Thread and Buried (13 page)

24

I
ASKED HAYLEE, “WHO’S COMING TO SEE
Opal? Max and Zara Brubaugh?”

She nodded.

“I see you’re keeping an open mind about them,” I teased.

“And about missing out on ice cream.” She took another vicious bite of her sandwich. “
Again
. Thanks to them.”

“We’ll definitely need our ice cream fix tonight.”

She brightened. We polished off our lunches and hurried up Lake Street. Haylee went straight to Tell a Yarn while I ducked into In Stitches and put the dogs into the apartment with the kittens. I told Ashley where I’d be, then rushed out the front door. And practically into Detective Gartener.

He was in jeans, blazer, and a white oxford cloth shirt, a very nice look on him. Except for his impenetrable policeman expressions, no one might ever guess he was a detective. He put his hands out as if to catch me. “Whoa! Have a second?”

I glanced away from his dark eyes to the street. No BMW yet. “Sure.”

“Any idea why Max Brubaugh has been hanging around Elderberry Bay?” He couldn’t possibly have known I was thinking about Max and his sister.

“He’s a reporter.”

“Yes, in Pittsburgh. So what is he doing up here? He was here before Chief Smallwood found Neil’s body, and before Snoozy Gallagher was dug up, too. So what story is he following?”

“I don’t think he’s here on business, but on a personal quest. He suspects that Opal might be his long-lost aunt.”

“What are you rushing off to?”

I knew I didn’t have to answer his questions, but I trusted him. “Max and his sister are coming to Opal’s shop. Haylee’s a little ruffled about the whole thing and asked me to the reunion, if it is one.” Glancing up into those dark, amused eyes, I bit my lip.

He slanted a grin down at me. “Mind if I come along?”

“No.” Did he notice my slight hesitation?

If he did, he didn’t show it. “And can you please call me Toby and not let on I’m a state trooper?”

“Okay, but I can’t vouch for the others.”

“Let’s go, then, and ask them to keep my dirty little secret.” He crossed the street with me.

Opal was sure to think I’d completely lost it, bringing a detective to what could have been, and maybe should have been, a private family gathering.

Detective Gartener—Toby—opened Opal’s door and stepped back to let me in first. Speechless for once, Opal, Naomi, and Edna stared at us. Lucy, as always, was far from speechless. I picked her up and held her close. Her insistent meows changed to contented purrs.

Haylee grinned. She was probably certain that Max and Zara were involved in a scam and that our favorite detective was about to arrest them.

Opal recovered first. “Welcome, Willow and Detective Gartener.”

“Please,” he said in that resonant made-for-radio voice. “Call me Toby. And when the others show up, don’t tell them that I’m with the state police.”

Eyes gleaming, Haylee nodded, but the other three tilted their heads and raised their eyebrows.

I attempted to explain. “He was just asking me about—” Outside, a silver BMW pulled up to the curb. “Them. Why they’re here.”

Opal followed my glance. Max unfolded himself from the driver’s seat and stared into the store. The tentative way he licked his lips made him appear both hungry and a little anxious.

Opal clapped a hand over her mouth.

Edna squeaked, “It
is
Max. I’d know him anywhere.”

“From watching the news, no doubt,” Haylee murmured out the side of her mouth. Probably only Toby and I heard her, but Toby was obviously memorizing everything he could about that BMW.

Zara got out and stared at the store with a saucy expression. Her brother might have been nervous, but she certainly wasn’t.

Haylee crowded me. I was not only going to stand by her, I might need to hold her up.

Max opened the shop door. Her face nearly expressionless, walking tall in a way that showed off her long neck, Zara preceded him into Tell a Yarn. Max let the door close behind him and stood still, gazing from face to face. The confidence I’d seen in him the day before had been replaced by caution doing battle with boyish expectation.

Finally, he tossed Haylee a sheepish grin, and walked right up to Opal. “It really
is
you,” he said.

Haylee crossed her arms across her chest. Toby and I were probably the only ones besides the purring cat to hear her grunt of disapproval.

Max’s attention did not stray from Opal’s face. “When I was little, I called you Auntie Elbow. Do you remember me at all? My mother is your sister Pearl.” He added names, dates, and an address. “I made you read
Winnie-the-Pooh
to me, the story about the heffalump, over and over again. You gave me a toy cat that you said looked like a Lucy, so that’s what I called her, but it probably came out more like Wucy.”

Opal seemed to have problems finding her voice. She glanced at the cat in my arms, cleared her throat, held her palm flat, and bent forward until her hand was close to her knee. “You were about this tall.”

He said, quite simply, but quite believably, “I missed you.”

Opal managed a quiet, “I always hoped I might see you again. How’s your mother?”

“She’s fine. She’ll be thrilled that we finally found you.”

“But—” Opal’s face crumpled and her eyes glistened. Naomi and Edna moved closer to her.

Max seemed to notice them. “Naomi and Edna. Didn’t you used to babysit me, too?”

“You remember us!” Naomi was obviously flattered.

“Of course. I made you read about the heffalump, too.” He nodded toward the corner where Haylee, Toby, and I stood like three monkeys refusing to hear, see, or speak evil, or anything else. “Hi, Willow. Hi—”

That seemed to break the trance Opal had been under. “I should introduce you to your cousin, my daughter Haylee.”

Max came toward Haylee, hand outstretched. “Sorry I mistook you for your mother. But you two do look alike.”

Zara put down a skein of Opal’s silk yarn and pushed Max aside. “Haylee’s too young to be our aunt. Don’t pay him any attention, Haylee. He never could play well with others.”

“That’s not true,” Naomi said in shocked tones.

Haylee shook Max’s hand. “It was kind of funny,” she admitted.

Max glanced curiously at Toby Gartener but didn’t offer his hand, and no one introduced them.

Edna blew her nose. Forthright as ever, she began interrogating Haylee’s cousins. “Opal wasn’t surprised when your grandparents disowned her. But she expected your mother to stay in touch. Why didn’t she?”

Max took a step back. “Disowned? Nana and Dada dis
owned
Opal? They told Mom and Dad that Opal ran away and was living on the streets of Detroit.”

“I’ve never been there,” Opal said. “I never had to live on the streets, though I figured that’s what they thought I deserved. How did they explain that my best friends, Naomi and Edna, left home the same time I did?”

Max studied his perfectly manicured fingernails. “Mom got the idea that all three of you had been trapped in a cult or using drugs.”

Naomi burst out, “But Opal wrote to your mom! Pearl never answered. It hurt Opal dreadfully. Not that being kicked out by her own parents wasn’t bad enough.” The usually sweet Naomi managed to look very condemning.

“Mom must have never gotten Opal’s letters.” Max clamped his mouth closed. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

“Letter,” Opal said. “One letter. I was told to leave you all alone, so when Pearl didn’t answer, I put the old life behind me. By the time I gave up on hearing from Pearl, you were the only one from back home that I still cared about, Max.”

Beside me, I felt Toby’s tense concentration. What did he think of all this? Was he wishing he could take out his notebook and write in it?

Max touched Zara’s wrist. “Mom had a difficult pregnancy with Zara, and had to spend most of it in bed. Nana came over every day to look after me and everything. She easily could have intercepted your letter.”

“Nana was mean.” Zara’s voice was as sharp as chipped glass. “Dada, too. Nothing I could do was ever good enough. Why did they disown you, Auntie Elbow?” She darted a look at Haylee. “No, let me guess. You weren’t married and you were preggers.” She looked up at her brother. “That explains it. Explains a lot.” She gazed into Opal’s eyes. “I must have been under two years old when they started warning me against boys.”

“They warned me, too,” Opal said. “I didn’t listen. And I’m glad. I have Haylee.”

“We all have Haylee,” Edna corrected her. “And we’re all glad.”

Zara smirked. “I didn’t listen, either, but I don’t have any children. Yet.”

“What about you, Max?” Naomi asked politely. “Any children?”

“No. I may have heeded Nana and Dada’s warnings too much. I’m still single.”

Finally, Opal asked softly, “How are your Nana and Dada?”

Max frowned. “Dada died a few years ago. Nana’s in a home. Alzheimer’s.”

“She doesn’t know who we are,” Zara said.

Naomi pressed her hands to her cheeks. “That’s terrible.”

My lunch hour was over. Haylee’s was, too, and judging by her stony expression as she stared at her newfound cousins, she didn’t want to stretch it or spend any longer with them. I handed Lucy to Max. “Here’s the Lucy I told you about.”

His long-fingered hands were gentle as he caressed the cat, and I thought I detected a glint of unshed tears in his eyes.

I excused myself. Toby and Haylee said their good-byes, also. Haylee’s was curt, thrown toward her mothers as Opal’s shop door closed behind us. I was certain that her mothers could tell as well as I could that Haylee wasn’t about to accept these new cousins easily. I could have crossed the street and gone to my own shop, but Haylee seemed about to burst, so I stayed with her.

Toby did, too. He must have noticed Haylee’s unusually stormy face. In front of The Stash, he asked, “Are you all right, Haylee?”

She shrugged. “I’m fine.”

I suspected that Toby didn’t believe her, either, but he didn’t say anything. Having learned about the way he used silence to motivate others to talk, I stayed quiet, too.

As Toby probably hoped she would, Haylee gave us a more complete answer. “I don’t feel anything about losing grandparents I never knew. I never heard anything good about them.”

“No wonder,” I muttered.

“And these cousins,” Toby prodded. “Do you believe they’re really Opal’s sister’s children?”

Haylee’s eyes could be merry, but at the moment, they were bleak. “I don’t know. Their story holds together with the little I’ve heard. I think Opal’s going to have to meet their mother. She should know for sure if this Pearl person is her sister.” She crossed her arms. “But I can tell you one thing. If they hurt my mom, I won’t answer to the consequences.” She glared at him with resolve—a definite improvement over the desolation I’d noticed earlier. “And that’s a threat I don’t mind making in the presence of a state trooper.”

I would have kicked her or found another way to hush her, but Toby would have noticed.

He held up a hand. “Please, Haylee, if you think anything needs to be done, tell me first, okay? I promise to do whatever I can legally do to keep Opal or anyone else from being hurt. Do you really think that pair is out to harm your mother?”

She rubbed the top of one sandal against the back of her other leg. “I don’t know what to think.” She gave Toby a crooked grin. “But I’ll talk to you or Chief Smallwood before I act, don’t worry.”

“Good,” he said.

“And
then
I’ll do what I was going to do in the first place.” But her smile had gone impish, and I was happy to see her more like herself.

“No you won’t,” Toby told her. “Speaking of Chief Smallwood—can she and I come talk to you two this evening?”

“We have firefighting practice from seven to nine,” I said.

“How about nine thirty, if it’s not too late? We have some questions for you. They won’t take long.”

Haylee glanced at me. I was sure she was thinking the same thing I was—another delay before we’d get our next taste of that fantastic ice cream. “Sure.”

Toby turned to me. “You’ll come, too?”

“Okay.”

The universe was conspiring against us and our desire for ice cream. But if I couldn’t decide which flavor to order, maybe it didn’t matter.

25

A
FEW MONTHS BEFORE, I MIGHT HAVE BITten
my nails at the idea of Detective Gartener and Chief Smallwood wanting to talk to Haylee and me. Now, I felt gratified. Maybe they hoped our knowledge of the community could help them solve crimes.

Then, as I guided my afternoon students through their attempts at hardanger embroidery, I began to wonder if I should be worried, and by the time everyone left the shop, I was certain I was going to be grilled by the two police officers.

Meanwhile, I had to take the dogs out. We ran to the beach and were almost back at our front porch when I heard Mona yoo-hooing behind us. “Willow!”

I stopped. Huffing and puffing, she caught up. She shook her head so briskly I could tell she was excited. “You hang around with the dreamiest men!”

I did? I hadn’t seen Clay since Sunday morning—more than two whole days. “First that yummy detective, and then . . . Tell me my eyes weren’t deceiving me. Did I see Max Brubaugh go into Opal’s shop after you went in with that hunky detective? Max
Brubaugh
?”

“Yes, that was Max Brubaugh.”

She clapped a hand over her chest as if about to have a heart attack. “If men like that are spending time in yarn shops, I need to learn how to knit! What’s
Max Brubaugh
doing in tiny Elderberry Bay? Surely he can’t be interested in a small village, even when there’s a death involved. It must be the treasure, right? Snoozy Gallagher’s treasure? If you found that, it would be a national story. I didn’t realize you were that clever, but now I understand why you turned it in to the police. Max is going to make you a
star
!”

“Not likely. I think he’s merely on vacation.” If Opal wanted the world to know she was Max Brubaugh’s aunt, Opal could tell the world.

Mona’s eyes widened and she shook her head even harder. “He must be staying at the Elderberry Bay Lodge! I looked him up and he’s not married, so I don’t know who that woman with him was. If she hasn’t gotten her claws into him yet . . .” She shook her head. “Excuse me. I have to go talk to Ralph. Maybe he’ll know what’s going on.”

If Max and Zara were in the market for costumes, Ralph could know something about them, but Halloween was more than four months away.

Mona dashed toward Disguise Guys and I went inside for a quick supper. On the off chance that Haylee and I might have time for ice cream after Vicki and Gartener talked to us, I skipped dessert.

Firefighting practice had become much more fun than when Haylee and I first joined the force. Clay was still a volunteer firefighter, and we had a new fire chief and deputy. Ralph and Duncan had joined, too, and were sometimes full of surprises, like the time Ralph had come dressed as a firefighting clown and everyone had laughed so hard that Duncan forgot to be shy.

Haylee liked to drive her red pickup truck to firefighting, and Sally and Tally, who were always welcome at our practice sessions, happily hopped up into the cab. I had eight doggie feet, two doggie rumps, and a pair of fuzzy tails in my lap all the way to the ballpark near the state forest on the east side of Elderberry Bay.

Clay was already there, joking with Ralph and Duncan and an older gray-haired man in jeans and black sneakers. Clay introduced him as Fred Zongassi. I would have recognized Fred if he’d been playing a clarinet and wearing a band uniform with one white satin pant leg caught in his high-tops. At the moment, the legs of his jeans hid the tops of his sneakers.

Clay told us that Fred used to be a volunteer firefighter years ago here in Elderberry Bay, had been an active volunteer firefighter ever since, and was transferring to our force.

I tried not to stare at the man that Chief Vicki Smallwood seemed to think may have murdered both Snoozy Gallagher and Neil Ondover.

Fred had a slow, easy smile, like he knew I was considering him as a possible murder suspect and found it funny. His amused confidence should have made me wary. Instead, I decided, based on nothing more than a hunch, that he couldn’t be a murderer, and even though I warned myself not to trust him, I liked him. How could I not admire someone who knew how to drive the heavy equipment I’d been eyeing? Sally and Tally certainly had no qualms about him. They nuzzled his hands as if he were an old friend.

During practice, we all, including Sally and Tally on their leashes, ran around the bases of the ballpark. I’d become so used to the exercise that I was able to chat with Ralph, who pumped his arms, panted, and turned red. Duncan loped around easily, but detached from the rest of us, as usual. He seemed to be watching his father as if concerned that Ralph could be overdoing it. Clay and Fred kept up a pace that none of the rest of us, except for a couple of teens, could match.

After the exercise, we sat on the bleachers. Yes, Fred’s sneakers were the high-tops he’d worn at the picnic, which proved nothing.

But, I reminded myself,
I had seen the prints of sneakers about the same size as Fred’s in the sand near Neil’s body.

We discussed recent fires and how we could have fought them better, and then everyone else was going out for ice cream.

Haylee and I declined. We didn’t tell them we had an appointment with Gartener and Smallwood. We both said we had sewing we needed to do, which was always true, but Clay gave us a skeptical look and again said he’d pick us up on Friday at six thirty.

After we got back into Haylee’s truck, she sighed. “I guess we can’t very well go out for ice cream later tonight for fear the firefighters will still be there and think we were trying to avoid them.”

“They may already think that.”

She gulped down a laugh. “Or that we’re afraid that Fred Zongassi is a killer.”

“He has quite a sense of humor.”

“You and Clay aren’t trying to throw him and me together, are you?”

“Of course not. Even if he weren’t too old for you, we wouldn’t want you going out with a murder suspect.”

Haylee shuddered. “I wonder if he’s the guy who asked Naomi out, the one she said would never compare to the man she once planned to marry.”

“And no wonder,” I said, “if he killed Snoozy Gallagher all those years ago.” I bounced on my seat as well as I could when two dogs were sitting on my lap. “
Z
s!”

“What?”

“Snoozy Gallagher’s belt buckle had
Z
s on it, and everyone said they stood for Snoozy. But couldn’t they have stood for Zongassi? Maybe Fred killed Snoozy over a stolen belt buckle.”

“Maybe,” she said in a dry voice. “If his last name was ZZZZZZZZongassi.”

I accused, “You sound like a chain saw.”

“And your theories are about as good as theories a chain saw might come up with.”

I stared at her. “Huh?” But we were already in front of In Stitches. The dogs and I hopped out. “See you at The Stash in a few minutes.” I closed Haylee’s truck door.

The dogs went down to the apartment where the kittens woke up and decided that Sally’s tail was their favorite toy. I copied the phone numbers Mona had given us for Yolanda and Cassie and stuffed the originals into my jeans pocket. At half past nine, I went, without pets, to The Stash.

I loved Haylee’s fabric store. She was featuring summery fabrics, a light, bright, and cheerful array. Who doesn’t like touching cotton? And bamboo fabrics that are softer than cotton and smoother than silk?

However, Haylee ushered me past the bolts of intriguing fabrics to her classroom. She had four long tables arranged in a rectangle with a walkway into the middle, and several sewing machines and sergers on each table. Finished garments hung on the walls like the works of art they were.

Detective Gartener—I didn’t think he wanted us to continue calling him Toby—and Vicki Smallwood sat together facing the door. Their notebooks and pens were on the table in front of them, and Gartener held several loose sheets of letter-sized paper printed in black ink. His white shirt was still spotless, and Vicki’s uniform was crisp.

Haylee and I sat around the corner from them. Gartener was on my right. I held my knees stiffly together and my feet pulled underneath my chair for fear of accidentally brushing against his jeans.

“I ran the plates on that man’s BMW, Haylee,” he said. “The car’s owner is listed as Max Brubaugh.”

“Can you tell me his birth date?” Haylee asked in a small voice.

“Not officially.” He consulted the printed pages in front of him. “He must have had some exciting birthday parties, with everyone dressing up and going door-to-door for treats.” Watching Haylee’s face, he tilted his head.

Who wouldn’t have understood that hint?

Haylee thanked him. “I’ll ask Opal if it’s—” She scrunched up her face and rattled off the date of the Halloween three and a half years before she was born.

“You got it,” Gartener confirmed.

“And you already know,” Vicki added, “that the man potentially posing as your cousin works for a TV station in Pittsburgh, and his reports are often broadcast up here.”

Haylee nodded. “My mother has been paying attention to him for the past six months, ever since she first saw him. I’m sure that the name alone was enough to make her want to believe he was her nephew. She can convince herself of nearly anything. But maybe this guy stole my real cousin’s identity.”

And his appearance, also? “Why would he come after Opal?” I asked. “She makes a comfortable living like we all do, but it’s not like she’s wealthy.”

Haylee clenched her hands. “I don’t know. But if he’s up to anything, I’m going to be prepared.”

“He has no record,” Gartener said. “A couple of speeding tickets.”

Haylee stared down at her fists as if wondering how her knuckles had gotten so white. “Thanks for looking into it.”

Gartener was quick to tell her, “I didn’t do it only for you. I’d been wondering what brought them here.”

I volunteered, “Max and Zara are staying at the Elderberry Bay Lodge. Haylee and I are going to the gala there Friday night. Is there anything you particularly wanted to know about them?” I asked him.

“Not really, now that we know why they’re here.”

“Why they
say
they’re here,” Haylee muttered.

Vicki offered, “It was a bit of a coincidence that they arrived around the time the area was hit with a spate of food poisonings.”

Haylee raised her head. “Food poisoning? Haven’t you been saying it was the flu?”

“That was before the tests were completed.” The chief tapped her pen on her notebook. “You two guessed right in the first place. The cause of the outbreak turned out to be food poisoning, not the flu. The bacteria came from recently fertilized asparagus that had not been thoroughly washed. The problem is that the farmers around here swear that they did not sell any asparagus after they spread manure on it. A couple of them admitted that they hadn’t waited for the manure to compost because they figured it would be thoroughly composted by next spring’s harvest.”

“Don’t they risk burning their plants?” I asked. “With, I don’t know. Something too strong?” I made a face. “Besides the smell.”

Vicki didn’t try very hard to hide a grin. “Apparently not.” She had definitely gotten over her tummy troubles.

I reached into the pocket of my jeans and fished out the hand-printed slips of paper. “Mona DeGlazier organized the community picnic. Cassie, Neil’s assistant, helped. Mona said that the woman who catered the salads was named Yolanda.”

Vicki asked me, “And you’re sure that the salad caterer was one of the women who fought during your sidewalk sale, right?”

I nodded. “I’m sure. So she must be this Yolanda. Here are the numbers that Cassie gave Mona for herself and for Yolanda.” I passed the numbers to Gartener. “We think Yolanda may have used stolen asparagus in one of her salads. Perhaps she didn’t wash it.”

Vicki asked, “Why are you jumping to the conclusion that the asparagus was
stolen
?”

I put my hands palms up on the table. “As you said, farmers wouldn’t sell asparagus immediately after spreading manure on it. Besides, we saw—” I broke off, trying to figure out how to word it so they wouldn’t know we’d been snooping.

But of course Vicki guessed. “I know you two go wandering around at night poking your noses where they don’t belong—”

Haylee regained her sense of humor. “Not in crops recently fertilized with manure!”

Vicki rolled her eyes in mock disgust. “Did you two see anything unusual while on one of those dog-walking jaunts you two take?”

I leaned forward. “We did. A man was picking asparagus in the moonlight, in a field where it was obvious—from the smell—that manure had been spread recently. When we shined a flashlight at him, he hid his face. I drove a little farther, but then turned around and came back in time to see him get into his van and speed away.”

Gartener had been writing. “Did you recognize him?”

“No,” I answered. “Or his van.”

“Description?” Gartener asked.

“The man was tall and broad-shouldered,” Haylee said. “About your size, Detective Gartener.”

“About the size of Fred Zongassi,” I added. “Or Tom Umshaw. But Tom drives a pickup truck, and this was a minivan.”

“An old one,” Haylee contributed, “with lots of dents. A dark color, like brown or maroon. No logos or company names on it.”

Vicki raised one eyebrow. “Where and when did you encounter this?”

I was sure she guessed the answer, but I confirmed it. “On that road where you found us sweeping up broken bottles, a few minutes before you came along. I’d been following the van and had dropped back, hoping its driver wouldn’t notice us.”

“And you turned off your headlights,” Vicki accused.

I went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “He turned toward Elderberry Bay, and then that harvesting contraption blocked our way.”

“Was the driver of the harvesting contraption working with the man in the van, would you say?” Gartener asked.

Haylee shook her head. “It didn’t look that way.”

I added, “Teens were riding on the thing, drinking beer and throwing empties onto the road.” Why did the detective and the police chief want to know all this? To arrest someone for not washing asparagus?

Or . . .