Wicked Stitch - Couverture souple

Lee, Amanda

Couverture souple

ISBN 10 : 045146740X ISBN 13 : 9780451467409

Editeur : Berkley, 2015

A propos du livre

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PRAISE FOR AMANDA LEE’S EMBROIDERY MYSTERIES

Also by Amanda Lee

Chapter One

I was sitting at the sewing machine in my office working on a Renaissance costume for my best friend, Sadie MacKenzie. My dog, Angus, an Irish wolfhound, was lying in the hall. The office was a bit cramped for him. Plus, he liked to be able to see what was happening in the main part of the embroidery shop I own . . . which wasn’t much that day.

The shop is called the Seven-Year Stitch, and in fact it was Sadie who had urged me to leave San Francisco and move to the Oregon coast to open the shop. Sadie and her husband, Blake, own MacKenzies’ Mochas, a coffee shop just down the street from the Stitch.

It was mid-September, which meant that all the kids were back at school and there weren’t as many vacationers visiting the coast. Also, everyone was busy preparing for the upcoming Renaissance Faire.

The festival was starting this weekend and would be going on for the next two weeks. The theme was Macbeth, so, of course, someone dressed up as William Shakespeare would be on hand. There would be a king and a queen; Macbeth and Lady Macbeth; Hecate, Queen of the Witches; and the three creepy soothsayers who foretold Duncan’s doom would be there to tell Faire-goers their fortunes. There would be jousting, human chess games, minstrels, faeries, pirates, and all manner of merchants. The Faire was to culminate with Macbeth murdering the king and then being killed by Macduff.

Every merchant I knew—as well as many others—in Tallulah Falls and the outlying region was planning to take part in the Ren Faire. Julie, a woman who took embroidery classes from me, would be coming in Friday to cover for me so I could go get my booth set up. She and her teenage daughter, Amber, would be taking care of the store on Saturday, and then Julie herself would be in charge for the next two weeks while I sold supplies and embroidery pieces at the festival.

Sadie and Blake were taking turns manning a booth and running their shop. Todd Calloway, of the Brew Crew, was setting up a booth, and Captain Moe—he of the delicious burgers and shakes—would be making all our corsets too tight.

I was really looking forward to the event. My mom was a costume designer, so she’d sent patterns for the outfits I’d been making for Sadie and myself. Since Sadie and I would be simple merchants, our costumes weren’t all that fancy. But they were still beautiful. I loved the feeling of going back in time.

I had both a red and a blue jacquard skirt, a black velvet corset vest, and two cream-colored off-the-shoulder peasant blouses. I also had a very simple square-necked green velvet floor-length gown with gold brocade trim. I figured I might be pushing the “merchant” envelope a little with that last dress, but I didn’t want to wear the same thing every day.

Sadie’s outfits leaned more toward tavern wench costumes. Like me, she had two peasant blouses and two skirts—one brown and one yellow. She also had a black vest, but hers had laces and tied at the bottom. Since Blake—who said he’d go as a pirate or not dressed up at all—would be alternating days with Sadie, she wanted only the two outfits.

I was finishing up her yellow skirt when the bells over the door jingled and Angus leapt to his feet.

“I’ll be right there!” I called. I quickly finished sewing the seam I was working on, then walked out into the shop.

It was Sadie.

“Hi! You’re just in time to try on your yellow skirt,” I said. My smile faded as I noticed the scowl on Sadie’s lovely face.

“What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m so mad I could spit!” She ran both hands through her long dark hair and paced in front of the window. “I cannot believe the nerve of that woman!”

“Who? What’s going on?” I went over and took her by the shoulders. “Calm down and tell me about it.”

“Nellie Davis was in the coffee shop just now,” said Sadie.

“Oh, no.”

Nellie Davis had been a thorn in my side ever since I’d moved to Tallulah Falls. Her sister had wanted to lease the space the Stitch was now in, but Sadie had snapped it up for me before anyone else could lay claim to it. Then, after I’d found the former tenant dead in my storeroom, Nellie had said the Seven-Year Stitch was bad for everyone else’s business and had gone on to say all kinds of other mean things about me and my shop. I hated to think that Sadie’s friendship with me had turned the shrewish Nellie against her as well.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “What did she do to you?”

“It’s not what she did . . . and she didn’t do it to me.” Sadie uttered a growl of frustration. “She said her sister, Clara, is leasing the now-vacant shop between Nellie’s shop and yours.”

“Great. Now I’ll have two neighbors to hate on me and the Stitch.”

I’d met Nellie’s sister a couple of months before when she’d angrily accused me of spreading gossip about Nellie. I’d done no such thing, but Clara had refused to believe me.

“That’s not the half of it,” Sadie said. “Clara is planning on selling knitting, crochet, and quilting supplies!”

I gasped. “She can’t do that! Can she? That puts her in direct competition with me!”

“I don’t know if she’s within her legal rights or not, but the very idea of it makes me so angry I can hardly stand it!”

“She and Nellie are trying to put me out of business, aren’t they?” I asked softly.

“I don’t care what they’re trying to do. They will not put you out of business. The people of Tallulah Falls are loyal to you. Your customers won’t stand for this.”

I nodded, carefully keeping my eyes on the floor.

Sadie pulled me into a hug. “Are you all right?”

I nodded again, patted Sadie’s back, and then disengaged from the hug. “So . . . you wanna try on that skirt?”

“I have to get back,” she said. “I’ll come check it out in a little while.”

“Okay.” I managed a smile as Sadie left.

I turned and glanced at Angus, who was lying with his head on his paws, looking up at me apprehensively. Something was upsetting me, so he was upset, too.

“Everything’s fine,” I told him.

But he wasn’t easily fooled. As I sank onto the navy blue sofa facing away from the window, he came and placed his wiry gray head on my thigh. I stroked his fur and let my eyes wander around the shop.

I’d opened the Seven-Year Stitch a little less than a year ago, and I was proud of the progress I’d made. It was a beautiful space. To the right of the front door was the sit-and-stitch square. In addition to the sofa on which I was sitting, its twin faced me across a maple oval coffee table. Beneath the table was a cozy red and blue braided rug. The other two sides of the “square” were made up of red club chairs and matching ottomans.

The left side of the shop was filled with embroidery supplies: flosses, needles, pattern books, hoops, frames, and canvas. I also sold yarn, knitting needles, crochet hooks, and cotton batting for quilts, since the Stitch was—or, at least, had been—the only shop of its kind in Tallulah Falls.

On the walls were embroidery projects I’d completed—some in frames, some in hoops. I’d also made candlewick pillows and placed them on the sofas, and I’d embellished outfits for Jill, the mannequin who bears a striking resemblance to Marilyn Monroe and stands near the cash register.

Today Jill wore a Juliet-inspired empire-waist gown of light blue velvet with gold trim, a white lace inset at the bodice, and white lace–and-gold trim on the sleeves. She had a matching velvet headpiece wrapped with gold cord, and a sheer tulle veil spilled down her back.

I sighed. I was all for free enterprise, but Nellie’s sister was going to be directly competing with the Seven-Year Stitch right next door!

I picked up my cell phone and called my attorney friend, Riley Kendall. Riley’s mom, Camille, was her administrative assistant, and she answered the phone.

“Good morning, Ms. Patrick,” I said. “This is Marcy Singer. Is Riley available?”

“No, Marcy, dear. She’s in a meeting at the moment. May I have her return your call?”

“Please . . . Well, actually, you might be able to answer my question.” I quickly told her about Clara’s plans for the shop next door to mine and how I thought—hoped—there might be some noncompete clause that would force her to pursue some other retail avenue.

She paused, and I heard regret in her voice when she finally answered. “Noncompete clauses are made between companies and their employees or between corporations and their subsidiaries.”

“So she’s acting within her rights,” I said flatly.

“I’m afraid so,” said Ms. Patrick. “I’ll still have Riley call you when she’s free, though. She might be able to work around this some other way.”

I thanked Ms. Patrick and ended the call. I’d appreciate hearing from Riley, but I seriously doubted there was anything I could do to keep Clara from setting up shop, rallying her troops, and trying to destroy my business.

I supposed I could take the high road and welcome Clara to the neighborhood when her shop opened. Maybe she would learn to like me and we could find a way to work together. And maybe—somehow, somewhere—pigs could fly.

Still, moping wasn’t going to solve anything. I got up and went back to the office to finish Sadie’s skirt.

*   *   *

Detective Ted Nash, my boyfriend extraordinaire, brought lunch at around one o’clock. Angus and I had spotted him walking up the street and could see that he was carrying a bag from MacKenzies’ Mochas. Sadie and Blake made the best chicken salad croissants, and I had a feeling that was what Ted and I would be having for lunch.

Ted was gorgeous. A good foot and two inches taller than my towering height of five feet, he was broad and muscular and had thick dark hair that was wonderful to run your fingers through . . . well, my fingers through. He had the most intensely beautiful blue eyes ever. He would have made my heart soar even if he’d been carrying a sack of snakes. But food from MacKenzies’ Mochas was way better than snakes.

When he walked through the door, he was accosted by both Angus and me. Angus was sniffing at the bag.

I giggled. “Please tell me you brought the chicken salad.”

“I did. Sadie texted me earlier and said she thought you might be in need of your favorite comfort food today.” He held the bag out of Angus’s reach and dropped a quick kiss on my lips.

I led the way into my office. “Water, soda, or juice?”

“I’ll take water, please,” he said. “You want to talk about it, or are we avoiding the subject?”

“We’re avoiding the subject,” I said firmly, as I took a diet soda and a bottle of water from the minifridge. I handed Ted the water and unscrewed the cap on my soda. I took a sip and sat down at the desk across from Ted. “I just think Nellie and her sister have a lot of nerve, that’s all. I know they schemed this up together to try to run me out of Tallulah Falls. But they won’t succeed. And that’s all I have to say on the matter. You don’t think they’ll succeed, do you?”

“I know they won’t.” Ted took the croissants out of the bag and placed them on the desk. “Oh, Sadie sent brownies, too.” He set the brownies beside the croissants.

“That was very thoughtful of her,” I said. “At least I have good neighbors to offset the bad ones . . . the ones who despise me. And what have I ever done to Nellie Davis? Or her sister, for that matter?”

Ted carefully avoided my eyes and opened the box containing his croissant. “I don’t know, babe.”

“We are so not talking about this and letting it spoil our lunch,” I said. “How has your day been?”

“Fairly uneventful so far,” he said. “I’m going through a cold case from five years ago, since—thankfully—there’s not an open case I’m working on at the moment.”

“That is good. Is it a murder case?” I bit into my croissant.

Ted nodded. “Hopefully, I’ll find some new evidence, and either we’ll be able to convict the person who was our main suspect or we’ll discover that it was someone else.”

“It must be hard to try to uncover anything new in a five-year-old case,” I said.

“It can be. But sometimes people are more willing to talk because they aren’t as afraid of suffering any repercussions as they are right after a crime has been committed.”

“That makes sense.” I tore off a piece of my croissant for Angus. “If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.” I knew there wasn’t, but I wanted to be polite and offer. “And if you come in here and find me dead, that case won’t have time to get cold. If they’re not still standing over my corpse, just run next door, where Nellie and Clara will probably be dancing with joy—and the murder weapons.”

“I’m really glad we decided not to talk about the situation with Nellie’s sister,” Ted said with a grin. “I think it would’ve really brought us down.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m trying so hard not to think about it . . . but I can’t help but think about it!”

He chuckled. “I know, sweetheart. I’m just teasing you. Want me to go over and arrest Clara?”

“Yes. Do you have any grounds?”

He thought a moment. “No. I’m afraid upsetting the woman I love isn’t a crime, although it certainly should be.”

I smiled. “I love you, too. And I know everything will be okay. We’ve weathered worse storms than this, right?”

“Exactly. This is nothing my Inch-High Private Eye can’t handle.”

“So stop worrying about it already and tell me what we’re doing tonight,” I said.

He gave a big, dramatic sigh. “All right, I’ll do my best. As for tonight, let’s make dinner together and then watch a movie.”

“Sounds wonderful to me.”

I resolved then and there not to give Clara’s shop another thought. Unfortunately, I knew it would be like a New Year’s resolution—I’d start out strong and then cave by the next day.

Chapter Two

On a drizzly day exactly one week later, when I took Angus for his midmorning walk, I knew I shouldn’t have walked past Clara’s and Nellie’s shops, but it was a habit. I almost always took Angus up the street to the square. To be perfectly honest, everybody’s dog peed near the base of the large wrought-iron clock. It was a sure bet that Angus would go there, sniff, pee, and be ready to return to the Stitch.

As we were walking back, I saw movers unloading boxes into Clara’s shop. One of them stopped to speak to Angus and to tell me what a handsome dog I had.

I thanked him. “It looks like the proprietor will be setting up shop pretty soon,” I said.

Clara, her meaty arms crossed at her ample bosom, appeared at the door. “That I will, Miss Nosy Pants.”

The movers looked confused and uncomfortable.

“Well . . . good luck,” I said. I was talking more to the movers than I was to Clara.

Angus and I sidestepped the movers and went on back to the Stitch.

We hadn’t been back five minutes when Vera Langhorne stormed into the shop. Fists on her hips, she kept shaking her head and sending her professional...

Présentation de l'éditeur :

When murder strikes the small town of Tallulah Falls, embroidery shop owner Marcy Singer isn’t afraid of getting down to the knitty-gritty to clear her name....
 
For most small-business owners in Tallulah Falls, the upcoming Renaissance Faire is a wonderful way to promote their specialty shops. For Marcy’s nemesis, Nellie, and her sister, Clara, it’s an opportunity to finally put Marcy and her shop, the Seven-Year Stitch, out of business. Apparently the sisters like to make grudges a family affair and have set up competing booths right next to Marcy’s at the Ren Faire.

When Clara is discovered dead in her own booth—strangled by the scarf she had almost finished knitting—Marcy becomes the prime suspect. Now she has to do whatever it takes to keep her reputation from unraveling—and get to the bottom of a most deadly yarn....

À propos de cette édition

• Éditeur: Berkley
• Date d'édition: 2015
• ISBN 10: 045146740X
• ISBN 13: 9780451467409
• Reliure: Poche
• Nombre de pages: 336