Stitch Me Deadly (27 page)

“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s over.”

“A-are you sure? How did you know to come here? What . . . ?” My knees started to give way.

He gently picked me up and moved me over to the sofa as Detectives Bailey and Ray left with Eleanor. “We—the Tallulah County detectives and I—had someone watching all the Ralstons, plus Riley, the Halsteads, and you.” He kissed my forehead. “I was actually watching you.”

“Manu didn’t mind?”

“I called him last night and took a vacation day. I knew something major would go down after that press conference, and I know you well enough to realize you’d be right in the middle of it.”

“How did you know it was Eleanor?” I asked.

“We didn’t. Detective Ray was following her. It seemed awfully convenient when she arrived and you and Ella and Devon were the only people still here.”

“She had to know that if she shot us, she’d go to prison and not get anything.”

“She’ll be going to prison. After this fiasco, it won’t be hard to connect the dots,” Ted said.

Ella and Devon came to sit on the other sofa so they could hear Ted’s explanation.

“Eleanor has nurse’s training,” he continued, “and she used to care for Ms. Ellis, who takes Halumet. Also, if Ms. Ellis trusted Eleanor, it would be easy for Eleanor to put the suggestion of Sunshine Manor into her head.”

“I see what you’re saying,” I said. “Ms. Ellis knew of her sister’s love of children. Eleanor could have brought the brochure by and mentioned it to Ms. Ellis as a company that was dedicated to finding good homes for orphaned children.”

“She could’ve even played up the orphanage’s need for funding,” Devon said. “That’s how I’d have done it.”

“You would not have convinced an old woman to have her sister buy into a dummy corporation,” Ella scolded.

“Probably not,” he agreed, “but I can see how Eleanor could’ve gone about it.”

“I wonder how Eleanor got both Louisa and Adam to ingest the Halumet,” I said.

“That wouldn’t be hard,” Ted said. “I’m told Halumet doesn’t have much of a flavor but that it is a little bitter. It could have easily been dissolved and concealed in a cup of coffee.”

I released a deflated breath. “I’m so glad this mess is over.”

“Me, too,” Ella said. “Devon, did you talk with the detectives? Can we go?”

“Yeah,” Devon said. “The detectives said they’ll take each of our statements tomorrow morning.”

“Need a ride home?” Ted asked me.

“Thank you. A ride home would be great.”

O
n a hunch the next day, I called the Victorian Mansion at Los Alamos and asked if a Clarissa Simons had ever stayed there. A quick check of their records showed that Ms. Simons had stayed at the bed-and-breakfast on more than one occasion. I told them I believed that was an alias for Eleanor Ralston and that she was the one who’d used the photograph of the bed-and-breakfast for the Sunshine Manor brochure.

DNA evidence proved that Devon and Ella were indeed Louisa Ralston’s grandchildren, and Devon wound up giving me the umbrella stand for my help in bringing his grandmotherʹs killer to justice. It’s now standing in the corner of the Seven-Year Stitch, and we’re having an unusual dry spell. Figures.

I was able to finish the
Boulevard of Broken Dreams
cross-stitch picture just in time for Mom’s birthday. She adored it. When I went to California to celebrate with her, I wore the dress she’d bought me from Cary’s boutique. It was a winecolored silk wrap dress with trumpet sleeves. It was stunning.

Frances had thrown Mom a small celebration with a delicious dinner and a lovely cake. Cary had sent flowers.

After all the guests had left, I went over to smell the bouquet of red roses he’d had delivered. “The man has class,” I said, with a smile. “I’m so glad he wasn’t the killer. I had my doubts there a time or two.”

“I didn’t,” Mom said. “I told you, Cary Grant never played a villain.”

 

Isabel “Izzy” Chambers raises some eyebrows when she rents the apartment above her yarn shop to Angie Archer, whose reputation has made her unpopular with many locals. But could any of them have wanted her dead?

 

When Angie’s body is discovered drowned in the harbor, an official investigation rules the death an accident. There are speculations of too many whiskey sours, a slippery wharf, a dark night. . . But Izzy and the Seaside Knitters smell something fishy. When several strange incidents occur above the shop, the women decide to take matters into their own hands. But before long, their small-town sense of security is frayed, and the threat of more violence hangs over this tightly knit community.

 

 

Available wherever books are sold or at
penguin.com

 

OM0027