Elizabeth Lynn Casey - Southern Sewing Circle 10 - Wedding Duress (16 page)

“Every time I see her, she is holdin’ court like she’s the queen of somethin’. Even last night, when all she was really doin’ was whisperin’ with her friends, I couldn’t shake this feelin’ that she was waitin’ for food to magically appear on her table, and if it didn’t, she’d make a fuss.”

“Why would a family like the Whitehalls hire someone like this Amanda person?” Tori leaned her back against the door and waited for her friend’s answer.

“Because they like makin’ things better—the library, the town square, the annual festivals, even some of the young people.”

“Like Amanda?”

“Like Amanda,” Margaret Louise confirmed. “But from what Melissa has told me after many school events, this Amanda seems to think her workin’ for the Whitehalls gives her Whitehall status in this town.”

“Meaning?”

“Meanin’ she expects front row seats and special treatment. And she ain’t shy ’bout demandin’ it.”

Tori crossed to the kitchen phone on the counter and pulled open the drawer located just below. In it, she found the pad of paper and pen she wanted. “Any idea whether or not Mrs. Whitehall was one of the women who took a business card for the British nanny agency Julie Brady was giving out Monday night?”

“Six months ago, I’d have said no. But at Back to School Night two weeks ago, I happen to know Carolyn Whitehall got a healthy dose of what folks have been dealin’ with where Amanda is concerned for quite some time. In fact, I saw it myself when I was sittin’ in Lulu’s classroom waitin’ on her teacher to start talkin’. Amanda came in with Carolyn and refused to sit in one of the desks until the teacher disinfected it. And when Miss Applewhite did, Amanda insisted the talk be brief because she was, after all, almost a Whitehall. And that’s exactly how she said it: almost a Whitehall. Carolyn looked positively mortified, bless her heart.”

Uncapping the pen, she jotted Amanda’s name down on the top piece of paper and then looked at Margaret Louise. “So I’m assuming you see greed as a motive for Amanda?”

“If wantin’ to make sure Mrs. Whitehall doesn’t bring someone else into the home to care for the children is greed, then yes I do.”

“But how would killing Miss Gracie keep Amanda at the Whitehalls?”

“If Miss Gracie is dead, talk of how wonderful she is dies, too, I imagine.”

“Talk of her dies, too,” she whispered as she turned to the pad of paper once again. “And this other nanny you mentioned? Stacy something or another?”

“Stacy Gardner. Dumb as a box of rocks, that one. Never did understand how any parent worth their salt would hire that one to look after their children. Then again, the Downings aren’t the brightest, either. Their whole life is nothin’ but playin’ follow the leader. If the other folks in the country club have a nanny, they have one, too.”

Tori tapped the end of the pen against her chin and contemplated whether to add Stacy’s name. “And she’s on your list of suspects because why?”

“She’s one of the nannies in that family group so she would have been there if for no other reason than the other nannies were there.”

“And her motive?”

“Don’t know. I’m still workin’ on that.”

Tori added the name to the list but placed a question mark beside it on both sides. “So you’ve got two names for sure.”

“Two plus anyone else who might have been worried
’bout the Nanny Go Round Agency goin’ belly up if their clients started hirin’ from someone else.”

“You know, that Rachel girl said something just like that the other night at Leona’s.” Using her index finger to hold off any potential response from Margaret Louise, Tori worked to recall Rachel’s exact words. “In fact, if I remember correctly, she said something to the effect of, ‘Cindy just needs to make it right. If she does, none of us have to worry. If she doesn’t, and she decides to get all high-and-mighty, we’re all in trouble.’”

“From what Luke said last night, it don’t sound like Cindy was gettin’ all high-and-mighty. Sounds like she was downright sad ’bout everything. Includin’ gettin’ a car wash.”

Something about the combination of Margaret Louise’s expression and the mention of Luke’s comment made her laugh. “When I was younger, my next-door neighbor friend was always washing cars. It was his parents’ favorite punishment whenever he did anything wrong. It almost makes me wonder if washing cars was being used the same way with Cindy.”

“And if it was, ain’t you a bit curious ’bout who was doin’ the punishin’?”

Any residual laughing ceased as Margaret Louise’s question took root in her thoughts. “Keep going . . .”

“Accordin’ to Luke, someone was hoppin’ mad at Cindy. Someone Cindy felt the need to apologize to again and again and again. Aside from Jim and Julie Brady, and perhaps Cindy’s own parents, I’m not sure who was in a position to punish Cindy with something like car washin’.”

Who indeed
 . . .

They were halfway around the outer loop of the park when Milo squeezed Tori’s hand three distinct times. It was a tradition they had for saying I love you without words, and as always, it brought a smile to her lips.

Bypassing the usual four-squeeze response, Tori verbalized it instead. “I love you, too.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it over for more packing today.”

“Don’t be silly. You had lesson plans to work on for our honeymoon week and I get that.” Tori slowed their pace as they approached the smattering of picnic tables on the eastern edge of the playground. “Besides, I’d rather use the time we have together to do something like this.”

“Agreed. Though getting you packed up means we’ll be living together.” Milo shifted his hold on her hand in order to help her over the railroad tie that framed the
outdoor eating area. Once they’d cleared it, he led her back to the picnic basket they’d temporarily abandoned in favor of a walk. “You checked in on Leona while I was at my bachelor dinner last night, didn’t you?”

She tugged the basket toward her side of the table and lifted the lid to reveal the fried chicken dinner she’d been looking forward to all week. “I did.”

“And how is she?”

“She’s still in a lot of discomfort even though she pretends she’s not.” Tori pulled out two paper plates, two napkins, and two sets of plastic silverware, and set them at their respective spots.

“Uh, anything else?”

“She liked the crossword puzzle book of travel destinations I gave her.”

“That’s good.” Milo raked a hand over his face. “Anything
else
?”

Tori pulled the plastic container of chicken from the basket and then eyed her fiancé closely. “What are you getting at, Milo?”

“Um, uhhh . . . did you see anyone unexpected while you were there?”

“No, was I—” She stopped as details of the previous evening pushed their way through the on-again, off-again fog that had plagued her brain ever since Margaret Louise arrived on her doorstep with breakfast. “Wait. Yes! Charles is here in Sweet Briar . . . which I’m guessing you already know based on your questions.”

He slumped forward against the table in relief and then plucked a chicken leg from the container. “Phew. I was beginning to think you’d missed each other somehow and
I didn’t want to blow the surprise for you. Margaret Louise would have had my head on a silver platter if I did.”

Reaching back into the basket, she liberated a container of fruit, a bag of chips, and two bottles of water. “This all looks really good, doesn’t it?” When he didn’t say anything, she pushed the basket aside to provide a more uninhibited view of her fiancé. “I brought brownies if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“What you have right here looks fantastic. But I guess I’m just surprised you aren’t more excited about Charles being here. Did everything go okay?”

She uncapped her water, took a sip, and then set about the task of putting food onto their plates. “Finding Charles on Leona’s doorstep was a fantastic surprise. It was so good to see him and he’s exactly the way I remember him with the exception of his hair. It’s now a soft brown, instead of the purple it was in the city.”

“Okay . . .”

“And even better, he’s going to stay with Leona through the wedding, which thrills me.”

He sampled a strawberry and then moved on to another piece of chicken, nodding as he did. “Good. Maybe now you don’t have to worry so much about Leona. Charles will take good care of her, I’m sure.”

“He will.”

“Did Margaret Louise come in with Charles?”

She took another sip of her water and then tried a chip. “She did. Didn’t say much to her sister, but at least they acknowledged one another. It’s a start if nothing else.”

“So is that why you seem more subdued than I expected? Because Margaret Louise is still being standoffish with
Leona?” He set his chicken back on the plate and reached across the table for her hand. “They love you, Tori. They’re not going to let this thing between them ruin our wedding, I’m confident of that.”

She helped herself to a grape but stopped short of popping it into her mouth. “I’d be lying if I said I’m not sick about the rift between Leona and everyone else. I mean, I know she did it to herself, but I also know she’s a good person. And if Rose can find a way to accept what Leona did, then so should everyone else. But I’d also be lying if I said that’s what’s got me subdued as you say.”

“Are you getting nervous about the wedding?” Milo asked quietly.

She tightened her grip on his hand and looked him straight in the eye. “Absolutely not. We’re down to six days and I couldn’t be more excited. Sure, I’m feeling a little nostalgic about leaving my cottage, but it doesn’t even come close to outweighing my excitement over living with you as your wife.”

Like a line of dominoes, her words kicked off relief, and then a smile, and then the dimples she loved so much. “Okay. Good. But then what
is
the reason you seem kind of preoccupied and not as happy about Charles’s earlier-than-expected arrival as I would have thought you’d be?”

“I guess that’s because of what I learned while I was at Debbie’s last night with Margaret Louise.”

“Learned? About what?”

She extricated her hand from his and took a bite of chicken. With any luck, she hoped it would offset the unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Beatrice brought Luke by to speak to me. He overheard some things the night Miss Gracie died that gives even more
credence to Beatrice’s belief the woman was pushed down those stairs.”

“Tell me,” he prompted as he, too, got back to the business of eating.

“He and Reenie overheard the Bradys’ former nanny—Cynthia Marland—being yelled at by another female. Cynthia was crying and saying she was sorry. Whoever this other female was said something about having to wash cars and Cynthia cried harder.”

“Wash cars?”

She shrugged. “I know. I found that odd, too. But then here’s the kick. Luke said Cynthia left and this other female walked by the closet where he and Reenie were hiding. Not long after that, they heard Miss Gracie yell ‘stop’ and then heard a bunch of thumping.”

Milo cringed. “They heard it?”

“They did. But I’m not sure Luke has really equated the sound to Miss Gracie falling.”

“Did he hear anything else?”

“Running. He heard someone running after the thumping started.”

“Wow.” He looked at the half-eaten chicken leg in his hand and then set it back down on his plate in favor of a chip and a second strawberry. “Wow. So this really should be a murder investigation, shouldn’t it?”

“It sure seems that way to me. Only I had my money on Cynthia as the culprit, and Luke’s account of that evening makes it so she wasn’t even in the house when it happened.”

He popped a third strawberry into his mouth and grinned. “So who are you looking at now?”

Tori held her hands up. “That’s part of the problem,
Milo. I have way too much on my plate right now to look at anyone. I’ve got to get some things done in advance at work so Nina won’t have any problems while we’re on our honeymoon, I have all the normal last-minute details before the ceremony to take care of, I have guests coming in, and a house to finish packing. I really can’t be playing detective on top of all of that, too.”

“Are you going to tell me Margaret Louise isn’t chomping at the bit to help you figure out what happened to Miss Gracie?”

“No,” she mumbled. “In fact, she’s even offered to take the lead and just use me as a sounding board when she needs one.”

“Do you have a suspect list?” he asked, still grinning.

She hesitated for a moment but knew resistance was futile. “We started one this morning over Debbie’s famous chocolate-dusted donuts.”

“And no Cindy?”

“No Cindy,” she confirmed. “All we really have right now are two other nannies that were at the Bradys’ house that night.”

“And who are they?”

She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and unfolded the piece of paper she’d looked at multiple times throughout the day. “Amanda Willey and Stacy Gardner.”

“Hmmm.”

“Hmmm?” she echoed as she looked from Milo to the paper and back again. “What does that mean? Do you know these girls?”

“I do. They both have kids in my class. Or rather, the families they work for have kids in my class.”

She refolded the paper, returned it to her pocket, and
pushed her plate to the side in order to focus all of her attention on Milo. “And? Your impressions?”

He made a face, his discomfort in answering the question clear. “Stacy is . . .”

“Not terribly bright?” she interjected. At his slow nod, she continued. “Margaret Louise mentioned that this morning.”

“That said, though, I just can’t see her pushing someone to their death. She’s too placid to do something like that.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, she’s kind of a pushover, which doesn’t help with getting Ronald to do his homework like he’s supposed to.” Milo took a handful of chips and worked his way through them a chip at a time. “I’m not too sure Stacy is the right fit for a family of two rambunctious boys, but maybe there’s something there I’m missing.”

“Between that and Cindy and the one taking up a room in Leona’s house, it doesn’t seem as if Sweet Briar has any real standards for their caregivers.”

“It’s Sweet Briar, Tori. The employment pool is limited.”

“The Johnsons went outside the pool to find Beatrice . . .”

“And Luke couldn’t be more squared away,” Milo said by way of agreement. “Which is probably why Julie Brady insisted on pulling from
that
pool with her most recent nanny choice.”

“And Amanda Willey?” she asked.

“That one you can judge for yourself.” Using his index finger, he guided her eyes from his to a red-haired girl basking in the last of the day’s sun on a bench in the
vicinity of the monkey bars while two still darker-haired boys passed each other at the midpoint.

“She was at the bakery last night, but I was far too focused on Beatrice and Luke to really notice much about her or her companions.”

“Well, that’s her. With Jordan and Jeremiah Whitehall. Jordan is in my class, Jeremiah is in the grade below.”

“I sure would like to meet her. See if I get a feeling one way or the other as to any involvement she may have had in Miss Gracie’s death.”

“You done with your dinner?” Milo finished his last bite of chicken and a final gulp or two of his water and then set about the task of capping containers, sealing the chips, and placing them all in the basket. When he was done, he gathered up their combined trash and stood. “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

She swung her leg over the bench and jumped to her feet. “Anything I should know?” she asked as she trailed him to the garbage can and then over to the playground.

“The more credentials you can provide, the more likely she is to talk to you.”

“Credentials?”

“Tell her you’re from Chicago, make your apartment sound like it was located somewhere special, and emphasize the fact that you’re the head librarian at the library. Do that and you should be good.”

“There’s only two of us at the library, Milo. It’s not like I’m running the New York City Public Library.”

“I don’t think she frequents the library enough to know the difference so I wouldn’t give it too much thought.”

She stopped mid-step and waited for him to do the same. “She’s not smart, either?”

“No, she’s smart. She’s just not the type to be interested in reading a book that isn’t brand new. You see, being the Whitehall’s nanny has given her some interesting expectations of the world around her.”

“Margaret Louise pretty much said the same thing.”

He encased her hand with his own and led her toward the monkey bars. “Which you’re about to discover all on your own in a matter of seconds.”

When they reached the monkey bars, the smaller of the two boys let go and landed on the ground mere inches from Milo’s and Tori’s feet. “Hi, Mr. Wentworth. What are you doing here?”

“Having a picnic with my fiancé.” He turned to Tori and smiled. “Jeremiah Whitehall, this is my soon-to-be wife, Miss Sinclair. She works at the library.”

The second grader smiled at Tori. “I know you. You were at the book thing with Mrs. Claus last Christmas. You gave me your carpet square because there weren’t any left.”

“And did you have fun?” she asked.

“Mrs. Claus was cool and she makes really yummy cookies.”

“She does, indeed.” Tori gestured toward the bench and the girl who seemed oblivious to the fact that two adults were talking to the children in her care. “Is that your nanny over there?”

Jeremiah peeked around the ladder portion of the monkey bars and gave a half nod, half shrug. “Right now she is.”

She saw Milo’s brow arch in response to the youngster’s words and suspected hers did the same. “Right now?”

“Jordan said he heard Mom tell Dad that Amanda is
getting . . .” He cast about for the right word, only to give up and call to his brother. “Jordan, what did Mom say about”—he clicked his tongue behind his teeth and jerked his head in the direction of their sunbathing nanny—“you know who?”