The Quick and the Thread (12 page)

“It’s a gray whale,” Blake said. “What you’re seeing is its spout . . . a cloud of moisture it shoots into the air.”

“Wow. That’s cool.”

And then, just like that, I saw its tail flip up out of the ocean. I clapped my hands together. “Did you see that?”

“Uh-huh,” Todd said. “It’s diving for food now. That dive helps propel the whale toward the bottom of the ocean, where it can feed.” He pointed to the smooth circle of water left in the wake of the whale’s tail. “See that? It’s called a fluke print.”

“A what?”

“A fluke print,” he repeated. “The two lobes of the whale’s tail are called the fluke.”

“How do you guys know so much about whales?” I asked.

“Every year a bunch of us go to Depoe Bay for the winter and spring migratory whale watch,” Sadie said. “The winter watch week is between Christmas and New Year’s Day. The gray whales migrate from the Arctic Ocean to Mexico so the moms can have their calves in the warm bays.”

“We’ll take you this year if you’d like to go,” Blake said.

“I’d love to.”

The waiter arrived, forcing me to turn my attention away from the ocean and consult my menu while everyone else was ordering. In the end, I decided on a chef’s salad and a small bowl of tomato bisque.

The waiter left to get our drink orders.

“Have you talked with your mom lately?” Sadie asked.

I smiled. “I talked to her Friday night. She’s doing great, although she did mention one diva on the set.”

“Let me guess.” Sadie grinned. “She doesn’t even have a starring role.”

We laughed.

I turned to Todd. “My mom is a costume designer. She’s currently on location in New York. Sadie has heard about Mom and her antics since we were roommates in college, so she knows all about Mom’s ‘divas.’ ”

“The ‘divas’ are always actresses with small roles,” Sadie said. “The stars usually know better.”

“That’s right,” I said. “I can only remember one actress with a starring role who acted haughty toward Mom.”

“And she appeared on set in a garment that made everybody—paparazzi included—speculate about her ‘belly bump.’ ”

Sadie and I were still laughing when the waiter returned with our drinks. Todd and Blake merely sat there with bemused smiles on their faces. We thanked the waiter, and then I picked up the thread of the story.

“See, Mom has been doing this for a long time. She’s highly sought after and is something of a diva herself.”

“Oh yes,” Sadie said. “If anybody gives Beverly Singer too hard a time, she walks.”

“And then whoever made that happen has the entire production staff unhappy with them.” I took a sip of my water. “Nobody wants anything to happen that’s going to delay the production schedule, and replacing a costume designer—”

“Especially one the caliber of Marcy’s mom,” Sadie interjected.

“—can throw them off for weeks.” The guys still looked clueless. I was about to try to steer the conversation to something that would be of more interest to them when Sadie spoke again.

“Did you tell her what’s going on?”

“A little. She knows about Mr. Enright turning up dead in the storeroom, but she doesn’t know about Mr. Trelawney. I thought it best not to worry her. After all, what could she do? She and I are on opposite sides of the country.”

“You’ve got a point.” Sadie unfolded her napkin and began smoothing it out. “And it’s not like you’re alone here. You know you’ve got Blake and me. We’ll be there for you anytime.”

“So will I,” Todd said.

“Thank you,” I said. “That means a lot. Somehow, though, I think I’d feel better if everyone—including prison inmates—would stop telling me to be careful.”

“So, how’s business going?” Blake asked. “I heard you tell Mr. Patrick that you were doing well.”

“I am. The first day—my first customer, actually—a lady named Sarah Crenshaw came in and bought several things for a project she’s doing for her granddaughter. She signed up for my crewel class, and some of her friends called to sign up, as well. They’ll practically make up my entire crewel class.”

“I know Mrs. Crenshaw,” Sadie said. “She comes into the shop a lot.” She turned to Blake. “She’s always nicely dressed, elegant, refined. . . .”

Blake nodded. “Orders the caramel latte made with nonfat milk.”

“That’s her.”

“I really am so pleased with the number of students signed up for classes,” I said. “Not only because of the business they’ll be bringing in, but because it’s such a wonderful way to get to know the people of Tallulah Falls.”

“Just keep in mind,” Todd said, “some of us folks are nicer than others.”

“Duly noted.” I laughed, but something about his lighthearted comment lingered.

 

 

That evening, I was lounging on the sofa in black track pants and a white T-shirt, reading an Audrey Hepburn biography. Angus was snoozing on the floor by my side. About every other page, I’d think,
Wow, she was classy. I wish I could be like that.

My mom is Audrey-classy. She can walk into a room, and everyone turns to look at her . . . not so much because of her appearance, but because of her essence.

One of my favorite Audrey Hepburn quotes, and believe me I have a few, is “For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others; for beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness; and for poise, walk with the knowledge that you are never alone.”

Isn’t that terrific?

The doorbell rang. I tried to glide over the carpet Audrey style, but stubbed my toe. Oh, well. We’d have shared a laugh at that, though. Audrey loved to laugh.

I opened the door and was delighted to see Reggie and a man who must surely be Manu standing at her side. Reggie was wearing her usual Indian-inspired tunic and slacks, while Manu was dressed in jeans, cowboy boots, and a red and black flannel shirt.

“Hi!” I gave Reggie a quick hug. We hadn’t known each other long, but there was something so appealing and wise about her, it felt like we were old friends.

“I hope we’re not interrupting anything,” she said. “We were in the area. I knew this was your house because I was friends with the Wilsons.” The Wilsons were the previous owners, who had decamped for California. Sometimes I couldn’t say I blamed them.

“Not at all. Please come in.”

She introduced me to Manu. Besides being dressed in a more traditionally Western style than Reggie, Manu had a short, stocky build and heavy-lidded, intelligent eyes.

“Let me put Angus outside,” I said.

“Don’t you dare,” Reggie said, sitting on a chair in the living room. “Come here, baby.”

Angus happily trotted over to sit beside Reggie’s chair.

“She’s animal crazy,” Manu said.

“So am I. Can I get you something to drink?”

Both declined my offer, and Manu and I sat down on opposite sides of the sofa.

“I told Manu about the trip you planned to take today,” Reggie said. “We decided to stop by to see if you went.”

I nodded. “We went. And I asked Mr. Patrick about Timothy Enright. He didn’t tell me much. He said he knew Mr. Enright and that he’d prepared his will. And he indicated that Mr. Enright hadn’t gone bankrupt. I wonder why Lorraine thought he had.”

“You know, you really should leave the investigating to the professionals. You don’t want to put yourself in harm’s way like that.” Manu drummed his fingertips on the arm of the sofa. “But this does set me to thinking. Maybe Tim was hiding his money from Lorraine. They were going through a divorce, after all. Did Patrick confirm any involvement by Enright in Four Square Development?”

“Did you expect him to?” Reggie asked her husband.

“I did,” I said. “I mean, he’s in prison, and Timothy Enright is dead. What has Mr. Patrick got to lose?”

“Good point,” Manu said. “What else
could
he have to lose?”

I shook my head. “I’m not following you.”

“There are only two reasons Norman Patrick wouldn’t confirm Timothy Enright’s involvement in Four Square Development. One, Enright had no involvement. Or two, Enright’s involvement came after he was put away, and he didn’t know about it.”

“You believe the investigation was incomplete?” I asked.

“I do,” Manu said. “I believe the investigators only uncovered the tip of the iceberg. They didn’t dig deeply enough below the surface.”

“Manu has always believed the auditors couldn’t get sufficient evidence to prove everything they suspected,” Reggie said. “So they only got warrants on those things they could win convictions on.”

“What else did the auditors think was going on?” I asked.

Manu shook his head. “No one at our department knows. It was a federal case, and we were kept out of the loop. We can only speculate.”

“Did Norman say anything else?” Reggie asked.

“He told me Bill Trelawney had been involved with Four Square Development’s operations, but that he’d worked with someone else.”

Manu
hmmph
ed, indicating he wasn’t truly surprised about Bill Trelawney. Clearly, the Four Square case was a whole lot more complicated than most people knew. “Who was this other person?” Manu asked.

“Only Bill knew. Mr. Patrick seemed to think he was pretty powerful, though. I think he’s scared, Manu.” And, truth be told, so was I.

 

 

Monday morning, I was sitting at the counter, playing blackjack with Jill (she was winning, by the way) when Vera Langhorne came in. I scooped up the cards.

“Morning, Vera. I got some really cute Halloween merchandise in over the weekend.”

“I’ll give it a look-see in a few minutes.” She went over to the sitting area and took her cross-stitch project from her tote. The work she had done so far was actually beginning to look like a teacup.

“Mind if I join you?” I asked.

“I was hoping you would. If you don’t mind my saying so, you looked a mite lonely when I came in. Where’s Angus?”

“Todd Calloway came by and asked to take him for a walk on the beach.”

“That was nice.” She grinned. “Seems Detective Nash isn’t the only eligible bachelor in Tallulah Falls setting his cap for the new girl.”

I curled up in the red chair with my own project. “I highly doubt either of them has set his cap for me.” I began to count and stitch.

“If you say so. I’ve been married for thirty-three years, but I can still tell when a young man is interested in a young woman.” She looked up from her work. “And if you can’t, you might consider playing cards with your mannequin less and watching more reality television.”

I laughed. “You’re in a punchy mood. You must’ve had an interesting weekend.”

“I had a delightful weekend, thank you. John was ever so complimentary. He was interested in the tote bag I’m making, he bragged on dinner, he told me I’m looking fantastic. . . .” She smiled. “I think finding a creative outlet has been good for me. For us.”

“I’m glad.”

“And what did you do this weekend?”

I silently debated on how much to tell her. She had been the one to clue me in on Four Square Development, but could I trust her? Vera did like to talk, and I wasn’t sure I wanted all of Tallulah Falls knowing I’d gone to the prison to see Norman Patrick on Sunday.

“I worked on Saturday and had lunch with Todd, Sadie, and Blake on Sunday.” That was true enough. “I wish this ordeal with Mr. Enright—and now Bill Trelawney—was resolved. It’s so upsetting.”

“I know. Poor Margaret. And now with that drill sergeant Sylvia besieging the house, she must be even more miserable.”

“Isn’t that the truth? How about Lorraine Enright?” I asked. “How does she appear to be coping?”

“I don’t know that Lorraine is all that broken up over Tim.”

“From what little I’ve seen of her, she seems more angry than anything. Of course, isn’t anger one of the first stages of grief?”

“Maybe,” Vera said, “but she appears to be more concerned about her finances than her bereavement. I went by the bank Saturday morning to take John a muffin I’d bought him at Sadie’s place, and Lorraine nearly plowed me over coming out of John’s office. I asked him who’d put a burr under her saddle, and he said she was angry that there was so little money in her and Tim’s joint accounts.”

Hmmm. I wondered if that was something her husband should have repeated. “Do you think Tim had taken some of their money without telling her?”

“I don’t know, but it would serve her right if he did. Lorraine always has been greedy.” She checked her instructions. “It says here I’m supposed to make a half stitch. How do I do that?”

I moved over to the sofa to demonstrate a half stitch, and wondered what Timothy Enright had done with his and Lorraine’s money. I showed Vera how to make the half stitch by coming only halfway to the next point and placing the other half of the cross-stitch normally.

The phone rang. I’d forgotten to bring the cordless phone over, so I hurried to the counter to answer it.

“Can’t Jill get that?” Vera joked.

“Nope. She refuses to answer the phone, dust, or clean windows, but she does work cheap.” I picked up the phone. “Good morning. The Seven-Year Stitch.”

I was surprised—I’d almost go as far as to say
shocked
—to hear Riley Kendall’s voice.

“Good morning, Marcy. How are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you. How are you?”

“I’m a smidge troubled that you and I got started off on such a sour note. I’d like to remedy that by buying you lunch today.”

“I certainly appreciate the offer, Ms. Kendall, but I can’t close the shop during the day.”

“I anticipated that . . . and, please, call me Riley. I’ll bring my mom along to watch your shop, and we can have lunch next door at MacKenzies’ Mochas.”

“Won’t that be a huge imposition on your mom?”

“Of course not. She’s happy to help. See you at noon, then?”

“Yes, I . . . I’ll be looking forward to it.”