Threads of Deceit (Vineyard Quilt Mysteries Book 1) (10 page)

“Shirley,” Julie said. “Can we chat after you wrap up here?”

Shirley offered her a bright smile. “Sure. In the kitchen?”

“That would be good.”

Julie noticed the non-guests in the group turned especially
curious eyes toward her, so she slipped out quickly. It wasn’t that she was scared of the stranger elements of Shirley’s audience, but she’d rather not have them fixated on her.

When Julie reached the kitchen, she found Hannah perched on a stool with her laptop on the counter. “Isn’t the little desk in your room more comfortable?” Julie asked.

“Probably,” Hannah said. “But I like the kitchen. It’s brighter and closer to the food.”

Julie nodded. “Speaking of food, I want to eat something indulgent and full of calories.”

“There are day-old chocolate croissants in the square plastic box in the fridge. I plan to make fresh cream cheese croissants for the tearoom tomorrow, so have fun.”

Julie pulled the lid off the container, and the smell of chocolate and butter felt like a kiss to her senses. She took a huge bite of one, plopped the rest of the pastry onto a plate, and went looking for coffee.

“What’s wrong?”

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” Julie asked.

“Sweets binging after dark,” Hannah said. “Classic Julie Ellis stress behavior.”

Julie took another bite of pastry and mumbled around it. “I’m just hungry.”

“Goody, a guessing game.” Hannah grinned slyly. “Daniel?”

Julie shook her head.

“A guest?” Hannah looked pained. “Don’t tell me the sisters are back. Those two kept sneaking recipes into my apron pocket the entire duration of their stay. Recipes for things I already do very well, thank you.”

“Not the sisters.” Julie sighed. “Shirley is giving Straussberg Giant theories in the dining room quilt talks.”

Hannah laughed far longer than the news deserved in Julie’s opinion. Finally her friend got a grip on herself and spoke though giggles. “I’m sorry. I’m just picturing this giant with an itty-bitty quilting hoop. How could she possibly tie this imaginary giant into quilting?”

“She isn’t. It’s basically all about giants—well, with a dash of Bigfoot and aliens.”

Hannah chuckled again. “It keeps getting better.”

“That’s not better. I’m trying to keep the giant nuts out of the inn, and Shirley is giving talks designed to draw them back in.”

“So tell her not to.”

“Millie said Shirley has free reign with her talks. Apparently they’re a big draw for the inn.”

“I do what I can.” Shirley’s cheerful voice drifted from the kitchen doorway.

“The giant, Shirley? Really?” Julie said. “You know the veterinarian identified that bone as belonging to a mule. And Daniel said there was a mule tied up on the deck of
The Grand Adventure
when the steamship went down. Apparently the mule was the only casualty.”

“That handsome devil would say whatever he had to if it meant keeping the excavation going. Plus, I never trusted that young vet,” Shirley said. “I think he gets together with Joseph and smokes those funny mushrooms.”

Julie heard a choking sound behind her that she recognized as Hannah trying to hold off another laughing fit. “I don’t think they smoke mushrooms.”

“I don’t know what they smoke.” Shirley waved a dismissive hand. “Or what Joseph Winkler grows. He’s one of those hippy, back-to-nature types. You never know about those people.”

“He’s merely an organic farmer,” Julie said. “And that’s not the point. Some of the people in your audience tonight weren’t even quilters. I recognized that UFO nut who spent three days here last week before I managed to move her to a different inn.”

“I’m not sure that keeping an open mind is nutty,” Shirley said with a sniff. “Besides, my Stitches and Stories events have always been open to the public. Millie established that rule herself.”

Julie sighed. “I don’t want to keep people out of your talk. I only wish you’d make the talk a tiny bit more quilting related.”

“But this is important,” Shirley said. “People are trying to cover up the secret of the Straussberg Giant just like they covered up the Cardiff Giant in New York.”

Julie stared at Shirley for a moment without speaking. Finally she took a deep breath and said, “The Cardiff Giant is one of the biggest hoaxes in history. Right up there with the Fiji mermaid.”

“
Hoax
is simply another word for successful cover-up!”

Julie shook her head. “Please. I’m begging you. Go with something related to quilting somehow for the next talk. OK?”

“Well, I’ll have to do some research,” Shirley said.

“Good. And maybe you could employ more reputable research sources.”

“My research is impeccable.”

“Really? And it led you to Bigfoot?”

“I go where the information takes me.” Shirley pursed her lips, spun on her heel, and marched toward the swinging door.

It nearly hit her in the nose as Inga burst in. The
housekeeper came to an abrupt stop and looked around the room. “Excuse me. I didn’t know you were having a meeting.” She held up two teacups and a handful of napkins. “I cleaned up the dining room.”

“Thank you,” Julie said. “It could have waited until morning. You didn’t need to stay late.”

The look of shock on Inga’s face almost made Julie laugh. “Shirley’s
audience
had food in there. I couldn’t let that wait for morning.”

“Speaking of my audience,” Shirley said. “Don’t think I didn’t feel you staring disapprovingly over my shoulder the whole time.”

Inga frowned at her. “The topic was unseemly. This is a quiet retreat for quilters.”

“Not all quilters like quiet,” Shirley countered.

The other woman sighed deeply. “Apparently not.” Then she managed a tiny quirking of the corner of her mouth. “Your hair looks lovely.”

“Really? Thanks.” Shirley patted the red cloud around her head. “I did it myself. You know, I could do yours.”

Again Inga looked aghast. “I think not. But thank you.” She looked down at the objects in her hands again, then quickly threw away the trash and put the china in the dishwasher. “I’ll be leaving now.”

“I’ll walk out with you.”

As the two left the room, Hannah whistled low under her breath. “You ever wonder how those two could be friends?”

“I try not to.” Julie looked bleakly at her empty dish. “I’m going to need another croissant.”

The next morning, Julie expected the cold shoulder from Shirley, but the tearoom hostess was as friendly as ever.

“You’ll be happy to know I did some more research before
bed last night. I have a lead for my next Stitches and Stories,” Shirley said. “And there are
no
giants involved at all.”

“That’s wonderful.” Julie felt a rush of relief. She’d never believed it would be so easy to turn Shirley’s attention to a different topic.

“Yes,” Shirley said. “I spent some time on a few message boards. You’d be amazed what you can find online. I have a lead on a story about Missouri River pirates. They just might be responsible for that wrecked steamship!”

“I don’t suppose there’s any quilt information related to that.”

“I don’t know. But I read about some rich runaway wife from Louisiana right about the start of the Civil War. She might have been a quilter. The things I read didn’t say, but some folks think she could have ridden on a steamship up the Missouri to get away with her lover. She was never heard from again.” Shirley lowered her voice. “I think the pirates got her.”

“How interesting,” Julie said. She tried to look at the situation with a positive attitude. At least Shirley wasn’t talking about giants.

“I found another post where someone with historical knowledge was talking about the possible cargo on the steamship,” Shirley said and leaned in closer. “Swamp ape pelts.”

“Swamp apes?”

“Bigfoot of the swamps. They’re huge.”

“Right.” Julie had a sinking feeling that none of Shirley’s new ideas were going to do much to cut back on people sneaking off to dig on the Winkler land. Before she could come up with a new—and likely desperate—plan to divert Shirley’s attention away from the steamship, she saw the front door open. The woman who walked in exuded money
and power, from the pointed toes of her high-end shoes to the tips of her short gray hair.

“May I help you?” Julie asked as Shirley scampered off to the tearoom.

“I hope so,” the woman said. Her voice was soft, almost hesitant. She smiled and her eyes warmed. “I’m searching for possible locations to hold a fundraiser for my husband.”

“A fundraiser?”

“Yes. I’m Alicia Parson. My husband is State Senator Walter Parson. We intend to hold a local fundraiser for his re-election campaign.”

“Isn’t Straussberg a bit out of the way?” Julie asked.

“Not to me. I adore Missouri wine country,” Mrs. Parson said, her voice raising slightly from its soft tones as enthusiasm colored her speech. “My husband and I honeymooned here.”

“Here in Straussberg?”

“Here in the Quilt Haus Inn.”

Julie knew Millie would be excited to have the state senator’s event at the inn, but she wondered where they could put everyone. The formal dining room was too small, and the breakfast room was larger, but rather homespun for the kind of event the cultured woman in front of her would surely want. She smiled at the senator’s wife. “That’s wonderful. I take it you’re a quilter?”

“Oh yes,” Mrs. Parson said. “I love quilting. My mother was a quilter and her mother before her. It’s a wonderful way to feel connected to the women who fill the pages of this country’s history.” Then she sighed. “Unfortunately, I have so little time for it these days.” She gestured toward the quilts hanging on the walls. “Just looking at the beautiful things you have here makes me want to take up a needle again.”

“We’re small here,” Julie said hesitantly. “But if you feel we’d meet your needs. …”

“I have some other venues to look at,” she said, then she turned her sweet, warm smile on Julie again. “But this one is definitely my favorite.”

“I know the owner will be honored that you even considered us,” Julie said.

Mrs. Parson murmured a few other kind remarks about the inn and her memories of it. Then she asked, “Do you suppose you could put together a price list for my husband’s campaign manager? Be sure to include availability dates.”

“I’ll be glad to,” Julie said. “Perhaps you’d like to have a cup of tea in our tearoom while I type that up for you?”

“That would be very kind.” Mrs. Parson turned to walk toward the tearoom.

To Julie’s surprise, Inga Mehl intercepted the senator’s wife before she got to the door of the tearoom. Inga’s thick hair was pulled back so tightly that her eyes seemed to slant. The housekeeper wore her usual self-imposed uniform of gray skirt, white blouse, and shapeless gray cardigan, but her face was positively pink as she spoke.

“Mrs. Parson, I wanted to tell you how much I admire the senator. He’s doing a wonderful job.”

Mrs. Parson’s smile grew. “Thank you. I’m always glad to hear that.”

Inga blushed and stammered another sentence about her admiration, then practically ran out of the room. Julie stared after her, wondering what on earth had happened to their normally hostile housekeeper.

“Your husband must be
truly
amazing,” Julie said to Mrs. Parson.

The senator’s wife chuckled lightly. “He has his days.”

T
he glimpse of her housekeeper as a blushing fangirl proved to be the most unusual part of Julie’s workday. No one tried to sneak in with UFO tracking gear. No one passed her any threatening needlework “notes.” No one even demanded a new room at the inn. All the problems were completely run-of-the-mill. Julie found it a welcome change and made a silent promise not to complain about being bored anytime soon.

She was sipping her nightly herbal tea with her feet propped up on an antique tufted footstool when she heard the light tap on the door. She opened it to find Daniel standing in the hall, his hair damp and his feet bare.

“I decided to shower first,” he said. “I was wearing more mud than clothes.”

She looked down at his wiggling toes. “Then I appreciate the effort.”

As Daniel settled into his customary chair, Julie put a fresh kettle on. She liked the routine they’d settled into. The truth was, she enjoyed spending time with Daniel. “Are you still working under the watchful eye of the giant hunters?”

“They’ve thinned down a bit,” he said. “Though we’re still getting night visitors. George sleeps like a log, though I haven’t been able to catch anyone either. I suppose I shouldn’t criticize.”

“Must be frustrating.”

He took the cup of tea she handed him and sipped it. “We were getting a little low on morale.” He tipped a smile in her direction. “Until today.”

She raised her eyebrows in question.

His white smile broadened to a grin. “We unearthed the first bit of the wreck itself today. It won’t be long now before we begin bringing up cargo. We may even find something tomorrow.”

They chattered on about the dig, but Julie noticed Daniel sneaking frequent glances at his phone.

“If you need to be somewhere, you don’t have to entertain me,” she said.