Cross-Stitch Before Dying Page 15

  “I’m sorry, Mom.” I wanted to dig deeper—ask her if Babs had been flirting with someone on the set, find out if Henry was jealous, see what other cast and crew members thought of Babs, Henry, and Carl Paxton—but it didn’t seem to be the right time. She’d opened her heart to me, and I could see how badly she was hurting over Henry. Now she wanted to put all talk of the movie and Babs’ murder behind her and enjoy her evening, and I wasn’t going to deny her that.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The three of us were relatively quiet as we drove to Lincoln City to the seafood restaurant where Ted had made reservations. I made a couple halfhearted attempts at conversation, but then I gave up. Finally, Ted saved the day—or, at least, the trip to Lincoln City.

  “Marcy, you know Manu and I went to investigate the primary crime scene where the gunman’s body was found, right?” he asked.

  “Yes, the place where Vera found the button,” I said.

  “Yeah, the infamous button which had probably been there for ten years.” He laughed slightly. “Don’t get me wrong. We did ask around about it, but it didn’t seem to mean anything to anyone at the office.”

  “Did you find anything else of any importance?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “The place has been trampled all to pieces. Thank goodness, we did a thorough search before the movie people got there. No offense, Bev.”

  “None taken,” she said. “Tell me more about this gunman and why you’re so desperate to find his partner.”

  “Well, for one thing, we’re pretty sure his partner is also his killer,” Ted said. “And while the young man who shot at me turned out to be a computer expert, his partner was likely the mastermind behind the entire operation. He can find another hacker. He’s the one we need to shut down. He’s the one who’s truly dangerous.”

  “Hey, the hacker was dangerous enough for me,” I said. “He shot at you!”

  “Yeah, but he missed.” Ted grinned.

  “It’s not funny,” I said.

  “I know. But it’s behind us now,” he said. “Let’s move past it. Speaking of moving on, Bev, what are your plans now that you’ve decided to drop out of Henry’s movie?”

  “I don’t know yet,” she said. “I might take a little time off before taking on a new project. This ordeal has really hurt me, and I need to heal.”

  Her voice broke slightly, and I quickly began to talk about some new crewel embroidery kits I’d ordered. I hated for her to be so upset. I knew then that I was going to give Henry Beaumont a piece of my mind.

  • • •

  I set my alarm to wake me up early Friday morning. When it buzzed, I quickly shut it off and quietly took a bath and got dressed. I definitely didn’t want to wake up Mom.

  I fed Angus and ate a granola bar, and then I took Angus for a walk around the neighborhood. It was rainy, and I didn’t want to leave him in the backyard. I wrote Mom a note telling her that Angus had been fed and walked but that she might want to walk him again when she got up. I told her I had an errand to run and was leaving early. I told her to call me if she needed anything.

  And then I went to Henry Beaumont’s hotel. I didn’t want to catch him completely off guard, so I called from the lobby and asked if I could come up. He said yes.

  When I got to the room, he opened the door in his bathrobe. His hair was wet, and it was apparent he’d taken a shower just before I’d phoned. He held up his right index finger to let me know he’d be with me in a minute, and I saw that he was holding his cell phone to his ear with left hand.

  “Yes, angel. I love you, too. I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.” He ended the call and apologized for his appearance. “I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to get dressed before you got up here. Eileen called right after you did. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll put on some clothes.”

  “Okay.” I looked around the room as Henry stepped into the bathroom and shut the door. The bed was a wreck. He’d done some tossing and turning last night. Judging by the dark circles under his eyes, he didn’t get much sleep either.

  He emerged from the bathroom in khaki slacks, a blue polo shirt, and his wet hair combed. He was still barefoot, but he sat down on the bed to put on his socks and shoes. “What can I do for you, Marcy? Your mother made it plain to me yesterday that she was finished with me.”

  “That’s what I’m here to talk with you about.” I sat on the undisturbed bed across from him. “She is so hurt, Henry. She thought you were a top-notch person . . . a gentleman . . . a man among men.”

  “And now she believes me to be a murderer?”

  “No. She thinks you were the father of Babushka Tru’s unborn child,” I said.

  He closed his eyes. “Nothing could be farther from the truth.”

  “Did you love Babs?” I asked.

  “Very much.” He opened his eyes, and they were swimming with tears. “She was my daughter.”

  I sat there like an idiot, simply staring at him.

  “I only found out a few months ago,” he said. “One night many years ago, Mita Trublonski and I hooked up at a party. We’d both been drinking . . . a lot . . . and she wound up pregnant. She didn’t tell me.”

  “Why on earth not?”

  He shrugged. “I made it obvious to her the next morning that what we’d done had been a mistake. I went home and begged Eileen for forgiveness. She forgave me, and the scandal never even hit the newspapers. It would’ve been bad for Mita and me, but it would’ve been even worse for our spouses. It meant nothing . . . and yet it meant everything.”

  “Was Mita sure Babs belonged to you and not to her husband?” I asked.

  “Yes, because her husband had left her two weeks prior to that night, and they hadn’t been sleeping together for months,” he said. “When I found out, I couldn’t wait to get to know Babs. I bought the entire series of Surf Dad and watched them over and over just to see my little girl growing up. I went through back issues of magazines, downloaded videos from the Internet. . . .”

  “And you developed this movie project for her.”

  “Yeah,” he whispered.

  “Did she know?” I asked.

  He shook his head and snatched a tissue from the box on the nightstand. “No. Mita and I decided not to tell her until she’d made her comeback. We didn’t want her to think she succeeded only because she was my daughter. We wanted her to do it on her own. And then we’d tell her.” He wiped his nose on the tissue.

  I thought back to the photos I’d seen of Henry cuddling Babs. I supposed it could have been fatherly affection I’d been seeing. “But you were so indulgent toward her. Didn’t she find that odd?”

  “No. She knew I loved her. I told her she was like the daughter I never had. Which was true.” A tear dripped off his chin and he flicked at it with the tissue. “Eileen couldn’t have children.”

  “How did she feel when she learned about Babs?”

  “She was hurt, but she was happy too. I think she thought this might be a way for her to finally get the child she’d always wanted.” He groaned. “Why didn’t we ever adopt? We talked about it so often, but we never did anything about it. Now it’s too late. And the one child I have . . . had . . . is gone.”

  “It’s not too late to adopt,” I said. “There are plenty of children out there who need good homes.”

  He nodded and continued to weep.

  I got up and moved to the other bed so I could put my arm around him. “I’m sorry, Henry. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

  • • •

  “Mom, you were wrong about Henry,” I told her when she answered the phone. I was cradling the phone between my ear and shoulder as I unlocked the door to the Seven-Year Stitch.

  “Marcella, please tell me you didn’t go talk with that man.” The exasperation was evident in her voice.

  “I did, and I’m glad
I did.” I opened the door, slipped my keys into my jeans pocket, and took my phone—much to the relief of my neck and shoulder. “He wasn’t in love with Babs. He was her father.”

  I placed my tote bag and purse behind the counter. Mom was so quiet that at first I was afraid I’d disconnected her with my machinations at the front door. “Mom? You there?”

  “I’m here,” she said softly. “Did you say that Henry was Babs’ father?”

  “Yes.” I explained how Henry and Mita Trublonski had a one-night stand many years ago that resulted in Babs. I also told Mom that Mita had decided not to tell Henry until recently because she didn’t want to destroy their respective families.

  “Then why did she suddenly come forward?” Mom asked.

  “Henry really didn’t go into detail about that, but I’m thinking Babs needed a comeback and Mita thought it would be a good time for Babs’ father, the producer, to find out about her paternity.”

  “Did he get a blood test?” she asked. “Mita could’ve been lying, you know.”

  “Look, Mom, all I know is that Henry believes he was Babs’ father and that he’s devastated over her death. He told me that he and Eileen couldn’t have children and that he was thrilled to learn he had a daughter.”

  “How did Eileen feel about that?”

  “He said she was angry and hurt at first but that she’d made peace with it,” I said. “He’d spoken with her on the phone before I’d arrived, and he said she was coming to be with him tomorrow.”

  “I need to talk with him,” Mom said. “I need to make things right between us. I don’t know that I’ll go back on my decision to drop out of this movie, but I’ve got to support Henry. Thanks for getting to the bottom of his relationship with Babs. I should’ve done like you and asked him point-blank rather than jumping to conclusions. I knew Henry was a better man than that.”

  “Well, still, he did have an affair that led to Babs,” I said.

  “Maybe. And maybe Mita was just jerking his chain. I’m going to hang up and call him now. I’ll talk with you later, darling. Thanks again for letting me know.”

  I was humming a little tune as I dusted the merchandise area of the shop and refilled the yarn and floss bins with stock from the storeroom. Things were looking up. I felt sure Babs’ murder investigation would soon be concluded.

  I sat down in the sit-and-stitch square and opened up the Monet print kit. This would be a beautiful piece once it was completed and framed.

  I had no idea what evidence the Tallulah County Police Department had, but there was obviously nothing that could conclusively point to Mom or to anyone else in the cast or crew, or else the police would have made an arrest already. We were definitely coming through the other side of the tunnel at last.

  • • •

  Ted stopped by with lunch—chef’s salads from MacKenzies’ Mochas—at about one o’clock.

  “Where’s the fur ball?” he asked when he noticed Angus was conspicuously absent.

  “He stayed home with Mom this morning,” I said. “I had an errand to run and didn’t think he’d be welcome to tag along.”

  He arched a brow. “An errand, Inch-High Private Eye?”

  I grinned. “Okay, so I might have been doing a little detecting. I went to talk with Henry Beaumont.”

  “About?”

  “You saw how upset Mom was last night, and I went to tell him about it.” I put the clock on the door and then got us some sodas from the mini-fridge in my office. “But it turns out, she was entirely wrong about him. He wasn’t an old lothario after all. He was a young . . . okay, not so young . . . he was . . . what? A middle-aged. . . .”

  “Marcy.”

  “He was Babs’ dad!” I spurted. “Can you believe it? Apparently, he and Mita had a tryst all these years ago, and he’s Babs’ father. Only Mom thinks Mita might have been lying to Henry in order to get Babs a part in one of Henry’s movies, so she was going to call Henry and tell him she was sorry she misjudged him and to see whether or not he got a paternity test before he just took Mita’s word for everything. I’m sure he did, though, aren’t you? I mean, of course, he’d check out the story. How convenient for— “

  Ted silenced me with a kiss. Afterward, he told me I’d gotten so carried away with my story that he was afraid I’d hyperventilate.

  “Thank you so much, then, for coming to my rescue,” I said. “The kiss was much better than having me breathe into a paper bag. But I really do think everything is going to be all right now, don’t you?”

  He nodded, but I know him well enough to know that it was an insincere nod.

  “You don’t think so,” I said. “Why don’t you think so?”

  “There’s still a murderer out there, Marce. Things won’t really be better until he’s caught.”

  “But is the Tallulah County Police Department even positive that Babs was murdered?” I asked. “Ron Fitzpatrick seems to think she stumbled and fell on her own—no blow to the head, no push, no nothing except her own clumsiness.”

  “I’m afraid not, Inch-High. There was solid evidence that Babs was struck on the back of the head with a blunt object and that she couldn’t have obtained the injury in the fall.”

  I huffed. “Okay, what about Carl Paxton? Now that we’re sure Henry and Babs weren’t having an affair, he’s bound to have been the father of Babs’ baby. Have the police talked with him?”

  “I don’t know. I’m with the Tallulah Falls Sheriff’s Department, remember? Anything the TCPD shares with us, they do as an interdepartmental courtesy,” he said. He studied my face for a second. “But I’ll check into it and see what I can find out.”

  I smiled. “Thanks.”

  He held up a hand. “But, you need to stop jumping to conclusions. One, the TCPD hasn’t yet determined the paternity of Babs’ child. Two, Henry could’ve been lying or lied to about Babs being his daughter. And three, Ron could’ve told you he thinks Babs simply slipped and fell because that’s what he wants you to think . . . or maybe that’s what he wants to think. You have to play devil’s advocate and look at the entire picture, babe.”

  “I don’t. You do. That’s why they pay you the big bucks.” I winked and popped a crouton into my mouth.

  “Oh, yeah. That’s the only reason you’re dating me, isn’t it? My mansion and my Ferrari are real turn-ons.”

  I laughed. “You’re the turn-on, Ted Nash. You don’t need any fancy trappings.”

  “It’s a good thing.”

  My phone rang, and I saw that it was Mom. “I’d better take this just to make sure she’s okay.” I pressed the answer button. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

  “I don’t know that to do,” she said.

  “What’s wrong? Are you crying?” I asked.

  “He’s dead. Henry’s dead.” Her words ended on a sob.

  “Mom, calm down. What do you mean he’s dead?” I put the phone on speaker so Ted could hear too.

  “After we spoke on the phone this morning, I told him I’d buy him a coffee,” she said. “We thought it would do us both good. But when I got here, the door to his room was ajar. He’s dead.”

  “Beverly, it’s Ted. Did you touch anything?”

  “Just Henry,” she said. “I put my purse down and patted his face. I thought he’d fainted. When he didn’t come to, I took his pulse.”

  “Hold tight,” Ted said. “And don’t touch anything. I’m on my way.”

  “I’m going with you,” I said.

  He didn’t argue as I turned out the lights and locked the door. Instead, he called Manu and asked him to meet us at Henry’s hotel. Since the hotel was in Tallulah County rather than in the town of Tallulah Falls, he also called Detective Bailey and asked him and Detective Ray to come to the hotel as well. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Detectives Bailey and Ray again . . . especially since my fingerprints
were all over Henry’s hotel room and my mother had found his body.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I was relieved to see Manu’s white Bronco in the parking lot of Henry’s hotel when we arrived. The pit of dread that had been gnawing at my stomach returned almost immediately, however, as I heard sirens blaring nearer and nearer.

  “So much about keeping this quiet from the press until there’s some sort of official word,” I muttered.

  As Ted and I approached the front doors of the hotel, Detectives Ray and Bailey—along with two additional cars of law enforcement personnel—roared up to the loading area and screeched to a halt.

  “Hold it right there!” Detective Bailey yelled from the passenger side window. “Don’t move until I get out of this car!”

  Ted stiffened and placed a protective hand at the small of my back.

  Detective Bailey put up his window and got out of the car. “What do you think you’re doing here? Neither of you have any business here. This is not your jurisdiction, Nash, and you certainly don’t have any reason to be here, Ms. Singer.”

  “First off, this is a public place,” Ted said. “No one has officially confirmed that Henry Beaumont is even dead.” He nodded to the cars in which uniformed officers and plainclothes officers still sat. “Won’t you feel ridiculous if it turns out that Henry Beaumont was just passed out?”

  “You said her mother—the same woman who we believe to be the last person to see Babushka Trublonski alive—thought Henry was dead,” Detective Bailey said. “I’m figuring she should know.”

  “All right,” said Detective Ray, joining our happy little trio. “Let’s go upstairs and see what we’ve got.” He called for the other two carloads of police officers to stand by.

  The four of us went upstairs to Henry Beaumont’s room. Detective Ray knocked on the door. Manu opened it.

  I could see Mom sobbing into a fist in a chair in the corner, so I brushed past Detective Ray to go kneel in front of her.

  “Mom, are you all right?” I asked.

  “No. How could I possibly be all right? Henry’s dead. I’d behaved so badly toward him over this whole Babs incident, and now he’s gone.”