Road Trip (13 page)
“If he’s any kind of detective, I am sure he knows this already,” Mary Beth said.
“He didn’t know that Max Lessing had a girlfriend until Annie told him,” Kate said.
“Place of employment is a little more obvious in an investigation than girlfriends,” Mary Beth said.
“He may know where the man worked,” Stella said. “But would he know the man’s employer desperately wanted an item from the room where the man died?”
Mary Beth still shook her head. “Do you remember how concerned Mr. Harvester was about whether any of Betsy’s things were damaged? Wouldn’t he know the answer if he did the killing?”
“He may have been trying to throw us off his trail,” Stella said.
Mary Beth looked exasperated. “Why would he think we were even
on
his trail? We’re four women from a needlecrafts group.”
“I think Mary Beth is right,” Annie said. “But Stella has a point too. After this morning event, I’m going to call Detective Matthews. He might think I’m being a pest, but I’ll feel better knowing I’m not harboring anything.”
“OK—that seems reasonable,” Mary Beth said. “Now, no more mystery talk before we have to get Kate a cold compress.”
“I’m not that bad off,” Kate said. “Actually, being distracted helped a little.” She took a small nibble of the edge of her muffin.
Annie glanced down at her watch and yelped. “I need to head over to the dressing room. I’ll see y’all later.” She stood, pulling some money from her purse quickly and putting it on the table.
As she left the restaurant, she met Mr. Gold. “Good morning, Mrs. Dawson,” he said. “I was hoping to run into you. I need to talk to you about licensing those pieces from your grandmother’s work. I have the contracts to show you.”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Gold,” Annie said. “I am in a bit of a rush.”
Mr. Gold’s face darkened for a moment, but then he managed a smile. “This will only take a few minutes. The contracts are very straightforward.”
“I don’t have a few minutes, really,” Annie said. “Perhaps later.”
Mr. Gold took hold of her arm when she started to step around him. “It’s very important that we go over these before tomorrow. I want to announce the forthcoming kits based on the portrait at the ceremony tomorrow.”
Annie looked pointedly down at his hand on her arm. “I will be glad to talk to you later, Mr. Gold, but I have to be somewhere right now, and you’re making me late.”
At her tone, Mr. Gold let go of her arm, and his normal gushing affability returned. “Of course, of course! I’m sure I’ll find you later after the morning meeting.”
“Maybe.” Annie walked away quickly. She realized that Mr. Gold could definitely be considerably more strong-willed than she would have guessed.
When she reached the dressing room, both of the other two finalists were already dressed. Annie noticed right away that Cat had not made it to the final three—but all of the pieces that did were complete outfits rather than individual items. Annie hurriedly slipped into the dress and jacket.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re here,” the backstage assistant said, her voice breathy with relief. “I nearly panicked.”
“I’m so sorry,” Annie said as she slipped the dress from its hanger. “I was detained.”
“That’s OK,” the woman said. “Here, let me help you into the jacket.”
Thankfully, Annie knew how the piece should hang and flow, so changing was quick. The backstage assistant fussed over her for another moment or two, and then clapped her hands. “We’ll wait back here until the morning announcements are over. Then you’ll be called one by one to the stage.”
Annie looked curiously at the other two finalists. One was the amazing embroidered dress with a matching drape—all done in metallic embroidery and jewel-tone fabrics.
The other was a knitted skirt, made in panels to give fullness at the bottom without bulk around the waist. Along with the skirt was a cute cropped jacket with elaborate embroidered accents. The silk shell that the woman wore under the jacket was embroidered with the same pattern at a single point near the neckline.
Both outfits were lovely, and Annie crossed her fingers as she thought about Kate’s chances of winning. She believed Kate’s designs could hold up against anyone’s, but she had to admit that she really thought all three outfits were equally amazing. She was glad she didn’t have to make the final choice.
“Excuse me,” the backstage assistant said. “Are you Kate Stevens?”
“No,” Annie said. “I’m Annie Dawson. I’m just modeling Kate’s dress.”
“Is Mrs. Stevens coming?” the woman asked, her voice climbing just a little.
“Yes,” Annie said. “I’m sure she’ll be here.”
Just as Annie spoke, the door opened, and Kate walked in with Mary Beth behind her. “Here she is now,” Annie said to the assistant.
“Oh good.” The assistant clapped her hands. “Ladies! At the end of announcements, you’ll all be called out, one at a time. Spread out in a small line on the stage, then Mrs. Beecher will announce each of your names again. When she does, you’ll step up to her side, and she’ll give you the microphone. You’ll describe your piece and give any specific notes about what inspired you—keep in mind that you should be brief. Then you’ll walk to the judges’ table—don’t forget to give the microphone back first! The judges will examine your outfits and ask any questions.”
She turned to Annie and Kate. “You’ll walk out together since you’re the only model/designer team that made it to this last stage.” Her gaze swept all three finalists. “Is everyone clear?”
There was a quiet murmur of assent. Kate nodded without speaking.
“We’ll be ready,” Annie said.
They all fell silent as the assistant opened the door linking the small dressing room to the main room. They could hear a rustle of noise as the convention attendees took their seats and chatted with friends.
“You OK?” Annie whispered to her friend.
Kate nodded mutely. She looked a little pale, but she wasn’t shaking. Annie hoped she would be fine.
Annie jumped slightly as the main microphone grumbled and squeaked with feedback when the announcer turned it on to begin the morning session. The heavy-set woman read off the line-up of the day’s activities.
“Don’t forget tonight is the ‘favorite things mixer,’” the announcer said. “This is a great time to show off your favorite knitted, crocheted, or embroidered piece as we get to know each other a little better. We’ll finish up with a scavenger hunt, so be ready for some fun!”
The woman paused for a moment and then said, “And now, for something we’ve all looked forward to. We have the three finalists of the Original Fashion Design Competition as chosen by you, our convention attendees. Welcome, finalists!”
The woman spoke each designer’s name, pausing to give them time to get to the stage. Annie and Kate went last. Annie kept her eyes forward, hoping Kate would be fine. They walked the short way to the edge of the low platform stage, stepped up and then took their places in the small line. Kate stepped behind Annie.
Annie was glad they were last so she could see the other women handle their walk to the judges’ table. Still, she jumped slightly when the announcer called Kate’s name.
Kate took the microphone and began to speak. “My design is a sleeveless tank dress in silk …”
Annie noticed that her friend’s voice was a little shaky, but quickly seemed to settle as Kate read the information from the paper she’d prepared with Mary Beth.
Finally Kate handed the microphone back to the announcer, and they walked carefully off the platform and over to the judges’ table. The judges asked Kate questions about choice of yarn and stitch, and how she blocked and joined the pieces. Annie had to open the jacket to show off seams, and then shrug out of it so the judges could look at the finishing around the arms and neck. Overall, she felt a bit like a horse at auction who might be asked to open her mouth and show off her teeth at any moment.
Finally the judges let them go. Annie and Kate took places on the front row of the audience seats. The announcer wished the finalists luck as the judges talked quietly among themselves. Then Mrs. Beecher went on to talk about convention events planned for Sunday.
“I hope most of you will be able to stay for Sunday’s events,” the woman said. “We will not have the vendor halls open on Sunday, but we will have a special vendor brunch, where select vendors will be showing off their hottest new items that will soon be available. I hope you’ll all want to attend that. And after brunch, we’ll have something totally new.”
The woman paused for effect, and then said, “The Golden Needle Company is sponsoring this new event, honoring an artist whose work has inspired innovation and new perceptions in her craft. As you probably know, this year we’ll be honoring Elizabeth Holden of ‘Betsy Originals’ fame. Many of us know her work. Most have seen it displayed at this convention. On Sunday, we’ll be honoring this amazing craftswoman, and Betsy’s granddaughter, Annie Dawson, will be the featured speaker at the presentation. I hope you’ll all attend.”
Annie almost hoped they wouldn’t
all
attend. The room was packed with people. Still, she knew her grandmother definitely deserved all that attention and more. Then Annie saw an elderly woman in a long rose-color cardigan walk up to Mrs. Beecher. The old woman handed her a folded piece of paper and three small envelopes.
“The judges have made their decisions,” Mrs. Beecher said. “Would the designers please come back to the stage with their lovely designs?”
Annie squeezed Kate’s hand as they stood. Then they walked to the stage and took their places. Mrs. Beecher opened the folded note and looked down at it. “For our third-prize winner, with a piece of incredible technical merit, the judges have chosen Allyson Freeman’s knitted dream suit.”
The woman in the lovely knitted suit stepped forward. The announcer handed the woman the microphone. “I am so proud to have made it this far,” Mrs. Freeman said. “I’ve been knitting for many years and have the gray hair to prove it.” She gestured to her closely cropped silver-and-black curls. “But this is the first time I’ve been called a designer. It’s a life-changing thing, and I thank everyone who voted to give me this chance.”
The audience applauded as the regal lady shook Mrs. Beecher’s hand and accepted a small white envelope from her. Annie held her breath as the woman took her place to the left of Mrs. Beecher, and the announcer turned again to the audience. Whatever came next, Annie knew that Kate won at least second place—an amazing honor against this kind of competition.
“Now, for second place with special congratulations on the bold choices,” Mrs. Beecher said. “I would like to congratulate Priya Bodach.”
As the lovely woman in the jewel-tone dress walked to the front of the stage, Annie turned and hugged Kate, who swayed with shock. Kate had won the competition! Annie barely heard the second-place winner’s gracious acceptance. She was too busy crying with happiness.
Finally, Mrs. Beecher called Kate to the front of the stage, and handed her the microphone. From where Annie looked at her through teary eyes, it was clear the microphone was shaking. “I don’t quite know what to say,” Kate whispered into the microphone. “Thank you. All of you.”
She handed back the microphone and fumbled to take the envelope Mrs. Beecher tried to place in her hands. Finally, the envelope simply dropped to the floor.
“Oh, sorry,” Kate said as she bent quickly to get it just as the announcer did the same. Their heads met with a ringing
conk
, and a burst of male laughter came from somewhere in the audience. Kate raised her head, her face feeling so hot she thought she might combust.
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 piece 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.”