Vineyard Quilt: Pattern Of Betrayal Part 22

"CeCe," Shirley said.

"Disappeared?" Liam asked.

"Evidently, she went into her bus on Thursday night, crawled through the window while everyone was asleep, and disappeared. Her manager is fit to be tied. I guess her family is pretty concerned too."

"Joyce called me from the hospital earlier and told me about it. I love CeCe's music," Sadie said. She bounced a little in her seat as if a pop song were playing in her head. "I'm sure she'll reappear when she's ready. It's probably all part of a master marketing plan."

Julie realized that what she'd overheard Sadie talking about when she and Daniel were following the woman may well have been related to the singer's disappearing act-not the murder.

"Didn't she win that television show The Singer?" Susan asked.

"Year before last," Shirley nodded. "Then the article said she spent a couple of months in the studio, recording an alb.u.m, and she's been on tour ever since."

"Do they still call them 'alb.u.ms'?" Kenneth asked.

"Yes dear," Susan said without looking up from her st.i.tches.

"It's a legitimate question, given all the changes in the music industry these days," he said defensively.

Sadie and Joyce nodded as if they kept current on all the new technological advances in the music world.

Julie listened to the chatter. This-this-was what she had imagined the weekend would be like. Sipping coffee, telling stories, peace and quiet. No murders or snakes or vandalism.

And still no Gregory. She almost hated to ask about him. The lack of drama was one thing, but without her sourpuss guest there, complaining every step of the way, the peace took on a whole new level of tranquility. Still, she wished she knew where he was. Especially after the threat that had been left on the sitting-room wall. "Has anyone seen Gregory?"

"I'm right here." The man in question sauntered into the room.

"Would you like to sit down here, dear?" Sadie asked, patting the seat next to her.

Gregory shook his head.

Where had he been all day? Julie wanted to ask, but for once, he wasn't complaining, and she thought it best to let it slide for the moment.

"We were just talking about pop stars and quilting," Sadie said to him, not one bit offended that he refused her offer of a place to sit down. "How did you become a quilter?"

"I'm not really a quilter," Gregory confessed without an ounce of shame.

Julie knew taking that ad out in the mystery magazine had been a mistake. And here was additional proof.

"But I paid my way through college working in a tailor shop and then doing car upholstery," Gregory added.

"Really?" Joyce asked. "How interesting." She had joined Kenneth at the card table and was trying to make him play fair. "If you didn't come here to quilt, that must mean you're a mystery buff."

He shrugged. "Yeah. And I needed to get away for a while. My life's been hectic lately."

Julie narrowed her eyes at him. If he needed to get away so badly, why had he waited to reserve his room until the very last minute? And how had he managed to time his phone call just right and snap up the late cancellation?

Crazy coincidence. That's what it had to be. If he were after the journal, he'd have made his reservation earlier.

Thinking about the old book made Julie want to spring from her seat and check the office safe to make sure it was still there. She'd asked Daniel to lock it in the safe when he left, but she hadn't actually seen him do it.

Now I'm being paranoid. The journal is safe and sound.

At the moment, she had an inn full of guests, a murderer on the loose, a potential vandal, and a house full of probable liars. She glanced over at Kenneth. As soon as Joyce turned her head, he shuffled the deck to get better cards to the top of the draw pile.

He gave Joyce an innocent smile as she turned back around.

Julie didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

SIXTEEN.

To say that dinner was a strained affair that evening would be the understatement of the year.

Hannah had made a pasta-and-shrimp dish (after double-checking to make sure no one had a problem with sh.e.l.lfish), a salad of spring greens, and homemade French rolls with fresh b.u.t.ter.

It should have been satisfying and wonderful, the perfect ending to a not-so-perfect weekend. But hateful looks were thrown about like daggers, and frowns reigned as the expression of choice.

"This is fun," Daniel whispered dryly to Julie. He'd come over so they could look at the journal together later in the evening-after the guests left. Julie was glad to have him in her camp.

She took a drink of water and tried to act as if everything were normal. Wine from one of the local vineyards had been served, but she limited herself to half a gla.s.s so she'd be better prepared for ... anything. She looked around at the guests. What an interesting, colorful bunch of people. Despite all of their many quirks, she really couldn't imagine any of them being a murderer. Even Carrie had somehow wormed her way into Julie's heart. Oh, she knew the young girl still had secrets, but those were hers to keep. Secrets didn't make someone a criminal. Everyone had secrets.

Yet, the fact remained that one of them was likely a killer. There was no other logical explanation for the weekend's events.

"Did you have a good day today, Gregory?" she asked, hoping for a clue as to where he had been.

At the sound of her voice, everyone looked up and then looked at Gregory. "I suppose." He glared at her as if she'd crossed some imaginary line with the question.

She would not be deterred. "Did you do a lot of sightseeing?"

He shrugged.

"Where did you go?" she asked as innocently as possible.

"I don't have to tell you that. You're nothing but a busy body. Why do you always eat with us anyway? It's weird."

Carrie gasped at his outburst.

"You are rude." Daniel pointed his fork at Gregory for emphasis.

"And?" Gregory tossed down his napkin. "I've had enough of this. Why don't you ask everyone else where they were today, dear innkeeper?"

With tremendous willpower, Julie kept her tone civil. "OK. Sadie, I saw you in town today. Did you have a nice time?"

"It was lovely," Sadie said, her voice quiet and subdued. Not at all the Sadie of the past few days.

"Yes, the hardware store is lovely this time of year," Gregory sneered. "Did you get all the paint you needed?"

The room fell completely silent, and a few forks paused in midair. "Are you accusing Sadie of painting that ghastly threat on the wall?" Joyce's voice was barely above a whisper.

Gregory only shrugged, but his expression spoke volumes.

"Sadie wouldn't do something like that," Carrie said, her face turning bright pink. "She's a sweet little lady."

"Thank you, dear," Sadie said.

"You're only saying that because she has one of your songs as her ringtone," Kenneth said slyly. "And for the record, I also find it odd that Sadie went to the hardware store. If it's true."

The room fell silent again for one split second, and then the chaos erupted.

Carrie stood and acted as if she were going to leave. Then she sat back down again and pulled off her gla.s.ses, tossing them aside. "Fine. You're right. I'm not who I'm pretending to be."

"I thought you looked familiar!" Susan exclaimed. "Kenneth, why didn't you tell me?" She smacked him on the arm.

Liam was frantically taking notes on one of the napkins. "Golden," he muttered. "Better than fiction."

"You mean all this time ..." Joyce's eyes grew wide with surprise. "Sadie," she said, elbowing her companion. "That's CeCe! That's the singer who disappeared from her tour bus."

"I know." Sadie dug into her purse. She pulled out a Taser and set it on the table in front of her before digging out a piece of paper and a pen.

"Whoa!" Kenneth stood and put his hands into the air as he stepped in front of his wife. "There's no need to get out your gun. We're all friends here. And I take back the hardware store comment."

"This old thing?" Sadie picked up the weapon and turned it over in her hands. "This will only stun you. The real gun is in the car. And for the record, I stopped into the hardware store to get a new battery for my Taser."

Julie swallowed hard. "You have a gun with you?"

"Of course, dear. Two women traveling alone. You can't be too careful, you know." Sadie chuckled. "Well, I suppose if you didn't know this before, you certainly do after what's happened here this weekend."

"Right," Julie murmured, eyeing the Taser.

Sadie tucked the weapon away and then handed the paper and pen to Carrie. "Will you autograph this for me, dear? Write, 'To my biggest fan, Sadie Jane Davidson.'"

Carrie took the paper like it was contaminated but quickly signed it and handed it back.

Sadie beamed.

"Carrie-CeCe-we're thrilled you've come to stay with us," Julie said. "But what happened? Why are you here?"

Carrie sighed. "I just needed a break from all the craziness, you know?"

Julie certainly did.

"The newspaper said you climbed out the bus window," Shirley prompted.

Julie wondered how much story mileage Shirley would be able to get out of having the incomparable CeCe in her humble tearoom.

"That's right," Carrie said. "I climbed out the window with the clothes on my back and some cash in my pocket. The first stop I made was to cut the extensions out of my hair. I knew they would give me away for sure. And I tried to soak my acrylic nails off, but I grew impatient and ended up tearing a few." Which explained why her hands looked like they had been chewed on by angry beavers.

"That wasn't your real hair?" Sadie seemed overly disappointed at that fact.

"Hardly anyone in Hollywood has real hair anymore," Carrie said.

Sadie frowned. "Oh."

"Then I went by a thrift store and bought some clothes, including that prom dress and these ridiculous gla.s.ses," Carrie continued. "And you know the rest."

As Julie listened, everything started to click into place. Why Carrie kept running into walls and stumbling. Why her clothes looked like they belonged to someone else. And why she seemed determined to blend into the woodwork. But surprise, surprise, their little wallflower was a big pop star.

"I know it sounds selfish, but I don't regret coming here. Even with everything that's happened." Carrie shrugged. "It's actually much more relaxing here than on tour."

Everyone laughed.

"Am I the only one who cares that there was a murder here and the culprit is about to get away with it?" Susan's shrill voice cut through the room like a knife. She looked at each one of them in turn. "Or do you only care about spray paint and singers?"

"That's not fair." Carrie shook her head, her lips pressed together.

"Who said any part of this weekend was going to be fair?" Gregory said.

"Life rarely is," Kenneth agreed.

"Someone was murdered." Susan drew out the last word, somehow making it three syllables.

"I say we just forget the whole thing," Gregory said. "Stop bringing it up. Quit talking about it. Whoever killed Alice obviously had their reasons. We should let sleeping dogs lie, and everyone goes home safe and sound."

"Everyone but Alice," Carrie tossed in. "How can you be so cold?"

"Murdered," Susan repeated.

"So, you're suggesting we simply try to forget it?" Kenneth asked with a scoff. "Act like it didn't happen? Wait until the detective gets here and then merrily go home?"

"Why not?" Gregory shrugged. "You got any better ideas? It would keep things a lot more pleasant around this place."

Julie couldn't remain quiet any longer. "That is the most ridiculous plan I have ever heard."

"I second that."

Everyone turned as Detective Frost entered the room. With all the commotion, Julie hadn't heard the bell over the door ring.

"You're early, Detective," Julie said. "Would you like to join us?"

"I came to talk to a couple of you again."