Thread and Buried (12 page)

22

T
HE SUN HADN’T QUITE SET. THE PORCH
roof cast shadows, and the person I’d seen was mostly eclipsed by fat pillars. Sniffing the air, tails high, Sally-Forth and Tally-Ho pulled Haylee and me up the stairs and onto the porch.

Cassie was hunkered down in one of my rocking chairs. She sat on her feet and had her arms wrapped around her chest as if she were cold. The now-familiar pink plaid shirt wasn’t covered by a jacket, and was short-sleeved. But the evening was still warm.

Although on leashes, Sally and Tally ran to Cassie. She uncoiled her legs, plunked her feet on the floor, and bent forward to pet the dogs. “I saw you on the beach heading this way. So I followed.” She glanced toward us, then away. “I thought maybe we could hang out . . .” Her voice, hoarse and slightly muffled, dwindled to a sigh.

The poor thing must be lonely and nearly friendless in our small village. Her boss was dead, and maybe she didn’t even know those two women I may have seen her with, the ones who had fought over Haylee’s fabrics at the Midsummer Madness Sidewalk Sale. Haylee and I could be the closest thing to friends that Cassie had here. With a pang of sympathy, I unlocked the front door. “Come in. Haylee and I were about to have tea and cookies.”

Haylee didn’t refute my sudden plan. I closed the door, unsnapped the dogs’ leashes, and urged everyone downstairs to my great room.

Busying myself with mugs, plates, cookies, setting water to boil, and greeting the kittens, I sneaked glimpses at Cassie, perched on the front edge of my couch. Her mouth was thin, her shoulders were tense, and she held her arms close to her body as if trying to keep her feelings inside a fortress. I wanted to say something comforting, but I was afraid she’d crumble if anyone mentioned Neil. If she’d come to talk about his death, she would. I didn’t need to prod.

Haylee relaxed in one of my cushy chairs across from the couch. Rubbing Tally’s ears, she was obviously as aware of Cassie’s distress as I was.

I knew Cassie wouldn’t want me talking about food poisoning, so I asked her if she’d caught the stomach flu that was going around.

“Maybe a bit of it, not a bad case like Neil had.”

We both told her we were sorry about Neil.

She acknowledged our condolences with a watery smile, then leaped from the couch and paced, commenting on my handmade and machine-embroidered decorating touches. “Someday—” Her voice caught. “I’d like a place like this. Of my own.” She plunked down on my couch again and slumped forward, her head lowered and her white-knuckled hands clasped between her knees.

Mustache and Bow-Tie climbed into her lap. Nudging the kittens with her nose, Sally leaned against Cassie. If those animals couldn’t cheer the girl up, nothing could. She unclenched her hands and stroked the kittens. Sally wormed her snout underneath Cassie’s hands so that Cassie couldn’t help petting her, too.

I swished boiling water around inside the teapot to warm it up. “I didn’t get this place until I was thirty-three,” I told her. And I’d worked extremely long hours on Wall Street while running an embroidery business on the side for ten years to make it all happen. I dumped the hot water out, then added tea bags and filled the pot with more boiling water. “You have a few years yet.”

“Managing La Bakery was my dream job.” She lifted her head. “Why did Neil have to go and die on me?”

Her wording was strange enough, but the simmering rage underneath her tone put me on high alert. Haylee darted a look at me.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Cassie wailed. “With no job, I won’t even be able to stay where I’m living.” She peeked at me between her lashes as if checking whether I believed her, then added, “Lazy Daze Campground.”

I asked, “Didn’t I see you inside a cottage at the beach this evening?”

She looked down at the kittens. Her answer took a millisecond too long. “It wouldn’t have been me.”

She seemed scared. Of being caught in a lie? Maybe she was afraid that Neil’s murderer would come after her. Meanwhile, what about Neil? Didn’t Cassie have sympathy for him? Restraining myself from pointing out that all of his dreams had ended permanently, I imitated Naomi, and tried to encourage Cassie. “You got that job. You’ll land another one.”

“It took me a whole year to find that one. I graduated from college last June.”

Haylee must have been channeling her mothers, too. “The Elderberry Bay Lodge has just opened. Even if they’ve hired their permanent staff, they could probably use help at the gala this Friday. You should apply.”

“I suppose,” Cassie mumbled.

“And you helped Mona organize the community picnic, right?” I asked her. “That will look good on your resume.”

“Knowing Mona, you did most of the work,” Haylee added.

That got a weak grin from Cassie. “I didn’t care.”

I put a plate of cookies on the coffee table. Sally and Tally knew they weren’t allowed to help themselves to anything from the low table and didn’t try. I hoped that the kittens, who were nodding off in Cassie’s lap, wouldn’t wake up and discover that cookies worked as pucks in a rousing game of floor hockey.

Haylee leaned forward and counted on her fingers. “You rented the bouncy castle, found people to paint faces, got that adorable petting zoo to bring their animals, and enlisted caterers.”

I had to admire Haylee’s interrogation methods. “That’s a lot,” I said.

Cassie waved the notion aside. “It was fun. And the caterers were easy—Neil was glad to provide the desserts, and everyone said that Tom did the best fish fry around.” She shrugged with one painfully thin shoulder.

She’d left at least one caterer out. On purpose? “Who provided the soft drinks?” I asked.

“Mona arranged that.”

“And there were funnel cakes. And corn dogs,” I prompted.

Cassie shrugged again. “I found them on the Net.”

“And salads,” Haylee said. “From a white van.”

“Mona got her . . . I mean
them
, to supply salads.”

I held my breath, and Haylee probably held hers, too.

Cassie looked down at the sleeping kittens. “I gave Mona a brochure from someone I met on the beach. Maybe that’s who she called. I don’t know.”

Brochure? Mona had handed us slips of paper with Cassie’s number and a number for someone named Yolanda who could make salads, and I was pretty sure that the same person had printed both numbers. Who besides Cassie would have done that? Mona hadn’t mentioned a brochure.

To hide my skepticism, I turned around and poured tea into our mugs. The kittens slumbered on. I handed Cassie her mug. “The kittens seem to like you, Cassie.” Again, I sounded like Naomi.

Cassie sniffled. “Cats always head for the most allergic person in the room.”

I immediately apologized. “We can take our tea and snacks outside.”

But Cassie said it was fine, she wasn’t that allergic, and she would hate to wake them up. “I saw your posters. How did you get the kittens?”

“I think someone dumped them.” I couldn’t hide my scorn for whoever might do that.

While we ate cookies and sipped tea, we discussed suitable punishments for people who left pets to fend for themselves.

Cassie stood up and handed me the warm, dozy kittens. “I guess I’ll go back to the campground now.” She gazed around as if memorizing every corner and every bit of machine embroidery in my great room. “This is a fab apartment. I’m jealous. You wouldn’t consider renting a room, would you?”

Behind Cassie, Haylee glared at me, but I didn’t need the warning. I didn’t know Cassie. She was not remotely like the honest and upright Chief Vicki Smallwood, and there was no way I would offer to let her stay with me.

I shook my head. “Wouldn’t work. You’re allergic to cats.”

“Oh, I thought you were trying to get rid of them.” She let the last word hang in the air like a question.

I hugged the fragile, purring little bodies closer. “If they were dumped, they’re staying with me. Want us to walk you back to Lazy Daze?”

She paused as if weighing the offer. “No, thanks, I’ve got my car.”

It was still dusk at this time of night in mid-June. I set the kittens on the couch, took Cassie upstairs, turned on lights in the shop, and let her out the front door. The streetlights had already come on, and the air had the softness of warm spring evenings at the exact moment when night-blooming flowers release their scents. Cassie should be able to find her way to her car, wherever she’d left it.

I turned around in the doorway and nearly bumped into Haylee and my complete four-animal zoo.

“Make sure you lock that door tonight,” Haylee muttered.

At the sidewalk, Cassie waved and turned north toward the beach. I counted to three, then tiptoed out onto the porch. After convincing all of the animals to stay inside, Haylee joined me.

Cassie disappeared down the hill. We didn’t hear a car door slam or an engine start. We heard only the breeze and the waves hitting the shore.

And Tally whimpering.

We went back inside. I leaned against the door. How to word my unease?

Haylee did it for me. “Something’s off about that girl,” she said.

23

“
C
ASSIE WAS CERTAINLY CAGEY,” I AGREED.

Haylee made a show of turning the deadbolt and locking my front door. “She seemed to stretch the truth a lot this evening, ending with saying she brought her car, but when she left, she walked toward the beach.”

“Maybe she left her car in the beach parking lot?” I suggested.

“Okay, I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt on that one. But she also said she’d seen us on the beach this evening. Wouldn’t you think she might have followed us on foot instead of hopping into her car and driving here?”

I had an excuse for lying about a car. “Maybe she did come on foot. Maybe, when I offered to walk her back, she made up an excuse so we wouldn’t go out of our way. More likely, she didn’t want to admit that she’d been in that cottage.”

“We should have followed her down the hill.” Haylee unlocked the door. “It’s not too late to learn something.”

We scrambled out. I took time to lock the door behind us, and then we raced as quietly as we could down Lake Street.

Two cars were in the beach parking lot. No one appeared to be in either one.

We jogged all the way to the water’s edge and peered west.

A solitary figure tramped through the hard, damp sand.

“Is that Cassie?” Haylee breathed.

“I think so.” Although I didn’t quite trust Cassie, I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. Her posture projected a bravado that reminded me of my first morning of kindergarten. I’d reluctantly let go of my grandmother’s hand and had held my head up in a show of courage that I didn’t feel. Although I’d wanted desperately to run back to safety, I’d kept going, into the scary unknown. Now I wanted to protect Cassie from whatever was frightening her.

She turned away from the water, toward one of the cottages, perhaps, or onto one of the walkways that would take her to Beach Row and eventually to the Lazy Daze Campground.

“Are you certain she was the person you saw in a cottage?” Haylee asked me.

“Not positive. I only caught a glimpse.”

We turned around and started up Lake Street toward In Stitches. “What got me most about Cassie,” I said, “wasn’t the lie about having brought her car and maybe lying about being in that cottage, but the way she seemed to be angry at Neil for dying. Dying? He was murdered. Shouldn’t she have been angry at his murderer, not at him?”

“And she took it so personally. Neil was dead, so she was out of a job.”

“Self-centered,” I said. “On the other hand, did you notice the way Neil looked at her in the bakery tent at the picnic? Like he really liked her?”

“It didn’t seem appropriate for an employer-employee relationship,” Haylee agreed. “Do you suppose she had to fight him off, and she fought a little too hard, and he, as she put it, died on her?”

“She’s kind of small to drag someone into my yard.”

“Neil was slight, too,” Haylee reminded me.

“But I suspect he was very muscular and therefore heavier than he looked.”

“Cassie is muscular, too,” she said. “Did you notice her forearms?”

“I didn’t think about it, but you’re right. She must work out.”

All of the stores except the restaurants we passed on our way up the hill were closed for the evening. As usual after hours, though, a few men were sitting around inside The Ironmonger. We waved, and they waved back.

I pointed out, “Another thing that was odd about Cassie was that she happily took credit for organizing most of the picnic, but never mentioned Yolanda by name. She said she
might
have given a brochure to Mona. But I think she wrote down Yolanda’s phone number and gave that to Mona.”

“And then there were the kittens.” Haylee’s voice took on somber tones. “Cassie said she’d never seen them before, but they acted like she was their favorite person.”

“Those two!” Just thinking about them made me smile. “They climb everyone they see. I think they were glad for a warm lap to curl up in. It’s the way they greet people, even strangers.” However, if Cassie had a connection with the kittens who were dumped in or near my yard about the same time that Neil’s wrapped corpse was dragged there, Cassie could be very dangerous.

Haylee and I both laughed when we saw my shop’s front door. I’d left lights on inside. Both dogs pressed their noses against the glass. The two kittens stood up on their hind legs and batted at the pane as if they expected to burst through it and hoist themselves up to our shoulders to purr against our necks. I opened the door and we each scooped up a kitten and patted a dog.

Haylee handed me Mustache. “What can we do with the information we have about Cassie?”

“Do we have any?” I asked. “Other than that her answers to our questions weren’t very straightforward and her stories don’t hang together with what Mona said? The only concrete information we have is Yolanda’s phone number. What can we do with that, call and ask her if she stole asparagus and failed to wash it before adding it to salads and selling it to people? Bow-Tie, please don’t bite my ear.” I tucked the mischievous kitten into the crook of one elbow. “I suppose we could give Yolanda’s phone number to the police, but they probably already have it.”

Haylee bit her lip. “And we’ll end up being accused of meddling and investigating things that don’t concern us.”

I snapped my fingers, causing Bow-Tie to attack them. “How about doing a reverse lookup? That number looks like a landline from Elderberry Bay. We can get the address.”

I handed Bow-Tie to Haylee and logged on to my computer.

Yolanda’s address was on Beach Row.

“Ice cream for lunch tomorrow!” I crowed.

Haylee gave me both kittens and then raised her arms in a victory sign. “Maybe all we really had to do was walk along Beach Row this evening instead of along the beach. Maybe that white van has been parked in front of Yolanda’s place all along.”

As Haylee left, she again reminded me to lock my doors. “Call me or my mothers if you need anything,” she added. “Have a good night.”

Having a good night was not easy in the company of two kittens who were convinced that darkness was when everyone was supposed to practice stalking and pouncing. Fortunately, I was the proud owner of a cat-herding dog. Sally-Forth was determined to lie beside my bed, and did her best to train those kittens that sensible creatures should sleep at night.

* * *

WE ALL WOKE UP EARLY AND MORE OR LESS
ready to open the shop and greet our customers.

Ashley and I showed our students hardanger embroidery, which was named after an area in Norway, and had nothing to do with difficulty or anger. This neat, disciplined style of embroidery was like a cross between drawn work, in which threads are pulled out of the fabric, and cutwork, where shapes are cut out of the fabric.

First, we started embroidery software programs, and then each student created a pattern of small squares and crosses on the screen.

After the women created the designs, complete with stops for removing the hoop from the embroidery machine, Ashley and I helped them hoop sticky stabilizer with the backing paper up. We showed them how to score an X across the hoop through the paper without puncturing the stabilizer itself, which could cause it to tear. Carefully, our students peeled the backing away, leaving the sticky side of the stabilizer uppermost in their hoops.

I gave everyone a square of monk’s cloth. The next step was the most crucial of all, and caused a lot of distressed muttering. They had to keep both the warp and the woof absolutely straight as they smoothed the fabric onto the sticky stabilizer. Ashley and I checked every student’s work before they attached their hoops to embroidery machines and started stitching. The machines obediently sewed straight stitches around neat little squares.

The women in our workshop removed the hoops from their machine and we examined the stitching under a strong light. These women were experienced, and because the fabric had started out straight, their little squares were exactly on the straight and crosswise grains.

With sharp, teeny-bladed scissors, they cut out the insides of the little squares, leaving the stitching.

They reattached their hoops and started the embroidery machines again. The machines stitched around the open squares with narrow satin stitching and added the crosses that made up the rest of the hardanger designs.

While the others stitched, I considered ice cream flavors. Mentally tasting them was almost as good as the real thing. Almost.

The women unhooped the fabric and painstakingly tore off the excess stabilizer. Everyone was happy with the work they’d done.

At noon, I took my dogs and lunch to the bandstand.

Haylee was already there. “I can’t go for ice cream after we eat,” she said. “I have to
present
myself at Opal’s. Will you come along? Please?”

“Of course I’ll come with you to Opal’s,” I answered. “What’s up?”

“Those
people
are coming to see her.” She chomped at her sandwich.