The Stitching Hour (22 page)

T
here were few cars in Captain Moe's parking lot when we arrived, probably because it was near closing time. Ted parked his red Impala, came around and opened my door—a true gentleman—and we hurried inside out of the rain.

Captain Moe looked slightly perturbed at the sound of customers coming in at the last minute until he turned and saw it was us. Then his broad face broke into a smile.

“What a surprise! What brings you two scamps to my door so late?”

“A craving for the best chocolate milk shake around,” I said.

“She's also wanting some information,” Ted said.

“Surely not our wee Tinkerbell. She never concerns herself with gossip or rumors or the affairs of others.”

Both men laughed.

I put my hands on my hips. “Hey! So I happen to be curious. Sue me.”

“I would, but I can't afford to hire my niece,” said Captain Moe.

“She'd never let you take me to court anyway.” Brave words. I
hoped
she wouldn't let him, but I couldn't be certain. I supposed it would depend on the circumstance.

Captain Moe patted the countertop. “Come on over and tell me what's on your mind.”

Ted and I sat at stools in front of Captain Moe, who called over his shoulder for someone in the kitchen to make two chocolate milk shakes.

“I had no idea you knew Priscilla's dad,” I said. “I just have to know if she was always as—” I struggled to find the proper word.

“Weird?” Ted asked.

“Kooky?” Captain Moe contributed.

“Eccentric,” I said.

Captain Moe drew his brows together. “I'd say that especially compared with the rest of the family, Priscilla was a bit
out there
. Jim and the two younger children were as down-to-earth as a family could be. They were humble, unassuming people.”

“Were the other kids boys or girls?” I asked.

“One of each.”

The guy in the kitchen brought out our milk shakes. Captain Moe thanked him and set the drinks in front of Ted and me before continuing his story.

“Of course, the other two children might've been more reserved because their mother was sick and died not long after the youngest one turned three. So Priscilla had to be a mom to her brother and sister from the time she was seven or so.”

“That's sad,” I said.

“And a huge responsibility for a seven-year-old to try to take on,” Ted added. “Didn't the family have a grandmother or aunt or someone who could've come in to help care for the children?”

Captain Moe shook his head. “I guess not.”

I took a sip of my milk shake. “I imagine Priscilla was adorable as a child. Those tangerine corkscrew curls . . .”

“Straight, lank brown locks,” Captain Moe said with a smile. “But she could sure strut out some wild outfits—plaids with paisley or floral prints, sweaters with halter tops over them, purple shorts, green tights, and an orange shirt. You just never knew what that child would tromp out in from one day to the next. It was always interesting to see Priscilla.”

“It still is,” I said. “It sounds as if she's actually toned things down a bit since growing up. It'd be fun to know what Claude was like as a child.”

“I never met him,” said Captain Moe. “I suppose he must be from somewhere in the Midwest or something. I remember Jim telling me Priscilla had gone off to college in Ohio. I think she wound up dropping out though. Maybe meeting Claude and joining his . . . act . . . was the impetus for that.”

“Poor Priscilla. I can't imagine it was easy for her to go off to school and leave the kids she'd practically raised,” I said. “I mean, I'm sure her dad worked outside the home, didn't he?”

“Yeah. He had Jim's Lobster Shack. In fact, I told you about him the last time you were in here.”

Ted leaned forward. “He's the one whose business Ken Sherman ruined?”

“He sure is,” said Captain Moe.

“I wonder if Priscilla knew Keira was his daughter?” I asked.

“I doubt it.” Captain Moe flipped up his palms. “If she had, she'd have likely requested another waitress. Jim was pretty bitter toward Ken. I can only imagine the rest of his family was too.”

I took another drink of my milk shake and tried not to make an obnoxious slurping noise, since I was getting close to finishing it. “When you and Priscilla stepped outside and you talked there on the sidewalk, you looked troubled when you walked away.”

Ted pushed his empty glass away. “Nope. Marcy isn't nosy at all, is she?”

Captain Moe chuckled. “Nah.”

“I didn't come right out and ask!” It was a weak defense, but it was all I had.

“No, but I am guessing you'd like to know.” Captain Moe's shoulders shook with his suppressed laughter. “It wasn't anything terribly important. I merely asked her for her father's phone number. The last time I tried to call him—oh, I'd say about two or three months ago—I got a recording telling me the number was no longer in service.”

“So you and Priscilla's dad still keep in touch?” I asked. “Has he been to the Horror Emporium?”

“Well, that's what I was getting ready to tell your impatient little self.”

I blushed.

“Priscilla said her father had been admitted to an assisted-living facility. I started to ask her which one, but she said she had to run and would talk with me later.” All traces of his smile vanished. “I need to stop in and ask her the next time I'm in Tallulah Falls. I'd like to check on Jim and see how he's doing.”

“If I see her before you do, I'll ask her,” I said.

“Maybe that's not a good idea, sweetheart.” Ted placed his hand gently on my back. “Captain Moe might not want Priscilla to know he was talking about her and her family. She might misinterpret our conversation.”

“Oh, that's true. I never thought of that, Captain Moe. I'm sorry.”

He waved away my apology. “I know you well enough to realize you're only trying to help. But I'll see Priscilla soon enough.”

•   •   •

Ted drove me back to the Seven-Year Stitch to get my Jeep, and then he insisted on seeing me home.

“You're sweet,” I told him. “When we get there, you can come in and—”

“No,” he interrupted. “I don't want to come in and disturb your mom. I'll just see you to the door . . . get a good-night kiss.”

I leaned over and kissed him. “Just one?”

“One is never enough with you.”

I smiled as I opened the car door and slid out. Ted had stopped in the middle of the street right beside my Jeep, so we couldn't linger long. How bad would it look for the Tallulah Falls Police Department's head detective to be holding up traffic while his girlfriend stole a kiss?

“See you in a few!” Ted called as I got into the Jeep.

I started the Jeep and pulled out in front of him. Nothing looked amiss in the semidarkness of the Stitch. I'd left the hall light on in the back for extra security. Jill happily looked out upon Main Street. Everything was set for tomorrow. I was both happy and nervous about the day ahead.

The first thing I saw when I pulled into the driveway was Angus's wiry face looking out at me. I waved to him as I waited for Ted to park behind me. He woofed, but the sound was muted by the closed window and the fact that I was still inside the Jeep. I hoped Mom wasn't asleep.

Ted got out of his car and came up beside the Jeep. He opened my door and I slid out and into his strong arms. We kissed, and then he walked me to the door . . . where we kissed some more.

It wasn't until Angus barked at the window again that I said I really should go inside. “Won't you reconsider coming in with me?”

Ted shook his head. “Your mom might be sleeping. And, if she isn't, you two need this time together.”

“Have I told you how much I love you?”

“Not in the past half hour.” He smiled and kissed me gently. “Now, go on inside so I can be a hundred percent sure you're safe.”

“All right.” I started to tell him he shouldn't worry so much, but I actually liked that he was so caring. I went inside and shut and locked the door.

I smiled to myself as I heard Ted's car drive away, and then I hugged Angus who was thrilled that I'd finally came in to tell him hello.

“Marcella, is everything all right?” Mom called from the living room.

“Yeah, Mom. Everything's fine.” I walked into the living room and dropped onto the chair near the couch where she was stretched out reading.

“Nothing happened to your car, did it?”

“No.” She was wondering why Ted had followed me home. I'd better come up with a satisfactory story. “It started raining, so Ted and I went out for milk shakes instead of going to the beach. When we got back to the Stitch, he insisted on following me home because . . . well, because there's still a murderer on the loose, I guess.”
Oh, sure, that'll make her feel better.
“I mean, he's protective . . . that's all.”

“Okay.”

She was looking at me suspiciously, but she didn't come right out and ask if Ken Sherman had dropped by the Stitch, so I didn't need to say anything about that . . . right?

“So,” I said, “it looks like you've made quite a bit of progress in your book. It must be pretty good.”

“It is good,” she said. “Why didn't Ted come in for a while?”

“He didn't want to disturb you. Plus, he said we needed time together—you and me—just the two of us.”

“That was thoughtful of him.”

“He is very, very thoughtful,” I said.

She placed her bookmark in her book, closed it, and laid it beside her. “What aren't you telling me?”

“Not much. Nothing really.”

“Marcella . . .”

And then after asking Ted not to tell Mom about Ken Sherman coming by the shop, I told Mom about Ken Sherman coming by the shop. It was out of my mouth almost before I knew what I was saying. It was the
tone
. I've never been able to endure the tone. It was like she'd already looked into my soul and knew what I wasn't telling her and was just waiting for my confession.

“Wouldn't it have been simpler to have told me this in the first place?” she asked.

“Well, yeah. But I didn't want to worry you. I'm still concerned about your heart.”

“My heart is fine. Was this man threatening to you? Is that why Ted was concerned?”

“No. Mr. Sherman just weirded me out.” I shrugged. “He's probably only mourning his daughter and desperate to know who killed her. And since I'm dating Ted and am friends with Manu and Reggie, I guess he thought I might know something that had been kept from him . . . which is ridiculous because they're going to keep her next of kin informed way before they tell me anything. And I'm not privy to any confidential information.”

“Calm down, darling. You don't have to sell me on the fact that you don't know who killed Keira.”

“I know. I just . . . That's why I think he was at the Stitch. But, on the other hand, I was kinda scared because it's rumored that he's mixed up with criminals. Of course, he told me that not all the stories told in a small town are true.”

Mom's eyes widened. “You didn't actually ask him if he consorted with criminals, did you?”

“No! I'd never come right out and ask him that . . . I mean, I don't think I would. Maybe if I thought he was going to hold me hostage or something, but—”

“Why did he tell you the stories weren't true?” Mom asked, rubbing her forehead.

“Well, I told him that I'd heard he was going to open a MacKenzies' Mochas franchise for Keira and that I thought she'd have done well with it,” I said. “He seemed surprised that I knew about that, and I told him that was the nature of a small town like Tallulah Falls—no one has any secrets here, at least, not for long. And then he said that not all the stories that are told are true.”

“Again, he wasn't threatening toward you, was he?”

“Not at all. And I texted Ted as soon as he left . . . which is why Ted was there when class was over and why he followed me home.”

“So Ted is worried that this man might hurt you.” She expelled a long breath.

“Ted is just a super-caring boyfriend.” I wanted desperately to change the subject. “Which is why he took me all the way to Captain Moe's to get a chocolate milk shake.”

She leveled her gaze at me. “You drove almost half an hour for a milk shake?”

“Well, that and to see Captain Moe. Guess what. He knew Priscilla when she was young. He said she wore some outlandish outfits even as a child.”

Her stare didn't waver. “I know you're just trying to change the subject.”

“Not entirely. Apparently, Priscilla's dad was in business with Ken Sherman.”

“And you think Priscilla's dad is a criminal?” she asked.

“No. I don't think so.” I frowned. “I guess he could be. I never thought of that. But he and Captain Moe are friends, so I doubt he's a criminal.”

“Captain Moe's brother is in prison,” Mom reminded me.

That was true. Captain Moe's brother—Riley Kendall's father—Norman Patrick was serving time for fraud. He too had been a lawyer. He was nice . . . even though his smile reminded me of the shark Bruce in that popular kids' movie about the missing fish. I knew Mr. Patrick had done some bad things, but I didn't feel that he was a bad person. He'd simply made a few mistakes. And he was paying for them now.

Still, I didn't defend him to Mom. I merely nodded.

Angus got up, stood and looked at me for a moment, and then headed for the kitchen. He needed to go outside. Saved by the dog.

“I'm going to get a bottle of water while I'm in the kitchen,” I said. “May I bring you anything?”