Needle and Dread (12 page)

“The unpopular kid in the room,” she repeated. “Yup, that pretty much sums up what I was by the time everyone took their empty plates and sewing stuff and headed out the back door.”

“They all love you, Tori, you know that. Just give them a little time to step back, that's all.”

Everything Milo was saying made perfect sense. The key was getting her heart to catch up with what her head knew to be true.

“At least I've got Rose in my corner.”

Milo pulled her close. “Rose and me,” he corrected.

Tori counted the number of people in line at the counter and, with the help of a little mental math, stepped inside Debbie's Bakery. Assuming all but maybe one or two of the patrons knew what they wanted before they approached the register, she'd be able to sit down with her order and still make it to the library on time.

Taking advantage of her wait, she scanned the tables to her right. She recognized a town council member (reading a paper and sipping a coffee), Lana Turner, owner of Turner's Gifts 'N More (feverishly working on a crossword puzzle), and a man she was almost certain lived in Milo's neighborhood (laughing softly into a cell phone).

“Victoria, right?”

At the sound of her name, she turned to find a vaguely
familiar man studying her as he, too, waited in line. She tried to place him, but other than knowing he was out of context in the bakery, she was at a loss.

A friend of Milo's from his men's group, maybe?

He thrust out his hand. “Travis—Travis Beaker. I met you the other day at—”

“Oh yes, I'm so sorry,” she said as her hand briefly disappeared inside his. “I knew you looked familiar . . .”

Pointing down at his navy collared shirt, he made a face. “When I took this gig, I wasn't expecting to be hanging around for more than a night. Fortunately, the fella who owns the bed-and-breakfast where we're staying is the same size as me.”

Ahhh, yes, the reason I couldn't place him at first . . .

“Anyway, any chance I might see that friend of yours here?”

“Friend?”

“You know, the young, attentive one.” He pointed to the moving line and waited as she scooted up a spot. “Frosted hair, long eyelashes, has some sort of pet rabbit . . .”

“Oh, you mean Leona.”

“That's it! Leona.”

She contemplated correcting him on both the young and frosted part, but, in the end, she let it go. Besides, without his uniform, Travis was off Leona's radar, anyway.

“Leona is a busy woman. Between running two businesses, caring for Paris, and entertaining a dear friend who is in town for a few days, I doubt she'll be making an appearance here this morning.”

They stepped forward in unison as yet another
customer paid for their order and exited the line. “Oh. Okay. Any chance you have her phone number?”

“I'm sorry, I can't give that out without her permission, but I'll be sure to let her know you were asking about her the next time we cross paths.”

Disappointment pulled at his stature as they stepped still closer to the counter. “Oh. Right. Yeah, I'm sorry, I guess I shouldn't have put you in that position just now. But could you do me a favor? If you see her, could you tell her thank you for her kindness the other day? If I came across as unfriendly, it wasn't her.”

“I'm sure she didn't think that, but I'll let her know.” With just three people to go until she could place her order, Tori pointed at the chalkboard sign on the back wall. “While everything is pretty much mind-blowing in this place, I highly recommend the blueberry scone. They're to die for.”

To die for . . .

Blinking away the image of Opal's face as it had looked in death, Tori cast about for something else to say before it was her turn to order. She considered (and discarded) Leona and the weather from her list of possibilities before settling on the only one that made any sense.

“So, um, how's it going?” Then, aware of her own vagueness, she stepped it up a notch. “You know, with having to remain in Sweet Briar to be questioned by police?”

He raked a hand through his graying hair, shrugging as he did. “Obviously, if I had my druthers, I'd rather be home. But considering nothing is really there, either, I guess I shouldn't complain.”

“I suppose it's safe to assume you didn't know the victim before Saturday's event?”

“Actually, I did. Though that wasn't necessarily a good thing.”

She felt her head jerk back a hairbreadth before she reined in her shock. “I'm sorry, I guess I don't understand.”

“Yeah you do. You saw Opal on Saturday. She was like that all the time—to every person she came in contact with. If you passed too closely to her on the sidewalk, she'd glare. If you turned to offer her the sign of peace at church and she deemed you to be unworthy, she'd merely offer a finger wave in response and then roll her eyes as she turned away. And if you happened to see her out and about in a place just like this, she didn't take kindly to waiting her turn. So she didn't. But the part I hate most was her money's pull in Jasper Falls. It came ahead of everything—safety, common sense, life.”

Tori took advantage of the line's forward motion to ponder her next question. On one hand it was good Margaret Louise had taken possession of the notebook after the previous night's sewing circle gathering, but on the other hand, she could have jotted down what Travis had said while he was placing his order . . .

“So you and Samantha knew her before,” she mused aloud, as much for her own ears as his.

His dark eyes swung back to Tori. “I'm pretty sure we all did, except maybe Miranda. Jasper Falls isn't much bigger than Sweet Briar, you know? The biggest difference of course is the fact that we've got two bars—one on each end of town, a standard run-of-the-mill
roadside motel, a teahouse for the rich and famous, and a sewing museum instead of a shop.”

“A teahouse for the rich and famous?” Tori moved up as the person in front of her gave their order.

“According to my Ginny, the women who go there all wear skirts and dresses and, I imagine, drink their tea with their pinkies extended. Unlike this place”—he hooked his thumb toward the line of people behind them—“where it's just normal people looking for a cup of coffee and a decent muffin while they read the local paper.”

“Is Ginny your wife?”

His eyes shifted to the floor in lieu of an answer just as Emma's voice filled the sudden silence. “Hey there, Tori. Hot chocolate and a blueberry scone to go?”

Unsure of what to make of the change in the man's demeanor, she turned and smiled at Debbie's employee. “Hi, Emma. Actually, I'll take the scone on a plate today, but let's stick with the to-go cup for the coffee.”

“
Coffee
?” At Tori's answering nod, Emma grinned and reached for a small powder blue cup. “I take it your sewing circle ran later than normal last night, eh?”

“Something like that, I guess.” She reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet while Emma busied herself with Tori's order. When the blueberry scone was plated and the coffee poured, Tori handed the girl a twenty and gestured over her shoulder. “I've got his order, too.”

Emma took the bill, counted back the change, and handed it back. “He left while you were placing your order, Tori.”

*   *   *

She tossed her keys onto her desk and stared out over the library grounds, the hundred-year-old moss-draped trees dappling the morning sunlight across the grass. As was usually the case at that time of the day, Mr. Downing was seated on the bench to the right of the front walkway, his ankle balanced atop his right knee while he chuckled to himself over whatever comic strip had caught his fancy at that exact moment.

More often than not, when she stood there at the window looking out over the very same scene each day, she imagined herself enjoying a leisurely start to her day—relishing the sun on her face, waving to friends, and immersing herself in the local news.

“That's it!”

“What's it, Victoria?”

Tori spun around so fast she bumped into the back of her chair and sent it hurling into the edge of her desk. “Margaret Louise! How did you get in here?”

“You left the back door unlocked and so I just came walkin' right in.” Margaret Louise waddled into the room, took note of the open-topped to-go cup on Tori's desk, and then slowly lowered herself onto the closest folding chair. “I tried wavin' from the grass but you were lookin' somewhere else.”

“I guess I was zoning more than I realized.”

“I was figurin' you were still mad at me.”

She backed the chair up enough to sit down and tried to focus on her sweat-suit-wearing friend. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“For not standin' by you last night when you were pointin' your sleuthin' finger in Saint Minnie's direction.”

Tori opened her mouth to protest, but closed it as Margaret Louise held up her hand. “Now b'fore you start explainin', I've got some explainin' of my own to do first. I wasn't expectin' to hear that stuff 'bout Minnie. But if I've learned anythin' in all our investigatin', it's that ignorin' things helps nothin'. And ignorin' two plus two ain't smart, neither.”

“Two plus two?”

“Minnie's disappearin' into the project room on Saturday plus her wantin' a book 'bout gettin' away with murder.”

She set her elbows on the desk and lowered her chin onto her hands. “I don't want to look at Minnie for this any more than anyone else does, Margaret Louise. That woman is completely and utterly adorable. But that said, if she took a person's life—even a person as nasty as Opal Goodwin—I'm not going to look the other way. That's not who I am.”

“I know that, Victoria. I just needed to do a little digestin' is all.”

“And now?”

“I'm done digestin'.”

“So you're willing to consider Minnie even if it's not what you want to do?” she asked.

“If you can, I can.” Margaret Louise pulled Tori's to-go cup close enough to peek inside. “
Coffee
, Victoria?”

“Stressful night,” she said by way of explanation.

Leaning over, Margaret Louise grabbed hold of her tote bag and hoisted it onto her lap. Then, reaching inside, she rummaged around until she found their notebook of
suspects and opened it to Minnie's page. “We were so busy waitin' for my brownies to get Samantha's gums flappin' we forgot to really find out whether any of them knew Opal before Saturday. Course now we know Samantha did, but we don't know 'bout the others.”

“Yes we do.”

Margaret Louise's eyes narrowed. “We do?”

She dropped her hands to the desk and leaned back against her chair. “They all did, except Miranda.”

“Have you been investigatin' without me, Victoria?”

“Nope. Just getting coffee.” She grabbed her cup, took a sip, and then handed the rest to her friend.

Margaret Louise downed the rest of the now lukewarm liquid and tossed the empty cup into the trash. “What does gettin' coffee at Debbie's have to do with investigatin'?”

“Travis was there. And it was in chatting with him that I found out they're all from Jasper Falls.”

“I've been to the sewin' museum in Jasper Falls!”

“I'm guessing that's why everyone was from Jasper Falls—because Rose and Miranda probably figured a town with that much interest in sewing would take note of a few flyers advertising a sewing weekend.”

“Makes sense to me.” Margaret Louise jotted something on each suspect's page and then turned back to Minnie's. “So what were you gushin' 'bout when I came in just now?”

“I don't remember—wait! That's right. I forgot.” Tori swiveled her chair to the left and powered on her office computer, her mind already skipping ahead to the time she'd need to complete the task—time she didn't necessarily have during her workday. “How busy are you
today?” she asked, stealing a quick glance in Margaret Louise's direction.”

“I'm here, ain't I?”

She punched in her library password and waited as her start-up screen sprang to life. “It may be an exercise in futility, but I'm thinking it might be a good idea to go through the Jasper Falls newspaper archives over the past few months and see what we can find on Opal, specifically in relation to any of the tour members. Maybe Samantha isn't the only one who had an issue with the woman.”

“Surely you don't have those papers here, do you? Jasper Falls is almost two hours away.”

“Not in hard-copy form, we don't. But as a library in the state of South Carolina, we have access to the catalogues of every other library in the state. That means we can see what's on each other's shelves, as well as access each other's local newspapers.” She pulled up the correct site and plugged in Jasper Falls. Seconds later, she found the name of the town's paper—the
Jasper Falls Courier
—and was directed to their main site with no restrictions on content. “Okay, cool. See this search bar right here in the upper right-hand corner? That's where you're going to plug in Opal Goodwin's name. If she's as important in that town as both Samantha and Travis indicated, a whole slew of articles about her should pop up on the screen. Read as many of them as you can and see what you can learn about Opal. With any luck, one of the other names from our notebook will show up a time or two and hand us a motive for murder.”