Looming Murder (5 page)

A
f
ter washing the dishes and putting them away, I returned to my project, finished warping the loom and soon lost myself in the rhythm of my work.

I had just wound a bobbin with blue yarn and was starting a point twill when the doorbell chimed. I put down my shuttle and was walking toward the door when two women stepped in. I glanced at my watch—already past one. Time had flown.

The first woman was a middle-aged blonde in a business suit. “Hi, I’m Kate Radley.” She strode purposefully over to me and handed me her business card. I glanced at the second woman as she turned toward one of my display tables. It was Susan Wood from my class.

“I’ve been meaning to drop by,” Kate went on. “I understand you’ve just moved into town. Welcome to Briar Hollow.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Radley—”

“Oh, please call me Kate.”

At that moment Susan turned toward me. “I was telling Kate about all your beautiful linens and how much fun I had last night.”

“Thank you. I had a good time too.” Returning to Kate, I introduced myself. “I’m Della Wright. Call me Della.” I glanced at the card in my hand, recognizing the logo of the company. “You’re with Cottage and Castle Realties.”

“Yes, I am. If you ever want to look at properties, give me a call.” I couldn’t help but wonder if Susan hadn’t told her I had already promised to go house-shopping with David.

Susan put down the tablecloth she had been admiring and crossed the room to look at the items in the maple hutch. She picked up one of my dish towels. “These are the towels I told you about,” she called over her shoulder to Kate.

Kate went to take a look. “They’re almost too nice to use.” She turned over the price tag, her forehead furrowing. “That’s a lot of money for a dish towel.” She closed her eyes, calculating under her breath. “But I suppose it’s reasonable for something that’s handwoven.” She turned to Susan. “You’re right. These would make wonderful housewarming gifts for my clients.” She counted out the pile of towels, picked them all up and brought them to my desk. “I’ll take all of these.”

“You just made my day.” I carefully folded each one in tissue paper. “I’m glad you like them. I made them myself.”

“You did?” She looked thoughtful. “Do you think you could add a small card saying something like ‘Handmade by Della Wright’?”

“Already done.” I unfolded one of the towels and indicated the thick cream-colored tag tucked inside. I had spent a small fortune on those tags, but they looked so rich with their gold lettering, they made each of my items seem more precious.

“Would you like me to gift-wrap these for you? It’s no trouble.”

She beamed. “That would be perfect.” She glanced at her watch. “I don’t have time to wait right now. How about if I pick them up in a few hours?” She turned to Susan. “Or maybe you can pick them up. Susan is my office assistant.”

“I didn’t know you worked for the same company as David.”

“I’ve been there for years.”

Kate leaned in, whispering dramatically, “When Susan told me that David had joined your group I couldn’t believe my ears. I can’t imagine David taking weaving classes.” Her eyes narrowed and she smirked as she searched my face. “Did he happen to tell you
why
he joined the weaving group?”

“Yes, he did.” I was beginning to suspect the real reason for this shopping excursion—gossip. Something else occurred to me as well. If it was common knowledge that David would be joining my group, that could explain why I’d had so many volunteers. Some of them might have been there looking for new gossip—a small town’s favorite activity, or at least this small town’s. My heart sank a little. Hopefully they wouldn’t leave when nothing eventful happened.

Susan wandered over to join us.

Kate continued her tale, bubbling with excitement. “I was there when it happened,” she gushed. “I couldn’t believe it. I thought he was going to kill Jeremy. If I hadn’t stepped in, I swear he might have.”

“Oh, come on, Kate. I was there too, remember? All he did was grab Jeremy by his shirt collar. And you didn’t exactly save Jeremy either.”

I laughed. “And to think that I moved here believing Briar Hollow was a sleepy little town.”

Kate’s eyes lit up again. “Don’t you believe that for one second. If you heard the stories about a few of the folks around here, your hair would stand on end. Why, even the chief of police was saying that—”

“Don’t you have an appointment in a few minutes, Kate?” Susan asked. “We’d better go. You don’t want to be late.” They were halfway out the door when Susan called over her shoulder. “I’ll be back to pick up the towels. If I don’t make it today, I’ll be by tomorrow.”

“I’m open from one to six on weekdays,” I reminded her. A moment later, the doorbell tinkled behind them. Through the window, I noticed Kate turning to say something to Susan Wood. From the look on the assistant’s face, I guessed she was getting a tongue-lashing. I chuckled. Jenny was right about one thing. Gossip was a popular pastime in Briar Hollow. If not for her office assistant’s interruption, I suspected Kate would have regaled me with juicy stories about every Briar Hollow resident and his uncle.

I became aware that my stomach was growling, and when I looked at the time I saw that it was already one thirty. Yikes! Matthew was due to arrive in a few hours, and I hadn’t even started moving my things out of the main bedroom. There were sheets to change and my new room to set up. I had to get going, but first—food. I hurried to the kitchen and, keeping an open ear for the doorbell, made myself a hero sandwich—salami, cheese, tomatoes, lettuce and jalapeños with a side of potato chips. I carried it to the desk. All at once, a sleepy Winston became alert. He stumbled to his feet and lumbered over, licking his chops.

“Sorry, Winnie, this is people food.” Other than his ears flickering, he didn’t budge. “What is this, a staring contest?” I took a bite, trying to ignore his soulful gaze. “Go away, Winston. Shoo.” He stood rooted to the floor, ogling my food.

“Oh, all right—but just a little piece.” He raised himself on his hind legs, trembling with anticipation as he watched me tear off a piece of Monterey Jack.

I held it over his head, ordering, “Sit.” His butt hit the floor with a thump. “Good boy.” I released the cheese and Winston snagged it in midair. A dog after my own heart—he liked food just as much as I did. I ate the rest of my sandwich, sharing the occasional bit with my buddy, who strolled away the minute it was time to clean up.

“Just like a man,” I called after him. “As long as there’s a possibility of food, you hang around. But when it’s time to clean up, you’re nowhere in sight.”

T
h
e afternoon flew by in a frenzy of moving, organizing and cleaning—unfortunately without a single client coming to the door. I was looking forward to seeing Matthew again and for the occasion had changed into my favorite outfit—a short red linen dress, dangly gold earrings and my hottest shoes—red high-heeled Kate Spades.
This proves it
, I thought.
The city side of me is not entirely gone
. I posed in front of the mirror behind my bedroom door and sighed. Designer shoes were another luxury my new life would no longer allow. I put on some lip gloss and smacked my lips together.

At four o’clock I was back at my loom, hurrying to the window every time I heard a car. By six o’clock, I’d concluded that Matthew would not be arriving today. I was sure that any minute he would call to tell me he’d get here tomorrow instead. I had just resumed weaving when the doorbell rang. I slipped my shoes back on, hurried over with a beaming smile and flung open the door.

“Oh, er, hi.” I tried to cover my surprise. It wasn’t Matthew but David Swanson.

“Hi there, I hope I’m not too early?” I gave myself a mental head thump as I remembered our house-hunting appointment. He gave me a quick once-over, his eyes lingering at the edge of my short dress. “Wow. You look great.”

“Thanks,” I said, hoping he didn’t think I’d dressed up for him.

I glanced at my watch, feigning shock. “Is it six thirty already? Sorry, I was weaving, and time just flew by. Let me grab my purse and I’ll be right with you.” Winston followed me expectantly. “Sorry, Winnie. You’ll have to stay here.” Under his reproachful glare, I closed the kitchen door and hurried back to the front.

A minute later David helped me into his Volvo and we took off.

“The first place I want you to see is half a mile down the street. It’s a little house very similar to Matthew’s. You could set up the front rooms for your business, the same way you’re set up now.”

“How much is the rent?”

“The owner is asking five hundred a month for a minimum two-year lease. That’s low even by Briar Hollow standards.” He slowed to a stop in front of a ratty-looking place. “Here we are.”

I took in the house, its peeling paint and rickety front porch. “Good grief, it sure needs a ton of work.” But for all its neglect, enough charm and character filtered through to make me think it was a possibility. I hopped out of the car and hurried across the street, as fast as my stilettos allowed. David unlocked the front door and we walked in.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much junk.” I was startled at the amount of furniture in the room. It was so crowded with old bric-a-brac that I could hardly visualize how it would look once it was cleared of everything. I took a few steps, wondering how I was going to make my way through without getting dust all over my sexy dress.

Next to me, David nodded grimly. “Tell me about it. I’ve been begging the owner to get rid of everything for months, but he lives out of state and doesn’t want to be bothered. Too much old stuff only makes the place less attractive to prospective buyers.”

I wandered farther into the house, sidestepping an old table piled high with chairs, almost stumbling on a rocker. Upon closer inspection, I realized the furniture wasn’t junk. It was just worn. A fresh coat of paint, a few sanded edges, and it could be transformed into perfectly attractive and serviceable shabby chic.

I walked through the rooms, noting the original tongue-and-groove walls, the scalloped trim in the fifties kitchen, the small maid’s room at the back. On the second floor, I was pleasantly surprised at the claw-foot tub in the tiny bathroom.

“Does the house come furnished?” I asked, as an idea began forming in my mind. Instead of buying new furniture, I could refinish the pieces I needed. If I could paint walls, surely I could paint furniture. However, I’d hate to go to the trouble unless I owned it. “I’m not sure about the house, but I have an idea. If the owner wants to get rid of all this furniture, I might be interested in buying it.”

David’s eyes lit up. “I think that could be arranged. I know he doesn’t want any of it. The only reason it’s still here is that he doesn’t want to pay for movers. I can probably get it for you for free.”

“It’ll depend on whether I move or not. I haven’t quite made up my mind just yet. Anyhow, I’ll think about it and let you know.”

I followed him back downstairs, and at the front door I turned to look at the crowded rooms again.

“I like it,” I said, more to myself than to David. The front room was large enough to accommodate a weaving studio at one end and my shop at the other. And the big bay window facing onto the street would be perfect for displays.

“I knew you would.”

“But it sure needs a ton of work.”

“I know, I know.” He leaned against the doorframe. “That’s why the rent is so low. But the location is perfect for a business. I really think this place could work for you.”

I glanced around one last time before leaving. “If I do decide to get a place, maybe, but all that work would cost a—”

He put up a hand to stop me. “If this one isn’t right for you, don’t worry. I still have two more places I want you to see.” He ushered me out, locked up and led the way back to the car. A few minutes later we pulled up in front of a bungalow on one of the side streets. The house was small, but the paint looked fresh and the lawn was perfectly manicured. It was certainly in better shape than the one I had just seen, but other than that, everything about it was wrong, starting with the location.

“This house is modern. It’s in good shape and wouldn’t need any fixing up. And the price is also really low.”

I shook my head. “It won’t work, David. It’s already challenging enough to attract customers when I’m on Main Street. If I were to set up here, where foot traffic is almost nonexistent, I might as well admit defeat and return to Charlotte.”

He chuckled. “Well, we don’t want you to do that now, do we?” He turned the motor back on. “I have to admit, I would have been surprised if you liked this one. But as your agent, I have to show you every place that has even the slightest possibility. That’s the only way you can make an informed decision.” He put the car in gear and we drove on. “There’s one more listing I want to show you.” He turned onto Main Street again. This time he parked in front of the empty store I’d noticed on my walk last night. “I wanted you to see this one last, because it’s by far the best.”

I followed him to the entrance, where he struggled with the key until the front door creaked open. He reached along the wall and turned on the light.

The store consisted of one large room—larger even than I’d imagined last night—with gorgeous wide-plank floors and old-fashioned schoolhouse lights hanging from twelve-foot ceilings. I walked to the middle of the room and pivoted slowly, taking in the rest of the details. There were two large windows, both directly facing Main Street—nice for displays. Near the entrance was a built-in antique wood counter that cried out for an old chrome candy-shop cash register. Behind it, the wall was exposed brick, giving the room the kind of country charm that lovers of rustic decor spend fortunes trying to copy. This, however, was the real thing. It had the kind of patina that is almost impossible to replicate.

“How big is this store?”

“Twenty-five hundred square feet.”

“Wow! That’s huge.” I pictured handwoven throw rugs scattered about, rocking chairs piled with throws and blankets, in one corner an antique cupboard stocked with kitchen cloths. I could have one window display with more-traditional woven goods and the other stocked with Jenny’s more-modern work. My imagination was running a mile a minute, but I put a halt to it. There was no way I could fill all this space.

“I love it. It’s wonderful. But it’s way too big. I’d never—not in a million years—have enough stock to fill it. I need something half—correction—a quarter of this size. Besides, this place has to be a lot more than I can afford.”

“Don’t be so sure about that. The previous owner had a private mortgage and when she went bankrupt, the lender foreclosed on the building.” He handed me the listing, and I glanced at the amount. Suddenly I noticed the words “For Sale” at the top.

“This isn’t a rental,” I exclaimed, handing him back the sheet of paper. “I can’t afford to buy, David. You already know that. Why are you even showing me this place?”

“I know, I know. But I think you might want to consider it. Look at the asking price.” He held the listing in front of my eyes again.

I hesitated. The idea that a monthly payment would eventually result in owning a property was tempting, but I shook my head. “I’m already stuck with mortgage payments on a condo I’m trying to sell. I listed it almost six months ago and I still haven’t had a single offer. So not only do I not have the money for a down payment, but even if I did, I would never qualify for a mortgage. I can’t exactly show proof of regular income. Since the whole subprime crisis happened banks are extra careful in evaluating mortgage applicants.” I shrugged. “If things were different—” I opened my hands helplessly.

“That’s too bad.” He slipped the listing back into his folder. “This will be the deal of the century for some lucky buyer. It comes with two apartments upstairs.” He paused. “You know, with a thirty-year amortization and the income from the two apartments, your monthly payments wouldn’t amount to much more than what you’d pay in rent.”

I planted my hands on my hips. “Didn’t you hear a word I just said?”

“I know, I know. But this is a small town. We don’t have much available right now. I guess the first house I showed you is the only place that has everything you’re looking for. It needs work, but the price is right.” He nodded toward the door. “Shall we go?”

I was suddenly reluctant to leave. It was such a beautiful space. If only I could think of some way to make it work. “You said there are two apartments upstairs? How much would they rent for?”

David paused with his hand on the doorknob. “The larger unit has two bedrooms.” He thought briefly and quoted a figure that made my eyes widen. “The second apartment is smaller. You’d get about half as much for that one.”

“And they’re included in the sale price?”

“Of course they are. The entire building is for sale, not just the store space. Do you want to take a quick look at them?”

Why I said yes, I’ll never know. Not only was buying not a possibility, but the shop area was way too big. Still, I followed David up the old staircase, trying to think of a solution to those problems.

“Careful on that step.” He pointed to a nail that was sticking out. “I should get a hammer and fix that before somebody breaks their neck.” He glanced at my shoes. “I should have told you to wear flats.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t trip.” I’d been wearing high heels practically since I learned to walk, and stilettos were as comfortable to me as running shoes.

He stopped at the top of the stairs and fumbled through his key ring for a moment, then unlocked the door. He stood back to let me in.

I gasped. I was in a round foyer with beautiful old inlaid-wood floors. Beyond, I could see a living room with tall, slender windows. I walked farther and my hand went to my mouth. At the far end of the room was a fireplace with a mahogany mantel. Adjoining the living room was a dining room with built-in china cupboards, a plate rail all around the room and a coved ceiling. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, I walked into the kitchen and stopped. I was looking at a forty-inch gas blacktop stove. It could have been the same model my grandmother used to own. “Oh, this is amazing!” I exclaimed, running my hand along the black counters with chrome edges. This kitchen brought back memories of Nana’s pancakes, and of her secret-recipe dream cake, to this day my favorite. My mouth watered at the memory of the sweet dessert. “This looks as if it hasn’t been renovated since the forties.”

David leaned against the doorframe. “I know. Whoever buys this place should gut it and build a brand-new modern kitchen—tile floor, stainless-steel appliances, microwave fan. Maybe put in a laminate floor in the other rooms.”

“Oh, no. I wasn’t complaining when I said it was old. It’s absolutely gorgeous. I love this place just the way it is.”

His eyebrows bobbed. “You do?” He surveyed the room again, as if trying to see the place through my eyes. He nodded, slowly. “I guess it does have a certain charm, if you go for that kind of stuff.”

“I take it you don’t.”

He shook his head. “I like modern. But to each his own.”

“Will you look at that?” I was drooling over the old porcelain sink complete with drain board. “It would be terrible to tear this place down. Believe me, if I could afford it, I would buy it in a New York minute. I could definitely live here.”

“Want to see the bedrooms?”

I just knew this would only torture me more, but I couldn’t stop now. I followed him down the hall. The first bedroom had old yellowed wallpaper, but in spite of the faded walls, it still looked pretty. The second bedroom was small, more like a nursery than a full-size room, making it perfect for an office or a small den. I popped my head into the bathroom and noted the claw-foot tub with the large chrome showerhead.
Damn it!
I
love
this apartment
.

As if he could read my mind, David said, “I told you you’d love it. Come, I’ll show you the other apartment.” I didn’t need any coaxing. I was dying to see what other treasures this building held.

He fumbled with the key for a second, and then to his surprise the door swung open. “Somebody must have forgotten to lock up.”

I had just walked in when I heard voices coming from the back room. “There’s somebody here.” I turned to leave.

“Don’t worry. It’s probably just another agent—” And then the blood drained from his face. I turned to see a couple step out of a room.

The woman—a sexy, pouty blonde—stopped and sneered. “David! What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied, his face a mask of cold fury.

“I don’t have to tell you anything.” She looked amused rather than frightened.