The Double Wedding Ring (22 page)

E
leanor had left for the hospital before I woke up. I lingered in bed thinking. Everything that had been important yesterday—finding Roger's killer, deciding on whether to keep Someday, even what would happen with Jesse and me—paled in comparison to making sure that Oliver and Eleanor walked down the aisle in three days . . . and then had years together as husband and wife.

My dad was out walking Barney when I finally got up, but my mom was on the couch reading the paper, with Patch snuggled on her lap.

“Any word?” I asked.

“Not yet,” she said. “Are you going back to Queens for the funeral?”

I shook my head. “I wouldn't get there in time, and Jesse said he'd come back right after.”

“Is everything okay with you two?”

“Now you care?”

She looked at me. “I just want you to be happy. I want you and Grandma to be with the men you love.” She sighed. “I feel like I've missed a lot this last year. You two have gotten so close and I've been so far away, so unavailable to you.”

“That's my fault, too. I've been protecting you from my extracurricular activities.”

“How's that going . . . finding the killer?”

“Frankly, it could be one of several people. They're all kind of awful, and Roger himself turned out not to be a great guy. If the killer hadn't also shot up Main Street, I might actually be tempted to just let it go.”

“So what do you do now?”

“After everything settles down, I'll tell Jesse what I've learned and hopefully he'll put it together with what he's learned and maybe we'll get the killer.”

“Everything will settle down.” My mother patted my hand. “When Oliver's out of the hospital and he and Mom have started their life together, you can start making decisions about your future; about Jesse and Allie, the shop, and your pattern company; and about staying in Archers Rest.”

I took a deep breath. “I love Jesse. And I love Allie. I don't want to lose either of them from my life. I just think maybe I'll always be in second place. I don't want to wipe out Lizzie's memory. I just don't want to have to compete with it.”

“And the shop?”

“I've been a part-time employee. Grandma has run the place. I help and I've had lots of ideas that she's implemented, but doing it by myself? I don't know,” I said. “Natalie has a baby and a toddler. Plus she's now got that longarm quilting business that she runs out of the shop when we're slow. I don't see how she can work any more hours than she already does.”

“And there's no one else to help?”

“Not unless you and Dad want to give up Malaysia.”

She smiled. “I was a terrible employee the first time I worked at Someday. I doubt I'd be much good now. Barney would make a better worker than I would.”

We laughed, and woke up the cat.

“So you have no idea what you're going to do?” she asked.

“I'm going to see Oliver.” It was the only plan that made sense.

“You can go upstairs to Room 413,” the woman at the front desk told me. “He's been transferred there.”

I took the elevator to the fourth floor. I hadn't heard from Eleanor, and of course the woman at the help desk didn't have any information on his condition. When I got to the right room, I crossed my fingers, said a quick prayer, and entered.

“Hey there, Granddaughter!” Oliver was sitting up, reading the encyclopedia Greg had brought the night before. Eleanor sat by his bed, working on some hand piecing. “Just in time to see me finish the letter
Z
. It's quite an accomplishment. I said I couldn't die until I did it.”

“Oliver!” my grandmother exclaimed.

“It doesn't mean I have to die right away.” He laughed.

I came into the room and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You're in good spirits.”

“I'm in more than that. I'm in good health. It was indigestion, just like I thought,” he said.

“A little more than that,” Eleanor jumped in.

“The doctor gave it a fancy name. The pain that felt like it was coming from my heart was actually coming from my esophagus. Nothing to worry about apparently. Just some medicine, a bit of a change in diet, and I'm right as rain.”

“So why are you still in the hospital?”

He rolled his eyes. “Honestly, an old man with chest pains gets almost as much attention from doctors as a pretty young girl gets from, well, everyone.” He smiled. “I'll be out this afternoon. I got lucky, Nell. I've got more precious time with my love. And I don't intend to waste a minute of it.”

“So the wedding is on for Saturday?”

“Just as planned.”

“Then I have work to do,” I said. “I'll see you later, Grandma . . . and Grandpa.”

“I do like the sound of that,” he said.

As I walked out of the room, I nearly bumped into another visitor, a man with a big bouquet of balloons and a to-go cup.

“Geez,” I said. “I'm not paying attention. I almost spilled your coffee.”

“Tea, actually. And my fault. I guess we're both in a hurry.”

As he headed off toward one of the rooms, I watched him. Tea. It nagged at me and I didn't know why.

I
had scanned all the photos that Maggie had given me on the night I'd stayed at Jesse's, but I'd left them on his computer. I still needed to put them in order, turn it into a slide show, and transfer it to my computer. Plus, I had to confirm that the tables we were renting were going to be delivered on Friday afternoon, check on the flowers, and go over the last-minute details for the bachelorette party. But first, I had to share the good news.

I headed straight to Jitters. Carrie and Bernie were there, drinking coffee and looking worried. But when I walked in, a big smile on my face, I could see them both relax.

“Wedding's back on?” Bernie asked.

“It was never off.”

Carrie made phone calls. I grabbed some breakfast and headed out across the street. Natalie was already there, waiting on customers and keeping things in order. She'd brought the baby, future quilter Emma, who was sleeping in a portable crib.

“You don't mind?” she asked.

“Mind? She fits in perfectly.”

“I was thinking I could do more hours if Emma can hang out in the office sometimes. Joey is in preschool, and they could keep him a bit longer on days my mom can't babysit.”

Obviously word of Eleanor's three options for the shop had reached the group.

Natalie had also finished her work on the gazebo quilt and it looked amazing. After I made the wedding-related calls, I sewed on the binding so that another task could be done. It was a beautiful quilt, and I was excited to be able to give it as a wedding gift.

“You do realize you can't give it to them,” Natalie said as if she had read my mind.

“Why not?”

“You want to turn this into a pattern, right? You need to have it around so you can figure out the shapes of each of the pieces, then you need to photograph it. Plus you'll have to hang it in the store as a sampler quilt, so people can see what the finished piece will look like. A lot of local quilters are going to want this pattern because it's Archers Rest.”

I looked at it again. I'd made it as a wedding gift. I couldn't keep it, could I? “I'll take lots of photos of it, and make another one,” I said. “What's one more quilt on the to-be-made list?”

I wrapped the gift in wedding paper before I had a chance to change my mind.

“Hey, there, old coworkers.” Kennette came into the shop with Greg trailing shyly behind. She had brought the gift every quilter could appreciate—fabric. She had found scraps in discount bins in a very fashionable fabric store in London. While we excitedly exchanged ideas about what to do with them, Greg darted out to Jitters.

“I'll just get a quick cup of coffee for the road,” he said.

I nodded toward him, and was about to recommend the apple cinnamon muffin to go with it, but something caught in my throat. The thing that had been nagging at me finally became clear, and I felt suddenly sick. “Be right back,” I said to the ladies and followed Greg out the door. I tapped him on the back and he swung around, surprised. “You saw Roger,” I said.

“Of course. I was at the crime scene.”

“Before that.”

“What are you talking about?”

My heart was pounding. I pulled him away from the shop to a space across the street, in front of the empty storefront that had been Clark's Dry Cleaners. I didn't want to be overheard saying what I didn't want to say.

“You said that Roger had a cup of coffee in his hand. A few days ago when we were talking at Jitters.”

“So what? You know he was in there before he went to Jesse's house. Carrie can confirm that.”

“Carrie said he had tea. Green tea to be exact. Every time I've heard the word
tea
in the last few days it's bugged me and I couldn't figure out why. It's because you said he drank coffee.”

“I must have gotten it wrong.”

“It's not that. You said that Roger couldn't have been a good friend because he sat in his car drinking coffee and watching Jesse's house. But there wasn't a coffee cup in the car. You told me, twice, that the only things in the car were the notebook and the business card.”

“So? Carrie must have told me.”

“No. Carrie would have told you he was drinking tea. I know that you saw Roger that night, after he left Jitters with that to-go cup in his hand. You saw him. You assumed it was coffee, Greg. That's where that detail came from. You saw him, and you haven't said anything.”

“Nell, stop . . .”

I was shaking. It felt crazy to be thinking what I was thinking, but I also knew that Greg was hiding something. All along my gut had told me something was wrong, but I'd ignored it. It was just like Marshall had said about Jesse and Roger: friendship can be blinding.

“You have access to keys to Jesse's house,” I continued, unable to shut off the sudden torrent of suspicions. “He keeps a set at the station. You know how to shoot all kinds of weapons. You were the one who happened by when Dru's car wouldn't start and the one to check the car the next day after the shooting.

“Nell, you're jumping to conclusions. . . .”

“I know, Greg,” I said, looking at a friend who had been a guest in Jesse's home countless times in a frightening new light. “I just can't figure out why. So I need you to please tell me the truth.”

Greg frowned, but he nodded his head. “Okay, but I think you'll see that I had no choice.”

G
reg wanted to go back to the police station, so that's where we went, telling Kennette and Natalie that we had wedding business to attend to. Once we were there, we went into the interrogation room and closed the door.

“I think Jesse is the best chief ever,” he said once I'd taken a seat. “He's taught me everything I know, and on top of that, he's a good man.”

“I know that, Greg.” I sensed that he wasn't going to be hurried, even though I desperately wanted to know the truth as quickly as possible, good news or bad. Sitting in that room I felt like I'd been hit with a two-by-four.

“The night that Roger guy was murdered, you're right. He came in here first. He must have come here from Jitters because he had that cup in his hand. And you're right, I'm such a coffee freak, I just assumed it was coffee.”

“He was looking for Jesse.”

He nodded. “He seemed nervous. At first I thought he wanted to report a crime, so I said he could tell me and I would relay it to the chief, but he said he had personal business with Jesse.” He took a deep breath. “There was something in the way he said it that I could tell whatever the business was, it was bad. Jesse's my friend. I only wanted to protect him.”

“What did you do?”

“I told him that Jesse wasn't here. He asked me if Jesse still lived in the same house and I told him I couldn't give out that information.”

“And then what?”

“And then he left.”

“What did you do after that?” I almost didn't want to hear his answer.

“What do you mean? I did some paperwork, filled out an application to a few local colleges. I'm thinking of going back to school for a criminology degree so I can be chief someday.” He blushed. “I didn't want to tell you guys in case Jesse thought I was getting ahead of myself, but I'm just thinking about my future.”

I almost laughed. The wave of nausea I'd felt a moment ago had started to dissipate. “That's what you've been hiding? That's it?”

He shook his head. “No.” He took a long breath. “Then the other guy came in. He told me that Roger had stolen drug money and he was there to retrieve it and arrest him. He told me that Roger was trying to get Jesse in trouble so he wanted to intercept him before the chief got involved. I told him that I thought Roger had gone to the chief's house. I told him where Jesse lived.”

“Which guy?”

“The cop. Bob Marshall. I sent that guy to Jesse's house and he murdered his friend.” Tears surfaced at the corners of his eyes. “I'm sorry, Nell. I know I'm just a stupid small-town cop. The guy showed me a badge, gave me a good story, and I bought it. I thought I could tell the good guys from the bad. I was trying to protect Jesse and I got his friend killed.”

“Why didn't you tell Jesse after it happened?”

“Because . . .” He swallowed hard and wiped away his tears. “I saw how he was. He didn't want to hear anything about the case. He hid that business card. He took the evidence folder with the notebook himself. He wasn't doing things by the book. I didn't get it.”

“So you ran your own investigation hoping to come up with the evidence?” It was an inclination that I understood perfectly.

“The day we found Roger's body, Jesse had me ticketing that guy's car. Stupid tickets. So I knew it had something to do with the case, and I started to look into it. I thought maybe if I could prove Marshall was the killer, I could keep my stupidity out of it. And I could protect Jesse from whatever mess he was making with the investigation.”

“And Dru's car?”

“What about it? Nell, I make rounds every night, all around town. I give someone a ride home every night of the week—people who've had too much to drink, people who don't want to walk the few blocks home in the cold, and folks whose cars won't start. Geez, I've given you and Barney rides. Is that suspicious now?”

I patted his hand, relieved in a dozen different ways. “Kennette will be wondering where you are,” I said.

“What are you going to do?”

“Go back to New York and tell Jesse we know who the killer is.”