Needle and Dread (14 page)

“Leave the business-saving part to me and Rose. I'm confident we can turn things around before there's any lasting damage to the shop's reputation.” Miranda stood in unison with Tori but remained in front of her chair, all outward signs of enthusiasm temporarily fading. “I know you're going to think I'm crazy, and I probably am, but if you're serious about trying to figure out who killed Opal, I think you have to look at everyone—including Minnie.”

Rose's head snapped up. “Did you say Minnie?”

Miranda shifted nervously from foot to foot, her gaze taking in all aspects of Rose's office except Rose and Tori. “I wish I could say I didn't, but I can't.”

“Did you hear what she said, Victoria?” Rose asked. “She's thinking it might be Minnie, too.”

She nodded at Rose but kept her focus squarely on Miranda. “Are you saying that because of something you saw or heard?”

“More like something I
didn't
hear.”

Again, Tori and Rose exchanged looks.

“I'm not sure I understand what you mean,” Tori said.

Miranda fidgeted with the corner of her clipboard for a few moments, her discomfort at both the question and the subject matter palpable. “It was just after I boarded the bus and found everyone sitting in their seat, waiting for Ms. Goodwin to finish her project.”

“Go on . . .”

“Minnie was sitting in the front row just as she had on the trip from Jasper Falls that morning. She was listening to everyone's thoughts on the day to that point, chiming in with a little positive note each time—the food was great, the extra helpers were great, the shop was great, the inventory was great, the instructions were great. That sort of thing. But when one of them—I believe it was Gracelyn—made mention of Ms. Goodwin's atrocious behavior toward everyone connected with the event, Samantha and Lucinda vehemently agreed. Minnie, however, said absolutely nothing. She simply turned her attention out the window and let the conversation go on around her as if she wasn't there.”

“Maybe she didn't have anything to add,” Tori suggested. But even as she posed the possibility, she knew
it didn't hold water. Opal had treated everyone poorly that day, but none worse than Minnie.

Miranda stopped fidgeting and ran her fingers through her wavy brown locks. “I don't know how she
couldn't
. What you saw in the shop was only part of the picture. The bus ride to the shop was another.”

“Maybe Minnie is just the kind of person that doesn't like to speak ill of people,” Tori suggested, although, even to her own ears, it didn't really fit. Minnie was probably one of the sweetest people Tori had ever met, but even the sweetest people had feelings and breaking points.

“She didn't react
at all
, Victoria. Not an eye roll, not a grunt, not a mumble—nothing.”

Miranda had a point. Even if Minnie was the type who didn't like to say mean things, wouldn't the treatment she'd received at the hands of Opal have warranted some sort of reaction in that situation?

Not if Minnie was trying to fly under the radar . . .

Tori shivered away the unsettling thought and willed herself to focus on the positive for the moment. “Miranda, what you're planning to do for Rose with this media campaign is really pretty awesome. Thank you.”

“It's my pleasure. Rose took a chance on me and my idea, and it's time I return the favor.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Miranda started to decline Tori's offer but stopped herself mid-swipe. “Just keep talking up the shop to everyone you know—friends, neighbors, loved ones, et cetera. Between that and giving the police a person to focus on for this crime, we should be on the way to disassociating SewTastic from Opal's murder once and for all.”

“Even though it still happened here?” Tori challenged.

“Right now, people associate what happened to Ms. Goodwin with the store because there is nothing else to chew on at this particular time.” Miranda checked her wristwatch and then slowly made her way to the door. “Once the police have someone to point to as a killer, that person will push to the front of people's thoughts in terms of this particular crime. Might they remember it happened at a store? Maybe. Heck, they might even remember it happening in a sewing store simply because of the way in which Ms. Goodwin was killed. But outside of those living in Sweet Briar at the present time, it will be a rare few that remember the name SewTastic in relation to Opal Goodwin's murder.”

As much as Tori loved her job and her friends, there was no denying the utter peace she felt when she and Milo were alone together. It didn't matter if they were refinishing a piece of furniture, weeding the front landscape, or taking a post-dinner walk around the neighborhood; as long as they were in each other's immediate vicinity, all was well.

It was as if his very presence made the tough parts of life less daunting and the bright spots all the more brilliant. How he did that, she wasn't entirely sure. But if she had to call out a few reasons, she'd choose his listening ability, his kind heart, and the same dimple-accompanied smile that was trained on her face at that very moment.

“So your day was good, I take it?” Milo handed her a glass of ice water and then took his place next to her on the couch.

She rested her cheek on his shoulder and basked in the warmth of his skin through his shirtsleeve. “What makes you say that?”

“That smile you were just giving me, for one . . .”

“Oh. No, that was just because I was marveling at my good fortune in landing you for my husband.”

He pressed his lips to the side of her forehead and held them there for a moment. “Trust me, baby, the feeling is mutual.”

“I'm glad.” She popped up her head long enough to take a sip of her water, the vast change in pace from the rest of her day a welcome respite. “So how was school today? Kids good?”

“I think I'm beginning to see the early signs of holiday-itis. The conversation of choice during our opening time in the morning is all things Thanksgiving. By the time I wrap it up so we can start our lessons, my stomach is grumbling and I have an insatiable desire for turkey with all the trimmings. Well, all except cranberry sauce.”

She returned her glass to the table and studied her husband closely. “Since when don't you like cranberry sauce?”

“Haven't you heard?” he asked, wide-eyed. “Cranberry sauce is the new gross.”

It felt good to laugh and even better to hear Milo match it with his own. This was the part of her day she loved the most—the time spent getting caught up with Milo. He had a way of making her feel as if she'd been in the classroom with him instead of on the other side of town.

“So I guess I'll be taking cranberry sauce off the menu this year?” she teased.

“Don't you dare, Victoria Sinclair-Wentworth.”

Victoria Sinclair-Wentworth . . .

Releasing a tired yet happy sigh, Tori brought her cheek back down onto Milo's shoulder. “I love the way that sounds, you know. Especially when it comes out of your mouth.”

“I love saying it.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and slowly guided her down until she was looking up at him from the center of his lap. Then, with a gentle hand, he smoothed her hair away from the sides of her face. “So how did things go for you today? Anything new on the whole Opal Goodwin front?”

She gazed up at the amber flecks in his eyes and weighed her options. She could answer him and risk ruining the mood she wasn't ready to lose just yet, or she could divert him back to his own day.

“Tori?”

Realizing he was waiting for her to say something, she worked to keep her smile in place even though she felt it losing its genuineness. “Your day sounds so much more appealing to me, though . . .”

“There's not much else to share. There was a mid-morning assembly with the fire department, followed immediately thereafter by lunch and recess. So other than giving you a blow by blow of the papers I graded during recess, and the paint Joey accidentally got in Chloe's hair during art, there's not much else to report.”

“Please, please, please? Can't you find
something
else to tell me?”

He crossed his arms and shook his head.

“Nothing?” she prodded.

Again, he shook his head, only this time the smile
he was trying to hide behind a pretend pout won out, eliciting a laugh from her in the process.

“You're such a stinker.” She reached above her head, wrapped her fingers around the edge of a throw pillow, and smacked it into his chest. “My day was so not laugh-worthy.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

“Suit yourself.” She pulled the pillow down onto her own chest and hugged it close. “I ran into Travis at Debbie's Bakery early this morning. He was in line behind me at the counter. Or, at least he was until I placed my order. Then he just sort of disappeared. Without getting anything to eat.”

“Who's Travis?”

“The guy who drove the bus for Rose's tour.”

“Oh. Okay. And?”

“Seems everyone knew Opal before Saturday—knew and
despised
Opal, I should say.”

Milo captured her hand atop the pillow and interlaced his fingers with hers. “Anything specific as to
why
they all despised her so much?”

“From Travis, no. I get the sense that his issue with Opal stemmed from her attitude toward him and people like him.”

“People like him? What does that mean?”

She revisited her conversation with Travis in her head and then did her best to convey the part that mattered to Milo. “People with less money, fewer connections.”

“What kind of money did this woman have?” Milo asked, his tone of voice confirming the intrigue she saw crackling in his warm brown eyes.

“From what Margaret Louise was able to learn this morning, I'm guessing a lot.”

“Margaret Louise was with you at Debbie's?”

“No. She showed up in my office about three minutes after I got there. She was determined to move our investigation along, so I set her up on the computer and let her do her thing while I did what I needed to do in the library.” Swinging her feet onto the rug, Tori sat up and reached for her water glass. Two long sips later, she gestured toward the clock on the mantel. “I probably should start thinking about dinner. Can we move this into the kitchen so I can start pulling something together for us?”

“Sure.” He followed her across the dining room and into the kitchen, his next question a testament to his ability to remain focused. “So what was Margaret Louise doing on the computer?”

“Looking through archives of the
Jasper Falls Courier
for anything that could tie Opal to any of the other tour members.”

“Was that your idea?”

Tori opened the refrigerator, removed a covered baking dish from the middle rack, and carried it to the counter. Peeling back the cover, she inhaled the aroma of the teriyaki marinade she'd added to the pair of uncooked chicken breasts prior to leaving for work that morning. “I think it was something Travis said at Debbie's that made me think of the newspaper angle. So when Margaret Louise was itching to do something, it seemed a good way to get information without taking time away from my real job.”

“Did she find anything?” Milo asked as he gathered his favorite grilling tools from the drawer.

“Remember how I told you that Opal put the kibosh on the citizens' police academy Samantha Williams wanted to get off the ground in Jasper Falls?” At Milo's nod, she continued. “Well, it seems Samantha wasn't the only one who had something she wanted squashed by Opal. Gracelyn Moses's kids each tried to get a business up and running in Jasper Falls over the past year. One—Gracelyn's son—wanted a motorcycle shop, and the other—her daughter—wanted to open a teen clothing shop. Opal kept both from happening.”

Milo tucked the tongs and spatula under his left elbow and retrieved the baking dish with his right hand. “How?”

“By buying the building each was trying to lease.”

Stopping halfway to the back door, Milo turned and stared at Tori. “Are you serious?”

“That's not even the best part.” She opened the cabinet above the stove, pulled out a container of uncooked rice, and then readied a pot with water. “Opal didn't buy those buildings because she was trying to open a business. She bought them simply to keep Gracelyn's kids from doing so. Seems Opal didn't want the kind of clientele she feared would come with a motorcycle shop, and she wasn't terribly fond of the clothes Gracelyn's daughter was planning on selling in her store.”

“So she bought the space out from under them?”

“Crazy, isn't it?”

“Wow.” He finished his trek to the door but stopped short of actually stepping out onto the deck. “I can't even fathom someone doing that. Then again, I can't fathom someone killing because of that, either.”

“I agree, but at least it paints a picture of Opal.”

“An unattractive one, yes.” He hooked the tongs over his shoulder in the direction of the deck. “I'll get the chicken going on the grill and then I'll be back in to help with the salad.”

“I'll take care of that while I wait for the rice to cook. Should we eat out—”

The ring of her phone from its holding spot on the window ledge cut her question short and had her scrambling to check the Caller ID screen.

Rose.

“Milo, it's Rose. I'll keep it short, okay?”

“You're fine.”

She smiled and brought the phone to her ear. “Hi, Rose.”

“I don't want to keep you, Victoria. I've been doing far too much intruding on your time with Milo these past few days, but I wanted to say thank you before it slipped my mind.”

“First, you're never an intrusion, okay?” She checked the status of the water in the pot and then headed back toward the refrigerator for the lettuce and assorted salad fixings. “And second, I'm not sure what you're thanking me for.”

“For checking in on me all the time, for supporting me with this shop, and for trying to figure out what happened to that nasty old woman so it doesn't affect SewTastic any more than necessary . . .”

“It's nothing you wouldn't do for me in the same circumstance.” With the phone balanced between her ear and her shoulder, Tori carried the salad fixings over to the counter. “Have you eaten yet? I could wrap a plate and bring it over in about an hour.”

“I already ate. With Miranda. And before she left, she showed me how to fix that stitch in my kitchen curtain I've redone a half dozen times.” Tori waited as Rose's sudden cough multiplied tenfold. When the woman finally returned to the line, her voice sounded tired. “I don't know if it helps or not, but Miranda mentioned trying to encourage the group to get out and about tomorrow. Seems they're getting a little short-tempered and she thinks a change of scenery might be good.”

“It's worth a shot, I guess.” Tori wedged the phone between her shoulder and her ear again and began to cut the cucumber she'd salvaged from the refrigerator. “Anyway, tomorrow is my day off. If you need anything, call my cell, okay?”

“Thank you, Victoria. For everything.”