Thread Reckoning Read online

  “I’m so sorry,” Vera said. “Don’t you think we could alter it in time for the ball, though? You’re quite handy with a needle.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not that great with alterations,” I said. “I’m sure my mom could’ve made the dress work had she been here, but unfortunately she’s in New York.” And then I spotted it. The dress that made me draw in my breath. “But look, Vera. Look at that one.”

  Vera and the saleswoman followed me through the store to where a white beaded gown was hanging.

  “May I try on this one?” I asked the saleswoman.

  “Of course,” she said. Once again, she led me to the fitting room.

  I tried on the dress, and it fit like it had been made for me. The gown had narrow straps, a straight, tight-fitting bodice, and a skirt that flowed into a slight train. I ran my hands lightly down the beaded skirt. Oh yeah, this was definitely it.

  I stepped out of the fitting room. “What do you think?”

  “It’s lovely,” said the saleswoman, clasping her hands together. “You’ll be the belle of the ball for certain in that dress.”

  “It looks too much like a wedding gown,” Vera complained, her heart still on the maroon and black gown. “It doesn’t seem festive enough for a masquerade ball.”

  “Oh, I think it does. I think it’s pure understated elegance.” The saleswoman retrieved a white beaded and feathered mask that matched the gown perfectly. “Here. Put this on, dear, and let’s see how they look together.”

  I added the mask and smiled at myself in the mirror. “I’ll take it.”

  Although still rather put out that I didn’t go with the gown she’d chosen, Vera perked up after we found her a gold brocade gown with a black lace inset at the bodice and a full skirt that required a petticoat with a hoop. She bought a black and gold mask to go with the dress and said she’d feel just like a queen at the ball. I assured her she’d look the part.

  Once we’d bought our gowns, we went to a nearby café for lunch. It wasn’t MacKenzies′ Mochas, but it was still good. Vera and I both ordered chef’s salads and water.

  While we were eating, she asked me if the police had any leads on who’d killed Francesca Ortega.

  “I don’t think so,” I said.

  “Poor woman. That’s a shame. It makes you wonder what the world is coming to.” Vera shook her head sadly. “You know that robber could’ve taken her purse without killing her.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I speared a cherry tomato with my fork. “Her son said Francesca used to work for the Santiago Corporation. Have you ever heard of them?” If anyone in Tallulah Falls would have any information about the Santiago Corporation, I figured Vera would. She tries to find out as much as possible about everyone and everything in town, and her late husband used to be in banking.

  “Santiago Corporation.” Vera frowned. “No, I can’t say I’ve heard of them. Do they have an office near Tallulah Falls?”

  “Not yet, but I believe they’re getting ready to open a branch in Toledo.”

  “Oh yeah,” she said. “I saw that Caleb Santiago in the newspaper the other day. Maybe he’ll come to the masquerade ball. He’s a nice-looking young man.”

  Instead of commenting, I had a bite of salad.

  “Not that you need any more young men falling at your feet.” Vera giggled. “With Todd Calloway, Ted Nash, and that new one that’s recently come calling, you have your hands full juggling dates. Have you decided on an escort for the masquerade ball yet?”

  “Nope. No one has asked me. I might be going alone. Of course, that would certainly beat going with David—the new one who is actually an old one that I wish would go away again.” I gave Vera an abbreviated version of the history between David and me.

  “And now he thinks he can waltz right back into your life and pick up where he left off?” she asked. “He’s got a lot of nerve.”

  “You’re telling me. This morning he even suggested that we leave Tallulah Falls and open up a shop in California.”

  She held her fork halfway to her mouth. “Is he crazy? I mean, seriously, he could have some sort of mental problems.”

  “That could explain things,” I said. “Get this. He said I wouldn’t have trouble leasing the shop because Nellie Davis’s sister has wanted it all along.”

  “Oh, good grief! Nobody cares about Hattie Davis and her old antique shop. Those are just two troublemaking biddies, and that David fellow needs to hit the bricks and keep on bouncing until he gets back to where he came from.”

  “I agree wholeheartedly.” I raised my water glass in a toast. “Here’s to David bouncing on home.”

  Vera touched her glass to mine. “And staying there.”

  After I got home, I put my dress and mask in my bedroom closet after making sure I had the perfect pair of strappy white sandals to complete the outfit. Buying the gown had me actually looking forward to the ball, even if I did end up going alone.

  I went downstairs and let Angus into the house. He bounded in, happy and excited.

  “I remember the promise I made to you this morning,” I told him, hugging his thick neck. “Just you and me for movies and popcorn this evening. But first, I have to make a couple phone calls.”

  I gave him a bone that was supposed to clean his teeth and freshen his breath, while I curled up on the chair in the living room with my cell phone. It was a little chilly, so I got the blanket Ted had covered me with last night and placed it across my lap. I smoothed the fleece, thinking about how sweet he’d been to take such good care of me.

  I called Ted first to thank him again, but my call went straight to voice mail. Suddenly I felt awkward about leaving a message and didn’t know what to say, so I ended the call. Naturally, he’d see my number and realize he’d missed a call from me. Hoping he wouldn’t think anything was wrong, I started to call him back. But then, that seemed pushy or desperate or something that I definitely was not. So I just let the whole matter go and called Riley.

  “Hi,” I said when she answered. “Is this a good time to talk?”

  “I’m on bed rest,” she reminded me. “Is there a bad time to talk?”

  “Well, I thought you might be sleeping or being pampered by Keith.”

  “Nah, when I’m sleeping I turn my phone off. And I finally convinced Keith to go play basketball at the gym with some of his buddies. His fussing over me is precious, but it can get a little suffocating. Is it wrong to say I’m ready to have this baby already?”

  “Of course it isn’t. But you can’t rush perfection, you know.”

  She laughed. “I know. I’m just so ready to have her here, to hold her, to get up and walk around again.”

  “I realize it’s hard, but try to enjoy the bed rest while you can. From what I hear, there’s no rest whatsoever for something like the first six years of your child’s life,” I said. “Or is it the first eighteen?”

  “Oh, thank you, Marcy. That’s ever so encouraging.”

  “Oops,” I said with a laugh. “I was just trying to point out the silver lining to the bed rest. Is your mom holding down the fort at work?” Riley’s mom was her administrative assistant.

  “Yeah. I keep asking her to bring me work, but she doesn’t want to. I tell her it’ll give me something to do. I can be on bed rest and work very well on a laptop, you know.” She sighed. “But enough about me. Did you meet with Santiago?”

  “I did.” I told Riley all about our dinner meeting and how Mr. Santiago seemed to think Francesca might’ve stolen the gemstones with help from her son. “I’m going to call Frederic and ask him to come to the shop tomorrow . . . without Cassandra.”

  “You’re going to ask him if he helped his mother steal jewels the day before he buries her?” Riley asked incredulously.

  “Not in so many words,” I said. “Do you think my timing is off, that I should wait to talk with him?”

  She was quiet for a moment, and I knew she was weighing the pros and cons. “No. Go ahead and call him. See if the
re’s anything he needs—any way you can help him prepare for Tuesday. And then when you get him alone at the shop, act like you think Santiago is trying to set him up.”

  “What?”

  “Trust me,” she said. “It’s an excellent strategy for getting a witness to cooperate. Make him believe you’re on his side, that you think he and his mother are innocent. Show him you’re his ally. Let him take you into his confidence.”

  “Okay. It seems kinda sneaky, but who knows? That might be what’s happening, after all. We don’t know,” I said. “Frederic did work for the corporation, too. Maybe he and Caleb Jr. didn’t get along. At least it’ll be a way to get Frederic to open up to me more . . . hopefully.”

  “Great. Let me know what you find out.”

  “I will,” I said. “By the way, did you learn anything in your online research about the Santiago Corporation that I should know?”

  “I found out they had a lot fewer hassles and lawsuits and seemed to run a cleaner operation all around while Mr. Santiago Sr. was at the helm. Since Junior has taken over, there have been a lot of questions—so far unsubstantiated, but questions nonetheless—about the company’s business dealings.”

  “Thanks, Riley.”

  After talking with Riley, I called Frederic Ortega. Like Ted’s, Frederic’s call went straight to voice mail. Unlike with Ted’s, I left Frederic a message. I asked him to either call me back this evening or come by the Seven-Year Stitch tomorrow. I indicated there was something I wanted to speak with him about. I didn’t specify that he shouldn’t bring Cassandra, but I didn’t say I wanted to speak with him and Cassandra. I hoped he’d read between the lines on that one.

  Last, but not least, I called Todd.

  “Hey, there,” he said. “I was just thinking of calling you. How’d it go last night?”

  “It was . . . interesting.” I filled Todd in on Caleb Santiago’s belief that Francesca and Frederic might’ve stolen the jewels.

  “I’ve been thinking about those jewels,” Todd said. “You said you thought they were fake beads when you first got a look at them, right?”

  “That’s right, I did.”

  “Then they must have been part of a matched set,” he said. “You know, like a necklace or bracelet where each stone is cut and polished to match the others.”

  “Of course.” I sat up straighter. “Or they could’ve come from several pieces of jewelry that had been dismantled in order to sell the stones.”

  “Exactly. I’ve got a friend in the FBI. His field office is near Depoe Bay, and he owes me a favor. How about I ask him come by the Brew Crew tomorrow evening to talk with you about those stones, see if they match anything in the FBI′s database of stolen jewelry?”

  “That’d be great, Todd! Do you think he’ll do it?”

  “Yeah, I think he will if he’s in town and doesn’t have other plans. If he’s able to come, I’ll have him call you in the morning at the shop so you can tell him all about the jewels. That way, he’ll have an idea of what he’s looking for before he meets with you tomorrow evening,” Todd said. “I’ll call him now and see what I can arrange.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate your help. Oh, and by the way . . .” I went on to tell Todd about David following me to the lodge because he thought Todd and I were having a rendezvous.

  “Why would he have to follow you to find that out?” Todd asked. “I told him we were.”

  “I don’t know. Actually, this morning, he told me the thought of us going to the lodge together made him crazy,” I said.

  “This morning?” Todd’s voice turned cool.

  “Yeah. Ted having him cited for stalking last night didn’t go over well, and he came by this morning to ask me to drop the charges.”

  “Nash had him arrested?” Todd asked, with an incredulous laugh.

  “Not quite arrested.” I explained the events leading up to and including the takedown where Ted actually pushed me behind him and shoved David to the ground.

  “Had it been me, I’d have punched the guy,” he said. “But you did the right thing in calling Nash. If you think your life may be in danger, then he’s probably your go-to guy.”

  There was a note of disappointment in Todd’s voice, and I wished I hadn’t mentioned David or Ted. I thought Todd would find it amusing that our fabricated passionate plans led to David getting a stalking citation, but I didn’t want it to appear I’d chosen Ted over him. Of course, I had . . . in this case . . . but Ted is a law enforcement officer. Todd was right: Ted’s my go-to guy in a life-and-death situation. But what about other situations? Who was my overall go-to guy? I didn’t have an answer for that.

  Angus returned with the remnants of his breathfreshening bone and sprawled out at my feet.

  Well, there you go, I thought. Angus is my overall go-to guy . . . at least for now.

  I bent down and kissed his scruffy head. “Let’s go for a run on the beach before we settle in for our movie night. What do you say?”

  He woofed his agreement.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Vera had been right about the weather. Monday morning when Angus and I drove to the shop, we had the heater blasting and the windshield wipers on high.

  “Rainy days and Mondays always get us down, don’t they, Angus?” I asked.

  He was too depressed to even answer. He simply sighed and slumped in his seat.

  Upon arriving at the shop, I saw that Frederic Ortega was there ahead of us. He was standing on the sidewalk with an umbrella, and he was shivering. The Seven-Year Stitch opened at ten a.m. It was nine forty-five. I admire promptness, but after what happened to his mother, you’d think Frederic would’ve waited until at least ten thirty to come by.

  I parked, and Angus and I got out of the Jeep and raced to the door.

  “Good morning,” I said to Frederic as I unlocked the door. I felt I should apologize to him for being late, even though I wasn’t. I settled for “Sorry you had to wait.” I turned on the lights.

  “No problem,” he said, closing the umbrella and placing it in the stand near the door. “I’ve only been here a couple minutes. I got your message.”

  Angus shook himself, raining droplets over everything within a two-yard radius, including Frederic and me. He then went to lie on his bed beneath the counter.

  “Sorry about that,” I said, depositing my purse and the tote bag with the Kuba cloth quilt project behind the counter. “Would you like some coffee or tea?”

  “No, thank you. I’m fine.” He slipped off his damp coat.

  “May I put that in the office for you?”

  “Please.” He handed me his coat, and I hung both our coats on a rack in my office.

  I returned to find him sitting in one of the sit-and-stitch chairs looking contemplative. “Penny?”

  He frowned. “Excuse me?”

  “You know, for your thoughts. A penny for your thoughts?”

  “Oh yes, of course.” He rubbed his forehead. “I dread tomorrow.”

  “I’m sure you do. That’s one of the reasons I asked you to come by. I wanted to ask if there’s anything you and Cassandra need . . . anything I can do for you.”

  He lowered his hand and looked pleasantly surprised. “You sound sincere. I think you really mean that.”

  “I do mean that,” I said. “I didn’t know your mother really—and I don’t know you and Cassandra well, either, for that matter—but I understand what you must be going through. I lost my father when I was young. Is there some way I could help?” I sat down on the sofa that faced away from the window. “I could document who sent flowers to the funeral home and prepare thank-you cards for your signature. I can address the envelopes, too, and then all you’ll have to do is sign the cards, put stamps on them, and mail them.”

  “You would do that for me?” He shook his head. “Really?”

  “Of course. Would that help?”

  His face crumpled, and he began to cry. I handed him the tissue box.

  Oh, crap. I’m
a jerk. I’m worse than a jerk.... I’m a jerk who’s trying to get a guy whose mother just died to implicate himself in a jewel theft.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said to Frederic.

  The bells over the shop door jingled, and I turned to see who’d come in. It was Ted and the rookie, Harriet Sloan. I went over to them.

  “Is this a bad time?” Ted asked.

  “His mother′s funeral is tomorrow,” I whispered.

  “I need to speak with you in private, Ms. Singer,” Ted said. “Detective Sloan, would you please keep Mr. Ortega company while Ms. Singer and I confer in her office?”

  “Of course.” With barely a glance in my direction, Detective Sloan hurried to Frederic’s chair, where she stooped down and began talking to him in a soothing voice.

  Ted followed me into my office and closed the door.

  “What is it?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

  He immediately took me in his arms. “I had to see you and make sure you’re all right.”

  He was holding me a little too tight, but it was nice. I looked up into his eyes. “I’m fine.”

  My gaze dropped to his full lips. I knew that if I gave him just the slightest invitation, he’d kiss me right now. And part of me wanted that. Part of me wanted that pretty badly. But the other part of me was hearing the disappointment in Todd’s voice last night after I told him I’d called Ted to come to my rescue.

  I dragged my eyes away from his lips. He was saying something, and I’d missed most of it. “What’s that?”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t return your call last night,” he said huskily. “The battery on my phone died. I charged it, but I didn’t see that you’d called until—”

  I gently moved out of his embrace. “It’s all right.” I smiled. “If that’s the reception I get when you don’t return a call, then don’t return my calls.”

  “Did that creep bother you yesterday?”

  “Not really. He came by and asked me to drop the charges and to give him a fighting chance.”

  Ted clenched his jaw. “I’ll give him a fighting chance.”

  “You already have,” I said. “You didn’t shoot him. Besides, I sent him away, and he went. He was pretty docile about it, too, come to think of it.”