Tapestry of Lies: A Weaving Mystery (13 page)

I nodded. “That was one of the first things that attracted me to this building. The owner was meticulous in its upkeep.”

“It sounded lovely in the ad, but it’s even nicer than I expected.” She turned to me. “I’ll take it.” And then, hesitantly, she added, “If you’ll have me, of course. I can give you the first and last month right now if you like. Oh, and I have a dog. Is that a problem?”

Before I had a chance to think, I blurted, “It’s not a problem at all. I love dogs. What kind is it?”

“She’s a French bulldog. She’s not very big, only twenty pounds.”

“You’re kidding. A friend of mine has one too. I dog-sit him in my shop every day. We’ll have to introduce them. What’s her name?”

“Clementine.”

I laughed. “Wasn’t that the name of Winston Churchill’s wife?”

“Most male bulldogs are named Winston, so that’s why I chose Clementine.”

“You’re right. My friend’s dog is named Winston.” I grinned. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have as a neighbor. Come, I have a lease downstairs. I’ll have you fill it out.”

“You mean it?” I nodded, and she whooped and danced a few steps.

“You can look around while I fill out the landlord’s section.” I only hoped she found a job soon.

•   •   •

I jotted down the terms on the agreement while Marnie showed Margaret around the shop. She was full of compliments. “Oh, I love this monk’s cloth throw. I’ve always wanted to make one like this, with a country heart design.”

Marnie nodded. “It is nice. That’s one of Jenny’s projects. You’ll meet Jenny in a few minutes.” At Margaret’s quizzical expression, she explained. “Jenny operates the coffee shop in the back, Coffee, Tea and Destiny. Didn’t you see the sign outside?” At that moment, a trio of women left the coffee shop, cutting through my store on their way out.

“Oh, that’s why it smells so good in here. I was wondering where that came from.”

“I have the lease ready,” I called to her.

She picked up the document, nodding silently as she read it through. And then she signed it. “I’ll write you that check before I forget.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I’d remind you.”

She laughed, rummaging through her bag and pulling out a checkbook. “Here you go—first and last month.” I handed her a copy of the lease in exchange and folded mine safely into my drawer.

“Hello. Am I interrupting?” Jenny asked as she joined us.

I turned. “Jenny, meet my new neighbor and tenant, Margaret Fowler.”

They smiled and shook hands, and then Jenny said, “So you’re renting the apartment. Congratulations. It’s a beautiful place. When are you moving in?”

Margaret looked at me. “As soon as possible. I’d like to start bringing in furniture right away, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all,” I said. “We’re still a week away from October, but the place is empty, so you might as well use it.”

“Well, that’s definitely a cause for a celebration,” Jenny said. “How about a cup of tea or coffee for everyone? My treat.”

“Sounds great, but the treat is on me. It’s only fair. A new tenant means more income for me.”

“Go ahead and pay for the coffee if you like, but how about you bring over a few muffins. Those are on me,” Marnie added. To Margaret, she whispered, “Jenny’s muffins are homemade and to die for,” and then, chuckling, “I bake them myself.”

“It’s quiet back there for now.” Jenny glanced at her watch. “But it’s bound to start getting really busy soon. I’ll bring everything out here.” She went to her shop, returning with a tray laden with mugs and goodies.

I’d already had one just a short while ago. I hesitated.
What the heck,
I thought, picking a lemon-poppy muffin. I could never pass up Marnie’s baking.

She passed the coffee around and raised her cup. “To Margaret. May your new home bring you much luck and happiness.”

Margaret smiled. “I could use some good luck for a change. I’ve had nothing but bad luck lately, but after finding this great apartment, I’m beginning to think things are about to turn around.” She took a swallow of her coffee and then added, “All I need now is to find a job.”

I was only half paying attention to the conversation. From where I stood, I had a clear view of anyone who came to the door. A movement had caught my eye. It was Bunny Boyd. She walked up, put her hand on the doorknob and froze. In her eyes was an expression I couldn’t quite identify. Fear? Anger? I followed her gaze. She was staring at Margaret. And then she spun around and hurried away.

What the heck was that all about? Why would Bunny Boyd want to avoid Margaret?

“Della?” I snapped back to what Margaret was saying. “Maybe I can show you some of my woven items. If you like them, I could leave them on consignment with you.”

It was a question more than a statement. “That’s a terrific idea. I’m always looking for new suppliers and new stock.”

Jenny had been studying Margaret for the last few minutes. “What sign are you?” she asked. And then she held up her hand. “No, don’t tell me. Let me guess.” She squinted at her.

Margaret squirmed, looking from Jenny to me nervously. “What is she doing?”

“She can see auras,” Marnie explained. “She can tell a lot about a person that way. And if she reads your tea leaves, she can tell your future too.”

“You’re a Virgo,” Jenny said. “You are strong willed and determined. You’ve just suffered a great disappointment, but you’re not letting it get you down.” She smiled. “Am I right?”

Margaret nodded, impressed. “I am a Virgo. How did you know that? And I just had to close my business, so you’re right about a recent disappointment too.” She shrugged. “But I tell myself that everything happens for a reason. Something better is bound to come along.”

I chuckled. “That was not very difficult to divine. You just told her you’d had nothing but bad luck lately.”

Jenny gave me an epic roll of the eyes. “Della is our local skeptic. She never believes my predictions.” She turned to me. “For your information, what I told her is what I saw in her aura. I didn’t even think about what she’d just told us.”

“Sure, sure,” I said.

She shook her head dismissively. “Does anybody want a refill?”

Margaret looked at her watch. “I’d better get going.” Grinning, she added, “I have some packing to do. If you need to reach me for any reason, don’t hesitate to call.”

As soon as the door closed behind her, Marnie gushed, “She’s terrific. Della, if you decide you need help in your shop, you should hire her.”

“I thought you wanted the job. Now you’re telling me that I should hire her. What gives?”

Marnie scowled. “You’re right. That was stupid of me. But she sounded like she needs a job more than I do.”

“I might have the solution.” Jenny said. “The way my business is going, I can barely keep up with all the work. I need to check with my accountant and make sure I can afford it, but if he gives me the go-ahead, I’ll hire her right away. I have a good feeling about that girl.”

“You’re doing that well? That’s wonderful,” I said. “I’m so happy for you.”

Jenny picked up the cups, lining them up on the tray. “Don’t tell her until I’m sure. I’d hate to disappoint her.” She marched off toward her shop, and just in the nick of time. At that moment, the door flew open and half a dozen people walked in and headed directly to the back. The door had barely closed when one more woman walked in. She looked familiar. And then it came to me. She was the maid who had served the drinks at Bernard Whitby’s party.

She came to the counter, fiddling with her purse. “Bunny Boyd asked me to drop off this envelope for her. She’s sorry she couldn’t come in person, but she’ll give you a call and arrange to pick up the signed document later.”

Now Bunny’s behavior had gone from odd to completely ridiculous. She was sending the maid to do her errand rather than risk running into Margaret. That was just plain stupid. Or was I jumping to conclusions?

“Thank you.” I took the envelope. “I met you at Mr. Whitby’s party, didn’t I?”

She studied me. “Perhaps,” she said apologetically. “I’m sorry. I’m not good with faces, and there were so many people.”

I nodded. “There certainly were.” And before she could walk away, I continued. “Have you worked for Mr. Whitby very long?”

“Thirty-two years,” she replied. “We worked for the Whitbys all of our adult lives. We worked for his father when we first started.”

“We?”

“My husband and I.”

“You mean you’re married to Sweeny?” I shouldn’t have been surprised. It wasn’t unusual for married couples who both worked as servants to be hired in the same household. “Sweeny was telling me about Mr. Whitby’s missing gun—an old Colt, right?”

Her mouth dropped open. “Jimmy told you about that?”

From the corner of my eye, I could see Marnie rising from her chair. I gave her a warning look and she sat back down.

“Oh, we didn’t talk for very long,” I answered vaguely. “I just feel so awful for poor Mr. Whitby. He cares so much about his collection. I hope that Colt wasn’t too valuable.”

She was already shaking her head. “Oh, no, not at all. It was one of the least important in his collection. I mean, it was still valuable, but the gun right next to it was worth ten times as much. It was just lucky the thief took that one instead.”

“I hope the collection is well insured.”

She nodded. “The police were already there to take down the report. They left black fingerprint powder all over that room. Such a mess.” And then, leaning in, she whispered, “I’ve been wondering if that poor man—you know, the one who was murdered—might have been killed with Mr. Whitby’s gun.” So Mrs. Sweeny liked to gossip, I thought. Well, I was not about to disappoint her.

I adopted a whispery tone. “I’ve been wondering the same thing. If it was the murder weapon, it would mean one of the guests at the party is the killer. Does anybody have any idea who could have taken it?”

“Nobody has the faintest idea. It’s a mystery. I’ve been going over and over in my mind the people I saw going upstairs. There were so many of them—at least two hundred.”

“Two hundred.” I scowled. “That’s a lot of suspects. I’m surprised Mr. Whitby allowed guests to walk around the house.”

“That was not his idea. It was Miss Boyd’s.” She grimaced at the name. “He normally never allows people to walk about like that. He hates people nosing around his house.” She sneered. “But she wanted to show off, no doubt.”

Bunny’s idea—how interesting. I stored this new tidbit of information. “It just gives me goose bumps to think that the killer might be somebody I know,” I said, widening my eyes dramatically.

“It does me too,” she said, and then, as if suddenly realizing that she was participating in gossip, she straightened up. “Well, then,” she said stiffly, “I’ll let Ms. Boyd know I gave you the envelope.” She turned and walked out.

I tore open the envelope and pulled out the agreement. After reading it carefully, I bent down to get the fax machine from under the counter. It was time to place that yarn order. And then I stopped. As excited as I was about starting this project, I had to be smart. I had to get the deposit first.

I turned my thoughts to something Mrs. Sweeny had said. The gun next to the one that had been stolen was worth ten times as much. This suggested the Colt was not stolen for its value. If not for that, then what? Its practical value? Yes, it was possible that whoever took it had stolen it to use it.

Marnie wandered over, eyeing me suspiciously. “
Poor
Mr. Whitby? Really? The man is a gazillionaire.”

“Was I being very obvious?”

She smirked. “I’ll say. I was surprised she didn’t see through you right away. What did you hope to find out?”

“Nothing in particular. I was just gossiping. You never know what you might find out from gossiping.”

She tilted her head, repeating, “So, what did you find out?”

“I think it’s interesting that of all the guns, the one that was stolen turns out to be not terribly important.”

“I’d say it was lucky rather than interesting.”

I didn’t comment. After a few seconds of silence, she said, “Are you going to sign that contract?”

I rolled my eyes, laughing. “You sure are nosy.”

She didn’t bat an eye. “Why would you ever think otherwise? Everybody knows I’m curious.” She regarded me suspiciously. “You’re not sure you want the job anymore, are you?”

I laughed. “Don’t be silly. I just want to go over it carefully a second time and make sure it’s right before I sign it.”

“Good idea,” she said, and returned to her loom.

•   •   •

Matthew answered on the first ring. “Well, if it isn’t my very own personal informant. I take it you have some new and important information to share with me?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“Good timing, I just had lunch and was about to take Winston for a walk. Why don’t we meet in the park behind the church? We can chat without risk of anyone overhearing.”

“Where are you going?” Marnie called as I grabbed my sweater and headed for the door.

“I’m joining Matthew for a walk.”

Her frown morphed into a grin. “Have fu-un, and for heaven’s sake, flirt,” she called out as the door swung closed behind me.

The church was a block down the street, right next to Briar Hollow Mercantile, almost equidistant between Mathew’s house and my shop. I walked briskly, figuring my pace would be close to Matthew’s and Winston’s so we should meet about halfway. Sure enough, as I approached the church, I spotted them coming toward me from the opposite side. Suddenly, Winnie spotted me and took off at a gallop, his lead whipping along behind him.

He threw himself at me, almost knocking me down. “Whoa there, big boy.” I took hold of his leash and handed it to Matthew as he caught up.

“Bad boy,” he said firmly. Any other dog would be squirming with guilt. Not this dog, though—he stared up at Matthew, wagging his nonexistent tail.

I chuckled. “Sometimes I wonder about you, Winnie. With an ugly mug like yours, you should at least be really smart.” Winston gave me a happy bark, proving my point exactly. “You’re not even smart enough to know when you’re being insulted.”