Pattern of Betrayal (Vineyard Quilt Mysteries Book 2) (18 page)

Julie took a bite of one of the quiches.
OK. Maybe not so simple.
It was fabulous. She managed to swallow her satisfied moan with the bite and not embarrass herself in front of her guests.

Kenneth and Liam grabbed plates and filled them as high as they would go.

Shirley made fresh coffee and a pot of tea.

Carrie and Susan continued to quilt, unwilling to stop and eat, and also respectful enough of the hard work they’d put in to not risk staining the beautiful creation before they even finished it.

As Julie picked up one more quiche, it suddenly dawned on her that something was wrong with the scene before her. Somebody was missing. “Where’s Gregory?”

“I saw him headed toward the library a little bit ago,” Shirley said. “He’s still gone?”

Julie scanned the faces before her as if she could possibly miss him in a crowd of six. “Yes.”

“Oh, well I’m sure he’ll be right back,” Shirley said.

Julie had a bad feeling about it. She muttered a response and headed out of the tearoom, intent on finding Gregory. But the library was empty.

She slowly made her way back toward the others, poking her head into various rooms as she went. It wasn’t like he couldn’t leave the inn, but she was suspicious all the same. As she passed the door to the tearoom on the
way to check the library, she heard Shirley say in her most dramatic voice, “… and would you like to know how this mystery ends?”

Boy, would I,
she thought with a grim smile.

R
ealizing Shirley was talking about the murder mystery weekend, Julie changed course and headed back into the tearoom.

“Yes, yes, tell us please,” Susan and Carrie said over each other.

The men smiled indulgently at them.

“Well,” Shirley drawled in that way she had that pulled everyone to the edge of their seats before she even got to the good stuff. Her flair for the dramatic had made her twice-weekly sessions of Stitches and Stories one of the inn’s most popular events with guests and tourists alike. “My character’s name was Shelly Carson, and I was married to Bill Carson. That was Daniel Franklin from the other night. Remember him?”

Everyone nodded.

“But I’d been having an affair with Brandon Waters. He was the young man who came on Friday as well.” She waggled her eyebrows in a “hubba-hubba” sort of way.

“Are you going to tell them the entire plot?” Julie asked.

“What choice do I have? Half a plot won’t make a very good story.” Shirley smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll write another one for next year.”

Julie nearly choked.
Like there’s going to be another one next year.

“Unbeknownst to me, my husband, Bill, found out about my affair with Brandon. A jealous man, he planned on killing Brandon with poisoned wine. Instead, Inga accidentally drinks the wine, falls to the floor dead, and begins the murder mystery weekend.”

“That’s it?” Kenneth asked.

“It was to be much more involved than that. You would go searching for clues. There was a picture of me with Brandon and a couple of other things for you to find … a bottle marked ‘poison’ that was really water with a little bit of almond extract in it. That sort of thing.”

Liam stroked his chin. Julie could almost see the wheels turning in his mind. She wondered if Shirley’s story would end up as plot points in his own.

“Carrie, come play checkers with me,” Kenneth said. “Liam’s lost in his own world.”

Carrie shook her head. “No thanks. I’d rather quilt.”

Liam stood. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go lie down for a while.”

Julie felt certain that was code for “write another chapter.” But she wasn’t concerned. Not anymore. Even though the murder still hadn’t been solved, her part as hostess for the weekend was quickly drawing to a close—and not soon enough for her.

“Susan, honey.”

Susan looked up to find her husband nodding at her.

“Play checkers with me?” he asked.

She rose from her seat and went to the table where he sat, never once taking her eyes from him.

With everyone settled once more, Julie decided to continue her search for Gregory, only then realizing that Sadie had disappeared as well. “Where’s Sadie?”

Carrie looked up from her quilting and pushed her glasses back into place. “She was here a little while ago.”

“Maybe she went to her room to lie down,” Susan said.

“Perhaps,” Julie murmured in return. It was a feasible conclusion, considering the night she’d had with her friend.

Julie climbed the stairs to find Inga stripping beds and piling sheets in the hallway.

“Is Sadie up here?” Julie asked.

Inga shook her head.

“Gregory?”

“Just me.”

“Hmm.” Julie headed back the way she’d come. After a thorough search of the downstairs failed to turn up either of the missing guests, she decided they must have left the inn.

She popped her head into the kitchen, where Hannah was at work as hard as ever.

“How was lunch?” Hannah asked.

“Delicious. You outdid yourself.”

Hannah smiled in a way that said she had known that all along.

Julie stepped inside and slid onto one of the stools at the center island. She picked up a bottle of herbs sitting near Hannah’s latest project and sniffed appreciatively. “Mmm … rosemary.”

“So what now?” Hannah asked. “We just wait to see if the detective gets this mess wrapped up before nine o’clock tonight?”

“Unfortunately, I’m not sure what else we can do. And with the exception of Gregory, everyone seems to be getting along well enough. I don’t anticipate any more verbal battles to break out between now and when they’ll be free to leave town.”

“So, all’s quiet in Straussberg?”

Julie snorted. “
Quiet
might be a stretch. We both know something sinister is lurking beneath this peaceful façade.”

Hannah nodded. “Any more leads on the journal?”

“No.” Julie slid off her stool. “And on that note, I’m going to the basement to see if I can find anything else to donate for the auction.”

“You really don’t think the book will turn up?”

Julie shook her head.

“Are you convinced someone stole it?”

“I don’t know what I think,” Julie said. “But I need something to put in the auction.”

“Happy hunting.”

Julie gave her friend a small salute before grabbing the large key ring off the hook on the wall, flipping the light switch at the top of the stairs, and heading toward the cellar.

The bulbs were dim, caked with dust from years past.

Other than her initial trip into the cellar with Daniel and her quest to find something of value hidden in the old wooden crates Millie had stacked in one corner, Julie normally avoided the cellar. She kept the door locked at all times as it was a potential hazard. The condition of the room hadn’t changed much in the couple of weeks since she’d last ventured into the dusty, dank space beneath the inn. A thick layer of grime still coated everything that she hadn’t touched during her previous visits, and the places where she had been were already covered in a light layer of new dust.

She eased down the final rickety step of the staircase. She wasn’t afraid of the cellar itself; she was fearful of what was above it. The whole space seemed shaky, like one slight tremble of the earth could bring everything tumbling down on top of her.

Ridiculous. Quit fretting and find something to donate.

The inn was as sound as a pound, as Millie would say. Not to mention that two walls of the cellar were cut out of sheer rock.

Julie picked her way to the crates where she’d found the journal. She hadn’t seen much else in there the last time, but she’d been very focused on the journal. When she found it, she quit looking and raced up the stairs to check it out.
Only when she got it upstairs did she discover that it wasn’t a journal but a manual with writing in the margins.

She’d heard about such things. There wasn’t a lot to do in 1861 with war all around. Most of the military volunteers had been given blank journals to help them fill any downtime. Most wrote letters back home. Those men who hadn’t been issued journals used what they had on them—from favorite books to government-issued publications given to them by their commanders.

Julie opened the crate full of old books and picked through them. The ones on the top she’d already seen—old copies of books that might be worth something to the right bidder, though she doubted there were any bibliophiles in Straussberg, Missouri. She stacked them to the side on top of one of the other crates that contained empty canning jars. She made a mental note to ask Millie if she could see if the local library had any interest in them.

Toward the bottom she found a couple more books—a hardcover copy of
To Kill a Mockingbird
that could possibly be a first edition and a leather-bound edition of
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
.

She checked both for a signature. Neither had one, but they could still be valuable. She dusted them off and then brushed her hands together. Like
that
did any good.

Julie stacked the books one on top of the other and started back up the steps.

It wasn’t easy juggling two dusty books while trying to remain clean and relock the door to the basement, but somehow she managed.

She carted the books into her office, completely forgetting the mess that awaited her. But when she set foot inside, everything appeared to be in perfect order.

“Inga strikes again,” she mused, grateful for the woman’s superhero-like efficiency.

Carefully, Julie placed the books on the desk. Then she hustled down the hall to wash her hands. She was amazed at how quiet it was in the inn today. She smiled a little to herself.
May it last.

But it didn’t.

The sound of a startled shout stopped her in her tracks. She quickly tried to determine if the noise was coming from outside or upstairs. There was another louder shout and then a sickening thud, like a body hitting the floor.

Julie raced down the hall, nearly colliding with Shirley as she rounded the corner from the tearoom with Carrie hot on her heels. Hannah burst through the kitchen door.

“I thought I heard screams. What happened?” Hannah demanded.

“I’m not sure.” Julie quickly led the small group upstairs, checking first in Kenneth and Susan’s room, and then hurrying down the hall to Liam’s new room.

Shock was too mild a word for what she saw when she opened the door. “Liam!” she exclaimed.

Liam Preston looked up from where he stood, looming over the body of Kenneth sprawled on the floor, a lamp in his hand.

A
s soon as he caught sight of his audience, Liam dropped the lamp. It bounced off Kenneth’s legs before hitting the floor.

Liam ran shaking fingers through his hair. “I-I didn’t mean to …” His voice quavered. “I didn’t mean to kill him!”

Carrie gasped and turned her head away.

Liam collapsed onto the edge of the bed and covered his face with his hands. Julie knelt by Kenneth, feeling for a pulse.

“What’s going on in here?” Susan demanded from the doorway, struggling to see past the bodies in front of her. She let out a strangled scream when she caught sight of her husband lying on the ground.

“Oh, Kenneth! Is he …?” Susan couldn’t finish.

“He’s alive,” Julie said pushing back to her feet.

She made the announcement just as Inga joined the fray. The housekeeper took one look at the bloodied rug around Kenneth and shook her head, muttering something in German.

“Hannah—” Julie began.

“I’m on it.” Hannah turned and marched out of the room with Inga close behind.

Susan knelt by her husband, gingerly touching his face. “Kenneth, can you hear me?”

Judging by the weird look on Susan’s face, Julie had a feeling the woman was in shock.

“How long do you think he’ll be out?” Shirley whispered.

“I have no idea,” Julie answered.

“Are you sure he’s not …” Liam swallowed hard.

“Unless dead people have pulses, I’m sure.”

Susan brushed Kenneth’s hair back from his face and continued to talk to him.