Thread Reckoning Page 13

  “He’d better be if he values his health.”

  I smiled again. “Thank you.” The sparks flying between us were about to catch my office on fire. “We really should get back out there.”

  I averted my eyes, stepped around Ted, and opened the door. Instead of going straight into the shop, I darted into the bathroom and held a cold, wet paper towel on the back of my neck until my heartbeat returned to within about fifty beats of normal.

  When I stepped into the shop, I saw that Harriet Sloan and Frederic were still talking. They had their bowed heads together. Suddenly Harriet Sloan said, “Amen.”

  Great. While I was contemplating giving in to my lust for Ted in my office, Harriet was out here praying with Frederic.

  “Ms. Singer,” Ted said, “I’ll definitely be following up with you later.”

  “Please do,” I said. I could be sassy, too.

  “And, Frederic, I’ll check on you later today,” Detective Sloan said. “If you need me, you have my number.”

  Ted and Detective Sloan left. I returned to the sofa.

  “Are you okay?” I asked Frederic.

  He nodded. “Harriet is a special girl. And so are you. I appreciate your help. I only wish . . .”

  “You only wish what?” I prompted.

  “I only wish Cass would be half as supportive as either of you.” He raised his eyes to mine. “I love Cass—or, at least, I thought I did—but now I don’t think we’re right for each other. Our priorities aren’t the same.”

  “It’s better to come to that realization before the wedding than after.” After our colossal failure of a date Friday night, I knew now that David not showing up for our wedding was the kindest thing he could’ve done for me. Had I married him, I either would not have grown into the woman I was today, or would have eventually, and then I would have been miserable with David. “Trust me. I know what I’m talking about.”

  “Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” Frederic said. “Before I forget, there’s something that’s been troubling me. That man who was here the other morning—Thursday morning—he looked familiar to me. What’s his name?”

  “David Frist.”

  Frederic’s eyes narrowed. “David Frist. What was he doing here?”

  “Funny you should ask.” I gave an awkward chuckle. “David was my equivalent to your Cassandra. Even though he was the one who decided we weren’t right for each other on the day of our wedding well over a year ago, I’m the one who’s now realizing he made the best possible decision for both of us.”

  “I was too distraught to pay much attention to him when I first saw him, but now I have to wonder why an employee of the Santiago Corporation was here in your shop on the morning my mother was killed on your sidewalk.”

  “You must have David confused with someone else,” I said, frowning. “He’s currently out of work.”

  “Maybe so, but he used to have a fairly highranking position at the Santiago Corp. working directly with Caleb Jr.”

  “David? David Frist?” I asked. “Are you sure?”

  Frederic shrugged. “If you don’t believe me, ask him.”

  “I will. Not because I don’t believe you, but because that’s a heck of a coincidence, don’t you think?”

  “Oh yeah. I do think that . . . if it is, in fact, a coincidence.”

  I leaned forward. “Frederic, we have to find out who murdered your mother.” I told Frederic about meeting with Caleb Santiago on Saturday.

  “What were you doing poking into the Santiago Corporation’s—and my mother’s—business?” he asked.

  “When I realized that whoever killed her might think I still have the jewels she brought here, I got scared. I thought Mr. Santiago might be able to tell me something that would lead police to the killer.”

  “I guess you’ve got a point,” he said. “What did Junior have to say for himself?”

  I bit my lower lip. “He was probably just trying to throw me off track, but . . . he led me to believe that you and your mother might’ve stolen the jewels.”

  “He what?” Frederic stood and clenched his fists. “He’ll pay for this.”

  I stood and took Frederic’s arm. “I believe he could be trying to set you up.”

  Frederic sat back down, and so did I.

  “We need to work together,” I said. “Do you have any idea where your mother got those gemstones?”

  “No. I thought they were costume jewelry . . . that she’d bought them at a craft store or something. I don’t know. I certainly didn’t think they were real jewels. She probably didn’t think they were real, either.”

  I somehow doubted that. I debated on whether or not I should tell Frederic I might be meeting with an FBI agent this evening, but I decided against it. I needed Frederic’s help, but I couldn’t forget that he might be playing me—that he really might have had something to do with where his mother got the jewels. I didn’t think he had anything to do with her death, but I didn’t know Frederic well enough to trust him completely.

  “But her killer knew the jewels were real,” I said. “Or, at least, I think he did.”

  “I think he did, too.” Frederic cocked his head. “So, what do we do next?”

  “First off, don’t confront Caleb Santiago. He can’t know you and I have discussed him or the jewels. If he does, he’ll never confide anything to either of us. You also need to try to find out where your mother got those gemstones. Look through her things and see what you can come up with.”

  “I’ll do that. In fact, I’ll go do that now,” he said.

  “I’ll get your coat.” I went to the office and got Frederic’s coat. “By the way, I’m serious about those thank-you cards.”

  Frederic took his coat from me and put it on. “I appreciate that, but Harriet said she’ll collect the cards off the flower arrangements at the funeral home. She and I are going to go through them later today to see if any names jump out at me.”

  “Why?” I asked. “Does she think someone connected with your mother’s death would actually send flowers to the funeral home?”

  “She said it’s a strong possibility. The guilty person might send flowers to make himself appear innocent.” He retrieved his umbrella. “I’ll let you know if I come across anything suspicious. In the meantime, be leery of David Frist.”

  “Believe me, I will.”

  Frederic left, and I strode into my office and turned on my computer. I heated up some water in the microwave and made myself an instant cappuccino while the computer was booting up. Then I e-mailed Riley.

  I explained to Riley in the message that I’d spoken with Frederic.

  During our conversation, he asked David’s name—he told me David looked familiar to him the other morning but that he was too distraught to give it much thought. When I told him David’s name, he told me David works at the Santiago Corporation! Could you please check into this for me?

  I then filled Riley in on my possible meeting with the FBI agent Todd knew, told her I hoped she was feeling well, and asked her to call me if she needed anything or when she found something out about David.

  I intend to ask him about it, but I’m not sure he’ll give me a straight answer.

  As I sent the e-mail, I wondered about what Frederic had said. He’d recognized David, and then when I told him David’s name, he’d recognized that, too. David told me he was out of work. He did say he’d been from one job to another, so maybe he had worked for Santiago sometime in the past.

  While I was online, I ordered some springthemed cross-stitch and needlepoint kits. I also ordered enough yarn, embroidery threads, and perle flosses to replenish my stock. Then I went into the sit-and-stitch square and worked on the Kuba cloth quilt. I almost had it finished.

  Vera came in close to lunchtime. She sat on the sofa across from me and smiled at me expectantly.

  “I don’t know why,” I admitted, “but that look on your face is making me nervous.”

  “I want you to make me a purse to ma
tch my dress,” she said.

  “I’m flattered you have such a high opinion of my abilities,” I said, “but—”

  “You’re welcome,” she interrupted, taking a piece of paper from her purse and handing it to me. “I want it to be gold, like my dress. Or you could make the purse black, if you’d like, and adorn it with gold satin roses.”

  I unfolded the paper and looked at it. It looked easier than I’d thought it would. The purse like the one Vera wanted me to make her was covered in large satin ribbon embroidery roses.

  “I can do this,” I said.

  Vera clasped her hands together. “I knew you could!”

  I did a mental inventory to see if I had everything on hand to make the purse. I had the satin ribbon, and I had a tapestry needle with an eye large enough to accommodate the ribbon, but I didn’t have any plain black or gold fabric or a chain handle for the purse. I mentioned that fact to Vera.

  “Tell me what you need,” she said. “I’ll get it for you and bring it to you in the morning.”

  I smiled. Her excitement was contagious. “All right.”

  I went to the counter, took out a notepad, and made a list of the additional items Vera would need in order for me to complete the purse.

  She left, happily anticipating a purse to match her ball gown.

  My mind turned back to David. From my phone, I checked my e-mail. There wasn’t a follow-up message from Riley yet. I hoped everything was okay. And I hoped Frederic Ortega was mistaken in his belief that David had worked for the Santiago Corporation.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The FBI agent Todd had spoken with me about called around two p.m. He told me he’d talked with Todd about the gems and the stabbing, and he asked me to describe the stones I’d seen. I did so. He said he’d take a look at the FBI stolenjewelry database and that he’d meet me at around six this evening at the Brew Crew.

  Just after we’d spoken, a vase of salmon-colored roses was delivered to me by the local florist. I opened the card with dread, expecting the flowers to be from David. I was pleasantly surprised. The card read:These match the color of your lipstick. I know because I was staring at your mouth pretty intently this morning. Will you go with me to the masquerade ball on Saturday?

  —Ted

  I smiled to myself. I also blushed. I could picture him at the florist’s boutique looking for roses that would match my lipstick. And the funny thing was, they really did match perfectly!

  Once again, I found myself thrown into a dilemma about choosing between Ted and Todd. But Todd hadn’t asked me to the ball, and Ted just had. Of course, I’d go to the ball with Ted. Besides, it was just one date—one fabulously romantic date—but still . . . Maybe it would help with the decision-making process.

  My phone rang. After receiving the flowers, I naturally expected it to be Ted. Of course, it wasn’t. My gut feeling was way off today.

  It was Todd. Guilt flooded through me.

  “Hi, there,” he said. “Have you spoken with Jason yet?”

  “Yes.” Jason Daltrey was the name of the FBI agent. “He’s planning to meet me at your place at six this evening.”

  “You sound kind of nervous. Is everything all right?”

  “Yeah, it’s just been a weird day so far.” I told him about Frederic mentioning that David looked familiar and that when I put a face to the name, Frederic said David had worked for the Santiago Corporation.

  “Did you mention that to Jason?” Todd asked.

  “No. I e-mailed Riley about it and asked her to look into it. I’m hoping Frederic is wrong.” I sighed. “We agreed it would be a strange coincidence for an employee of the Santiago Corporation to be visiting me just after his mother was killed.”

  “But David got into town before Ms. Ortega was stabbed.”

  “Right,” I said, “but the morning of her death, he got here shortly after I did.”

  “But so did Sadie and I,” Todd reminded. “We were concerned about you. Not that I’m trying to defend David, by any means. Have you heard back from Riley yet?”

  “Not yet,” I replied. “I’ll check my e-mail again before I meet with Agent Daltrey.”

  After talking with Todd, I called to thank Ted for the flowers. The call went to voice mail, so I left him a message. I didn’t mention the masquerade ball. I thought it was best to accept his invitation in some way other than a voice mail message. I did, however, throw away the rose David had left me earlier in the week. It looked wilted and sad beside Ted’s bouquet.

  Just before closing time, a woman hurried in clutching a tote bag. I stood and put aside the Kuba cloth quilt.

  “Hi,” I said. “How can I help you?”

  She opened the tote bag and took out a cross-stitch piece she’d completed. It was a lovely landscape of a meadow in springtime.

  “This is beautiful,” I said.

  “Thank you. But what can I do about this?” she asked, pointing to a ring left by the embroidery hoop.

  “It isn’t terribly bad. I have a solution of water and white vinegar that might help. Either have a seat or look around the shop while I see what I can do.” I went into my office and took a small ironing board, an iron, and a spray bottle of water and white vinegar solution out of the closet. I plugged in the iron. While it heated up, I called to the customer and asked if she’d like a cup of coffee or tea.

  “No, thank you,” she called back. “You have some wonderful pattern books.”

  “Thank you.” I licked the middle finger of my left hand and tapped it quickly to the bottom of the iron. It was almost there. I sprayed the backside of the fabric lightly with the water and vinegar solution and then pressed it with the iron. I turned the fabric over. It took one more spray application and pressing before the ring disappeared. I turned off and unplugged the iron before taking the cross-stitched landscape back to the customer.

  She was relieved. “I appreciate your help so much. Do I owe you anything?”

  “Of course not. I’m just glad I could help.”

  She bought a couple pattern books before leaving.

  I rang up the sale, turned off the lights, and locked the doors. Then Angus and I left. I now needed to rush in order to get him home and get back to the Brew Crew by six o’clock to meet with Agent Daltrey.

  As I was driving, my phone rang. It was Riley.

  “Hi,” she said. “I’ve been looking into David’s employment background. His last job was with the Santiago Corporation.”

  “When did it end?” I asked.

  “A couple weeks ago.”

  “That’s good,” I said. “Right?”

  “Expound, please.”

  Riley and her lawyerly phrases. “It means he didn’t come here to spy on Francesca Ortega or do anything for the Santiago Corporation, right?”

  “Not unless he hoped to get back in the CEO′s good graces by doing some freelance work,” she said.

  “No,” I said. “I can’t believe that. Or, at least, I can’t until I talk with David about it. I have to believe this is all a weird coincidence. David might be a lot of things, but he isn’t a murderer.”

  “I’ve never met the man, so I’ll have to take your word on that one. Just be careful.”

  I made it back to the Brew Crew at five fifty-seven p.m. Todd was talking with a man in a navy blue suit. He waved me over, so I guessed the man was Agent Daltrey. From behind, the man looked smaller than I’d thought he would be. I was expecting an Agent Booth (okay, so Mom had got me thinking about David Boreanaz) or at least an Agent Mulder . . . or was it Agent Scully? I never could keep those two straight.

  When I reached the bar, Agent Daltrey turned and held out his hand. After I shook the man’s hand, I glanced at Todd. They were roughly the same age, but Todd would make two of Agent Daltrey. I always thought FBI agents were large and imposing. This man with his receding hairline, wire-rimmed glasses, and shy smile looked more like a computer genius. Maybe he was. Maybe that’s the division of the FBI he worked within.<
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  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Agent Daltrey,” I said. “Thank you for coming.”

  “The pleasure is mine, Marcy. And please call me Jason.”

  “Can I get you two something to drink?” Todd asked. “It’s on the house.”

  “In that case, I’ll have a diet soda,” I said, with a grin. “And make it a double.”

  “Make mine a regular,” Jason said.

  “Is it okay to talk here?” I asked, looking around the crowded pub.

  “You’re welcome to use my office,” Todd said.

  “Why don’t we do that?” Jason asked. “Todd, show us the way.”

  I’d never been in Todd’s office, so I was eager to see what it looked like. It was neater than I’d expected it to be. Not that Todd was a slob or anything, but I thought the bar itself would take precedence over the office and administrative duties in his estimation. There was a large walnut desk in the middle of the floor. He had two black desk trays stacked on top of each other. Both trays had some papers in them, making me think they were his in and out boxes. A large cup resembling the cap from a red ballpoint ink pen held a variety of pens and pencils. An electric calculator occupied the right-hand corner of the desk, and a stack of notepads were on the left. A calendar was in the middle of the desk. I noticed the date of the masquerade ball had been circled.

  Uh-oh.

  Jason took a seat behind the desk, and I sat in the one chair in front of the desk. Jason immediately took one of the notepads off the stack and a pen from the pencil cup.

  “I’ll check back on you guys in a few minutes,” Todd said. He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving the office and pulling the door closed behind him.

  I immediately looked down at my folded hands. I felt so guilty! It wasn’t like Todd and I had any sort of agreement. And he hadn’t asked me to the masquerade ball. We’d been on a few dates, but it wasn’t anything serious.

  “What’s that about?” Jason asked.

  I raised my head. “Excuse me?”