Dead Between the Lines (17 page)

After waving good-bye to Yale, Jake and I strolled back to where we’d left our belongings. We sat down on the blue-and-green-plaid blanket, and Jake opened up the white cardboard cartons containing our dinner. I poured merlot into two red plastic cups, then returned the bottle to my oversize purse.

As the first notes of “Moon River” floated toward us, I said, “That was certainly enlightening. Either Yale’s a better liar than I would have ever given him credit for, or he’s not our man.”

“My money says he’s telling the truth.” Jake took a bite of his sandwich.

“Then I’d say Kiara Howard has moved up to the number one slot on our suspect list.” I selected a particularly crispy-looking potato chip. “I wish I could recall if she was around the store when I was asking questions about the murder. I think I would have remembered her, since she’s so stunning and is always dressed up.”

“Even if she wasn’t there, someone could have mentioned it to her.” Jake balanced his box on his lap. “Maybe I should talk to her without you.”

“Not on your life.” I narrowed my eyes, knowing exactly what Jake was suggesting. There was no way I was letting his protective instinct cover me in bubble wrap and tuck me somewhere safe.

“Just a thought,” Jake said with an obvious effort to be patient. Then he drank some wine and added, “You know, divide and conquer.”

I ignored his blatant attempt to steer me off course. “We should see if she’s at the club now. It’s only a little after seven, so we could talk to her and I could still make it home before ten.”

“What happens at ten?” Jake asked as he took his cell phone from the holster on his belt and dialed. “Do you lose your glass slipper?”

“Any later and Gran will be in bed.” I polished off my croissant. “And I like to check in with her before she goes to sleep.”

“Ah.” Jake held up a finger and said into the phone, “May I speak to Kiara Howard please?” He listened, then asked, “Is there any way I can reach her?” He listened again. “I understand. But she’ll be there tomorrow after four? Fine. Yes. Thank you.”

“I take it we’re out of luck.” I peeled the wax paper from a lemon tart.

“Yep. She has today off, and they wouldn’t give me her personal phone number.”

“That’s frustrating.” So much for immediate gratification. “I won’t be free until nine tomorrow night.”

“No problem. I’ll pick you up then and we can head out to the country club. They said she’d be there until at least midnight.” Jake reclined on his elbows. “For now, I guess we’ll just have to enjoy the concert.” He waggled his brows. “Unless you want to go somewhere more private and enjoy something else.”

“Down, boy,” I ordered. “One step at a time.”

C
HAPTER 20

W
ednesday morning, Winnie Todd called to tell me that the Blood, Sweat, and Shears sewing circle wouldn’t be getting together at the store that night. One of the club’s members had won a radio contest and the prize was ten tickets to some big fabric show at the convention center in Kansas City. The whole group had decided to attend, then go out to dinner at a nearby restaurant.

I was a little disappointed, since I’d been hoping to talk to Winnie’s daughter, Zizi, during the meeting. I was curious about the conversation that Xylia had mentioned overhearing between Zizi and Bryce after the book club. Now I’d have to track Zizi down to find out what had been said.

But when I realized that if the sewing circle was called off, I could close at six instead of nine, and the cancellation gave me more time to investigate, I decided it was a fair trade. Especially since Zizi wasn’t someone who would be hard to find or reluctant to talk to me.

While texting Jake to inform him of the change of plans, I heard the sleigh bells above the entrance jingle. I hurriedly finished the message, stuffed the cell into my jeans pocket, and glanced toward the front of the store. Noah was standing just over the threshold, scanning the shop. When he spotted me at my worktable, behind the front counter, he waved and let the door close behind him.

I waved back, then pushed aside the Mother’s Day breakfast-in-bed basket that I’d been assembling and stepped to the counter. As Noah trudged toward me, I saw that he looked awful. His usually perfectly styled hair was sticking straight up, as if he’d repeatedly run his fingers through it, and his face was china-doll pale with deep lines of fatigue etched into his forehead. Clearly, something serious had happened. Had his mother died?

Noah moved as if each of his feet weighed a hundred pounds. My chest tightened with worry when I noticed that his wool suit pants and Perry Ellis linen dress shirt had obviously been slept in, and that his tie had a huge red smudge marring the expensive blue silk. The last time I saw him looking this bad, his fiancée had just been murdered.

I hastily flipped open the hatch so he could join me. As I gave him a hug, the stale odor of hospital miasma that surrounded him nearly made me sneeze, and I wrinkled my nose to stop it.

When Noah staggered, I led him to a stool, gathered the gourmet jellies and syrups that had been occupying its seat into my arms, deposited them on the table, and pushed him down.

Once he was sitting, I said, “Are you okay?” The dazed expression in Noah’s eyes worried me. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“I’m fine.” Noah shoved the hair off his forehead. “I think I had something last night in the hospital cafeteria. I know I went there and ordered some food, but Mom may have called me back to her room before I could actually eat much of it.” He slumped against the Formica kitchen table I used as a workbench. “It’s all a blur.”

“Wait here.” I patted his shoulder. “I’ll be back in a flash.”

Thank goodness the store was empty. I knew Noah wouldn’t want anyone seeing him in this state. His reputation as the imperturbable, always-ready-for-duty town doctor would suffer. I just hoped no one popped in anytime soon to buy a spool of thread or an ice cream sundae or any other purchase he or she couldn’t live without right that minute.

I hustled over to the soda fountain and poured two cups of coffee, then grabbed some of the pastries I’d purchased for the sewing circle, plopped them on a plate, and scooped up a stack of paper napkins. Too bad I didn’t have anything nutritious to offer him, but I figured the sugar-and-caffeine rush would have to do.

As he devoured a cheese Danish, I finally got up the nerve to ask, “How’s your mother?”

“Her doctors can’t find anything wrong with her.” Noah licked frosting from his fingers. “She’s had every test for chest pain known to medical science, and a few that I suggested, which aren’t usually associated with her complaints, and all the results are negative.”

“That has to be frustrating.” I sipped my coffee. “What were her symptoms?”

“Discomfort in her left arm, a heavy feeling in her chest, and she claimed she felt as if she could barely move.” Noah cradled his mug. “Yesterday, she said every breath was an effort for her, and she was covered in perspiration.”

“How awful.” I was genuinely sorry to hear of Nadine’s health issues. I didn’t like the woman, but I hated to hear that she was ill. “So, do you or her doctors have any theory as to what’s happening?”

“It could be stress or anxiety causing muscle spasms in her upper body.” Noah finished off a cinnamon roll and picked up an apple turnover. “One of her doctors suggested it might even be gas.”

“And how did your mom react to that?” I bit back a giggle. No way would Nadine ever admit to having flatulence or a need to burp.

“The poor guy is in the burn ward recovering from her blistering response,” Noah joked, smiling for the first time since he’d arrived. “Personally, I think she might be having panic attacks, but since that would imply a mental-health issue and I value my life, I haven’t brought up that possibility to her yet.”

“Hmm.” I raised a skeptical brow. It was difficult to picture Nadine in a state of panic. In a snit, yes; experiencing anxiety, no. “Is she on any medication that could be causing her symptoms? Maybe even something over the counter she hasn’t told you about, or some food she’s allergic to?”

“She says no.” Noah wiped his mouth with a napkin. “And I checked her house. I even looked through her trash to see if she was having some kind of reaction to a substance she might have forgotten to mention.”

“Wow.” A part of me had wondered if Nadine had deliberately taken something to mimic the signs of a heart attack. She liked attention, and if she felt she was being ignored or neglected, she might decide that appearing ill would be just the thing to get Noah’s notice. “Is she still in the hospital, or did they send her home again?”

“I dropped her at her house before coming here.” Noah drained his coffee cup. “I hired a health aid to stay with her until we figure out what’s happening, but I doubt the poor woman will last long.”

“Why?” I gave in to temptation and broke off the corner of caramel twist.

“Mom was already finding fault with the aid before I left.” Noah sighed, as if he were to-the-bone exhausted. “If Mom fires her, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“It sounds as if you have your hands full,” I commiserated. “Would you like to hear what’s been happening around here, or would you rather just have another cup of coffee in peace?”

“I’ll take the coffee, but go ahead and fill me in.” Noah’s color had improved, and he was sitting straighter. “I want to stay in the loop.”

After refilling both our mugs and putting the half-dozen remaining cookies from yesterday’s groups on a plate, I brought Noah up to speed on the last few days in my life. When I finished, I said, “So, it really is a shame that you didn’t spy on Riyad Oberkircher and see who his mysterious client was. If it’s Quistgaard’s killer, in all probability, he or she is also the person who put that threatening note on my car.”

“Someone pushed you down the stairs?” Noah went back to what he apparently thought was the most important piece of information. “And you’re still asking questions about the murder?”

“I’m fine.” I leaned across the table and squeezed his arm. “Although the murderer obviously doesn’t know it about me, you are well aware that bullying me is not going to make me stop doing anything. I refuse to be intimidated.”

“I understand. But I’m worried about you.” Noah put his hand over mine and searched my face, his expression thoughtful. “Here’s what I’ll do. I’m supposed to attend a fund-raiser tonight. I would blow it off, but since it’s for one of Riyad’s favorite charities—the no-kill animal shelter, Adopt, Don’t Shop—I’ll go and see if I can wheedle some information from him.”

“That would be great.” I was touched. I knew how much Noah must hate the thought of trying to trick someone into breaking his or her professional confidentiality. “I’d really appreciate it.”

Noah brightened. “Why don’t you go with me? It starts at seven thirty, but I know you have the sewing group here on Wednesday nights, so I could pick you up at nine. We could be fashionably late. Riyad will probably have more time as the event winds down than he’ll have at the beginning, when he has to host.”

I thought fast. Could I interview Kiara with Jake and still make it back to the store in time for Noah to pick me up? Reluctantly, I concluded that I couldn’t. At least not without the danger of creating a scene between Noah and Jake. So I said, “Sorry. I already have plans for tonight.”

“Sure.” Noah nodded, a sad expression stealing into his gray eyes. “In that case, I can go early and try to catch Riyad before the party starts.” He paused. “Actually, maybe I should call him and suggest he meet me for a drink at the bar first.”

“That’s an excellent idea. And I think you’ll have more luck with just the two of you.” I beamed at Noah. “A nice, casual chat is perfect.”

“You’re probably right, but I miss being with you.” Noah stood, stepped toward me, and drew me into his arms. “The only thing that’s kept me going during the past twenty-four hours has been thinking about doing this.” He dipped his head and pressed his lips to mine.

The slight stubble on his chin felt deliciously male against my skin, and when I sighed, he deepened the kiss. He tasted both sweet from the pastries and bitter from the coffee, but as his tongue licked into my mouth, I could no longer tell the difference.

Noah’s hands slid under my sweatshirt and into the valley of my spine, and I forgot everything. Just as I was wondering if my workbench could hold our combined weight, the sleigh bells over the entrance rang and we jumped apart.

“I’d better get home and take a shower.” Noah traced a finger down my check and winked. “A cold one.”

I hugged him good-bye and felt a twinge of guilt when I saw how slowly he walked away. He should be resting tonight, not going to a party to interrogate a friend on my behalf. Resolving to make it up to him the minute we both had some free time, I asked the customer who had just entered the store if she needed any help. When the woman said she wanted to browse, I went back to work on the basket I’d been putting together. Mother’s Day was coming fast, and I had several orders to fill.

The rest of the day was quiet, and I had already closed out the register, put the cash drawer in the safe, and phoned Birdie to check on her when I spotted Jake’s pickup pulling into a parking spot out front. Grabbing my purse, I hurried out the door, locking it behind me, and hoisted myself into the F250 before he could finish unbuckling his seat belt.

“I guess you really missed me, darlin’.” He quirked a brow suggestively. “Maybe we should go find some privacy.”

“Maybe we should go to the country club, like we planned.” I smacked his biceps. “What I’m anxious to do is talk to Kiara before her event starts, not check into a no-tell motel and jump your bones.”

“You keep telling yourself that.” Jake put the truck in reverse and backed onto the street. “But sometime real soon we are going to be alone, and then you’ll see who the man for you is.”

“Right.” I forced sarcasm into my voice, but, in truth, I felt a flutter in my chest at his seductive tone. Unfortunately, I’d felt a similar tingle with Noah earlier in the day. “For now, let’s concentrate on finding out who killed Quistgaard.”

“If you insist.” Jake grinned. “But once we do, we’re finding that motel.”

“We’ll see.” I wasn’t making any promises.

“Yes.” Jake smirked at me. “We will.”

I rolled my eyes and changed the subject, telling him about my father’s scheduled release date and Birdie’s plan for him to move into the rooms over the garage, concluding with, “So I’m a bit worried that Gran will overdo it getting that apartment ready.” I didn’t add that I was a little relieved that Gran had thought of the apartment for Dad. My gut told me that the three of us not living on top of one another would make his readjustment to home a whole lot smoother.

“Yeah, Uncle Tony’s slowing down, too.” Jake nodded sympathetically. “And I worry about him working so hard around the ranch.”

“When I talked to Gran a few minutes ago, she sounded fine and said she was knocking off for the day.” I tucked Jake’s comment about his uncle away for later examination. Did it mean Jake was seriously considering taking over for Tony? “But a part of me thinks I should be home with her right now to make sure she’s not taking on too much.”

“That’s a tough call, all right,” Jake said, slowing the truck for a family of ducks waddling across the road and into a pond.

“She said she planned to have cereal for supper, since she didn’t feel like fixing something just for herself.” I chewed my thumbnail. “Which makes me feel guilty, because she’d cook something more substantial for herself if I was home.”

“Why don’t I call Tony and suggest that he drop by her house with a pizza?” Jake suggested. “I’m sure my uncle would be happy to have an excuse to spend more time with Birdie, and this way neither of them will be sitting around alone, staring at the TV.”

“That would be great.” I relaxed against the passenger seat. “We just had pizza the other day, but Gran’s favorite is sausage with green peppers and onions, and since I hate that combo, she doesn’t get to have it often.”

The country-club parking lot was only half-full, so Jake found a spot close to the entrance. After shutting off the pickup’s motor, he phoned his uncle, then turned to me and said, “It’s all set. Birdie’s favorite pizza will be delivered by Tony in an hour.”

“Perfect.” I kissed Jake’s cheek after he helped me out of the truck. “Thank you.” I took his hand as we walked up the sidewalk.

The country club catered mostly to people who commuted to jobs in Kansas City, so the clubhouse’s ultramodern design was no surprise. The newcomers tended to go for contemporary over traditional styles. And they definitely were more attracted to the spectacular than the dignified.

Even I, who preferred vintage buildings with character, had to admire the angled entrance and mahogany double doors, as well as the overhead windows that appeared to hover unsupported over the steps. As we approached the door, I pointed out the impressive architecture to Jake, but he just grunted. Apparently, he wasn’t into design as much as I was.