Sew Deadly (18 page)

As she spoke, she felt herself coming to life for the first time since finding Tiffany’s body, felt the excitement and eagerness that had propelled her to leave Chicago and take on the Sweet Briar librarian job. She knew her hands were moving as she spoke, knew her mouth was stretched into the kind of smile she hadn’t smiled in days. And it felt good. Really good.

“The room itself is perfect. Sure, I wish it could be even bigger, but it will serve its purpose just fine the way that it is. The windows aren’t large but that’s okay, too. What they don’t provide the room in terms of natural light, a few fluorescent lights will.” Tori took another bite of her cookie, savored the cakelike treat with the perfect mixture of chocolate and vanilla frosting. “The only thing it was being used for was the annual book fair storage. Problem was, more than 50 percent of the donated books were in awful condition. The ones that weren’t fit just fine in the basement.”

“You culled through all of the boxes yourself?” Milo dropped his foot to the ground and leaned forward. “They had to be heavy, especially if they were filled with books.”

“Oh they were heavy alright. My arms are still sore even now.” She squeezed her upper arm and then reached for her cookie once again. “The day of the meeting . . . the day I found Tiffany Ann . . . I did nothing that entire day other than sort through old books, tossing out the bad and keeping the good. I couldn’t have done it without Nina. She kept everything running smoothly with the patrons and I just kept hauling books out of the room.”

“I’m surprised there were that many.” Milo smiled at the disappearing cookie on her plate and pushed his own in her direction. “Have some of mine.”

Tori held up her hand. “No thank you. One was enough.” But even as the words left her mouth she found her hand tentatively reaching across the table and breaking a small piece of Milo’s cookie as she continued talking. “I was, too. Nina and I made quite a few jokes that day about a growing rabbit population.”

Milo’s brows furrowed just a little. “I don’t follow.”

“As soon as I’d get through a box and take its contents to either the Dumpster or the basement, another one would appear by the time I got back.”

“Were they filled with lightbulbs by any chance?” he asked, with a playful lilt to his voice.

“Lightbulbs?” She looked at Milo, recalled their conversation thus far. “Ohhhh, I get it.” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and laughed. “Now
that
would have been welcome. Though Mr. Duncan over at the hardware store probably wouldn’t agree. I think I’m single-handedly keeping that man in business.”

Tiny lines beside Milo’s eyes deepened as he laughed. “I’m sure Morton appreciates your support.” She watched as he looked down at his plate then back up at her. “So, was it as yummy as it looked?”

“I, uh”—she swallowed the last nibble of cookie—“well, truthfully? Yes, it—I mean—
they
were every bit as yummy as I thought they’d be.” Tori stood and gestured toward the glass case. “But you need to try one of your own. Otherwise you’ll never know what you’re missing.”

“I think I’m okay. Besides, watching you enjoy mine was ten times better.”

“Wait and try one. Then you can decide whether that’s true or not.” Tori made her way over to the counter, zigzagging around various tables and chairs. She knew Milo was watching, she could feel his eyes on her body as she moved, but she didn’t mind. Just because she wasn’t ready to date didn’t mean she didn’t get a charge out of knowing men might be interested. Especially someone as sweet as Milo Wentworth.

“Everything okay with the cookies and drinks?” Emma asked as she looked up from her place behind the counter.

“Everything was wonderful. Too wonderful in fact.” Tori peered inside the glass case, noted the plate of black and white cookies that remained.

“
Too
wonderful?”

Shrugging, Tori nodded and pointed at the plate. “That’s why we need one more.”

Emma laughed. “Just one?”

“Okay . . . two. But why don’t you put the second one in a to-go bag so I’m not tempted.”

The girl reached inside the case and removed two cookies from the plate. “I don’t think you have to worry about temptation. I’d kill to be as skinny as you are.”

“A condition that is sure to change if I come in here again.” Tori shadowed the girl over to the register, the counter and cases between them as they walked. “So how much do I owe you?”

“Three dollars even.” Emma set the plated cookie on the overhang beside the register and rolled down the top of a little white bag that contained the second treat. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Tori handed a five-dollar bill to Emma as her gaze skimmed the pegboard wall behind the clerk. Ignoring her own reflection in the small rectangular mirror in the center of the board, she focused, instead, on the assorted handwritten notes from satisfied customers, each one written on real stationery. Scattered across the board were a handful of snapshots, faces she recalled from photographs around Debbie’s home. But it was one just beneath the mirror that claimed her attention, the black Mustang it depicted more than a little familiar—

Was that Cooper Riley?

Emma followed Tori’s line of vision, confusion etching her brow. “Is something wrong?”

Shaking her head she grasped the plate with one hand, the bag with the other. “No. Nothing’s wrong. I just recognize that guy.”

Emma turned, a flush rising up her neck. “Isn’t he adorable?”

“You put that there?” Tori asked.

“I sure did. First thing Wednesday when I came in.”

Wednesday?

“Is he—is he a friend of yours?” Tori felt her body stiffen as her thoughts traveled back to a topic she’d almost managed to forget while talking to Milo.

Emma’s face lit like the proverbial Christmas tree. “He’s more than that. I think.” She stopped to release a nervous giggle then continued on, her voice bordering on breathless. “I think now we actually have a chance to be something.”

“Now?”

The girl’s smile slipped just a little as she looked toward the door that separated her from her boss. Leaning forward across the register she spoke as quietly as possible. “Now that Tiffany Ann is—well, you know.
Gone
.”

Nothing like cutting to the chase.

“Well, I better get back to my table. Thanks for the cookies.”

“My pleasure.”

As Tori made her way back to Milo’s table, she couldn’t help but mentally review everything she’d learned over the past twenty-four hours. Information that was slowly beginning to form the outer edges of the picture she needed in order to find Tiffany’s killer.

By all accounts among the sewing circle, Tiffany Ann Gilbert was long past her relationship with Cooper Riley. Cooper Riley, on the other hand, was still quite infatuated with Tiffany Ann—to the point of being rather out of touch with reality. And now there was Emma Adams. A girl who obviously had a thing for Tiffany’s ex. A girl who—by her own words—wasn’t as enamored with the town sweetheart as everyone else seemed to be.

Was Cooper Riley truly interested in Emma Adams or was Emma seeing something that didn’t exist?

It was a question that would have been worth investigating if she hadn’t already talked to Cooper. But she had. And no matter what Emma believed to be the case, Cooper Riley had eyes for only one woman.

Tiffany Ann Gilbert.

So did that make Emma as delusional in her view of her relationship with Cooper as Cooper was in his with Tiffany Ann?

It certainly seemed that way.

“I thought you disappeared into some giant well of cookies never to be seen again.” Milo stood as she approached the table, reaching for the plate she carried with one hand and her chair with the other.

Then again, if Tiffany Ann was a nonissue that would certainly make Cooper a more viable option. . . .

“Tori?”

But Emma was sweet. Sweet people didn’t poison a person’s coffee to get them out of the picture.

Or did they?

Tori looked back over her shoulder, studied the girl behind the counter as she mooned over the picture that had claimed Tori’s attention not two minutes earlier. All gossip-and-dessert camaraderie aside, there was no denying the fact the salesclerk certainly had the means to commit such a crime.

Not only was she aware of when Tiffany Ann came into the bakery, she also made the coffee that Tiffany Ann had been drinking prior to her death. The same coffee that was poisoned.

“Tori? You okay?”

“Huh? What?” She turned back to the table, Milo’s words an unwelcome break in her train of thought. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if you’re okay.” He motioned to the chair with his head. “You’re a million miles away right now, aren’t you?”

She stole another peek at Emma, her stomach tightening once again.

“Another cookie?” he prompted.

“No.”
I’m not sure it would stay down
. She pushed the bag to the side of the table and rested her chin atop linked hands. “Can I ask you a question? It’s kind of personal.”

Milo lifted his cookie to his mouth only to set it back down again, untouched. “Okay.”

“Were you aware of Tiffany Ann’s feelings for you?” It was a question she’d been dying to ask ever since her conversation with Cooper the night before, yet she’d hesitated for fear of putting Milo on the spot in the same way Investigator McGuire had done to her. But now, after everything she’d learned tonight, she couldn’t ignore it any longer.

“Wow. Nothing like sticking me with a big one, huh?” Pushing his plate to the side, Milo leaned back once again, his feet remaining on the floor as his hands came together to rest against the back of his head. “Hmmm. Okay. Well, I knew she had a crush on me. I’d be an idiot if I didn’t. The whole town of Sweet Briar knew.”

She nodded, her attention fully focused on the man seated across from her, the handsome and sweet man who’d been nothing but welcoming and encouraging since the day they met.

What was she doing?

“Wait. I shouldn’t have asked that. It was out of line.” She waved her hands in front of her, then dropped her face into them. “Can you forgive me?”

He pulled his hands back down, placed them on the table just inches from her elbows. “There’s nothing to forgive. You’ve had a lot of questions thrown at you where this girl was concerned and you’re curious. I get that.”

“You do?”

“I do.” He scooted his hands forward, closing the gap between them and her elbows to give them a gentle and reassuring squeeze. “Rumor is Tiffany Ann had grown restless with her life—with the reputation she’d earned for crying wolf one too many times, with her choice in men, with her predictable life. She loved Sweet Briar but she wanted to do more than was expect—”

“I’m finally done,” Debbie interrupted as she appeared beside their table, chair in hand. “The week’s numbers match up, inventory is counted, and all vendor orders have been placed. All I’ve got left to do is bake. Which I will start around four.”

Mouthing an apology to Milo, Tori turned and smiled at the bakery’s owner. “Four? As in the morning?”

“That’s right. I have to be ready with fresh breads and assorted breakfast pastries before we open at seven.” Debbie plopped into the chair, stretching her long legs beneath the table between Milo and Tori. “It’s been a long week. I haven’t sewn a thing since last Monday. As God is my witness I wouldn’t get a thing sewn if it wasn’t for our circle meetings. It’s the only time I sit in one place all week.”

The woman tossed her ponytail off her shoulder and looked from Tori to Milo and back again, a curious smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You coming tomorrow night, Victoria?”

“I don’t think so. I think it could be awkward. For everyone.”

Milo looked a question at her, one Debbie made no bones about asking.

“Why on earth would it be awkward for everyone? I think you were starting to fit in quite nicely.”

“I was.”

“And now would be different because . . . oh, I get it.” Debbie scooted her left hand around the table as she collected a few cookie crumbs and pushed them into her other hand. “Look. No one in their right mind could possibly think you had anything to do with Tiffany Ann’s death.”

“My sentiments exactly,” Milo chimed in.

Tori tilted her head just a little as she took in Debbie and Milo with one glance. “Someone is feeding stuff to the investigator. Stuff that was discussed at the meeting. Stuff he’s trying to use to build a case against me.”

“What kind of stuff?” Milo asked.

Debbie brushed her hands against each other, knocking the collected crumbs to the ground. “Victoria, you need to understand that when someone is asked a direct question, they must answer. Fortunately, I’ve been able to dodge many of them. And with as much scrutiny as you’re facing right now, I’m certainly not going to knock on Daniel McGuire’s door to volunteer things.”

Volunteer things?
What was she saying?

“I don’t understand. What kind of information do you have that you think would hurt me further?”

Debbie motioned to Emma then made a sweeping motion. Turning back to Tori, she lowered her voice so as not to be heard by the girl with the approaching broom. “Wednesday morning Tiffany Ann left here without her coffee.”

“And?” Tori prompted, her stomach beginning to churn once again.

“I ran outside and gave it to her. She was edgy . . . very preoccupied. When I handed her the to-go cup I asked her about her plans for the day as a way to help calm her down a bit.” The shop owner pointed to the sitting area on the other side of the bakery. “Emma, why don’t you start over there.”

Tori followed the salesclerk with her eyes as she made her way to the opposite side of the shop. “Okay. But I still don’t see what that has to do with me. And information you don’t want to volunteer.”

“She said she was on her way to the library.”

Tori gripped the edges of the table as Milo stared at her.

“Did she ever make it inside?” he asked.

“No.”

“Are you sure she didn’t make it inside?”

She stared at Milo, a lump lodging itself in her throat and making it hard to breathe. Why didn’t he believe what she said? Why would he assume she was lying?