Pleating for Mercy (29 page)

The short, staccato squeeze of his arms zapped the air from my lungs and cut me off. His warm breath through my hair tickled my ear. “I’m saving your ass, that’s what’s going on,” he murmured. “You don’t want to mess with Ted Mitchell. He works for the Kincaid family, and if he thinks you’re snooping into their business . . . Let’s just say it wouldn’t be good.”

He released me and I pushed away from him. From the corner of my eye, I saw the flash of Ted Mitchell’s eyes looking at Will and me as he crossed the street. “What’s over there?” I asked after he disappeared behind a closed door.

I started to point at the space next to a vacant space on the square, but he gently pushed my hand back down to my side. “Not pointing at his office would be a good idea. I’ll lay money down that he’ll be watching us from his window.”

I started to turn my head to look, but he caught my chin with his fingers, tilting it up until I looked in his eyes instead.

“Don’t quit your day job,” he said.

I’d been married to my sewing machine and the fashion world for so long that there wasn’t a chance in hell I’d quit designing. But it also meant I hadn’t remembered what it felt like to be this close to a man, and it was throwing me for a loop. My fluttering heartbeat turned my thinking upside down. In a movie, this would be the moment when the hero lowered his head until his lips lightly brushed the heroine’s in a long-awaited kiss.

This wasn’t a movie. There was no kiss.

Will dropped his fingers from my chin, put his hand at my lower back, and started guiding me back to Seed-n-Bead. When we were out of Ted Mitchell’s potential line of vision, he stopped walking suddenly. Facing me, his black suede cowboy hat blocking the sun from my eyes, he demanded, “Cassidy, just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“It’s possible it was a married man,” Mama whispered. “She was awfully secretive about it.”

“You mean an engaged man.”

“Someone who was already taken,” she amended.

I’d avoided Will’s question and he’d escorted me back to the reception, leaving me at the door. He headed to the hardware store to buy some wood glue so he could finish repairing Meemaw’s antique shelf while I went in search of my mother. Now we huddled in the corner of Seed-n-Bead, talking under our breath.

I showed her the ring and told her my theory that Nate might well be Nell’s killer. One by one, I ticked the facts off on the fingers of my left hand. “First, he was in Buttons and Bows that day, so he could have taken something to use as the murder weapon. Second, Nell’s mirror. I found it in my yard, all scratched up. She must have had it with her the night she died. Maybe she was hiding that, too.”

“Or wanted to break it and give whoever she met that night seven years of bad luck,” Mama said.

I went on. “Third, Nell told me she hoped Nate wouldn’t break Josie’s heart, but she said it like she’d experienced that particular heartbreak firsthand. Fourth, she was pregnant and told her friends she was going to announce something big at the rehearsal dinner. What better place to ruin the man who’d wronged her? Fifth, there’s Miriam. She’s worried Holly will get hurt, so she won’t come forward about whoever she thinks the killer is, which means it has to be someone close to her . . . like her brother. Sixth, Nell tried to hide the ring in my shop. She must have thought the diamond was her insurance policy. Nate wouldn’t dare hurt her unless or until he had that ring back. Seventh . . .” Was there a seventh? “Oh! The lawyer. He met with Nell to write her will. How creepy is that? And it doesn’t quite compute, since he doesn’t do wills and trusts. Karen told me so herself. I think he might have been trying to intimidate her into giving the ring back. Maybe even threatening her.”

They were seven suspicious facts, but they were all circumstantial. I’d watched enough television crime shows to know it took more than circumstantial evidence to bring a murderer to justice. I dropped my hands, no more facts to tick off on my fingers. Perfect timing, since Josie immediately walked up to us. “What are you two whispering about?”

“Sweetheart, we were just wondering if you’re really sure about holding the wedding so soon,” Mama said. “Are you up to it?”

I snuck a surprised look at Mama. She’d never been good at fibbing, even with all the practice she’d had trying to hide her magical green thumb. All that sneaking around with Hoss McClaine had made her smooth as Texas honey.

“I wasn’t, not at first,” Josie said, “but now I am. Nell wouldn’t have wanted me to cancel.”

Yes, well, I was afraid Josie didn’t know Nell nearly as well as she thought she did.

The funeral guests had all gone. Just Josie, Ruthann, Karen, Mrs. Sandoval, and I were left. A pearl white SUV pulled up to the curb in front of the shop. Nate got out and popped the back hatch. We loaded the car with the leftover food. “What are you going to do with it all?” I asked Josie.

“Nate’s taking it to the women’s shelter in Granbury.”

I carried the last rectangular foil tray out to the car. Nate slid it into the back and pressed a button on his key ring. The hatch clicked, automatically closing. “Thanks,” he said.

“Sure.” I looked at him, wondering how a person could look so innocent, yet be so diabolical. What if he figured out where Nell had hidden the ring? Was I safe in my house? I looked at him, suddenly horribly afraid he’d be able to read every one of my thoughts.

“I meant what I said at the sheriff’s,” he said quietly.

I thought back. He’d said Josie wouldn’t know how to hurt anyone, let alone kill Nell. And that he loved her. All the more reason for him to protect Josie from Nell’s big announcement and his own betrayal of the woman he loved.

“I can see it in your eyes. After everything, you think I killed her, don’t you?” He moved closer.

Criminy. My whole body trembled.
Yes.
“N-no.”

“I didn’t. Nell and I went out on a few dates. It was a long time ago. She was Josie’s friend, that’s it. I had no reason to kill her.”

I clutched the strap of my purse.
Except the forty-thousand-dollar engagement ring she stole. Oh, yeah, and the pregnancy
. “Where were you that night? Why weren’t you with Josie?” All he had to do was give his alibi and he’d be in the clear.

His expression hardened, the cleft in his chin growing more pronounced. “I was helping someone.”

I threw my hands up, exasperated. “Do you know how much Josie loves you? How much she wants to believe you? She asked me to help prove you’re innocent, Nate. You can’t just say you were helping someone. Where
were
you?”

I didn’t really think he would just cough up his alibi, but he never had a chance. Josie, Karen, and Ruthann came outside, and a second later Mr. and Mrs. Kincaid turned the corner and walked briskly toward us. Miriam was next to her mother, and next to her was . . .
Derek
?

Taking a step back, I tripped on an uneven piece of cement. My foot twisted under me. I fell, dropping my purse, my knee scraping against the edge of the curb. A sharp stab of pain shot from my knee to my gut, but I swallowed the angry sting the second I saw the contents of my purse scattered all around me.

All at once, everyone rushed forward.

Seven people were suddenly crouched around, gathering up my belongings. From the corner of my eye, I saw the little blue velvet bag in the street. Still on my knees, I lunged, snatching up the jewelry bag just as Mr. Kincaid and Derek both reached for it. The side of my face collided with Derek’s shoulder, knocking my glasses out of place.

Derek mumbled, “You okay, Harlow?”

Some sleuth I was. If an encounter with an old boyfriend, which was really overstating what Derek and I had had, sent me reeling, what would a confrontation with a killer do to me? “Yup. Fine,” I said. With the bag enclosed in my fist, I braced my knuckles against the cement to push myself up. A hand clasped my elbow, finishing the job. “This is becoming a habit.”

Will. He always seemed to be right there when I needed him. Coincidence? I straightened my glasses and tried not to look at the blood I could feel dripping down my shin.

Mrs. Kincaid’s hand fluttered to her neck. “Bless your heart, Harlow. What in heaven’s name got into you?”

I couldn’t say it was the shock of seeing all the Kincaid children together again for the first time in seventeen years, or that they’d almost discovered Josie’s first engagement ring in my possession. I wanted to kick myself for bringing it with me to the funeral. In hindsight, it probably would have been safer tucked away at home.

I went for distraction, blurting out the first thing that popped into my head. “I guess I was just lost in my own thoughts. I was just talking to Will, and then I saw you, and I suddenly remembered you mentioning Miriam’s old sewing machine.” I rambled on. “Will’s daughter is working for me now and I thought it would be perfect for her.”

“Oh, dear,” she said, frowning. “Miriam took it to the church for the rummage sale—”

“Not yet, I didn’t. It’s still in my car,” Miriam said.

“You haven’t . . . It is?” Mrs. Kincaid looked like she couldn’t believe her daughter’s irresponsibility. How dare she not deliver the used goods to the rummage sale in a timely manner. Mrs. Abernathy would be so disappointed.

“Of course Gracie can have it,” Miriam said to Will. “I’ll drop it off when I have a chance.”

Will smiled. “That’s great. Gracie’ll love it. Really, thank you.”

Mrs. Kincaid forced a smile, then looked at my leg. “That’s a nasty cut,” she said to me. “You’d best go on inside and get that fixed up.”

“Good idea.” I took a step, wincing as I tried to straighten my knee. “Mmmm,” I moaned, my eyes stinging.

“There’s bandages in the bathroom,” Josie said. “I’ll help you—”

“It’s okay.” Will slid his arm around me and I leaned against him. “I got her.”

I looked at Derek. A little smile played on his lips, his attention moving from my leg to the people gathered around me. I quickly looked away, trying to ignore the anxiety gathering inside me.

I noticed Josie leaning into Nate before Will propelled me toward the bead shop and I lost sight of them. Their bodies seemed perfectly molded to each other. Doubt slithered through me. What if all the facts I’d ticked off were just coincidence? What if Nate had had nothing to do with Nell’s death, just as he claimed? I wanted so much for him to be telling the truth. I closed my eyes for a split second and conjured up an image of Josie’s wedding gown—I could still picture it clearly. Surely that was a good sign.

Karen handed Will my purse, and he guided me as I hobbled back into Seed-n-Bead. Mama dropped the broom she’d been using when she saw us. “What happened?”

I waved her away with my free hand. “I just tripped. It’s n-nothing.”

“Josie said there’s first-aid stuff in the bathroom. I got it,” he said over his shoulder.

I heard Mama pick up the broom and start sweeping again, but louder than that was the heat of her gaze on my back and the pressure of Will’s hand on my side, both of which seemed to say,
You’re in over your head, Harlow Jane
.

I wondered if she was right.

Fifteen years of being a single dad to Gracie had given Will an unexpected bedside manner. He ran the water until it was warm, squeezed a dollop of amber liquid soap on a paper towel, and gently cleansed my wounds. “You did a pretty good number on this shin,” he commented.

“When I do something, I do it all the way.”

His lips quirked into a smile, little crinkles appearing around his eyes. “Is that right?”

I could feel the heat of embarrassment creep up my neck. I didn’t dare look in the mirror to see how rosy my cheeks were. “Which is why,” I continued boldly, “I’m trying to figure out who killed Nell. I promised Josie—”

“Josie shouldn’t have asked you to get involved, Harlow.”

My breath hiccuped. He hadn’t used my first name very often and it sounded foreign coming from his lips.

“But she did,” I said.

He was broodingly silent for a long minute. Finally he said, “Nell was murdered. This isn’t a game.”

He didn’t have to remind me of that.

After another minute of him dabbing and me wincing, he rooted through the one cupboard in the small bathroom until he found a brown bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

“Here.” I grabbed a cocktail napkin from a little pile on the counter and held it out to him, but he waved it away, his hand emerging from the cupboard with an old plastic bag filled with white fluff.

He doused a cluster of cottonballs with the liquid, pausing before he touched it to my skin. “This might sting a little.”

“No more than it already does.” I was all talk. The second the medicine hit my raw skin, I yelped, grabbing his shoulder, crumpling the napkin in my hand, keeping it at the ready in case I burst out in tears.

He grimaced as he pried my fingers loose. “Maybe just a
little
more.”

“Maybe,” I admitted.

He blew on it, cooling the pain, then crisscrossed five bandages from a small box he found, strategically placing them to keep as much of the abrasions covered as possible. “We should change these to some gauze squares when you get home.”

He rolled up the bag of cottonballs and tucked it back into the cupboard. After another weighty pause, he broke the silence. “You didn’t
just
trip out there. What spooked you?”

Taking off my glasses, I cleaned the lenses, then tossed the napkin in the trash. Peering up at him through my lashes, I said softly, “My past.”

His eyes narrowed, but he seemed to understand that it was better left alone.

“How do I know if I can trust you?” I asked.

He cupped his chin, rubbing his fingers over the goatee trimmed close to his jawline. “How do you know you can’t?” he asked, looking back at me.