Vineyard Quilt: Pattern Of Betrayal Part 11

Julie looked up from the computer screen as Hannah entered the room and settled herself into a chair.

"Breakfast was delicious," Julie said.

"Of course." Hannah was humble about most things, but not her culinary skills.

"What's on your mind?" Julie leaned back in her chair and pushed a curl out of her eyes.

"I don't know if I should even bring it up." Hannah frowned. "It's about Gregory."

"What about him?"

"I saw him sneaking around down here last night after everyone had gone to their rooms. He seemed to be looking for something."

That sounded familiar. It seemed the paranoia was catching. "Maybe he dropped his phone or his favorite pen. He could have been looking for anything."

"I suppose, but it seemed really strange to me, you know?" Hannah stood. "I thought I should tell you."

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

"I've got to get back to the kitchen."

Julie nodded, but she felt like something else was amiss.

Hannah turned to go.

"Are you sure everything's OK?" Julie asked.

Hannah sighed. "I'll just be glad when this weekend is over."

Julie couldn't agree more. Nine o'clock tomorrow night marked the seventy-twohour deadline. The guests would all be free to leave town.

Which reminded her, she needed to contact Monday's guests to make sure they understood that the check-in time would be delayed until evening. She would let them know she could accept their luggage; she could tuck it away in the library until the rest of this weekend's guests had vacated their rooms. It was going to be a mess-no doubt about it. But once that was done, it would all be over, and she hoped everything in the Quilt Haus Inn would go back to normal. Fortunately, she only had two couples checking in on Monday.

She rose from her seat to retrieve the journal from the safe, but she was shocked to find the small vault empty.

Confused, she quickly retraced her steps from Friday night. I did put it away, didn't I?

Perhaps Daniel took it in all of the commotion, and she just didn't remember it.

She sighed. She was grasping at straws, but right now that was all she had. She picked up the phone and called Daniel's number.

"Franklin," he answered after the third ring.

"It's Julie."

"What a nice surprise." His voice came across the line deep and masculine. "Don't tell me something else has happened at the inn." When she didn't respond right away, he said, "Julie?"

"Did you by chance take the journal with you on Friday night?"

"The Civil War journal?"

"Yes."

"Why would I take it?"

She sighed. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

"It's missing?" he asked.

"It would seem so. I had a man call last night about it. He said he worked for a museum in Chicago."

"How did he know about it?"

Julie's mouth twisted into a frown. "He said 'Word gets around,' whatever that means. He wanted me to take some additional pictures of it and email them to him. But when I came into my office to get it, it was gone."

"From the safe?"

"That's the thing. With the murder and the police and everything on Friday night, I can't remember if I put it back in the safe. Do you remember?"

"I don't. Sorry."

"If I didn't put it in the safe, what could I have possibly done with it?" she mused.

"I wish I could tell you."

Julie leaned back in her chair, feeling deflated. "Me too."

Daniel offered to come over and help her search, but she declined. If it had been misplaced, she'd find it.

It wasn't under the papers piled on her desk. Or in any of the drawers. It wasn't buried in the recycle bin or mixed in with the stack of old newspaper crossword puzzles that she always kept but never managed to get around to working.

Before she knew it, two hours had pa.s.sed, and there was still no Civil War journal. She pushed back from her desk and made her way to the kitchen.

As usual, Hannah was in the middle of baking something scrumptious, still neat as a pin as she did so.

"What's on today's menu?" Julie asked.

"These are sourdough rolls for tonight," Hannah explained. "I thought I'd get a jump on them so they have plenty of time to rise. Did you come to lend a hand?"

"You know you don't want me in the kitchen."

"Sadly, yes. So, what brings you in?"

Julie plucked a pear from the bowl of fruit on the counter and wiped it on a nearby towel. "I can't find the Civil War journal."

Hannah stopped kneading the dough and pushed her gla.s.ses up using the back of one gloved hand. "It's missing?"

Julie took a bite of the fruit and nodded as she chewed.

"Have you talked to Shirley? Maybe she's seen it. Or Inga."

Inga. "Good idea."

With her crepe-soled shoes and austere gray uniform, Inga was like a ghost in the inn. She cleaned things without anybody noticing she was there until the deed was done. Inga had to have seen it. Maybe the housekeeper didn't realize its significance and moved it back to the bas.e.m.e.nt where Julie had found it. Or maybe she did recognize it, called the school, and had them come get it for the auction, not knowing that Julie had only this morning received the green light to donate from Millie. She was nothing if not efficient.

"Thanks, Hannah." Julie smiled at her friend and went in search of the elusive housekeeper. She found her on the third floor, changing the linens in Carrie's room.

"Inga, can I ask you something?"

The woman paused long enough for Julie to continue, but otherwise didn't answer.

"Have you come across a really old book recently?"

A deeper frown than usual marred her strong brow. "Yes. The library is full of them."

"This one would have been in my office. I haven't seen it since Friday, and I need it."

"I'm sorry. I cannot help you."

"Then can you do me a favor? As you're cleaning today, will you keep an eye out for it?" Julie gave a brief description.

"Of course."

Julie nodded her appreciation and turned to leave the room. But a feeling that something wasn't right made her stop. She swung her gaze around the room, taking in every detail.

One small bag sat in the room's only chair. There was no makeup bag filled with cosmetics or clothes hanging in the open closet. And there was nothing personal in the room. No favorite pillow or lucky charm. Nothing to indicate that the occupant owned anything other than the spa.r.s.e contents of the one small bag.

Odd for a young twenty-something girl.

It was a long shot, but better than nothing. Julie pushed into the library and scanned the shelves for the missing journal.

She'd spent the better part of the morning and early afternoon searching for the confounded book, but it was as if the thing had simply disappeared.

Ridiculous. She tucked one strand of her dark hair behind her ear and ran a finger along the spines of the many books in the small library. Inga was right. A lot of them were old-really, really old-but not one of them was a Civil War journal from 1861.

No closer to finding the book than she had been hours earlier, she left the library and headed back to her office. There was only one thing left to do. With a sigh, she picked up the phone and called Detective Frost.

It was almost four when Frost let himself into the inn. Julie was waiting for him and the rest of the guests to arrive from their day of church and sightseeing.

Frost shook his head and shot her a small smile. "It's always something around here, huh?"

"It seems that way." She swallowed back her sigh.

The bell over the door chimed, and Susan and Kenneth Calhoun swept into the room. Susan looked even better than she had that morning. Church seemed to have done her a lot more good than a decent night's sleep.

"I've had a wonderful day," Susan gushed.

Julie smiled in return. "I'm glad to hear that."

"And not once did I think about that mean old snake." Susan gave a wobbly smile.

"Snake?" Frost turned his dark gaze to Julie.

She nodded. Evidently, Susan wasn't over her shock as much as she pretended to be. Was her sunny disposition a ruse to keep suspicion off her husband?

Kenneth led Susan across the foyer and up the stairs. Julie couldn't help but view the pair with different eyes. Had Kenneth known Alice before they met on Friday night?

"You going to tell me about this snake?" Frost pinned her with a look.

Julie merely shrugged. There wasn't much to tell, but before she had the chance, the bell chimed again.

Sadie and Joyce entered, chattering like magpies.

"Just a moment." Julie excused herself and went to fetch Shirley. "Can you help me please?" she asked the redhead.

Shirley looked up from her book, A Short History of Missouri. The tome was about four inches thick. Little wonder that Shirley knew so much local lore; Julie had seen dictionaries with fewer pages.

"Of course," Shirley said. "What do you need?"

"Everyone is starting to get ready for the quilting. And Detective Frost is here."

"About the book?"

Julie nodded.

"I just can't imagine where it got off to." Shirley shook her head.

"Me neither. But I don't want to talk about it in front of the guests."

"Good plan. You go talk to the detective, and I'll hold down the fort," Shirley said.

Julie smiled. "Thanks."

As they went back to the front, Carrie stepped inside.

"Hi, Carrie," Shirley chirped. "Did you have a good day?"

"I did," the girl answered timidly.

"What did you do this morning?" the detective asked.

Carrie turned as pink as the hanging basket of petunias on the front porch. "I went to church and then did some shopping."

"It doesn't look like you bought much," Frost said. It was an understatement if ever there was one. Carrie had no bags to speak of, just a slouchy purse slung across her small frame.

"I window-shopped," she said before hurrying into the tearoom, b.u.mping into the doorframe on her way in.

The detective caught Julie's gaze and arched his brows.