The Long Stitch Good Night: An Embroidery Mystery (14 page)

“No,” I said. “I get what you’re saying about people snapping, but
murder
? That’s a pretty extreme snap.”

“It was an extreme night,” Mark said. “And Todd and Blake can both be quick-tempered when provoked. Once, at a high school dance, some guy poured punch all down the front of Blake’s cousin’s dress.”

“On purpose?” I asked.

“Yeah. The cousin—Missy—had been dating the guy, but she broke things off with him. So he decided to humiliate her in front of everybody.”

“That’s terrible! What a jerk,” I said.

“Blake wasn’t able to get to the front of the gym in time to prevent the guy from upending the punch bowl on Missy, but he did break the guy’s nose. He might’ve done worse if the principal hadn’t pulled him off the guy.” Mark went over and opened the door for me, effectively indicating that our time was up. “All I’m saying is that you never know anybody as well as you think you do. For instance, a few months ago, my wife took off.” He shook his
head slowly as though still in disbelief. “And I thought we were solid, you know? I was attentive, I listened to her, I gave her presents, I picked up after myself.…I don’t know where I went wrong.”

“One day, she’ll realize what she gave up,” I said. “And she’ll be sorry.”

He smiled slightly. “I think she might be sorry already.”

As I stepped into the hallway, I realized I’d forgotten to ask Mark about Tawny Milligan. But he’d already closed the door behind me, and it would seem odd to go back just to ask him if he remembered her. Besides, I could ask about her when he came by the shop to check out my dumbbell form.

Before starting the drive to McMinnville, I called Reggie. She answered on the first ring, and I put my phone on speaker before backing out of the gym’s parking lot.

“Ted told me Manu is coming home at the end of the week,” I said. “What great news.”

“Thanks. I’m thrilled,” she said. “I’ve missed him like crazy. By the way, have you seen Riley’s baby yet?”

“I have. I went by the hospital Saturday. Have you?”

“Yeah. I stopped in yesterday. Isn’t she precious?” Reggie asked.

“Adorable. Were you at the arraignment this morning?” I hadn’t seen Reggie there, but the courtroom had been fairly packed, so it was possible I’d overlooked her.

“No, I had to be at the library at eight thirty. I heard that the boys made bail, though, so that’s good,” she said.

“Reggie, why won’t they talk about what occurred on the night Graham was shot? They won’t tell me anything…none of them—not even Sadie. They won’t even give me a clue as to what happened. Why don’t they trust me?”

“
Mitra,
you can’t take it personally,” she said gently. “Many attorneys instruct their clients not to divulge details about a case to anyone, including their closest friends.”

“I know, but it sure feels like a slight.” I hoped that didn’t sound immature.

“Look at it this way: If you know something and are called to testify, you have to tell what you know,” said Reggie. “Spouses are different because of the marital communications privilege, which would explain why Sadie hasn’t told you what Blake might’ve confided to her.”

“I guess that makes sense. Let me ask you one other thing before I let you go.” I told her
about Tawny Milligan, her sullied reputation, and her possible name change.

“And you feel this woman could be important to Graham’s murder investigation?” she asked.

“Well, I think she could at least speak with the defense attorneys about the dynamics at play among the men and possibly provide them with another viable suspect.”

“All right. I know a few folks at OSU,” she said. “I’ll give them a call tomorrow and see what I can do about helping you track down Miss Milligan.”

“Thank you, Reggie. I appreciate that.”

I was glad the restaurant bar where Charles and I had agreed to meet wasn’t crowded. Of course, it
was
Monday evening, but it was nice not to have to search through a throng of people to find him. He was sitting at the end of the bar watching a basketball game and drinking from a longneck.

Charles wasn’t the best-looking guy I’d ever seen, but he wasn’t unattractive either. He just didn’t seem to care much about his appearance. His shirttail was half in and half out of his pants, there was a large mustard stain on
his tie, and he looked as if he might’ve forgotten to comb his hair this morning…and possibly
yesterday
morning as well.

“Hi.” I took a seat on the stool beside him.

“Hey, there. Want a beer?” he asked. “It’s dollar longneck night.”

“No, thanks,” I said with a smile. “I’d love a water, though.”

“How about a limeade?” He took a swig of his beer. “They make great ones here.”

“Okay. A limeade it is.”

Charles signaled the bartender and ordered my drink and another longneck. “You’ll like the limeade,” he told me. “Not too tart, not too sweet.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to be so familiar with this place,” I said. “It’s quite a drive from Portland.”

“It is, but it’s a nice halfway spot between Portland and the coast…among other areas. I sometimes meet sources here,” he said. “So, did you attend the arraignment?”

“I did.” I gave Charles the details of the hearing.

“I’m surprised the judge granted bail.” He didn’t look up from the notes he was scribbling. “Who sat the bench?”

“It was Judge Street. Both defense attorneys
spoke about the men’s ties to the community, their businesses, and the financial hardships they’d suffer if denied bail,” I said.

“Very good.” He finally put down his nubby, chewed-on pencil and looked at me. “Anything else you can tell me?”

“I’m afraid not. I’d hoped to dig up more background information on Graham and any enemies he might have had, but I’ve not had much luck doing so.” I sighed. “It seems the woman in the best position to provide that information has disappeared.”

“Really? Who’s that?” he asked.

“Tawny Milligan,” I said.

Charles’s expression froze. Before he could speak, the bartender placed my drink in front of me and put another beer in front of Charles.

“Thank you,” I said, handing the man a five-dollar bill. I turned back to Charles, who was downing the rest of his first longneck with a trembling hand. “So, did you know her?”

“I knew her,” he said. “She was a sweet girl. She didn’t deserve to have her name dragged through the mud the way it was. That—” He broke off, staring at some point in the distance, his head turned toward but looking beyond me, his eyes seeing nothing except maybe a memory of Tawny Milligan.

I wondered if she’d had Charles fooled the way Keira was apparently able to trick or manipulate Todd. What did this Tawny chick have over all these fraternity guys? Was she the most gorgeous woman they’d ever seen? Was she like Snow White, and the fraternity brothers were the seven dopes? I suddenly imagined the fairy-tale princess in denim cutoffs and a halter top, singing while she and forest creatures cleaned the frat house and did the laundry.

“What happened to Tawny after graduation?” I asked.

With some effort, Charles shook off his haze and gave me his attention. “It’s like you said. She disappeared. It’s the way she wanted it. She wanted a fresh start.” He smiled faintly. “We all want that sometimes, don’t we?”

“Of course we do, but we know we can’t have it,” I said. “Do you have any idea where she went?”

Charles frowned and looked down at his thumbnail.

“Did she change her name?” I asked, determined to get some sort of answer, even if it was an
I don’t know
.

Unfortunately, before Charles could—or would—say anything, his phone rang. And I
swear he looked relieved. “Excuse me.” He answered the call. “Hey, buddy. What’s up?” He grinned as he listened to the caller’s response. “I’m finishing up my meeting right now, and I’ll be home in a little over an hour. Do you need me to bring you anything?” He winked at me, as if I were somehow a party to the call or in cahoots with him on something. “All right, then. I love you, son. See you in a bit.” He ended the call.

“How old is he?” I asked.

“Nine…almost ten. He’s a handful, but he’s my life,” he said. “You got any kids?”

“No. Is he your only child?”

Charles nodded. “His mother and I discussed having another one…but she isn’t with us anymore.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.

“My sister is at my house with him now, and I really need to get home,” he said. “Thank you for meeting with me and keeping me posted on this murder investigation. It’s kind of hard to swallow, hitting so close to home and all.…But that’s another reason I want to keep up with it—not only for the paper, but for myself.”

“I understand completely.”

He pursed his lips as he put his nubby pencil
into his shirt pocket. “I gotta ask again, though, Marcy, what are you hoping to get out of this? And don’t give me the song and dance about wanting to help your friends. You want me to give you credit in the article? Do you want to share the byline? What’s your angle?”

“I don’t know that I’d call it an angle,” I said, deciding to ask for something in return rather than telling him I was only after the truth and that it wasn’t a
song and dance
. A man who’d already decided everyone had an angle had already proved he wouldn’t buy that story. “I sure would love it if you could mention the Seven-Year Stitch in any articles your paper does on places of interest on the coast or in Tallulah Falls.”

“That’s it? That’s all you want?” he asked incredulously.

“That’s it.” I smiled. “My shop is fairly new, and I could use the publicity. I don’t have a large advertising budget, so this could be huge for me.”

“Fair enough! I’ll even do a story designed to showcase the shop in the big Memorial Day issue,” he said. “How’s that?”

“That would be fantastic.” It really would. Sadie had told me that during the summer—starting with Memorial Day weekend—the
shopping complex would get a lot of tourists from up north as people traveled to the coast or on to California on vacation.

“Great.” He slid off the bar stool and patted me on the shoulder. “I’ll be in touch.”

When Charles left, I finished drinking my limeade and wondered how weird it was that two of the fraternity brothers’ marriages had apparently crumbled. And I’d talked with both men tonight. Was it merely statistics or was there more to it? I also thought about the reactions I got every time I brought up the name Tawny Milligan. It was time to throw that name out to Blake and Todd and watch their reactions.

O
n my way home from McMinnville the night before, I’d stopped at a twenty-four-hour supercenter and bought a set of three-pound dumbbells. They were purple with a swirly design painted on them in silver. They were cute and chic, which made it more likely that I’d actually use them.

I let Angus into the shop and then ran back out to the Jeep to get the tote containing my dumbbells and the Mountmellick project. Since Angus was quick to settle in with a chew treat, I decided to put my things in my office and go through a few of my arm exercises.

I’d finished my biceps curls and was into my second set of triceps kickbacks when the bells
over the door jingled. “Welcome to the Seven-Year Stitch,” I called. “I’ll be right out.”

“Take your time,” Reggie shouted back.

I could hear her playing with Angus, so I hurried through the rest of the set before stepping out of my office.

Reggie whirled around as I entered the shop, her pale green tunic floating around her waist prettily. Her dark eyes narrowed behind her round wire-rimmed glasses. “You look flushed. What were you doing back there?”

“Arm exercises. I’m tired of being such a noodle-armed weakling.”

“Okay,” she said with a grin. “I’ll keep my noodle arms. I came by to tell you I heard from my friend at OSU.”

“Did she know anything about Tawny?” I asked, sitting on the sofa facing the window.

Reggie sat on the other sofa so we could look at each other while we were talking. “She remembered Tawny well because Tawny had worked for her. You see, my friend is a division secretary, and every year a couple of students assist her as part of a work-study-type program. It’s part of a financial aid package.”

“And Tawny was part of this work-study program?” I asked.

Reggie nodded. “Carol said Tawny was a real hardship case but a capable and determined young woman. Not only was she part of the school’s work-study program, Tawny cleaned, did odd jobs—including tutoring—for other students, and held down a part-time job at a restaurant on campus.”

“When did she have time to study…much less get a bad reputation?”

“I have no idea,” Reggie said. “But Carol told me Tawny graduated with honors.”

“What field was she going into?” I asked.

“She got her bachelor’s degree in human resources.”

I frowned. “It doesn’t make sense that she’d change her name. Wouldn’t she want all those accolades and employer references to follow her into her career?”

“A name change wouldn’t cause her to lose any of that,” said Reggie. “When a woman marries, she usually takes her husband’s surname. Then when the woman gets her transcripts or when she requests letters of recommendation, she simply reminds whomever she’s speaking with of the name she previously used.”

“Duh,” I said, smacking myself on the forehead. “I knew that, of course. I just wasn’t thinking. I’ve even seen a space on job applications
for would-be employees to put any
formerly known as
names.”

“Right. And it wouldn’t raise eyebrows much at all if she kept
Tawny
as a middle name,” Reggie said. “Anyway, my friend said she’ll look into it further and let me know—hopefully, later today—any current information she’s able to dig up on Tawny Milligan. Carol also said that if she can find a working number for the woman, she’ll see if Tawny would be willing to talk with defense attorneys in the case.”

“That’s great. Thanks so much, Reggie.”

“I don’t know how much it would help matters, but it would at least satisfy your curiosity,” she said with a grin.

A woman who looked to be in her early to mid-seventies entered the shop. She had tight reddish brown curls and wore red-framed glasses. Her elfin figure was swallowed up in a scarlet sweater dress.