Sew Deadly (20 page)

“It’s not working. The more time he wastes focusing on Victoria, the more time he gives the real killer to get away.” Margaret Louise raised the dark brown spool to her mouth and bit the foot-long piece of thread loose.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Rose offered from across the room, her hand still patting the empty spot on the sofa beside her own. “Do I need to open my mouth to remind you of what will happen if you keep that up?”

Tori looked a question at her newfound friend, torn between the desire to cut short the conversation at hand and the urge to plead her case.

Opening her mouth wide, Rose pointed at the missing corner of her top left tooth. “You need to use scissors to cut your thread, not your teeth.”

“Biting off thread did that?” Tori ventured across the room and boldly claimed her spot beside Rose.

Take that, nonbelievers. . . .

“It most certainly did. Happened at a sewing circle about six months ago.” Rose scooted over a few extra inches on the couch to give Tori ample room to work on her pillow.

“My great-grandmother used to bite her thread all the time.” Tori pulled the pillow from her bag, aware of the envied glances it drew. “She never broke any of her teeth.”

“That’s because most threads now are polyester and they weren’t back when your great-grandmother was sewing,” Georgina said. She rolled a leg of the slacks inside out and held a miniature tape measure to the hem, shaking her right arm from time to time. “The polyester thread will wear a groove in your tooth over time. And eventually—
snap
.”

Rose nodded, her finger tapping her tooth. “I considered getting it fixed but I just don’t have the money. Besides, it’s not like there are any men my age left to impress.”

“I thought that same thing less than a year ago and look at me now,” Georgina said as she gave her arm a quick shake before rolling up her tape measure and tossing it into her sewing box. “Thomas and I couldn’t be happier. Unless maybe he didn’t travel for work quite so much. But you can’t question success, now can you?”

Tori didn’t know quite how it had happened, but somehow Rose’s tooth had managed to turn an evening of sewing into exactly what it was supposed to be—time to get caught up on sewing projects while engaging in a little good-natured conversation. And she was glad.

As hurtful as it was to see Leona support the same man who seemed hell-bent on destroying her reputation, Tori was grateful for the reprieve. It gave her a chance to cool down and provided yet another opportunity to show who she was to the group’s members. To prove to them, somehow, that she was as far from a murderer as anyone they could ever find.

“What does Thomas do?” Tori asked in an attempt to set aside the swords for at least one evening.

Georgina beamed as she looked up from her hemming and shook her arm once again. “He’s a salesman. He sells products designed to make senior citizens’ lives easier. Walkers, wheelchairs, special beds, and those kinds of things. He has a very large territory that requires a good deal of traveling to places like Pine Grove and Washington Falls, though lately he’s found plenty of untapped business in Ridge Cove.”

“What on earth is wrong with your arm, Georgina?” Margaret Louise bellowed. “You look like you’re shaking out a rectal thermometer.”

“Margaret Louise!” Leona stated between closed lips. “Must you really be so-so crude?”

“Lighten up, Twin.” Margaret Louise winked at her sister before looking back at Georgina.

“I’ve been signing a lot of paperwork for Thomas the last week or so. He’s compiling a few petitions to lobby for the rights of seniors on the state level and he thinks it would help their fight if they had some mayoral signatures. He’s hoping my name will carry clout.” The woman shook her arm once again before retrieving a needle from the tiny box in her lap. “But I have to say, I’m beginning to wonder how your Colby, bless his heart, can sign hundreds of books on any given day. Thirty papers nearly did me in. Thank heavens I didn’t have to read them.”

Debbie shrugged over her project, her eyebrows knitted together in concentration as she worked her turquoise thread in and out through her canvas-backed sign. “I think he’s so glad to be out from behind a keyboard for months on end that signing his name on a book is no big deal. But even that gets tiring after a while, too.”

“How many books has your husband written?” Tori asked as she bent over the tassel she was trying to attach at the bottom of the pillow’s triangular flap.

“Four. The first two were about getting his feet wet. The next two propelled him further up the ladder. The newest one he’s working on—when he can find some quiet time between the kids’ hectic schedules and my crazy hours at the bakery—might be
the
one. You know, the
big one
. At least that’s what his agent is saying. She thinks this could be the one that gets him known nationally.” Debbie looked up from her sign long enough to exhale a piece of hair away from her eyes. “That is, if he finishes it.”

“He will. Colby is bound and determined to write, you know that. It’s in his blood. Like baking is for you and me.” Margaret Louise fussed with the lampshade beside her chair in an attempt to get as much light as possible before tackling the hole in Jake Junior’s brown church slacks. “As for feeling guilty about your schedule at the bakery . . . don’t. You’re allowed to pursue dreams, too.”

Tori peeked at Margaret Louise across the room, a smile tugging at her lips at the sight of the more-than-a-little plump woman. She’d liked Margaret Louise the very first night they met—once she’d come to realize the woman’s outspoken nature meant no malice. But her fondness for the woman had increased tenfold in the two weeks since, a fact that was as much about who she was as a grandmother and a person as it was her steadfast belief in Tori’s innocence and her desire to help prove it to everyone else.

She only wished the woman’s twin sister had been as steadfast. Sneaking a look at Leona, Tori felt her smile disappearing. They’d gotten along so well. And then—boom—she’d been cast aside for a man who looked good in a uniform.

Women.

Why was it that the female gender was so quick to cast each other aside for the sake of a man?

“I hear you and Milo Wentworth were on a date last night,” Dixie pried, her tone more than a little bitter.

Tori met Debbie’s gaze across their projects. “Did you—”

The woman vigorously shook her head.

“How did you know?” But even as she posed the question, she knew. She knew without the knowing glances the former librarian exchanged with the mayor and Leona.

Investigator McGuire.

Leona was right. The officer wasn’t wandering aimlessly around town. He was following her. Everywhere she went.

“He’s a very nice-looking young man,” Rose offered, her attempts at preventing a disagreement thinly disguised by her honest observation. “I’d go on a date with him, too.”

“As Tiffany Ann would have.” Georgina cut the end of her hemline with a tiny pair of scissors and continued, “Had she known, she’d have been crushed. Though Cooper Riley would have been fixin’ to celebrate.”

“He sure was all tore up about Tiffany Ann not coming back to him. He was so sure she would once she graduated.” Debbie turned her sign over and raised it up for all to see. “I’m gonna put this in the dining area, closest to the turret on the left.”

“Perfect,” said Rose.

“Pretty as a picture,” Margaret Louise echoed. “Hmmm.
Live. Love. Eat Baked Goods
. . . couldn’t think of a better sentiment for the bakery if I tried.”

“The last letter is a wee bit crooked,” Dixie offered.

Tori shook her head. Any sympathy she’d had for Dixie regarding her forced retirement from the library was long gone. No one came by that kind of meanness by way of one slight. “I think it’s just what that wall needs, Debbie, and it’s going to look great.”

“Are you sure? Should I redo the last letter?”

“No. It looks wonderful.” Tori shot a defiant look in Dixie’s direction before focusing on Debbie once again. “Does Cooper have much of a temper?”

“Young Cooper Riley has but two speeds. Lazy and spittin’ mad.” Georgina rolled up the other pant leg and held it against her tape measure. “Rose, do you remember that time at the school when Cooper’s parents had to be called in because he’d tossed a classmate into the trash can for looking at him cross-eyed?”

Rose nodded as a coughlike laugh shook the couch. “I sure do. I was still teaching the kindergarten class and Cooper was in seventh—no, eighth grade. He was always getting in scraps. Mostly with anyone who dared look at his Tiffany Ann.”

“They dated that long ago?” Tori asked.

“They didn’t start dating until high school. But that didn’t stop him from shadowing her every move for years before that,” Rose explained. “Once high school rolled around she fell for the same thing all high school girls fall for—a cool car and a body that’s finally begun to shed its baby fat. And he created a distraction until she was old enough to be with Milo.”

“True. But Tiffany Ann was always hankering to go somewhere,” Debbie interjected.

“She wanted to leave Sweet Briar?” Tori knotted the last thread into place and peered down at her completed pillow, a familiar sense of accomplishment spreading through her body.

“No. Never. Tiffany Ann loved this town. She just wanted to be one of the ones who made something of themselves rather than one of the ones who simply existed. She wanted to earn Milo’s attention as a woman with goals. A little girl who’d finally grown up.” Debbie stood and crossed the room to see Tori’s pillow up close. “You did a great job on that. Want to make one for my house?”

“After I make all the costumes for the dress-up trunk, I’d be happy to make you one.” Tori handed the pillow to Rose, watched as the elderly woman turned the finished product over and over in her frail hands.

“Beautiful work, Victoria.”

“Thank you, Rose.”

“Are you still planning on asking the board for permission to turn the storage room into a children’s room?” Leona asked, her head bent forward so she could look at Tori over her glasses.

“Absolutely. I make my presentation on Wednesday night.”

“Wednesday night?” Dixie asked quickly.

“Wednesday night,” Tori repeated as she glanced at her wristwatch. “Which reminds me, I better start heading out. I’ve got lots to do over the next two days to make my pitch as persuasive as possible.”

She pulled her tote bag onto her lap and opened it, placing her sewing tools and pillow inside. “Let me know how you like the tortes.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Rose said as she pulled a plain brown paper-wrapped package from underneath the couch and struggled to her feet beside Tori.

She placed a hand on the woman’s sweater-clad wrist. “It’s okay, Rose. I can show myself out.”

“
That
wasn’t a question either, Victoria,” the woman mumbled beneath her breath so only Tori could hear. Though judging by the near tangible pop-up bubble above Leona’s head, Rose’s mumbling was unsuccessful. Only
this
time, Tori didn’t need the woman’s whispered coaching to learn her latest lesson on the ways of the south.

Lesson number four—sentences that sound like questions are usually, in fact, statements.

Debbie jumped up from her reclaimed spot and offered Tori a quick but supportive hug. “I’m glad you came.”

“Thank you, Debbie. So am I.”

And she was. For the most part. Sure, she would have preferred to have everyone in her corner where Tiffany Ann’s murder was concerned, but she’d take the three she had.

“Don’t forget to talk to Nina.”

“I won’t.” She squeezed Debbie’s hand and then turned to Margaret Louise. “If you’re not doing anything Wednesday evening I’d sure love to have you in the audience. I think I could use the moral support.”

“And I’d be all-fired-up happy to be there. I’ll be sure ’n get supper on the table early that night so I don’t miss a minute.”

“Thank you, Margaret Louise.”

“I’ll be there, too,” Rose offered after all the good-byes had been exchanged and they were heading toward the front door. “Your children’s room is the best idea I’ve heard in a long time and it would be a fool thing if the board didn’t agree.”

“I hope you’re ri—” Tori looked down at her hands as Rose pushed the brown package into them. “What’s this?” she asked as her fingers sunk into the softness of the bundle. “Chocolate?”

“Chocolate, schmocolate. You can make that on your own time.” Rose pulled her sweater close against her body as an early autumn breeze swept through the screen door. “Then again, from what I’ve seen, you could have done a better job on this—if you weren’t bogged down with such nonsense.”

“What is this?” she asked again, her curiosity piqued.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” Rose reached around Tori and pushed the screen door open. “But wait until you’re on your way. I’m not a fan of gushing and I suspect you’re a gusher.”

Tori glanced down at the package and back up at Rose. “That wait part—that wasn’t a question, was it?”

“No, Victoria, it wasn’t.”

“I knew that.” She stepped onto the porch and stopped. “I had a really nice time tonight. Thank you, Rose.”

The woman nodded in reply, her hand pulling the door inward. “Get home safely.”

And then she was gone, her thin body disappearing down the very same hallway from which they’d both come. Only this time she was alone, as was Tori. But only in a physical sense.

A good forty years older, Rose was emerging as one of her closest friends in Sweet Briar. A woman who may have been quick to assume at the start yet wasn’t afraid of making necessary corrections when the assumption proved wrong.

As her hostess disappeared from view Tori slowly untied the strings of the bundle, the brown paper wrapping coming loose at the same time.

“Oh, Rose,” she whispered, her hands drawing the child-sized pioneer dress and matching bonnet into the glow of the porch light. “Lulu is going to love this.”

Chapter 14