Sew Deadly (29 page)

“I guess not.” She pushed her hands into the front pockets of her jeans and rocked briefly onto her toes, her heart saying it was time to go despite her head’s gnawing argument to stay.

What was she hoping to find? A golden pathway leading to Tiffany’s killer?

Exhaling and blowing a stray piece of hair from her forehead, she looked out at the buildings once again. “Can I ask one last question?”

“Shoot.”

“If Tiffany Ann—I mean Miss Gilbert—was so excited about the building you showed her, why do you think she took off like she did? Did she have an explanation?”

“Nah. When we were done she mentioned wantin’ a little time. I suspect she was wantin’ to play a little hard-ball . . . make me think she had other prospects. So I played along. Even pointed out back to the creek bed that runs parallel through my property. When she headed that way, I went back inside. Next thing I knew she was heavy footin’ it out of my parking lot. Last I seen of her.”

And the last you will
.

“Thank you for your time, Stu.” She lifted her purse back onto her shoulder and turned toward the parking lot, her gait slow and preoccupied as she descended the porch steps.

“If Miss Gilbert doesn’t get in touch with me by Friday, you can have the one in the middle if you want.”

On impulse she turned back toward the man as she lowered her purse into her hands. “If I give you my card, would you call me if something comes up—on any of the buildings?”

“I’d be happy to. Seems to me you know a good thing when you see it.” He extracted the card from her hand and looked down at it, his hand tipping back and forth in the poor reading light. “Victoria Sinclair—Sweet Briar Librarian.” The man glanced up, her card still held outward in the few stray rays of light from the open doorway. “What kind of business would you be openin’ up?”

“Uhhh, well, I was thinking about maybe opening a—a
bookstore
.” It was a bold-faced lie but it was all she could come up with on short notice. And, considering her background, it wasn’t too far outside the realm of possibility.

Assuming she was looking to open a business.

Which she wasn’t.

After promising she’d be in touch and extracting the same from him, Tori got back in her car and headed home, her favorite songs virtually unheard above the chatter in her brain as she sped along Route 190 on her way back to Sweet Briar.

But as she pulled into town she found herself bypassing her own quiet street in favor of the library, the one place she could always find answers. Though what answers she was hoping to find in the pages of a library book was anyone’s guess. Sure, there were books that could offer a nifty escape or a ray of hope during a trying time. But a book capable of finding a specific person responsible for a specific crime? Not in her lifetime.

She let herself in the employee entrance with the key Winston Hohlbrook had provided on her first day as branch librarian. She’d been so proud that day, so excited to finally be running her own library—feelings that had faded into the background all too quickly as she realized she was an outsider in every sense of the word.

Yet there’d been hope along the way. Both before she’d discovered Tiffany Ann’s body and after. Kind overtures from people who’d seemed happy to welcome her into the town. Leona had turned a lonely day around. Georgina had extended the invitation that put her in contact with her two truest Sweet Briar friends. . . .

Georgina.

What was it about those documents Stu had shown her that wouldn’t let go of her thoughts? She’d seen the contract, read the basic agreement, noted the signature at the bottom . . . So what was her problem?

“Ridge Cove can’t buy that kind of services and Sweet Briar most certainly can’t sell them.”

Milo’s words flashed through her thoughts, the insistence with which he spoke them every bit as clear as it had been during their walk. Yet no matter what he’d said, she’d held the impossible contract in her own hand less than two hours earlier. . . .

Was Milo simply unaware of city policies or had Georgina done something illegal? She didn’t know. Not for sure, anyway. Though, for some reason, she couldn’t help but feel as if the latter was more likely than the former.

Grabbing the portable phone off her desk, Tori headed down the hallway and into the library, her hand instinctively finding the light switch despite the darkened room. As the fluorescent lights hummed to life she dialed Milo’s number.

He picked up on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Milo? It’s Tori. Tori Sinclair.” She wandered behind the information desk and settled herself onto one of the two stools. “I hope I’m not calling too late.”

“No! Not at all.” The obvious pleasure in his voice made her smile. He liked her, that was fairly obvious. And, judging by the butterflies that took flight the second he answered, it was impossible to ignore her similar feelings. “How was your sewing circle tonight?”

“I didn’t go.” She pulled the phone tighter to her ear and leaned her back against the counter. There was something about the presence of so many books that simply calmed her, made her feel as if everything would be okay.

“Why not?”

“I went back out to Ridge Cove instead.”

“Alone? At this time of night?”

She nodded then put a word to the gesture he couldn’t see. “I did. I wanted to talk to Stu again. You know . . . about buying police services from Sweet Briar.”

“Tori, I already told you they couldn’t do that. Why did you waste an unnecessary trip just to hear the same thing?” An awkward pause filled her ear momentarily before he asked another question, his voice much more hesitant. “Or were you
trying
to avoid your sewing circle?”

She couldn’t help but smile. Milo Wentworth was an observant man. Had she not felt such an overwhelming urge to talk to Stu, she probably would have avoided the weekly gathering if for no other reason than to keep from throttling Dixie Dunn.

“I truly wanted to talk to Stu. And he was right. He did sign a contract with the city for a nightly police presence and rapid response in the event of an emergency.” She looked around the room, her mind making mental notes on little additions she wanted to make—a few more cushioned chairs, a few small end tables. “I saw it with my own eyes.”

“You saw it? You mean you saw a contract for this supposed agreement?”

Again she nodded. And again she felt foolish. “Not a supposed agreement, Milo. A real one. Signed by Georgina Hayes herself.”

“But she can’t do that.”

“Well, she did.” Tori narrowed in on a far corner of the library, a section with countless shelves but no place to read. Perhaps a recliner would fit . . .

“But she can—”

Milo stopped midsentence only to speak again, his voice bordering on harsh. “What does Sweet Briar get in return for this little agreement? Did you happen to catch that on the contract?”

“Ten thousand dollars. Every three months.”

“Ten thousand dollars?”

She pulled the phone from her ear and then replaced it, all thoughts of recliners and end tables gone. “You still think they can’t do this?”

“I don’t
think
, Tori. I
know
. Georgina Hayes can’t do this.”

Was Milo right? Had Georgina really done something illeg—

“And since I was busy givin’ Miss Gilbert a tour and explainin’ it all to her, my contact took a few moments to answer his questions once and for all.”

She heard herself gasp as the implications of what Stu Walker had said took root in her mind. He’d
told
Tiffany Ann about the agreement for police protection. Could she have realized it was wrong as well? Could that have been what made her take off without warning? And could that explain her strange moods prior to her death?

Her mouth grew dry as another question—one far more frightening—begged to be answered. . . .

Who could Tiffany Ann tell when the person responsible for breaking the law was the town’s highest elected official? And with her supposed track record of tall tales, would anyone have believed her?

“Tori, are you okay?” Milo asked in her ear.

Could she tell the police? And if she did—would they believe her over the mayor, a woman who came from a long line of Sweet Briar residents and former mayors?

“Tori? You still there?”

Milo’s voice redirected her internal questions. “If you knew Georgina had done something wrong . . . something illegal, who would
you
go to for help?”

The silence that greeted her question was comforting as she knew it meant he was giving his answer cautious thought—something that was desperately needed.

Finally he answered, his words carefully shared. “I would go to the next person in line . . . the one just below the mayor on the flowchart of authority figures. And I’d”—he stopped and cleared his throat—“hope against hope that person wasn’t involved as well.”

She couldn’t even consider that possibility at the moment. It was outside her realm of comprehension. She needed to take it one step at a time.

“Who would that person be?”

“I don’t know. I’d have to look at the town’s setup, probably something with the town’s bylaws and ordinances.”

“Something with the town’s bylaws and ordinances,” she repeated, her mind commanding his words to memory.

“I imagine you’d have something like that in the library. Something citizens could easily acc—”

“That’s it!” she screamed. “That’s it!”

“Wait. What? What’s it?”

She jumped up and ran around the information desk, her body maneuvering around bookshelves like a skier on a memorized slalom run. A skier who slid her way to a stop in front of the local interest shelf and the lone book she sought.

Sweet Briar City Structure and Laws
.

Pulling the book from the shelf she held it in her free hand, her eyes skimming back and forth across the cover. “The book.”

“What book?” he asked in her ear.

“The book Dixie threw at me in my office because it had a coffee stain in it.” She heard the words as they left her mouth, knew she’d finally put two and two together.

“O-kay. You lost me.”

“The stain . . . in the book. Tiffany Ann made it.”

“Come again?”

“Remember how she came here? On the day she died? And remember how Nina said Tiffany Ann had made the stain on the book that got Dixie so upset?”

“Okay, yeah . . .”

“Well, I’m staring at the book she was reading with the coffee that eventually poisoned her to death.”

A long, low whistle filled her ear as she carried the book to the information desk and flipped it open, her left hand instantly seeking out the stained pages that had ignited Dixie’s fury.

Page Four

Sweet Briar Chain of Command:

Mayor

Police Chief

Council Member—section one

Council Member—section two

“Milo, this is it! Tiffany Ann did exactly what you said you’d do.” She read the names on the list again and again, her thoughts trying to make sense of the printed words. “The chain of command is right here on the stained page.”

“Who’s next in line after Georgina?”

“The police chief,” she answered.

“Okay. And he’s been out of town for a few weeks on his annual fishing trip, which is why Investigator McGuire stepped in to cover the Tiffany Ann situation.”

The Tiffany Ann situation.

“Well isn’t that the same thing as what you’re saying Georgina can’t do with Ridge Cove?” She braced herself for his answer, afraid that maybe they were barking up the wrong tree.

“Not at all. McGuire is essentially on loan from Tom’s Creek. A professional courtesy the two towns extend to one another when their respective chief is on vacation or too sick to work.” He paused for a moment. “Okay, so after Chief Dallas, who’s next?”

She read the next position aloud.

“Well that wouldn’t work in this situation, as Lucas Blakely, the council member from section one, is Georgina’s brother. Likewise for section two. Only in that case it’s her cousin, Cooper Riley Senior.”

“Georgina is Cooper Riley’s
cousin
?” Suddenly the lack of attention given to any other potential suspects in Tiffany’s death made all the sense in the world.

“In a roundabout sort of way. In fact, if I remember correctly, Georgina has kinfolk in authority positions in a few of the surrounding towns as well. I believe the mayor of Tom’s Creek is somehow related to her . . . a brother-in-law or an uncle, maybe.” Milo took a sip of something. “You kind of get used to that around here.”

“Isn’t that considered nepotism?” she asked, her hand gripping the phone more tightly as Tiffany’s reality flowed through her veins like ice water.

Milo laughed, a hollow sound that portrayed the noise for what it was—disgust. “In Chicago, yes. In New York, yes. In most cities and towns across the country, yes. But things are different here, Tori. They just
are
.”

She tried his words on for size, allowed their meaning and various implications to roll around in her thoughts. “Then what do we do?” she finally asked.

“We sleep on it. Consider this from every angle we can possibly imagine.”

“And then what?” she asked as she dropped her head into her hand and tried, futilely, to rub away the pain that pulsed behind her right eye.

“There’s no school tomorrow, so I’m free. Any chance you can get Nina to cover you in the morning?”

“Uh—yeah, I guess. But why?”

“Let’s meet at Debbie’s Bakery at nine so we can try and figure out what we’re going to do with what we know.”

“What we know
so far
,” she corrected, her temples beginning to pound along with her heart.

“So far? You think there’s more?”

“I do. And her name was Tiffany Ann.”

Chapter 21