Better Off Thread, page 13
Mr. Martin got his coffee and came over to the table. He sat down and gave me a level stare. “Tell me about this project.”
“I’d like a gazebo,” I said. “Now, I know your company deals in large projects like the hospital’s cancer ward, but I hoped maybe you could recommend someone local.”
“We do all kinds of different things, not only big jobs.” He tasted his coffee. “You said your mom was a costume designer. Was she with that movie crew that was here a few months ago?”
“Yeah. Sadly, that whole affair ended tragically, but she was part of the crew.”
“That must have been cool.”
“It had its moments.” I smiled. He didn’t.
“You think they might consider coming back and resuming work on the film?” he asked.
“I don’t believe so. That project has been scrapped . . . for the time being, anyway.”
“That’s too bad. I mean, I figure the set designers might hire local contractors to help with their construction,” he said. “I’ve got a cousin up in Portland who does lots of movie and TV work.”
“That’s nice.”
“Yeah. Good work if you can get it.”
“I’ll mention you to Mom if the studio does decide to revive the film,” I said.
“Thanks. About that gazebo: I couldn’t have anyone get to it until the spring. But how big you want it?”
“I’m not sure. Nothing too big. Just something to picnic in—that sort of thing.” I gave a light laugh. “Nothing like the size you and Carrie would need for a marriage ceremony.”
He didn’t laugh. He just drank more coffee.
“Have you set the date yet?” I continued.
He shook his head. “I guess she’ll take care of all that. The ceremony tends to mean more to the woman than it does the man, right?”
“I guess it does.” I dug my fork around in my salad and tried to make my question seem offhand. “Wow, wasn’t that terrible about the hospital administrator at Tallulah County General? I haven’t had a chance to talk with Carrie about it much.”
“Why would you?”
“Well, just to get her thoughts on it. You know. It was terrible. I hope it doesn’t make her afraid. I know she works some pretty late hours.”
“Why would it make Carrie afraid?”
I shrugged. “Ms. Vincent was killed right there in the hospital during the day. I think that’s frightening, and I’d be terrified if I worked at that hospital, knowing there was a killer on the loose.”
“The guy’s not on the loose. He got arrested.”
“But what if he’s not the guy?”
“He’s the guy.”
“How can you be so sure?” I asked. “Why would a guy hired to play Santa Claus kill the hospital administrator? He had no motive.”
“Maybe she stuck her nose where she didn’t have any business.” With that, John Martin slid his chair back from the table, got up, and left.
Blake came out from behind the counter and over to my table. “What was that all about? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “But one thing’s for certain: I don’t want that guy anywhere near my gazebo.”
“But you don’t have a gazebo.”
“Exactly.”
Chapter Seventeen
When I got back to the Seven-Year Stitch after lunch and after walking Angus, I gave Vera a call. I didn’t call Ted because I knew he was swamped today.
“Hi, hon. What’s up?” she asked when she answered.
I told her about John Martin and my ruse about wanting a gazebo built.
“Oh, a gazebo would be darling. Are you sure you’re not considering it for real? I mean, you didn’t simply pull the idea out of thin air.”
“Well, it might be nice, but I’m actually calling to tell you about Mr. Martin.”
“Of course,” she said. “Go on.”
“I asked him about quoting a price on a gazebo, and then I said he probably didn’t take on small projects like that, given the fact that his company had built the cancer ward onto Tallulah County General. And then, since I’d worked the conversation around to the hospital, I asked him about Sandra Vincent’s murder and whether or not his fiancée, Carrie, was afraid to work there, knowing there was a killer on the loose.”
“Good job. What did you get out of him?”
“He said that he’s convinced the police arrested the right guy. And when I asked him what possible motive the Santa hired by Ms. Vincent for an event would have to kill her, he said that maybe she stuck her nose where it didn’t belong.”
There was silence on the other end of the line for so long that I said “Hello” to make sure Vera and I hadn’t been disconnected.
“Yeah, hon. I’m here. The way you said that made it sound like a threat to me.”
“The way John Martin said it to me made it sound like a threat, too. So I must be getting close to a nerve, right?”
“You could be. And from everything I’ve heard, those Martin brothers are nasty guys,” she said. “Let Ted and the rest of the police handle them. Stay away from them.”
“I will. But I’m wondering if maybe Sandra Vincent or the board of directors had been wooed over to some new construction company and was dumping Martin Brothers Construction. If so, there’s a plausible motive for one of the Martins to murder her.”
“Let Paul and me look into it and see what we can turn up. In the meantime, be careful.”
“I will,” I promised.
* * *
Later that afternoon, I was helping a woman pick out a scroll-frame starter kit for her niece when Riley and Laura came in. Riley had the baby bundled up in a coat and a pink knit hat with a flower on the side.
“What a beautiful baby!” the woman exclaimed.
“Thank you,” said Riley.
Angus came up to snuffle at Laura’s feet, and the baby looked at her mother with a smile.
“Mama,” said Laura.
And then she said a bunch of gibberish that apparently only Riley understood because Riley responded with, “I know!”
The customer paid for her purchases, fawned over Laura one last time, and then left.
Riley sat on a stool and placed Laura on the countertop in front of her. I played with the baby while Angus sat on the floor beside Riley and looked up at the child longingly. He whimpered now and then.
“What do you think?” Riley asked. “Is it time to introduce them?”
“That’s entirely up to you.”
She patted the counter, and Angus eagerly propped his paws up on top to get a better look at the baby.
Laura reached out and touched his head, then drew back her hand and laughed. She did it again and again.
“I think she likes him,” said Riley.
“And the feeling is obviously mutual.”
After a few minutes, Angus got tired of standing on his back legs and went back to the window to look out. Riley took a wipe from her diaper bag and quickly washed Laura’s hands before they wound up in her mouth.
“Did you give that private investigator, Harvey Gordon, a call?” I asked.
“I did. Although he hasn’t been able to turn up much yet.”
“Mmma, mama ma-maa,” said Laura.
“I’m sure Mr. Gordon has his own way of investigating, and I certainly don’t want to interfere,” I began.
“But?” She knew I was holding back. “Marcy, if you know something that might help Uncle Moe, please tell me. I’m running out of ideas, and he’s running out of time.”
“I’ve got a bad feeling about John Martin and Carrie Monahan.” I told her what we’d learned about the construction company, how I’d found out that John and Carrie were engaged, how Carrie was one of three finalists for the hospital-administrator job, and about my encounter with John Martin over lunch.
“What a jerk,” she said. “I agree, though: that is suspicious behavior.”
Laura babbled some more, and Riley kissed the baby’s plump cheek.
“I’ll talk with Harvey about Martin Brothers Construction and about Carrie Monahan,” said Riley. “I’ll give him the information you’ve given me and ask him to see what he can turn up.”
I glanced out the window and then drew in a breath.
“What is it?” Keeping one hand firmly on Laura, Riley turned to look out the window.
“That guy standing on the sidewalk in front of the Brew Crew. The one staring over here. That’s John Martin.”
He was leaning against the wall outside of the pub with his feet crossed, and he was watching the Stitch.
“I’m going to let him know I see him.” I came around the counter, went over to the window, and waved. I tried to make it look like a friendly greeting, but John Martin raised his hand as if he were pointing a pistol and then lowered his thumb. Bang.
I tried to look nonchalant as I turned my back and headed toward the counter, but my heart was racing. “D-did you see that?”
“Yep. And I’m positive he intended his gesture as a threat, although in a court of law, he could say he meant the gesture in a harmless way.”
Mr. Martin turned and went into the Brew Crew.
“It’s almost time for you to close up shop,” said Riley. “I’ll take Laura on out and put her into the car, and then I’ll drive around to the back where your Jeep is parked. Don’t go out the door until you see that I’m there.”
“That’s not necessary. I just saw him go into the pub. He’s not going to be waiting for me in the alley.”
“Probably not, but I want to be sure. And so does Laura. Don’t you, Doodlebug?”
Laura said a few garbled words as seriously as she could.
Riley grinned. “See?”
She took the baby and left. I glanced at the clock. I still had ten minutes until closing, but I was a little freaked out, and I doubted anyone would be coming by this late. I went ahead and locked the front door. I gathered my purse and tote bag from beneath the counter and called to Angus. He trotted beside me to the back door.
I opened the door slightly and saw that Riley’s dark blue Mercedes was idling right behind my Jeep. I locked the door and went on outside. After putting Angus and my things into the Jeep, I went over to Riley’s car.
She put down her window. “Be careful, okay? Tell Ted about this creep.”
“I will. And you tell Harvey Gordon about him. Hopefully, your PI can dig up something that will help Captain Moe.”
“From your mouth to God’s ear.”
I was driving home when Todd called my cell phone.
“Hey, there.”
“Hey, yourself.” He was speaking so quietly, I could barely hear him.
“Can you speak up a little?”
“No. I’m in the Brew Crew office. There’s a guy at the bar asking about you, and I don’t like it.”
“I think the guy you’re talking about is John Martin, and I don’t like it, either. What kind of questions is he asking?”
“For one thing, he wants to know if you bring that big dog to work every day,” said Todd. “He was talking with Will. When Will said that you do bring Angus to work with you just about every day, the guy asked if the dog bites.”
I groaned. Will was Todd’s day manager and bartender, and he was also one of the sweetest guys on the planet. I was certain he’d told John Martin that Angus was as friendly as could be. “Todd, I’m scared of this guy. Please tell me Will didn’t—”
“No, it’s okay,” Todd said. “He thought there was something fishy about the guy’s questions, so he said that the dog seems all right but that he wouldn’t push it. And Will said he was careful not to give the guy Angus’s name.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank him for me.”
“I will. I’m going to slip out the back and come over while you lock up and—”
“I’m way ahead of you,” I interrupted. “Although I do appreciate the thought, I’m on my way home already. Riley was here when John Martin was standing outside the Brew Crew. He was watching the Stitch, so I went over to the window and waved.”
“Marcy! If you think somebody is dangerous, you don’t antagonize him!”
“I know. It was a friendly wave. But instead of waving back, he pretended to shoot me.”
“I don’t like this.”
“I’m not crazy about it, either,” I said. “On the bright side, though, maybe he’s the one who killed Sandra Vincent.”
“Oh yeah, that’s a really bright side.”
“It would be if we could prove it and get Captain Moe off the hook.”
He blew out a breath. “At least tell Batman that the Joker is in town, would you?”
“I wonder if Ted is flattered by all these sweet nicknames you give him. I’ll have to ask.”
“That’s not an answer to my question,” Todd said.
“I’ll tell him. And Riley is putting her private investigator on this guy’s trail, too. If he did kill Sandra Vincent, maybe Mr. Gordon can find the evidence to put John Martin away.”
* * *
By the time Ted arrived to take me to Zefferelli’s, I had fed Angus, changed into a brown leather skirt and a coral sweater, and had touched up my makeup.
“Wow, you look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I said.
I hadn’t really planned on telling Ted about John Martin until we were comfortably ensconced at our table at Zefferelli’s with a basket of breadsticks between us. But then he noticed that I left the television on for Angus . . . as well as a few extra lights. I always left a couple of lights on for Angus, but I seldom turned on the TV. On top of that, Ted saw me looking around furtively as we walked to the car.
“What are you doing?” he asked, as he opened the passenger’s-side door for me to get in.
“Just looking around.”
He shut the door and came around to the driver’s side. “I know better. You never just look around.”
“Are you saying I’m not observant? Admittedly, I don’t have the laser focus that you do, but I think I’m fairly observant.”
“Marcy.”
“It’s nothing . . . probably.”
This time he merely gave me the look. It’s a serious look that kinda says he’s through playing games.
I took a deep breath and started with lunch. “You know how you called and told me you couldn’t get away for lunch? Well, I went down to MacKenzies’ Mochas for a salad, and while I was there, I just happened to run into John Martin. So I came up with a pretend project—a gazebo—to ask him for a ballpark quote on.”
“In other words, despite his surly demeanor when you met him on Thursday, you decided to pick his brain about Sandra Vincent.”
“Pretty much. And when I did try to pick his brain about Sandra Vincent, he said that Captain Moe probably killed her because she stuck her nose where she had no business,” I said. “And then he left without giving me an estimate on my gazebo.”
“Do you really want a gazebo? I could probably build a gazebo.”
“I don’t know. It might be something to consider later on. But I haven’t finished my story about John Martin.”
He glanced at me. “What else did he do?”
I told Ted about Mr. Martin standing across the street at the Brew Crew, pretending to shoot me, and then asking Will whether or not Angus would bite.
“Either he thought Will would tell you or he really wanted to know if he should be careful of Angus.” His voice was cold and hard. “Regardless, he wanted to scare you.”
“I can’t honestly say he doesn’t intimidate me at all, but I do hope that if he killed Sandra Vincent, he left enough evidence for Harvey Gordon to find.”
Ted didn’t say anything to that, and I noticed that a muscle in his jaw was working.
I placed my hand on his forearm. “Please don’t let what I just told you ruin our evening.”
He took a deep breath, and I could see it took some effort for him to relax. “All right.”
Chapter Eighteen
Ted drove Angus and me to the Carstairs’ home in the Jeep. I was a little nervous about the entire affair and preferred that Ted drive so I could steel myself for whatever I was about to encounter. Along the way, his phone buzzed. He’d received a text message.
He nodded toward the phone, which lay on the console between us. “Would you read that message for me, please?”
I picked up the phone and looked at the screen. “It’s from Tiffany. It says, ‘Tell Marcy to dance, monkey, dance.’” I burst out laughing.
“I don’t get it.”
“I basically told Tiffany on Friday night that Dr. Carstairs had made me feel like a performing monkey and that if it wasn’t for Brendan and the fact that we could possibly uncover more information to help Captain Moe, I’d have turned him down flat.”
“You’re a good person. Most people would’ve told him where to get off.”
“Would you have?” I asked.
“Probably. But, then, I haven’t met the boy.”
“Yeah. It makes a difference. You’ll see. Plus, Melanie is nice.” I told him about Melanie coming in to learn some basic stitches and to get supplies so she could do something useful while Brendan is sleeping. “It’s a shame she didn’t get the hospital-administration job. I think could’ve done some good work.”
We pulled up to a wooden and metal gate with an intercom about four feet in front on the driver’s side. Ted put down his window, and when prompted announced that we were there to see Brendan at Dr. Carstairs’ request. The gate slowly swung open.
The curving, paved driveway was beautifully lined with boxwoods, cedars, hellebores, and Lenten roses. We rounded a bend and the drive opened up into a circular parking area. Ted maneuvered the Jeep into a spot where we wouldn’t be blocking the garage door, should anyone in the house need to leave while we were there. He got out and snapped Angus’s leash onto his collar.
