The Long Stitch Good Night: An Embroidery Mystery (17 page)

I wondered what Sadie wanted to talk with me about that she didn’t want to discuss in front of Blake and Todd. Since Sadie hadn’t told me Blake’s version of Friday night’s events, I didn’t have a clue what she believed happened. Furthermore, I didn’t know what Sadie knew—or maybe more importantly what she
didn’t
know, since she’d never met Tawny Milligan—about Blake’s time in college before she began dating him. I decided my best bet was to keep my mouth shut until Sadie opened up with whatever was on her mind.

She didn’t say much until after we arrived at my house. While I fed Angus, Sadie got out plates and placed our croissants on them. She added the sea salt chips and brownies she’d also brought with her. I got us a couple of diet sodas—to offset the brownie calories, of course—and we sat down at the table. Angus abandoned his bowl to see if he could score bites of our dinner. With those big brown eyes? Of course he could.

Finally, Sadie started talking. “Todd told
Blake and me that you felt betrayed…that you thought we didn’t trust you enough to tell you what happened on Friday night.”

I didn’t really have a response to that, so I had a bite of my croissant.

“We trust you,” she continued. “We’re just not sure of what happened ourselves. Even after Blake and Todd had their little private sit-down, Blake walked out not knowing any more than he had going in. What did Todd tell you?”

I took a drink of my soda. Then I looked Sadie in the eye. And…I took another drink. I realized there was no courage in the bottom of a soda glass. So I took a deep breath and told her, “Todd thinks Blake shot Graham. If he did, I know it had to be self-defense.”

Sadie shook her head. “Blake did
not
shoot Graham. Graham was arguing with Todd, and he kept getting more and more aggressive. Blake overheard Graham threaten to kill Todd, so he got Todd’s gun from his office and rushed to the back room where Todd and Graham were arguing.” She took a steadying breath. “As Blake got to the doorway, he heard a shot ring out. At first, he thought Graham had shot Todd because Todd immediately hit the floor facedown. But then he saw that Graham had also fallen, only Graham had fallen onto his
back and Blake could see that he was bleeding. Blake dropped the gun onto the floor and went to check on the men.”

“Where was the gun that was used to kill Graham?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Blake said he didn’t see it,” said Sadie. “And as nice as it is that Todd’s playing the hero like he’s protecting Blake, he’s got it backward. Blake has been protecting Todd.
He
’
s
the one who shot Graham.”

“Would you and Blake come over after class so you can talk with Todd and me?” I asked. “Maybe the four of us together can figure out what actually happened and why.”

“Sure. I’m fine with that. If nothing else, it’ll get me out from under Mom’s thumb for a while.”

I bit my lip. “They’re still staying with you?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Once again, I’m sorry about that,” I said.

“You meant well.” Her words were forgiving, but her tone was not.

Class was…interesting. Reggie was there. Julie and her teenage daughter, Amber, were there—they were two of my most loyal students and had been taking classes since I first opened the Seven-Year Stitch. Vera was in attendance,
and surprisingly enough, so was Margaret Trelawney. Since her husband Bill died, Mrs. Trelawney had been my landlord. She sometimes dropped in on my classes, but she had never signed up for one, nor had she ever worked on an embroidery project.

As the students came in, I offered them a bottle of water. I also took their coats and jackets and hung them on the rack in my office. When I returned to the sit-and-stitch area, Mrs. Trelawney was unwrapping a Starlight mint she’d taken from the bowl I’d put in the center of the coffee table.

I sat down beside Mrs. Trelawney on the sofa. “I’m so glad you could make it this evening,” I said. “How’s Sylvia?” Her sister-in-law had acted like a shrew when Mr. Trelawney had first died, but she appeared to have mellowed within the past few months.

“She’s fine,” Mrs. Trelawney said. “She’s driving down this coming weekend, and I’m going to go back home to Portland with her for a few days. We’re going to do some shopping.”

“That’ll be fun,” I said.

“It will be unless she starts making an issue of how much of Bill’s hard-earned money I’m spending.” Mrs. Trelawney huffed. “But I’ll have her know he didn’t earn it all by himself.
And another thing: he’s gone now, so that money belongs to me.”

I turned to the group in general. “How did everyone do on her project this week?”

They—with the singular exception of Mrs. Trelawney—began taking their works in progress out of their tote bags. Everyone’s project was progressing nicely, and since no one had any immediate questions, we got to work. As we stitched, we talked about Manu’s homecoming and Riley’s beautiful baby girl. Inevitably, the subject of Graham Stott’s murder arose.

“That was a terrible ordeal at the Saint Patrick’s Day party,” Julie said softly, brushing the light brown hair out of her eyes. “Have the police figured out what happened?”

“I don’t think all the facts in the case are known yet,” I said.

“Who had a party, and what happened?” Mrs. Trelawney asked. “I miss all the fun.”

Reggie broke the group’s collective awkward silence by saying, “The party was at the Brew Crew, and Graham Stott was shot.”

“Who’d he shoot?” Mrs. Trelawney demanded. “That Graham always was an impudent cuss. I’m not a bit surprised he had the gall to shoot somebody.”

“No, dear,” Vera said gently. “Graham was
the victim. He’s the person who got shot. I get what you’re saying, though. Graham always reminded me of an Eddie Haskell type—always buttering people up so he could try and get away with something.”

“Somebody shot Eddie Haskell?” Mrs. Trelawney unwrapped another mint and popped it into her mouth.

If I thought I could have gotten away with rolling my eyes, I would have.

“It was probably Ward or Wally,” Mrs. Trelawney said. “Did Eddie do something mean to the Beav?”

“More than likely,” Reggie said.

“No, wait. I remember now.” Mrs. Trelawney raised her index finger to her lips. “Eddie was shot in the line of duty after he became a police officer. He was saved by his bulletproof vest and his belt buckle.”

“Wow,” I said. “That’s something.”

Reggie deftly changed the subject back to stitching with a question about the piece she was working on. I was truly grateful. Sometimes, Mrs. Trelawney seemed sword-tip sharp. But at other times, she made me wonder what kind of medications she was taking. And she did tend to go off on the strangest tangents. For example, after class, she took me aside.

“While I simply adore your little soirees, you need to consider serving more satisfying refreshments,” she said. I’d heard this one before. She kindly pointed out to me almost every time she came that my snacks were somewhat lacking.

“Actually, Mrs. Trelawney, these are embroidery classes,” I replied.

“Perhaps I can bring something the next time. I do so wish that Tawny Milligan still ran her mother’s catering business. I thought of her because she used to date that cheeky Graham Stott, you know.”

I placed my hand on Mrs. Trelawney’s forearm. “You know Tawny Milligan?”

“Oh, yes. She makes the best tarts,” said Mrs. Trelawney. “I mentioned that to Graham once—I thought they were going to get married and that he’d be proud to have a wife who was such an accomplished baker.”

“And was he proud?” I asked.

“No. He said it took a great tart to make one, he guessed.” She narrowed her eyes and shook her head. “He was repugnant.”

“It sounds like it. Where’s Tawny now?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “She left town. One could hardly blame her for that.”

“Because of Graham?”

Mrs. Trelawney nodded. “And the pregnancy, of course.”

I gaped. “Tawny Milligan was pregnant?” Then Todd’s guess had been spot-on. “Was the child Graham’s?”

“I suppose. She left, and I never heard any more about it.” She brightened. “Have a good night, Marcy, darling. And do think about what I said.”

I nodded. I’d be thinking about what she said, all right, but it would be about Tawny Milligan’s baby rather than soiree refreshments. After that revelation, it didn’t bother me overmuch that Mrs. Trelawney thought I’d hosted a party and had served water and Starlight mints.

Reggie had hung back until after the other students and Mrs. Trelawney left. “I heard back from my friend Carol. The name Tawny Milligan used after she left college was Sarah Masterson,” said Reggie. “The number Carol had for her had been disconnected, though, and my own Internet search didn’t produce any solid leads.”

“Did Carol mention anything about Tawny being pregnant?” I asked.

“No. Was she?”

“According to Mrs. Trelawney, she was. Of course, Mrs. Trelawney thinks I threw a party
this evening and served only Starlight mints. And water.” Okay, so it bothered me a little.

Reggie burst out laughing. “She can get terribly confused. What else did she say about Tawny?”

“She said Tawny used to run her mother’s catering business and was an excellent baker.”

“That much is true,” Reggie said. “I remember that catering company. It was located in Lincoln City and was called A Special Occasion. I’ll look it up and see if it’s still there.”

“Cool. Please let me know what you find out,” I said.

“I will. I’m pretty curious about this name change and mysterious disappearance myself.”

When I got home, Sadie, Blake, and Todd were already waiting for me. Since Sadie had a key, they’d let Angus in and had made a pot of decaffeinated coffee. The three of them were sitting around the table sipping coffee and looking glum when I walked into the kitchen. Even Angus looked sad, but he stood and greeted me.

I hugged him and kissed the top of his scruffy head. “Everything is okay, baby.” I looked at Sadie. “Everything
is
all right, isn’t it?”

“I guess so,” she said. “All things considered.”

I, too, sat down at the table. I noticed that everyone else was having trouble making eye contact. We’d never get anywhere like this. Someone needed to take the plunge. I figuratively held my nose and dived in.

“So, guys, each of you believes the other one shot Graham Stott,” I said. “I realize you’ve been over this ad nauseam in your own heads and among yourselves, and I understand you’re best friends and you’re trying to protect each other. But it might help if you lay the facts out individually so Sadie and I can get a fresh take on what happened Friday night. So, one at a time—starting with Blake, which makes it alphabetical—tell me what took place at the Brew Crew party. And start at the beginning of the evening.”

Blake breathed deeply, stared down at the table, and started talking. “When Sadie and I first got to the Brew Crew, everything was cool. Everybody—the Alpha Sigs, I mean—seemed to be relaxed and having a good time. Sadie saw someone she knew, and she went over to say hello.”

“Were all the Alpha Sigs there then?” I asked.

“Not at that time. Mark and Graham hadn’t got there yet,” Blake said. “While Sadie was talking with her friend, Graham came in. Sadie and Graham had a history, and Sadie doesn’t—didn’t—like him, so she stayed at the bar after that.”

“Is that when the mood started turning sour?” I got up to get a cup of coffee and to top off everyone else’s.

“Not right away,” Blake answered. “I mean, Graham was a little snooty as usual, and he appeared to be already a little buzzed when he got there. But he didn’t get belligerent until after he’d had more to drink.”

“From what I’ve heard, it didn’t take long for the trouble to start.” I returned the coffeepot to its base and sat back down.

“No, it didn’t.” Blake raked his hands through his short blond hair. “We all had too much to drink Friday night. We should’ve known better.”

“Nope,” I said. “We’re not having a shoulda-coulda-woulda or a pity party here. Just tell us what happened as you remember it.”

“Yeah, okay,” said Blake. “Basically, as the night progressed, Graham got more and more argumentative with everyone. Finally, I heard him arguing with Todd. I don’t know what they were fighting about, but Graham threatened
to kill Todd. I distinctly heard Graham say the words
I’ll kill you
. So I ran into Todd’s office and got the gun. I was going to threaten Graham and make him leave. As I got to the back room, I heard the shot fire. Both Graham and Todd hit the floor. I dropped the gun and went to see if they were okay. And you know the rest.”

“All right.” I nodded toward Todd. “Your turn.”

“Blake is spot-on up until the point where he ran into the back room. Graham and I
were
arguing,” Todd said.

“Why did he threaten to kill you?” I asked.

“He was just blowing smoke. I took his keys away and told him I was calling a cab.” He sipped his coffee. “He really was too drunk to go driving off, and I refused to give him back his keys. He said his car was a Bentley Continental GT and that he refused to leave it parked at this
dive
overnight. He said to give him his keys or he’d kill me. I wasn’t in fear for my life. I knew he was just talking.”

“And this is what you were arguing about in the back room?” Blake asked. “I thought it was…you know…something more serious.”

“What did you think it was?” Sadie asked her husband.

Blake and Todd shared a look, and then Blake shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Yes you do,” Sadie said.

“And if we’re going to sort this out and help you two, you have to be up front with us,” I added.

“Like we’ve both said, Graham was arguing with everybody,” Todd said. “He was bringing up all this junk from the past as well as the present. Sadie had mentioned to Charles that Riley went into labor. Since Riley and I had dated my last year of college, all the guys knew her. Charles suggested we drink a toast to her.”

“Graham began taunting Todd,” Blake said. “He asked how it felt to know the woman he loved was giving birth to another man’s child.”