Loom and Doom (7 page)

I
t was almost noon when I got back. “Sorry. It took them a lot longer than I expected. Some problem with their equipment,” I said, setting the parcel on one of the tables. “So I decided to pick some frames while I was waiting. All we have to do is slide the photos inside.”

“I like them,” Margaret said, running a finger over the wood of one of the frames. “Simple but elegant.”

“They were the least expensive I could find.”

“Let me do that,” Jenny said, shooing me away. “You've already done too much. Now go get your place ready. I'll feel terrible if your opening is delayed because of me.”

I had debated whether or not I should tell Jenny about the scene I'd witnessed between Syd and the blonde, but considering the degree of obsession she'd already displayed on the subject, I'd decided to keep it to myself. Besides, today was her grand reopening. I wanted her to enjoy it.

“Okay. Good luck,” I said, and crossed over to my side.

“Surprise,” Mercedes shouted as I walked in. She opened her arms wide. “So what do you think?”

I looked around, amazed. My shop looked wonderful. Still very bare, but sparkling clean.

“Jenny wants to open at one o'clock. If we hurry, you can reopen at the same time,” Marnie said, and turned to Mercedes. “Sugar pie, you've got strong, young legs. Why don't you run up and help Della carry her merchandise back down?”

“Sure,” she said, already dashing to the entrance. Over the next half hour, she ran up and down, from the shop to my apartment, moving box after box of my merchandise, and never so much as breathing hard. Meanwhile, all Marnie and I did was set up the displays and we were both exhausted.

“Oh, to be young again,” I said.

“Oh, to be
thin
again,” Marnie said. “Maybe I should get my heart broken once more.”

“Not worth it,” I said. “You look lovely just as you are.”

She gave me a grateful smile and continued. “I don't know about you two, but if I don't have something to eat, I think I'll pass out. I'll pick up something from Jenny's. Anybody else hungry?”

She returned a few minutes later, carrying a tray with cups of steaming coffee and plates of sandwiches. “You'll never believe who I just ran into,” she said, setting the food on one of my counters. “My neighbor, Norma Pratt. She was just walking by.”

I must have looked confused because she explained. “Don't you remember? I was telling you about her just yesterday. Swanson nearly drove her to a nervous breakdown last year. After it was all finished, he refused to give her an occupancy permit. Then”—she snapped her fingers—“out of the blue, a couple of days later she had her permit.”

I put down the box of place mats I'd just picked up. The same thing had happened to Judy Bates' neighbor.

Marnie lowered her voice to a stage whisper. “When I told her that Swanson had been murdered, she very sarcastically said, and I quote, ‘It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.'” She nodded importantly. “And then I said, ‘Considering the way he's been extorting money from people in return for occupancy permits, it's a wonder he wasn't killed a long time ago.'”

“What are you talking about?” Mercedes said. “Who's extorting money?”

Damn.
That was the one thing I didn't want to happen. If our theory ever got out, it would travel faster than light in this town, and possibly get us in a lot of trouble.

“Nobody's doing anything of the kind,” I said. “Marnie is letting her imagination get away from herself again.”

Marnie opened her mouth as if to say something, and then closed it.

Mercedes looked from me to her and back again. “I hate it when grown-ups stop talking around me. I might be just a teenager, but I am not stupid.”

“If I thought you were stupid,” I told her, “I wouldn't leave you in charge of the store the way I do.”

That seemed to mollify her. We took a break and had our lunches, then went back to work as soon as we were finished.

“Mercedes,” Marnie said, “could you do me a favor? I left some banners on the kitchen table in my house. I wonder if you could go get them.”

“Sure.” Mercedes pocketed her key and left.

As soon as the door had closed behind her, Marnie went back to her story. “About what I told Norma. I was just bluffing of course, but I wanted to hear what she'd say.”

“And?”

She grinned. “She said, and I quote, ‘That bastard cost me a fortune. I would have happily done away with him myself.'”

“So, it was true. He
was
extorting money in return for permits,” I said. “I wonder if the police know about this.”

Marnie crossed her arms and stared at me.

“Don't look at me like that,” I said. “I am not planning to call the police. I'm simply asking a rhetorical question.”

Marnie relaxed.

“But,” I continued, “I think
you
should. That's the kind of information that could help solve the murder.”

“Fine. You do it.”

“Not me,” I said. “I can just imagine how Lombard would react. You're the one Norma told. Why don't you call and tell her?”

Emotions flew over her face as she weighed the pros and cons. “You're right,” she said at last. “And I'll do it right away, before I chicken out. Mind if I go up to your apartment and use your phone?”

I handed her my key. “I swear, you must be the only person I know who doesn't own a cell phone.”

“I need a cell phone like I need a third ear,” she muttered and marched out.

“Wait for me,” I called. I locked the shop door and chased after her. “I want to dress up a bit for the reopening. This is a special occasion after all.”

We went upstairs together. I pointed her to the kitchen phone, and went to change into dressier pants and a light sweater. After doing a two-minute makeup job, I came back out, just as Marnie was hanging up.

“What did the police say?”

“I spoke to the dispatcher, and then I had to wait until she connected me to”—she quirked an eyebrow—“Officer Lombard.”

“Uh-oh.”

“You can say that again. She took my information, but I could tell she was irritated as all hell.”

“Then I'm doubly glad you made the call and not me. She would probably have bitten my head off. Before we go, I have a couple of boxes in my bedroom. Do you mind helping me with the last two?” These were all the pieces of my new collection. I could hardly wait to hear what everyone thought of it.

We returned to the shop with our arms full and dropped the boxes in the center of the store. “Have you thought of anything you could do as a reopening-day promotion?” she asked.

I looked around the store for inspiration, and my eyes happened to fall on a basket of small woven lavender bags. I imported them from China, more as decorative items in the store than for resale. But I had a large box full of them, and they cost barely more than pennies apiece. “What about these?” I said, picking one up. “I could give them away with every purchase.”

“Great idea,” Marnie said. “And I was thinking that I might give weaving demonstrations. What do you think?”

“You wouldn't mind?” I said. “Are you up to it?”

“Of course I am.”

“In that case, please do. It's a great idea. I bet we'll get people to sign up for weaving classes.”

“That's what I'm hoping.”

Jenny walked in at that moment. She too had changed, and was now wearing a pink bohemian top over a pair of black leggings. She looked gorgeous.

“Della just had a great idea,” Marnie said, and told her about it. “With both shops having promotions, I'm sure the customers will be flocking in.”

“You know, for the first time since Good Morning Sunshine opened, I'm beginning to think maybe you're right,” Jenny said. “My business will flourish again.”

“Of course it will,” Marnie said.

“I have something to show you both,” I said, lifting the cover of one of the boxes. I pulled out a piece from my new collection. It was a lovely Navajo-inspired rug in shades of black, red and tan. “What do you think?”

“That's gorgeous,” Jenny said. “I love Native weaving. Where did you get it?”

“I made it.” They both stared at me openmouthed.

Marnie was the first to speak. “You can't be serious. I always knew you were good, but this is absolutely stunning.”

“I have more,” I said, taking out all the pieces one at a time, until they were spread all over the tables, chairs and even the floor. “I thought I'd decorate my window with a Native theme. What do you think?”

“Perfect,” Jenny said. “People will be glued to your display.”

“After being closed for two months, they'd better do more than stay glued to the window. I hope they come in and buy.”

A
fter hanging all the photos on the wall, Jenny decided her store needed more color and switched her usual white tablecloths for red gingham ones. She put the long G
RAND
R
EOPENING
banner that Marnie had made, we opened our doors wide, and Jenny sent Margaret outside with a gingham-lined basket of cookies. And then we waited for the crowds. It didn't take long for the lineup to form.

As expected, Jenny's wall of pictures was a huge hit. Patrons soon gathered round, pointing and laughing, and phoning friends to come check out their photos. Meanwhile, in between serving customers, Jenny took new snapshots.

My shop looked equally inviting. Margaret and Marnie had helped me drag my old-fashioned country counter by the door. And on top was my pride and joy, a shiny nickel candy-store cash register. It had been a gift from Matthew on my opening day last year. Next to it was a silk flower arrangement in a blue-and-white Chinese vase. The scene was as pretty as a picture.

“This makes so much more sense,” Marnie said, admiring the results. “Now, customers have to walk by the counter as they leave.”

Against the opposite wall, I'd set up my century-old pine armoire. Inside, I artfully displayed my more traditional items. Over the open cabinet door, I had draped a lovely monk's cloth tablecloth with hand-embroidered edges. On one shelf were luncheon and dinner napkins, on another, my latest addition—bread cloths. And on the lower shelf were sets of place mats. It made for a charming country presentation.

I had carried through with the theme by filling an apple crate with rolled-up rugs, and covering assorted tea tables with other woven pieces. And right by the front door, I'd set a basket with a
FREE WI
TH EVERY PURCHASE
sign on a plant stand. Inside the basket were the lavender-filled bags. Now, the entire room was perfumed with a lovely scent.

“For your lingerie drawers,” I told my customers. I hoped every morning as they got dressed, they would think of my shop.

And last but not least, I had filled my window with pieces of my new Navajo-inspired collection. As I watched, two women walked by, then stopped to admire them. And then another two paused to look. My heart did a somersault.
Yes!
It was a hit.

“Marnie, come and see,” I called out. She came round from the back of the shop, where I'd set up all my looms to create a private area for the weaving studio. “Look. My windows are creating a lot of attention. People love the collection.”

“Well don't stare at them. You'll scare them away,” she whispered. I turned away, still giggling like a little girl. “They like it.”

“You're not really surprised, are you?”

Maybe not surprised as much as relieved. “Now let's just hope they sell.”

I was in such a good mood, I resolved to give Matthew a call. I hadn't heard from him since our argument. Even though I'd sworn to myself that he would have to give in, it made sense that unless one of us made the first move, the bad feelings between us would fester, and things would only get worse.

“Hey,” he said, sounding cheerful. “I was wondering when I'd hear from you.”

If he wasn't going to bring up the way we'd left things yesterday, then neither would I. “Does that mean you finished your word count for the day?”

“I not only reached it, but doubled it. I was just about to take Winston for a walk. Want to join us?”

“I'd love to, but we just reopened”—I looked at my watch—“half an hour ago. I barely finished setting up the shop. You should come by. Marnie made some amazing cookies and Margaret is outside handing them out for free.”

“Marnie made cookies? Can't say no to that.”

“And I'll find a treat for Winnie too.”

Just as I was slipping the phone back into my pocket, the door flew open. The bell above the door went into a tinkling frenzy as a woman walked in. “I simply had to stop by and tell you how impressed I am,” the ultra-thin blonde said to Marnie. “I ran into Margaret and I tried one of your cookies. Your baking is to die for, simply to die for. I just bought a dozen for poor Philip Williams.” It took me a moment to connect the name to the tragedy I had recently read about. “He's such a nice man. Of all the people for this kind of tragedy to happen to. It's simply not fair.” She continued in a stage whisper. “I've been dropping off casseroles and treats for him, so he doesn't have to cook.”

“He's not still staying in his house, is he?” Marnie asked.

“Oh, goodness no. The Bradfords across the street are away for a few weeks. When they heard what happened, they contacted the vicar and asked him to get in touch with Philip and offer him their house. He's been staying there since. Just between us, I don't think it's good for Philip to be alone at a time like this.” Even though there was nobody else in the store, she looked around to make certain no one could overhear. “Day before yesterday, I thought he was going to have a nervous breakdown. He left the house looking as if he was in agony. I think he was out of his mind with grief. Then he raced out of the driveway with his tires squealing. Later I found out his little girl might not make it. He was probably on his way to the hospital.”

“You may not have heard,” Marnie said. “But the little girl passed away.”

“Oh, no,” she said, a crease appearing between her brows. “You know what he should do is come stay with me. That way I can keep an eye on him and make sure he stays out of trouble.” She leaned forward and whispered. “He's such a cutie. I've always had a thing for bald men.” She raised the bag of cookies in her hand. “And this one needs somebody to take care of him. I'll keep him company and make sure he eats right.” With that, she pivoted and sashayed to the door, calling out a cheerful, “Toodle-oo.”

“Well,” Marnie huffed. “His wife hasn't been buried more than three days and already the vultures are circling.”

The door swung open again and this time Matthew walked in, followed by Winston. My heart skipped a beat.

“Winnie, sweetheart. I missed you,” Marnie said. Winston gave her hand a lick and then came wiggling and snorting over to me. “What's the matter, Winnie? Don't you love me anymore?” she asked, putting on her hurt voice.

“Don't worry,” I said. “It's not that he loves you less. It's that he loves the liver treats I keep in my drawer.” I riffled through and threw him a dog biscuit. Winston caught it in a jump worthy of Kobe Bryant. He crunched twice and swallowed, and then gave me a pleading look, hoping for another.

“You already got your treat,” I said. “Next time don't eat it so fast.”

“Where my treat?” Matthew said, wrapping his arms around me. He gave me a quick peck. “I swear you pay more attention to that dog than you do to me.”

“Didn't you know?” I said. “It's Winnie that's really got my heart. You're just part of the package.”

“Ah, that explains it,” he said. He gave me another quick kiss and released me. He took a step back and looked around. “Nice job. I have to admit the place looks more upscale with the new floor plan. Having your own entrances will be good for Jenny's business. And now that you don't have to get up quite so early in the morning, maybe I'll have the pleasure of your company for breakfast once in a while.”

Marnie covered her ears. “Oh, this is getting too personal for me. I think I'll go back to my weaving.”

As soon as she was out of sight, Matthew gave me a serious look. “So tell me. You found the body of the city inspector—what—a bit over twenty-four hours ago? Have you discovered the killer yet?”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

“Surely you've picked up a few clues.”

“I heard some gossip, but that's all.”

“Really?” he said, sounding suspicious. “I'm surprised you haven't been snooping around.”

I decided to ignore that. “One of my customers stopped by yesterday and mentioned that her neighbor had renovations done in her home, and after all the work was completed, Swanson refused to give her a permit. And then a few days later, Swanson decided to issue it without making her redo anything.”

“I don't get your point.”

“The point is that my customer wondered if her neighbor didn't have to pay some kind of bribe.”

Matthew's eyebrows jumped up. “You think Swanson was into extortion?”

I shrugged. “That's not all. Marnie ran into one of her neighbors, too. That woman also had a problem with Swanson about a year ago. Marnie decided to bluff, and she casually mentioned that, considering all the bribes Swanson had been taking, it was surprising that he hadn't gotten himself in trouble sooner.”

“What was her reaction?”

I grinned. “She fell for it. She admitted that she'd had to pay him off in return for her occupancy permit.”

He knitted his brows. “Were you or Jenny squeezed for a payoff too?”

“No, not at all.”

“Well, then, how do you explain that?”

“I don't know. Maybe he was planning to squeeze us when he was murdered. Or, maybe he was choosing his victims according to their affluence. Or,” I added, as a new idea came to me, “maybe he was demanding payoffs for permits for work that normally would not have passed inspection.”

Matthew nodded, his brows furrowed. “So, rather than have their work redone, some people preferred paying him off.”

To my surprise, Matthew wasn't giving me a hard time about my interest in the case.

“I hope you called the police and told them what Marnie's neighbor said.”

My mouth dropped open. “Did I just hear right? Are you suggesting I get involved?”

He brought a finger under my chin, raising it until we were both staring straight into each other's eyes. “It's not that I don't want you to get involved. It's that you've been known to get yourself into some dangerous situations in the past. I don't want to have to worry about you again. The last time I nearly had a heart attack I was so worried.” The way he looked at me as he said this made my insides melt. He continued. “I've been thinking about it, and you're right, you're an independent woman. I have no business telling you what to do or not do.”

“Thank you.” I threw my arms around his neck. “Did I ever tell you that you're the best?”

He laughed. “Hold on a second. I'd still like you to promise me one thing.”

I pulled away. “Promise you what?”

“Please swear you won't put yourself in any danger.”

“How about this? I promise I will do everything in my power not to get myself into danger.”

He sighed. “I guess that's the best I can expect.” He pulled me against him again and gave me another kiss, this one lingering a few seconds. “How about having dinner with me tonight?” he asked, changing the subject to one I much preferred. “It feels like we haven't seen each other in forever. Let's go out for a change. I'll take you to the Longview and we'll celebrate your reopening.”

The Longview was the finest local restaurant. It belonged to a friend and former client of mine, Bunny Boyd, a famous interior designer and TV personality. Some years ago she had bought a local guesthouse. Then last year she'd spent a fortune turning it into a boutique hotel, complete with a fine-dining restaurant. It had been an instant success.

Before her place opened, the only other local restaurant was The Bottoms Up, a barnlike space complete with rough wood floors and a pool table. Briar Hollow had been in dire need of a more upscale place and Bunny had the vision to bring one to the community.

“Sounds great. I can get all dressed up,” I said. “I don't often get the opportunity to do that around here.”

He chuckled. “Pick you up at six,” he said, heading for the door.

“If you want me to look great, you'd better make it six thirty.”

He laughed, and left with Winston trotting ahead. The door hadn't quite closed when it opened again. This time two women walked in, nibbling at oatmeal raisin cookies.

“Hi, Della,” the older one said. I drew a blank as to her name, but I remembered her being around Marnie's age, in her mid-fifties or so. She had taken a weaving class from me some months ago in the hopes of making a tablecloth and napkins. It was a rather ambitious project for a newbie, and just as I'd expected, before the end of that first session she had become overwhelmed and given up. A few days later she'd come in and purchased the items instead.

“I thought I'd stop by and see your new place.” She looked around, admiringly. I snatched a lavender sachet from the basket and gave it to her.

“An opening-day gift,” I said.

She brought it to her nose and took a deep whiff. “How lovely.” She dropped it in her bag. “I like what you did with the place.” She pointed to the studio area. “That's good, having it in a separate area. And I love that Jenny's coffee shop has its own entrance now. So much better this way.”

Her friend, an attractive blonde around my age, stepped forward, hand extended. “I'm Susan,” she said. “Susan Price.” We shook.

Susan Price. I had heard that name recently. And then I remembered. “Why, a friend of yours was just telling me about you yesterday—Judy Bates.”

“Oh.” Her smile faded. “I wouldn't exactly call her a friend. She's my next-door neighbor.”

“She told me you had some trouble with the building inspector,” I said, hoping to get her talking about it. “That man drove me crazy. I thought the renovations would never end.”

“Mr. Swanson?” she asked.

“Who else?” I replied.

“He's the same one I had to deal with. I hope I never see that man again.”

“Well,” Marnie said, returning from the studio. “I can assure you, you won't.”

“Why? Was he fired?” Susan asked, sounding hopeful.