what you can to help that girl. There’s no telling what the police might to do a young and impressionable child once they get her into their clutches. They may
say
they’re only taking her to the hospital, but believe me, honey, I’ve seen some pretty bad abuses of trust. Totally innocent people do their best to cooperate with the police and end up being accused themselves. I’m heading a committee studying such abuses right now. Don’t let that happen to our little Brianna. It would be
such
a travesty.”

Our
little Brianna? “Okay, Mother, I’ll try.” Now what was I getting myself into? Next thing I knew, Brianna would be a permanent resident in my guest suite.

My mother ended the call with her usual candied grace.

Brianna hadn’t touched her tea. I left her mug where it was and went into my guest suite.

Vicki stood, arms folded, watching Brianna heave things toward a suitcase lying open on the floor. At this rate, Brianna wouldn’t leave for at least another two weeks.

I beckoned to Vicki. She followed me back to the kitchen.

“Brianna called someone—her father, I guess—and my mother called me. Do you think you can get Brianna to retract her accusation? Then you wouldn’t have to take her to the hospital, and I would let her stay for the rest of the weekend so she could attend the craft fair where I promised her she could have a table to sell thread, and you and I can go back to what we were doing.”

“Are you sure?” Vicki asked me.

I made a rueful face. “I’m sure I don’t want to be disowned.”

As if she didn’t believe me, Vicki gave me an assessing look. Then she returned to Brianna’s suite.

A few minutes later, Vicki was back. “Okay, now she only ‘tripped’ and fell into the lake, and she agrees that she was mistaken that someone pushed her.” Frowning, she tapped her fingernails on my countertop. “I’m overdue to go off duty, but if you’d like, I’ll sleep on your couch tonight.”

“I could give you my guest room and she could sleep on the couch.”

“Nah. Your guest room is much too messy. You’d have to spend the rest of the night cleaning it up. I’ll be fine on your couch.”

“Thanks, but you need your rest, too, which is not something you’d get here with weird music and noisy pets and odd comings and goings. I’ll be okay. I’ve got guard dogs and guard cats. And Brianna wouldn’t dare do anything to me now that you’ve been alerted.”

“And she’d better hope that no else does anything to you, either, or
she
might be blamed,” Vicki said darkly, settling her hat onto her head. “Lock your apartment door
and
your room door.”

I grinned. “If she didn’t already know how easy it is to open those doors, she knows now.”

Vicki pulled her business card out of a pocket, scribbled on it, and handed it to me. “That’s my home number. Do not hesitate to call me or 911 if you need any help tonight. And I mean it.”

I thanked her, let her out, and locked the patio door behind her. I stared at my own reflection. My hair was a tangled fright and my eyes looked even more tired than Brianna’s.

She had friends in high places, but I did also. My mother. But far from protecting me like Todd Shrevedale protected his daughter, my mother could be making certain that I was in danger.
From
Todd Shrevedale’s daughter.

And what about Vicki? After threatening to cart Brianna away, Vicki could be in Todd Shrevedale’s bad books, also. The man’s empire stretched through most of the world. Would he cause trouble for Vicki? Could he?

I locked myself into my room, put on my jammies, and climbed back into bed.

All I could hear was Brianna’s music, once again booming from her room. I must have fallen asleep, though. I woke up to silence except for Sally-Forth’s rhythmic snoring. That sweet and motherly dog could be comforting even in her sleep. It was still dark outside. I closed my eyes and didn’t awaken again until my alarm went off.

No music or other sounds came from the guest suite. I knew it was too much to hope that Brianna had rethought everything and departed, but I made no attempt to be quiet when I took my pets outside for their pre-breakfast tour of my flower beds. If Brianna wanted to make use of the table we were giving her at the craft fair, she needed to be up soon. The Threadville Get Ready for Halloween Craft Fair was scheduled to open at ten.

I fed the animals, ate breakfast, shut the kittens into my bedroom, and took the dogs upstairs. Usually, Ashley, a high school student, helped me in the store on weekends, but I had let her choose between working at In Stitches or at the craft fair, so she was at the fair and I was at In Stitches.

Shortly after I opened the shop, music from downstairs began vibrating my floor. It continued long after Brianna should have left if she was going to join the other crafty salespeople at the fair.

I went out to the front porch. Brianna’s car was gone. Maybe she had actually gone to the craft fair.

My regular customers were probably there, also, planning Halloween costumes and decorations and scooping up bargains. Leaving the dogs in the shop to announce any customers’ arrival, I ran downstairs to my apartment.

A quick knock on my guest room door got no response. I marched into the suite. It was marginally neater than before Vicki had attempted to help Brianna pack. I had to step over suitcases overflowing with wrinkled garments, but I managed to turn off the music. The sudden silence almost hurt my ears.

I was about halfway up the stairs when the dogs barked and the beach glass chimes on my door jangled. I ran the rest of the way.

Detective Neffting stood just inside the door with his notebook in his hand. “I have a few questions for you,” he said. “Ms.—er—Vanderling.”

The way he added my last name to his statement didn’t make me comfortable, and neither did his cold, bulging eyes.

I made an attempt at a smile. “Okay.” Maybe he was going to ask more about Brianna and where she’d been the past couple of nights. Maybe he was about to arrest her for murdering Isis.

He asked, “Why were your fingerprints on the plug of the electrical cord attached to that death con
trap
tion?”