Reap What You Sew (27 page)

She paused, her hand on the top of her sewing box, and addressed the bakery owner. “I did. I was just curious whether he had access to anyone who might be able to provide a record of everyone on the crew. Names, basic background, that sort of thing.” With a flip of her hand, she opened the box and removed the top tray of needles and pins to reveal an assortment of colored thread underneath. “I’ve been wanting to send some thank-you notes out to all the people who were so nice during my brief stint as an extra but I didn’t have everyone’s name.”

Oh how she hated to lie to her friends, but considering who was in the room, it seemed the best decision at the moment. The last time the possibility of Margaret Louise being implicated in Anita’s murder had come up in a meeting, Annabelle had retreated into a world that had only caused her daughter more stress.

Debbie stood and walked over to Tori, a piece of lined paper in her hands. “Well, he tracked down a friend of a friend and he was able to get ahold of a pretty thorough list.”

Tori’s mouth gaped open.

“Anyway, Colby says he hopes it helps. If it doesn’t let him know and he’ll see what else he can do.”

She took the paper from Debbie’s outstretched hand and stared down at the names on the list. One by one, each line contained a name, hometown, job title, and length of time associated with the production studio.

There was Margot Anderson, the second, second assistant director. A native Californian, Margot had been employed by the studio for two years.

She read the next few names, her mind conjuring up faces for two or three of them before coming to one on her list of suspects.

Glenda Goodnight was one step higher on the totem pole than Margot, her title necessitating just one second, rather than two. Also a native Californian, Glenda had started work just two months before Margot, making her I’ve-been-here-longer-than-you attitude more than a little ridiculous.

Todd McNamara broke the California pattern hailing from Tucson, Arizona. According to Colby’s notes, Todd had started with the studio four years earlier, working his way from mail room to first assistant director.

A dozen or so names brought her to the other side of the paper, where she recognized the security guard’s name. Unlike everyone else on the page, Stan was employed by a local security firm specializing in concerts and other events in the area. He’d been hired by the security firm roughly four weeks earlier.

Rick Manning’s name was listed near the bottom. While his home state of Montana was listed, his job title and time with the studio was left blank. A margin note from Colby simply reaffirmed what she already knew. Rick Manning was employed because of family connections and his job title was left open.

While she was thrilled for the information, she couldn’t help but feel a little defeated. Somehow, someway, she’d hoped the murderer’s name would leap off the page.

“Thanks, Debbie. I really appreciate Colby’s help.” She smiled up at her friend then folded the sheet of paper in fourths and set it in her box alongside the brightly colored spools of thread. “Looks like I can get to those thank-you notes, after all.”

“I’m glad.” Spinning on her feet, Debbie made her way back to Rose and their strips. “Now let’s get these quilts made.”

Soon enough, all thoughts of pretend thank-you notes and unhelpful lists disappeared from her thoughts as she lost herself in making a rag quilt. The cutting, the sewing, the gossiping, the eating slowly did what they always did—provided a stress-free environment that was sorely needed. Sure, she—and probably everyone else in the room—was aware of a nearly silent Margaret Louise, but, for the most part, things went on as they always did on Monday nights.

Until a rapid series of movements out of the corner of her eye brought her up short, anyway.

She glanced over at Annabelle just in time to see the elderly woman’s wrinkled hand disappear inside her tote bag. Looking left, then right, she tried to see if anyone else had noticed, but even Margaret Louise was engrossed in her rag quilt.

For a moment, she contemplated saying something but discarded the notion as quickly as it came. Besides, a quick inventory of her surroundings revealed only a smattering of missing items—her scissors, her strawberry-shaped pincushion, and a tin of buttons she’d set to the side while looking for a particular thread color. Nothing she couldn’t live without for a few days…

Especially if living without them brought Margaret Louise a little less stress.

Smiling at Annabelle, she returned to her quilt, her thoughts drifting back to her conversation with Milo. He was right. The key was in finding the trigger.

She stilled her needle just above the fabric and peeked at Annabelle’s other daughter. While Tori could find a way to pump Margot, Glenda, and Todd, Leona was the best candidate when it came to gleaning information from and about Warren Shoemaker. Besides, she owed Leona the opportunity to play co-detective. Her failure to do so to that point had obviously hurt feelings in a way she hadn’t realized until their shopping trip.

It was time to make amends.

And it was time to catch a killer.

Chapter 24

She was about halfway through the list of upcoming titles she needed to order into the library when Leona called, the momentary distraction both welcome and annoying all at the same time. If she’d started on the entries when she’d first intended, they’d be done by now. But, thanks to a little matter of murder and its threatened impact on two of her closest friends, she was in desperate need of some quiet.

Leaning back, she spun her desk chair so she could look out at the trees that dotted the grounds. “Now where are you again?” she asked, holding the phone tight to her ear as her eyes followed the comings and goings of a dog tied to the base of a moss tree not more than twenty feet from her window.

Sniff the grass.

Sniff the tree.

Sniff the grass.

Sniff the tree.

Quick tail wag.

Repeat.

“I’m outside Debbie’s Bakery with Paris.”

She waited for more but heard only silence. “Okay…”

“They’re all inside. Just sitting around a table drinking coffee and talking.”

“Is this some sort of telephone version of charades that I don’t know?” She knew she was being a smart aleck, but she couldn’t help it. There were times that Leona’s bent toward the cryptic bordered on exhausting.

Leona sighed in her ear. “Victoria, dear, are you or are you not trying to figure out who killed that awful woman?”

She bolted upright. “Yes, of course I am.”

“Didn’t you have Margot and Todd and Glenda on that list we put together at last week’s meeting?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, they’re all inside. Maybe you can stop by for a coffee and do a little snooping at the same time.”

Spinning around, she closed out the ordering screen on her computer and reached for her purse. “I’ll tell Dixie I need to run a quick errand and I’ll meet you and Paris there in five.”

“We won’t be here, dear,” Leona fairly purred. “I’m dropping Paris off with Rose. That way my precious little angel can have a little time with Patches, and I can work on Warren the way you suggested last night.”

She felt the excitement building inside her chest. Between the two of them, they were bound to connect the dots to reveal Anita’s killer sooner rather than later.

“Thanks, Leona. I really appreciate this.” She strode toward her office door and flipped off her overhead light. “Good luck with Warren.”

“One doesn’t need luck when they’ve got charm and beauty, dear.”

She all but ran from the library to Debbie’s, her two-inch heels clicking against the sidewalk in a rhythmic pattern. Talking to potential suspects one-on-one certainly had its merit, but taking advantage of a relaxed group setting held potential as well. Just how much, though, was anyone’s guess.

Yanking open the door of the bakery, she waved at Emma then scouted the tables for Margot and the gang. Sure enough, they were still there, to-go cups and baked goods adorning their table. She bypassed the counter and headed straight for them, her most disarming smile primed and ready.

Margot looked up as she approached. “Hey, Tori, how are you?”

She stopped behind the vacant chair separating Todd and Glenda. “I’m good. Busy, but good.”

Todd waved his hand in Tori’s direction, his words addressing his table companions. “You should see the children’s room she did over at the library. It’s dynamite.”

She felt her face warm at the praise. “Thanks, Todd.”

He continued on, his face sporting an animation she didn’t normally see in him. “She picked all these scenes from books and had kids draw pictures that depicted those scenes. Then she painted them up on the walls of this room. It’s really pretty spectacular.”

Margot patted the empty seat. “Sit. We could use a fresh face around here.”

Todd slid off his chair and gestured toward the counter. “What are you drinking, Tori?”

She waved him off. “No, let me get it. I’ll be right back.”

Five minutes later, she was sitting between Todd and Glenda, shooting the breeze as Margot called it—their conversation flitting over such topics as the latest reality show, favorite childhood books, and the best place to find a coffee in California. She played along, contributing on topics she could, listening when unfamiliar subjects took center stage. Minutes turned to an hour as they joked and laughed, their conversation tackling just about every subject under the sun except the one Tori wanted to engage in more than any other.

Eventually, she decided to go for broke and steered them right where she wanted to go. “So I had the opportunity to get to know Rick Manning yesterday.”

Margot’s snicker was drowned out by Glenda’s snort.

Todd wrapped his hand around his paper cup and lifted it to his lips, tapping the bottom of the cup with his free hand in an effort to get every last drop of his double latte. When he was successful, he set it beside his empty plate and nodded at Tori. “My condolences.”

“It has to be awfully hard working with someone like that,” she said, casting out the best line she could throw and hoping against hope for a nibble.

Glenda bit first. “We didn’t really have any problems among the crew until he showed up, but once he did, life around set pretty much became a living hell. Suddenly we had a pipeline back to Shoemaker watching our every move.”

“Reporting back moves that never even happened,” Margot added. “There was this time I was getting ready to fill out a required form for the town and he strolls in and tells me he’s got it covered. I tell him I’ve got it, that I’ve done hundreds of these things prior to location shoots. He insists. So I hand him the form. Twenty-four hours later, I’m summoned by my boss. Seems the form was never filled out and turned in. They docked me a day’s pay.”

Tori gasped. “Did you ask Rick about it?”

Margot shoved her cup forward and drummed her fingers on the table. “Of course I did. And you know what he did? He denied ever taking the form from me.”

“Wow.” It was all she could think to say.

“Rick did that kind of stuff all the time. But his favorite and most consistent target to screw over was Todd,” Glenda said, reaching across Tori and smacking Todd in the arm. “Isn’t that right, chief?”

“Chief?” she echoed.

Todd rolled his eyes. “Glenda and Margot are the only ones who ever call me that. It’s a joke, really.”

Margot shook her head. “Okay, so you don’t have a huge, huge title… yet. But you at least have a first in front of yours. And it won’t be long before all number references give way to the main title. You know everything that’s going on all the time. You keep everyone on their toes. You have since the day I started working here.”

“Which is why he’s had a target on his back where Shoemaker’s precious baby cousin is concerned.” Glenda pulled her arm back across the table and dropped her chin into her hand. “God, between Rick and Anita, life these past few weeks was pretty close to unbearable.”

Sitting up straight, Glenda fussed with her hair in theatrical fashion. “I will not waste my time dealing with—with buffoons. If I wanted to waste my time with buffoons, I’d be working in a grocery store somewhere building pyramids with tomato soup cans.”

Margot jumped in, her voice mimicking the same nasally sound Glenda had just employed. “For the next five months, I expect to feel as if I’m staying at a five-star resort with room service, attentive help, and absolute discretion when Warren and I want to be alone.”

It was Todd’s turn to snicker. “I thought she was going to have a coronary when Pooky showed up. She was on the warpath trying to track down the weak link that let that catastrophe happen.”

She nibbled her lower lip inward, debating whether to come clean with the truth or let the three of them continue operating under a blatant misrepresentation of facts. Hoping the sense of camaraderie would take her far, she decided to let them in on Leona’s little secret.

“That wasn’t Pooky,” she said.

Glenda and Margot turned and stared at Tori.

“That was Leona Elkin, the owner of Elkin Antiques and Collectibles right here in Sweet Briar.” She looked down at her now-empty cup of hot chocolate and cracked a smile at the lunacy of it all. “Leona is one of those people who sees something she wants and does whatever it takes to make it happen. And, when it comes to men, it always has a way of working.”