The Long Stitch Good Night: An Embroidery Mystery (6 page)

“I heard. That’s why I hadn’t called you,” I said. “I wanted to give you some time to rest. I’ll be by after I close up shop today. I can hardly wait to see Laura.”

“She’s perfect.”

“I know she is. Is Keith over the moon?”

Riley laughed again. “Totally. I think some of the nurses and other parents are starting to get tired of his hanging around outside the nursery when Laura isn’t in the room with us.”

I laughed too. “He’s just a proud papa, and he has every right to be. Is there anything you guys need me to bring you when I come to the hospital?”

“No, but there is something you can give me now—information on what happened last night at the Brew Crew. The news reporters aren’t saying much of anything.”

I explained to Riley that the reporters—if they were like the rest of us—didn’t
know
much of anything. I then went on to tell her the circumstances under which Graham Stott was found.

“Neither Blake nor Todd volunteered any information as to what happened,” I said. “Or, at least, they hadn’t the last I heard.”

“Who’s their counsel?” she asked.

“I believe Campbell Whitting will be representing Todd.”

“That’s good,” Riley said. “Cam’s an excellent attorney. What about Blake?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t talked with Sadie today. If this Whitting guy is as good as everybody says he is, why can’t he represent them both?”

“That would be a lousy idea, Marce. You can’t have one guy adequately defend both men.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because one of them might be guilty.” She sighed. “What was Graham doing at that party in the first place? He never got along with the rest of the Alpha Sigs.”

“I have no clue,” I said. It was disturbing to think that Riley—who’d known all the fraternity brothers and had dated Todd—would think that either Todd or Blake was capable of shooting Graham Stott to death. She knew them both better than I did. Was I simply naïve, or was everyone else cynical?

After talking with Riley, I called Mom. My mom is Beverly Singer, a highly respected Hollywood costume designer. She’d been shooting on location in New York for the past three weeks, but we talked often, and I knew she’d want to know what was going on with Todd, Blake, and Sadie. Mom had known Sadie since she and I had roomed together in college. Besides, I wanted to get Mom’s opinion on everything that was happening.

I briefly explained about Todd and Blake being arrested for murder the night before. “Other than Sadie, I seem to be the only person in town who believes the men are innocent, Mom. And I’m not sure she isn’t ambivalent about Todd’s innocence.”

“Well, for one thing, they’re both very fortunate to have you in their corner,” she said. “I know you’ll be stubborn and persistent in doing whatever you can to make sure the truth is revealed. Just be certain you know what that truth is first.”

“That’s just it,” I said. “I don’t know the truth because no one will tell me. All I know is that Todd and Blake aren’t killers.”

“‘I don’t know how to defend myself—surprised innocence cannot imagine being under suspicion,’” said Mom.

She lost me. “Huh?”

“It’s a quote from the French playwright Pierre Corneille,” she said. “It implies that one falsely accused cannot fathom a defense because he can’t yet understand that his innocence is actually being called into question.”

“Um…I’m guessing they understood quite well that their innocence was being called into question when those cell doors slammed shut on them last night.”

She sighed. “Well, then, maybe their defense is so outrageous that Blake and Todd are trying to gather evidence as to its veracity before they present it to anyone.”

“You mean, like the ‘one-armed man’ defense in
The Fugitive
?”

“Exactly. If that’s the case, then their attorneys will need to find whatever or whoever truly killed the man.” She paused. “And, love, I know you don’t want to hear this, but it’s entirely possible that the man was killed in some sort of struggle, or in self-defense, or…or something.”

“
‘Et tu Brute’
? Even
you
think Blake, Todd, or both of them could be guilty of killing Graham Stott?”

“Don’t sound so disapproving, Marcella. It’s a rare person indeed who deserves our unquestioned trust. Besides, I
did
say it could’ve been either justifiable or an accident.”

“I know. Thanks, Mom.”

“Just get the facts, love,” she said. “That’s all I’m asking. Approach the investigation as a quest for the truth, not as a way to merely prove your friends are innocent.”

“Who said I’m investigating?” I asked.

“Oh, please. I’ve known you all your life,” she said. “Give Angus a hug for me.”

B
efore going home to drop Angus off Saturday afternoon, I put the
CLOSED
sign in the window, locked the door, and walked down the street to MacKenzies’ Mochas. I was concerned about Sadie, since I hadn’t heard from her all day, and I wanted to reiterate that I was there for her if she should need me.

I walked in amid utter chaos, and it was only a quarter past five. The coffeehouse doesn’t usually get the evening rush until around seven o’clock, but people were standing around shoulder to shoulder. Sadie stood behind the counter. To say she looked harried would be like saying there were a few gallons of water in the Pacific. There were two waitresses helping Sadie behind the counter, and another
was busy attending to customers in the dining room.

I slowly muscled my way to the side of the counter to approach Sadie. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Marcy,” she snapped. “What do you need?”

“Nothing,” I said. “I only came by to see if you’re okay. Do you need me to help out for a while? I’d be happy to put on an apron and get to work.”

“No, thanks. We’ve got it, and I don’t have time to train you. But if you aren’t going to order anything…”

She let the sentence hang, but her meaning was painfully clear: Either order or get out. I wasn’t ready to leave, though, and I wasn’t going to order something I didn’t want just so I could talk with my best friend.

“Did the locksmith go out to your house today?” I asked.

“Yes. Everything is fine.” She turned and gave the next customer in line a pointed look. “May I take your order, please?”

As the man stepped forward to relay his beverage request to Sadie, he said, “Why do you think your husband shot that guy? Was it over you? You’re a beautiful woman.”

“I don’t think my husband shot anyone,” said Sadie coolly. “Your order?”

He ordered a latte and a scone and craned his neck to check Sadie out from behind when she turned to fill his order.

I finally took Sadie’s unsubtle hint and left. I walked back up the sidewalk to get Angus, and I marveled over Sadie’s behavior. I could understand why she was ticked off at the rest of Tallulah Falls, especially Creepy who’d ordered the latte and the scone. I doubted he was the first of his kind Sadie had encountered today. But I was her best friend. I was being supportive. I even offered to help…and
meant
it! I really would have put on an apron and gotten to work. Granted, I didn’t know how to work some of the specialty machines, but I could pour coffee, take orders, bus tables, and hand out pastries. How much training would have been involved in
that
?

Had I done or said something last night to offend Sadie? It hadn’t seemed that way from the note she’d left on my kitchen table this morning. Had she seen Ted stop by with lunch earlier today and decided I was fraternizing with the enemy? Or was she simply overwhelmed with everything that was happening and was unable to cope?

I unlocked the door to the Seven-Year Stitch and then relocked it after I got inside. Angus began making minijumps at my waist to let me know he was ready to take the short ride home.

I patted his head. “We’ll go in just a minute.” I went into my office, turned on the light above my desk, and took out my cell phone. I scrolled through my contacts until I found Sadie’s mother, Dorothy Van Huss.

I pressed the icon to dial Dorothy’s number and was a little surprised by how cheerfully she answered.

“Hi, Mrs. Van Huss,” I said. “This is Marcy Singer.”

“Marcy! How lovely to hear from you. Is everything all right?”

“Everything is fine with me, Dorothy. I’m just a little concerned about Sadie.”

“Why?” Dorothy asked. “Is she sick?”

She didn’t know. Sadie’s own mother had no idea of her daughter’s predicament, much less that of her son-in-law. I gulped.

“Marcy, darling, what is it?” she asked impatiently when I didn’t answer.

Granted, Sadie and Dorothy aren’t as close as Mom and I, but the woman needed to know what was going on. Still, it wasn’t my place to
tell her. I wound up saying, “I’m calling because Sadie is stressing out at work, and I really wish I could get her and Blake to take a vacation.”

“I’m fussing at them over that very same thing myself all the time,” Dorothy said. “Warm weather will be here before you know it, and they should get away now before they feel hemmed in by the summer tourist crowds.”

“I agree. I think I’ll write down some links to travel sites and see if Sadie will at least take a look at them,” I said.

“I’ll see if I can give her another nudge myself. Maybe with both of us nagging her, she’ll give in.” Dorothy laughed.

I joined in her laughter, and I wondered if it sounded as hollow as it felt. I told Dorothy I’d look forward to seeing them the next time she and her husband were in town. That much was true—they were sweet people, and I
would
be glad to see them. It was Sadie finding out I’d called her parents that I was definitely not looking forward to. She’d think I was out of my gourd suggesting to her mother that she and Blake take a vacation, but hopefully she’d understand that I said the first thing I could think of off the top of my head.

After ending the call, I locked up the shop
again and took Angus home. As I poured kibble into his bowl, I wondered for the umpteenth time why Sadie hadn’t told her mom and dad about Blake’s arrest. After all, they didn’t live terribly far from Tallulah Falls, and I expected the case would get statewide news coverage, especially once it went to trial. It would be horrible if Bill and Dorothy heard about the incident during a news broadcast.

I pushed thoughts of Sadie and her unreasonable behavior out of my head and went upstairs to get the blanket I’d embellished for Riley’s baby. The blanket was soft white fleece, and I’d embroidered baby blocks with the letters
L
and
K
in the bottom right corner. A spray of pink flowers made a semicircle around the left side of the blocks, and there was a small blue and yellow butterfly to their right. I’d bought the blanket and began working on the embellishments as soon as I’d learned that Riley and Keith were having a baby girl and that they were naming her Laura. I’d been keeping my fingers crossed that the ultrasound hadn’t been wrong.

By the time I’d retrieved the blanket and put it into a gift bag with tissue paper, Angus had finished his bowl of food. I let him out into the fenced backyard to play until I got back from running my errands.

Riley looked unbelievably good for a woman who’d given birth just over thirteen hours ago. Her long dark hair was pulled into a sleek side ponytail, she wore diamond stud earrings, and her makeup was flawless.

“You look radiant,” I told her.

“Thank you. I
feel
exhausted.”

“I brought you—or, actually, Laura—something,” I said, handing her the gift bag.

Riley gasped with delight as she took the blanket from the bag. “Marcy, it’s gorgeous! I love it!” She placed the blanket on her lap and opened her arms for a hug.

I gingerly embraced her. “Where’s everyone else? I’m surprised to find you alone.”

“Trust me, the past couple of days I’ve learned just how rare privacy in a hospital room can be.” She smiled. “Don’t get me wrong—I truly appreciate all the attention and warm wishes, but I was secretly glad when Uncle Moe left to open the diner, and Mom and Keith’s parents went home to get some rest.”

“I can imagine.” I couldn’t really, of course, never having given birth or been in the hospital for any length of time, but it seemed like the right thing to say.

“Laura is in the nursery, and Keith is probably hovering in the hallway outside the viewing window,” Riley said.

“Do you mind if I go look in on Laura?” I asked.

“Of course not. I’d mind if you didn’t.”

“I’ll be back by in a few minutes.” I left the room and pulled the door closed behind me. I walked down the hall and followed an arrow indicating that the nursery was to the left.

Keith, an older couple, and another man gathered around the window. It was apparent that they were all there to see different babies. Keith noticed me and moved aside so I could get close enough to see. There were five babies in the nursery—two girls and three boys.

“Which one is she?” I asked Keith, scanning the names. He pointed her out just as I spotted the bassinet with the label
BABY GIRL KENDALL
.

“She’s so gorgeous.” I glanced around at the other people crowding around. “They all are.”

Keith and I continued to gaze at Laura while he quietly told me all about her birth: how brave Riley had been, how he’d cut the umbilical cord, how he could hardly wait for the nurse to clean up Laura so he could place her in Riley’s arms. I smiled and nodded, thinking
his play-by-play was sort of sweet but a little more than I needed or wanted to know.

A nurse came to the window and pulled the blinds. It was rest time for the babies, I supposed. The elderly couple and the other man went their separate ways, leaving only Keith and me remaining in the hall.

“Laura is precious,” I said. “I know how proud you and Riley must be.”

“We are. But until I held that baby girl and realized how totally dependent she is on her mom and me, I never fully grasped the concept of responsibility,” Keith said. “Tremendous love—love like I’d never known, sure—but also mind-numbing responsibility.” He shook his head slightly. “It really made me think about everything I need to do to protect her, you know? Like making sure I have adequate life insurance coverage, for one thing. Take Graham Stott. He was my age, and now he’s dead.”