Reap What You Sew (26 page)

“Mr. Rick, do you sit in one of those chairs? The one with your name on the back?” Seth asked.

A little girl with reddish brown braids shifted onto her knees. “And talk through one of those big things with a hole in it?”

“Not yet. But soon. Very, very soon.”

“If anyone else with his level of incompetency made that claim, I’d say there wasn’t a chance in hell… but… knowing him, he’ll pull it off.”

Intrigued by the guest’s comment, she raised her own hand into the air.

Milo nodded at her. “Miss Sinclair? Do you have a question for our guest?”

“I do. I was wondering how one becomes a director.”

Rick strode over to Milo’s desk, pushed a stack of papers into the corner, and sat down in the center. “You do whatever it takes.”

She tried again. “I mean, do you have to go to school to be a director?”

“Some do, I guess.”

“Did you?”

Reaching into his pocket, Rick extracted a pack of gum, unwrapped a piece, and popped it into his mouth. “Didn’t have to. I had another way in.”

“Is it something you always wanted to do?” she asked.

“Not really. But once I heard the kinds of perks that came with the job and realized I had a ready-made foot in the door, it sounded pretty good.”

Stan raked his hand through his thinning hair and scowled. “This kid makes me sick.”

The girl with the braids raised her hand again.

Milo acknowledged the child with a smile and a head nod. “Yes, Ava?”

“My daddy said a lady from your movie died. Was she your friend?”

Tori looked from Ava to Milo to Rick as Stan’s foot hit the ground beside her.

“Uhhh… no,” Rick retorted. “A thorn in my side was more like it.”

“What’s
a thorn
mean?” Seth asked.

“You ever get your pants caught by a bush when you’re playing?” Rick asked.

Seth nodded, wide-eyed. “All the time.”

“It’s a pain, isn’t it?”

Again, Seth nodded, along with several of his classmates. “They hurt sometimes.”

Shrugging, Rick pushed himself off Milo’s desk. “Not if you cut them off they don’t.”

She stared at Warren’s cousin as her thoughts raced in a hundred different directions. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? She glanced at Milo, saw the look of shock on his face, and knew it was mirrored on her own.

“This has been real, kids, but I’ve got places to go and things to do so I’m outta here.” Rick strode toward the door and disappeared into the hallway, leaving the adults in the room to stare at one another with a mixture of surprise and disgust.

“He didn’t share his gum,” Ava announced to no one in particular.

A chorus of agreement rang up around the room only to subside as Stan approached Milo and whispered something in his ear. At Milo’s nod, the guard addressed the students.

“Do you remember that bus station I worked at in Wisconsin? The one where I saved that little girl from being kidnapped?”

The children nodded.

“There was a candy store about two blocks from the station that had the best cherry sucking candy I’ve ever had. The place went out of business right before I had to move on, but every now and again the former owner sends me a bag or two of that very same candy. This time he sent two so I have plenty to share.” Stan pulled his coat off the back of Milo’s chair and reached into the pocket, extracting a small gold foil bag from inside. Slowly, he untied the white and gold ribbon at the top and held it open for the children to see.

“Can I have one?” Seth asked.

“Mr. Wentworth said you can
all
have one,” Stan said. “So sit tight and I’ll pass them out.”

Taking advantage of the sweet distraction, Tori sidled up beside Milo, her hand covering her mouth so as to minimize any chance she’d be overheard by tiny ears. “Milo, I can’t help but feel like Rick is the one. I mean, did you hear what he
said
?”

“I did.” Milo crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned against the edge of his desk. “But you’re going to need a lot more than what he said here. Most of that could be nothing more than a personality conflict between two people with huge egos.”

“It could…”

“The key is finding the motive.”

“He despised her.”

“But that’s something that happens over time,” Milo pointed out. “Think about it. He threatened Leona, right?”

She nodded.

“Why?”

“You mean why did he threaten her?” she asked.

“Exactly.”

She thought back to everything Leona had told her in the parking lot the previous day, the details of their conversation shifting to the forefront of her mind. “Because something that Leona said to Warren put the kibosh on a job switch Rick was after.”

“Meaning, the threat was triggered.”

She pondered Milo’s words. “Okay…”

“You find a trigger that put Anita in Rick’s crosshairs and everything you heard here today takes on a whole new meaning.”

Chapter 23

Balancing her sewing bag on one arm and a plate of homemade oatmeal cookies on the other, Tori sent up a silent prayer as she took the wide concrete stairs one at a time. She’d had the best of intentions when she’d first suggested adding Three Winds to the rotation of Sweet Briar Ladies Society Sewing Circle meetings, yet now that it was actually happening, she couldn’t help but have a few reservations.

It’s not that she was afraid one of the regular members would complain about the institutional feel or the limited privacy it would provide, because she wasn’t. Not really, anyway. After all, each and every member of the circle was a class act in their own way, and everyone had been more than welcoming to Annabelle during the first meeting she attended.

But if for some reason it didn’t go well—if Annabelle had a bad night or one of her fellow residents did something wrong—Margaret Louise would no doubt blame herself. And the last thing Tori’s friend needed was more to carry on her already overly weighted shoulders.

“Victoria, wait up!”

She turned to see Melissa taking the steps two at a time in an attempt to catch up.

“Whoa! Whoa! Slow it down. You’re pregnant, remember?”

Melissa pulled her sewing tote higher on her shoulder and continued to double-step her way up to Tori. “Yes, I’m pregnant. But I’m also a mom of seven, one of whom is under two. Trust me, two steps at a time
is
taking it slow.”

“I don’t know how you do it.” And it was true. She didn’t.

“I don’t think, I just do.” When she reached Tori’s step, Margaret Louise’s daughter-in-law greeted Tori with a kiss on the cheek and a peek at the plate of cookies. “What? No chocolate?”

“I thought I’d shake things up a little.” Though, in all fairness, she would have brought something with chocolate if a library patron hadn’t brought her a batch of oatmeal cookies ten minutes before closing. At first, she’d felt guilty re-plating, but, in light of everything on her mind at the moment, it was the best she could offer. It was that or not come at all.

“I hope tonight goes okay.”

She saw the worry in Melissa’s eyes. “I know. Me, too. Your mother-in-law could use a break right now.”

“Jake is worried about her, I’m worried about her, the kids are all worried about her.” Melissa slowed her pace to one stair at a time as they resumed their climb toward the Three Winds’ entrance together. “It’s like she blames herself for not being able to cure Grandma of her problems.”

“Toss in this whole brownie making fiasco and I’m afraid she’s going to get herself sick.”

Melissa stopped just shy of the main door. “
Brownie making
fiasco? What brownie making fiasco?”

Uh-oh.

She tried to backpedal, but it was no use. Melissa was like a dog with a bone when it came to members of her family.

“Victoria? What’s going on?”

Before she could formulate an answer, the front door opened to reveal a very distressed Margaret Louise. “I don’t know what I’m goin’ to do. Mamma isn’t havin’ a good day. She’s been starin’ at the floor for the past hour or so and won’t respond to anything I say.”

Transferring the cookie plate to the same arm that held her sewing bag, Tori gave her favorite friend a hug. “Maybe, once we start sewing, things will change.”

Margaret Louise lifted her shoulders only to let them slump back down once again. “I s’pose.”

“Is everyone else here?”

“Everyone that’s comin’, anyway.” Margaret Louise reached out, took the plate of cookies from its precarious perch on Tori’s forearm, and motioned for them to follow. “Beatrice isn’t feelin’ well. Seems she got a bit of a cold from Luke.”

“Sally has one, too,” Melissa said as she trailed her mother-in-law down the hallway.

“Oh?” Margaret Louise asked. “When did that happen?”

“She’s had it for about three days.”

Tori stopped mid-step. Sally had been sick for three days and Margaret Louise didn’t know? That was unheard-of in Tori’s book.

“She sure would love to see her mee-maw if you get a chance.” Melissa reached out, gave her mother-in-law’s arm a gentle squeeze, and then disappeared into the activity room around the corner, Georgina’s and Rose’s voices no doubt guiding her steps.

Swallowing back the lump that formed in her throat, Tori stepped in front of Margaret Louise and stopped once again. “I’ve got a lead on Anita’s murder. And I think it’s going to pan out. I just need a little time. So don’t worry, okay?”

Margaret Louise peered down at the cookie plate, her lips tugging downward in uncharacteristic fashion. “Even if you find the person who killed her, I baked the weapon. How am I s’posed to live with that?”

She inhaled sharply. “Just because you baked them, Margaret Louise, doesn’t mean her death is your fault!”

“I knew she was allergic to them,” Margaret Louise whispered so quietly that Tori had to lean forward to hear every word. “I knew Leona wanted to use them as a way to keep that woman away. I baked them knowing all of that.”

“Using them to buy someone a wide berth is a far cry from using them to murder someone. The person who did
that
is the only one guilty of anything.”

Silence blanketed the hallway as Margaret Louise continued to stare down at the cookies—her unseeing eyes and crestfallen posture nothing short of heartbreaking.

When Tori couldn’t take it any longer, she reached out, wrapped her hand around her friend’s arm, and fairly pulled her into the room where their lifeline of friends waited. “How is everyone, tonight?” she asked in her best cheerleader voice. “Ready to work on our rag quilts?”

Heads bobbed around the room as Tori took in each member present.

Rose sat to the left of Debbie, the fifty-plus years that separated the pair nowhere to be found as they took turns cutting strips of royal blue fabric over tales of their days. On the other side of the room sat Georgina, the mayor’s ramrod posture and tall form dwarfing that of her sofa-mate, Dixie. Tori glanced right, her focus coming to rest on Leona. Despite the travel magazine in her hands, it was obvious to Tori that the woman’s focus was elsewhere.

Following the path of Leona’s gaze, Tori spotted the newest member of the circle and crossed the room to say hello. “Annabelle, hi! Thank you so much for hosting our circle meeting this week. The lighting in here is perfect for sewing.”

Slowly, Annabelle looked up, a flash of something resembling understanding lighting her eyes momentarily. “I’d like to help make the rag quilts.”

She heard Margaret Louise’s gasp somewhere off to her side, felt Leona’s eyes boring into the back of her head, but still, she kept her focus squarely on Annabelle Elkin. “Of course we want you to help. You’ve probably been sewing longer than any of us in this room.”

Rose patted the vacant spot beside her and Debbie on the long couch. “Annabelle, come sit over here with us. We have a big stack of fabric and batting squares already cut and ready to go.”

Understanding disappeared in favor of confusion as Tori took hold of Annabelle’s arm and led her toward the couch. “I want to sit with you,” Annabelle said.

She stopped, looked at the elderly woman closely. “You want to sit next to me?”

Annabelle tightened her grip on the tattered tote bag in her hand and nodded.

“I’d like that, too, Annabelle.” She glanced at Rose once again, mouthed her appreciation for the woman’s sweet overture, then sought out the one remaining empty couch in the room—a slightly oversized love seat tucked beneath a wall of windows. “Would you like us to sit here?”

Annabelle nodded, backing into the edge of the couch and dropping onto the cushion as she did. Then, pulling her tote bag onto her lap, she looked from Tori to the couch and back again.

Tori sat down and did the same with her own bag. Reaching inside, she pulled out her antique wooden sewing box and set it in the empty space between them. “If you need scissors or some extra needles, I have plenty to spare.” She placed those items beside the box, adding her camera and an envelope of photographs she wanted to share with the group before setting the empty bag at her feet.

“Oh, Victoria, Colby told me you called this afternoon.” Debbie handed her scissors to Rose. “He said you were wondering whether he had any connections on the movie set?”