Sew Deadly (16 page)

Margaret Louise was right.

Rising to her feet alongside Rose, Tori touched the woman’s arm gently. “Thank you, Rose. For everything.”

The woman looked over her shoulder as she approached her customers. “I’ll see you Monday night. At my home.”

Sewing Circle.

Tori squirmed. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

“That was not a question, young lady. It was a statement. There
is
a difference.”

It was amazing what a little moral support could do to one’s mood. Suddenly the curious glances and covered-mouth conversations she passed on the grounds didn’t hurt the way they had when she’d arrived.

Sure, they still stung, still made her aware of the task in front of her, but knowing Margaret Louise, Lulu, Milo, and Rose were in her corner made it all more bearable.

The key now was to harness that sense of hope and use it as the flame that ignited her sleuthing efforts. She didn’t kill Tiffany Ann Gilbert. But someone did, someone who stood a good chance of slipping under the radar if she didn’t step up to the plate.

First, she needed a starting place. A window into who Tiffany Ann was in order to stand a chance at deducing who might want to harm her.

Her knowledge was limited, a product of nothing but hearsay. The sources of that hearsay, however, seemed to be fairly reliable, if for no other reason than they’d known the victim her whole life. That kind of background information could surely hold a few gems of information, couldn’t it?

Sidestepping a line of people gathered outside a fried dough stand, Tori made her way over to the roped-off section of parking lot on the east side of the square. Hot rods and classic cars were scattered across the blacktop, hoods raised, muscled bodies in ripped-sleeve shirts standing watch.

She may never have met Tiffany Ann Gilbert, may not have known all the paths the town sweetheart crossed, but she had one thing Investigator McGuire did not—knowledge of what it was like to be a young woman with aspirations. Which meant the muscled bodies that had been so appealing in high school had a tendency to stop looking like the be-all-that-ends-all once college rolled around. And if the ladies in the circle were right, one muscled body in particular had been merely a detour to what Tiffany Ann really wanted in life.

Milo Wentworth.

“Excuse me.” Tori stopped beside an early model Mustang to address its fifty-something owner. “Would you happen to know where I could find Cooper Riley?”

“Coop? Yeah, sure, he’s over there. Black ragtop Mustang.” The man gently pushed off his car and spun around, pointed over the roof.

“Thank you.”

She made her way around hordes of giggling teenagers and through throngs of car-obsessed men, her mind playing through the questions she wanted to ask. And the manner in which to ask them. She didn’t know diddly about Cooper Riley, but she knew the type. They liked to talk. About their car and their conquests.

Despite the crowded lot, Cooper Riley stood alone, his backside resting against the passenger door, his arms folded across his chest, tanned muscles nearly bursting the seams of his shirt. A thatch of sandy-colored hair that swooped across his clear blue eyes did little to disguise the far-off look he sported.

“Cooper Riley?” She stopped about three feet from the car, her gaze soaking up everything about the man’s stance.

Slowly, the young man brought his focus to her face, his gaze studying her every feature before slipping slowly down her body and back again. “Who’s asking?”

She stepped forward, extended her hand. “Tori Sinclair.”

If he’d heard the scuttlebutt surrounding her suspected association with his former girlfriend, he didn’t let on. “Tori. That’s a pretty name.”

“Thanks.” Gesturing toward the car, she backed up, forced her attention to focus on the lines of the car. “My brother used to have a Mustang like this, only he didn’t take care of his the way you obviously do.”

A smile spread across his face as he pushed off the car. “It’s the only thing you can do with a car like this. It’s a classic. And it demands to be treated with reverence.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
Reverence?
Was he serious?

“Virtually every paycheck I make gets spent on her.”

Her?

Tori’s ears perked up. “Your girlfriend?” she prodded.

His smile disappeared. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“But you said, ‘her.’ ”

“My car.”

“Oh.” Anxious not to miss the opening she’d glimpsed for one glorious second, Tori steered the conversation back in that direction. “I bet former girlfriends have been jealous of her.”

Cooper shrugged. “Nah, my girlfriend loved my car. She got off on having me pick her up on a Friday night and drive her around in a car that got almost as many looks as she did.”

“Pretty, huh?” Tori forced herself to appear more interested in the car than the conversation, hoped the tactic would keep him talking.

“Tiffany Ann? She was smokin’ hot. Everyone in town knew it.”

“I bet that made you proud.” She winced as she waited to see whether he’d take issue with her wording, but he seemed completely unfazed, his words coming on the heels of her questions in a steady flow.

“Hell, yeah. Who wouldn’t be? Everyone wanted her. Even that . . . that
teacher
creep.”

Milo?

“Teacher creep?” she made herself ask.

Cooper’s arms dropped from his chest, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “Yeah, some loser who spends his days blowing kids’ noses and mopping up vomit. I mean, how smart do you have to be to teach third grade? As long as you know who the first president was and how to add and subtract . . . you can teach third grade. Hell,
I
could walk in the door on Monday and teach third grade if I wanted to.”

Not likely
.

She walked around the car, still pretending to be interested in it.

“So this teacher had a thing for your girlfriend?”

“Big-time. Tiffany Ann had this kissing booth at the Summer Queen festival and he tried to act like he didn’t want to kiss her, but c’mon, what guy wouldn’t?” Word by word, memory by memory, Cooper Riley retreated from the parking lot to some distant place littered with emotion. A place—if she was reading his hardened jaw and clenching fists correctly—that was ruled by anger.

But surely he knew his prized ex-girlfriend was dead, didn’t he? So where was the disbelief? Where was the devastating sadness?

“Is it possible he wasn’t interested?”

His head snapped up. “No!”

“Oh. I just thought . . . if he didn’t want to kiss her . . . that maybe it was
her
—”

“No!” he repeated, his voice louder and more insistent.

Heads turned in their direction.

Uh-oh.

Desperate to continue their conversation without the prying ears and contributing mouths of others, Tori clapped her hands softly and pointed inside the car. “You have a baby shoe hanging from the rearview mirror. Is that yours?”

Shoving his hands inside his jean pockets, he shook his head, his words less harsh as he answered. “Nah, that was Tiffany Ann’s. When we started dating I asked her mom for something of hers I could hang in the car. She gave me one of her shoes.”

“You really loved her, didn’t you?”

Once again, Cooper Riley’s gaze traveled into the distance, fixed on something only he could see. “Still do. She was going to be my wife.”

Tori gulped so quickly it triggered a series of coughs that refused to subside long enough to talk.

Tiffany Ann Gilbert and Cooper Riley were supposed to get married? Her sewing buddies had neglected to mention that little fact—

“It’s been mighty near eighteen months since she broke it off with him. Yet to hear him talk, they’re not only still together but heading for the altar. Blasted fool.”

Rose’s comments from the last sewing circle flashed through her mind like a lightning bolt, stopping her coughing fit in its tracks.

This guy was delusional. Completely out of touch with reality.

But just how delusional was he? She had to know.

Inhaling deeply she straightened up, looked over the top of the car at Cooper Riley. “Were you afraid this teacher creep was going to ruin your plans?”

A burst of anger rolled across his face as he met her gaze head-on. “No way. She was destined to be mine. I mean look at me”—he turned his hands inward and gestured at himself—“you think she was going to be lulled away for long by some . . . some
old
guy who can recite the Pledge of Allegiance by memory?”

She snorted.

“Besides, there was no way in hell I was going to let anyone else have her.” Cooper Riley slammed a closed fist on top of his car, his continued rant barely audible through clenched teeth. “Tiffany Ann was mine.
Mine
!”

If he realized how threatening he sounded, he didn’t care. In fact, he was so wrapped up in his anger he barely noticed the elderly couple who approached his car with fond memories they were all too willing to share.

Shrugging her shoulders she bid a hasty farewell, grateful for the opportunity to slip into the crowd, alone with her thoughts. Cooper Riley was one angry young man. Angry and in denial.

Anyone listening to Tiffany Ann Gilbert’s ex-boyfriend would be hard-pressed not to throw up a question mark where he was concerned. As infatuated as he’d obviously been with her, Tori suspected he’d been even more infatuated with what she represented—an enviable conquest and a visible trophy.

But as disturbing as his words were, it was his next to last statement that brought a chill to her soul.

“There was no way in hell I was going to let anyone else have her.”

Murdering her would certainly accomplish that goal. . . .

“
There
you are! Why’d you disappear like that?”

She looked up, surprised to see Milo jogging through the rapidly decreasing crowd in her direction.

“I, uh—” She stopped, swallowed, started again. “I figured those were parents of your students and I knew I’d already caused some issues regarding the field trip on Friday. I didn’t want to make matters worse.” She tucked her hands into her pockets, Lulu’s bag dangling from her wrist. “Besides, I needed to see Lulu and her grandmother off. They’d been so nice to invite me along tonight.”

He hesitated a moment then briefly touched her back, guiding her toward the food booths in the center of the town square. “Are you glad you came?”

“I am.” And she meant it. In less than four hours she’d felt her confidence soar. She had more people in her corner than she realized and it felt good. Really good.

Even better, she couldn’t help but feel as if she was onto something where Tiffany Ann’s murder was concerned. Whether Cooper was responsible or not remained to be seen. But it was a starting place. Something she desperately needed.

“You okay?” Milo asked, his eyebrows lifting slightly.

“I’m fine. Just a little distracted.”

They walked for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts, the smell of barbecue and fair treats guiding them forward. “Hungry?” he asked.

“No. I’m too wound up to eat.”

“A good wound up or a bad wound up?”

She thought for a moment. “A good wound up.”

“I’m glad.” He stopped, turned toward her. “Do you like coffee?”

“I do. Very much. Why? Do they have a coffee booth?” She looked around, spotted just about every food and drink known to mankind except coffee.

He shook his head. “I was thinking more along the lines of getting a cup together another . . . um . . . time.”

Surprised, she met his gaze, saw the brief color that warmed his cheeks. “Sure.”

“Tomorrow night?” he asked quickly.

Why not? After her conversation with Cooper Riley she couldn’t help but have a few questions for Milo Wentworth as well.

“That sounds nice. Is there a coffee shop in town?”

“Debbie’s Bakery.”

“Oh, right. I’ve been wanting to check that out. Debbie is in my sewing circle.”

“Good. Then I’ll pick you up and we can go there.” A slow smile appeared at the corners of his mouth, crept slowly across his face.

“That’s per—” She stopped. What was she doing? Word of Milo Wentworth picking her up at home was sure to fuel Investigator McGuire’s fire all the more. “Actually, can we just meet there? At maybe seven?”

A momentary display of disappointment chased the teacher’s smile from his face. “I’d be happy to pick you up.”

She held up her hand, her answer gentle but firm. “Really. I think it would be best for everyone if I just met you there.”

He opened his mouth in what appeared to be an argument and then shut it again. “Okay. Debbie’s Bakery. Tomorrow evening. Seven o’clock.” The smile from earlier reappeared on his face, an undeniable happiness that made her squirm ever so slightly.

“I better head home. It’s been a long day.” She stepped back, her hand sliding out of her pocket long enough to wave. “It was nice seeing you tonight, Milo.”

“You, too, Tori. You, too.” He toed a pebble off the ground, a cloud of dust chasing it into the air as she turned and headed toward the parking lot designated for fairgoers. “Oh, hey, Tori?”

She turned back. “Yes?”

“You-you don’t make matters worse.”

Chapter 12