Threads of Deceit (Vineyard Quilt Mysteries Book 1) (13 page)

O
n the flat roof of the building, Julie squatted at Daniel’s side, her heart pounding as she watched the police. Her leg muscles complained about the combination of her awkward squat and her tension. After what seemed like an eternity, the officers finished their search of the small courtyard garden and walked back into the lawyer’s office. They didn’t come out again. Julie moved to peer off a different side of the building. After a long, chilly wait, the police cars drove past on the street below her.

Once back down in the garden, Julie picked the lock on another building, and they found themselves in the storage room of a thrift shop. They left through the front door. Julie used her lock picks to lock up after them, and they drove in exhausted silence to the inn.

After Daniel went upstairs, Julie found Hannah in the kitchen with a large bowl hugged close to her chest as she beat eggs fiercely with a wire whisk. “Don’t you have a mixer for that?”

“Sometimes I like the hands-on approach.”

Julie fished in the basket on the counter for a decaf coffee pod. She dropped it in the coffee maker and snapped the top down. Then she watched her friend abuse the eggs for a while.

“You disappeared right after supper,” Hannah said.

“I went to check out the lawyer’s office, the one who made the offer on the Winkler farm.”

Hannah sighed and beat harder. “I don’t suppose the lawyer was there.”

“It’s easier when they aren’t.”

“I’m glad you weren’t arrested.”

“It was a close call, but we managed.” Julie turned to collect her filled cup of coffee.

“That’s fortunate, because coming to bail you out would have been a problem. I have to get this custard made and then dough for the tart shells if we’re going to have quiche for breakfast.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted to inconvenience you.”

Hannah stopped whipping and shoved the bowl away. “So what can I do?”

“Do?”

“You’re neck deep in something you should have stayed far away from, and you want me to do something to help. I can tell. Cough it up. What do you want?”

“You’re getting very grumpy.”

“I’ve always been grumpy. Now out with it.”

Julie quickly told her about the lawyer’s datebook and the conference calls. “I need you to gather all the information you can about Randall Cantor, and see if you can find ties to anyone with the initials S-E-N or maybe someone whose name begins with ‘SEN.’”

Hannah gave her a long, flat stare, then walked to the kitchen to pull out a hunk of Swiss cheese and a carton of cream. She set them on the counter with slightly more force than necessary. Then she retrieved a cheese grater from one of the cupboards and raked the cheese over it.

“Are you waiting for a magic word?” Julie asked. “Please?”

“If I refuse, I suppose you’ll find some more dangerous way to get the information.”

“There is that possibility.”

“Why didn’t we just stay in New York and let the art ring find us there?” Hannah asked. “Why come here and
pretend we’re going to do something different?” She pointed the tattered hunk of Swiss at Julie. “I
like
it here.” Then she plopped the cheese back on the grater and raked shreds off into the growing pile.

“So do I, but I can’t just ignore this. I liked George and now he’s dead. I have to help find his killer.”

“Julie, that’s why we have police. They’re trained in criminal investigation, and they get paid for it.” Again Hannah pointed the cheese. “You barely even knew George. You want to get involved because it’s
exciting
, and you miss that. You might as well be honest.”

“Yes, I do miss the excitement, but I also want to help find George’s killer. One desire doesn’t negate the other.”

Hannah slammed the cheese down on the counter. “Unfortunately, the one sure way I know to find out who this ‘SEN’ person might be is a search of Cantor’s phone records. Matching up the conference calls would be easy enough.”

“Then do that.”

“I can’t hack into the phone company without breaking at least as many laws as you just did, and
I’m
not in the business of law breaking anymore.
I’m
a cook. Cooks don’t do things like that.”

“You’ve done it before.”

“I don’t want to go back to breaking the law on a regular basis. I’m happier now. I like cooking. It’s orderly and precise and it makes people happy. It also doesn’t draw the attention of the wrong sort of people, which is what you seem intent on doing.”

“So you won’t help?”

“I’ll feed you some really nice quiche in the morning, but I won’t break the law—again.”

Julie sipped her coffee in silence as her mind raced through
her options. Julie’s skill set had never really extended to techy bits and bytes. She was great at breaking into real places, but not so much with virtual ones.

She sighed. The phone records would have made it so easy. Then her eyes widened. “The phone!”

Hannah glanced up. “What phone?”

“The lawyer’s phone. It should have his contacts on it. I saw him use it at work, so there’s every chance the mysterious SEN is in his contacts.” Julie drummed her fingers against her mug.

Hannah scooped up a handful of cheese and dumped it in her egg bowl, then added cream and stirred them in. “You’re going to steal his phone, aren’t you?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Julie left Hannah brutalizing more breakfast prep and settled into her sitting room with a pad and pencil to plan her phone acquisition. She knew Hannah considered her too impulsive, but the truth was, she actually preferred a good plan. She was simply always prepared to improvise when necessary.

A knock on the door drew her attention away from the list. “Julie?”

“Come in, Daniel.”

For a moment, the door remained closed. Julie wondered if Daniel was readying himself for some kind of confrontation. When he did walk in, she noted that the lines around his eyes looked sharper and his damp hair stood up wildly.

He settled into the seat across from her. “How can you look so unruffled after this evening?”

Julie waved a dismissive hand. “We need to find out who the mysterious SEN is.”

“We almost got arrested.”

“But we didn’t.” She twisted her hair into a messy bun and stuck the pencil through it to keep it up. Then she set her list aside. “And we learned something important.”

“That I’m not cut out for a life of crime?”

Julie grinned. “I already figured that. No, we have a lead on the person who has a
real
motive in the murder. We find that person, figure out the motive, hand it over to the police detective, and his interest in you will dry up. Then you’ll be able to get back to work on the farm.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Simple it is. Easy? Not so much. I’ll know more after I get Cantor’s phone tomorrow.”

Daniel shook his head. “Do I want to know how you’re going to do that?”

She set her chair rocking with a push of her toes. “Probably. But I’ll tell you after the fact. It’ll be easier on your nerves. Now, are you sure the initials S-E-N don’t mean anything to you? Realistically, if someone is trying to shut down the dig, it would be someone who is somehow related to the ship.”

“The ship sank in 1856,” he said. “I don’t know why anyone would be interested in it today.”

“Maybe it’s someone who wants the fame of digging it up himself. Do you have competitors?”

“I know of a few historians who have shown a mild interest in my research, but nothing serious. I don’t know of anyone I’d actually call a competitor.”

“Well, when I have the phone, we can see if you recognize any of his contacts. If you do, that will be a big clue right there.”

Daniel leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. He looked tired, almost ill.

“I’m really sorry about George,” she said softly.

“I talked to his mom after we got back. They’re sending the body to her in Tennessee as soon as the coroner releases it. He has a sister there too, so his mom isn’t alone.” He opened his eyes and looked at Julie. “They’ll let me know when the funeral is set. I’ll go, of course.”

“Of course.”

He shook his head slowly. “This was going to be a big adventure for both of us. George was humoring me, but he was having fun too. We didn’t get to spend time together all that often.”

Julie didn’t know what to say. Daniel sat back again with his eyes closed. Her life had been filled with casual connections, mostly because she preferred it that way. Her parents died when she was barely eighteen. She knew none of her extended family. She’d only grown close to two people in her adult life: Hannah, who was like a sister to her, and her boss and mentor, Jonathan Hunt.

At some point, Jonathan had turned from mentor to suitor, so Julie left—left him and left the company. She started her own antiquities recovery business in New York City. A few months after she’d opened, Hannah had shown up on her doorstep, explaining that working for Jonathan was too dull without her.

Julie looked at Daniel in the soft lighting. She imagined Hannah getting hurt because of her. One thing was for sure. If it happened, she would find out who hurt her friend, and she’d make him pay.

Daniel opened his eyes again. “You’re looking fierce.”

“Just thinking. Look, you’re practically asleep in that chair. You should go to bed.”

He heaved himself to his feet and pointed at Julie’s pad of paper. “Be careful, please. I don’t want any more friends
hurt because of my treasure hunting.”

She was startled by how much his words mirrored what she’d just been thinking. “I’ll be careful. Sleep well.”

After lunch the next day, Julie took a walk. It felt good to stretch her long legs, and she remembered seeing a phone store only a few blocks away. When she got there, she bought the exact same cellphone Cantor had pulled from his pocket. She carried the phone around behind the building and used a piece of brick to bust the phone to pieces. She carefully picked up all the tiny bits and slipped them into the pocket of her brushed corduroy blazer.

When she got back to the inn, she found Shirley and Inga standing with their backs to her, chatting at the front desk. Julie was so surprised by the unlikely pair that she paused just inside the front door and watched them for a moment.

The housekeeper stood as stiffly as a guard at Buckingham Palace and nearly as grim. “You should consider the reputation of this inn,” she said.

“Reputation is lovely, Inga,” Shirley insisted. “But money is more important. The guests love my Stitches and Stories. And they’re fun.”

Inga sniffed. “They’re silly. You should make the stories more about stitches and less about made-up stories.”

It was Shirley’s turn to look offended. “I research my stories very carefully.”

“Really?” Inga scoffed. “Bigfoot?”

Shirley’s offense dissolved into giggles. “You sound like Julie.”

“I doubt that.” Inga’s tone was so disapproving that Julie couldn’t help but feel a little offended.

She cleared her throat and walked up to the front desk. “Good afternoon.”

“Did you have a nice walk?” Shirley asked brightly.

“I did.”

Inga turned her expressionless face toward Julie. “Excuse me, please. I need to take a walk of my own around the yard. Yesterday I found a foam coffee cup crammed in the fencing.”

“I very much appreciate your hard work.”

Inga looked dubious. “You’ll need to contact the gardener. The last rain brought down sticks in the yard. I don’t collect sticks.”

“I’ll do that.”

Inga spun on her heel and walked away. Before she reached the front door, Shirley called after her. “Will I see you Friday night?”

Inga turned, her face nearly frozen with shock. “We shall see.” Then she practically ran out of the house.

“What are you two doing this weekend?” Julie asked.

Shirley leaned in close and whispered loudly, “It’s a secret, but let’s just say that there are hidden depths to Inga you would never suspect.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Shirley bustled off to the tearoom while Julie pondered the hidden depths for a moment. The rest of the afternoon passed in relative calm, and Julie didn’t feel too guilty for slipping away to stake out the lawyer’s office.

She loitered on the street for barely half an hour, peering in windows and keeping a casual eye on the office, before the lawyer emerged from his office. He was talking on his cellphone as he headed for the curb where a row of cars were parked.

Julie sprinted toward him. “Mr. Cantor!”

He held the phone away from his ear slightly as he turned and watched her rapid approach. His frown of annoyance
quickly turned to alarm when Julie didn’t slow down. He took a step back away from her, then another one.

Since he was already close to the curb, his backing away quickly brought him to the edge, and he stumbled. He pin-wheeled his arms, trying to catch his balance. Julie lunged forward for the last couple feet between them. She reached out as if to grab his arm and keep him from falling. Instead, she knocked his arm hard, sending him into the street.

He landed on the ground with a thud, and his phone flew out of his hand, slamming into the pavement. Julie rushed after it as she dipped her hand into the pocket of her jacket. She tossed the bits into the street as she reached for the phone. She scooped up the phone, pocketed it, and stomped down on one of the larger pieces of phone all in one smooth move. “Oh, no! I’m so sorry.”

“What do you think you’re doing, you … you …
crazy
woman!” he sputtered.

“I’m so sorry. I was only trying to help.” She held out a hand, but he ignored it as he scrambled to his feet.

“
Help
? You knocked me down!”

She blinked at him, her eyes wide. “You fell! I was trying to catch you!”

“I don’t know what you’re up to, but I have half a mind to call the police and have you charged with assault.”

“I didn’t assault you,” she insisted, adding a tremble to her voice. “I tried to keep you from falling. Look, send a bill for the phone to the Quilt Haus Inn. I’ll be happy to pay for it since you seem to think it was my fault, but I
didn’t
knock you down.”