Vineyard Quilt: Pattern Of Betrayal Part 6

"I'll give it some thought," Julie said.

Inga harrumphed again and left the room.

"Do you really think this will die down soon?" Shirley asked as a family of four brushed past, the woman snapping pictures as she herded her children in front of her.

Julie managed a smile. "I know so. Until then, just keep being your charming self. Things will smooth out in no time."

I hope.

Shirley gave a quick nod. "You're the boss."

Rusty Peyton's comment had truly thrown Julie for a loop. The man had just lost his last remaining parent, and Julie wasn't about to dispute his words about who'd paid for his mother's trip. But why would Alice lie about herself-and did it have anything to do with her untimely demise?

It occurred to Julie that if she wanted information about her guests, she was going to have to get it on her own. Detective Frost certainly wasn't going to be any help, if her conversation with him earlier in the day was any indication.

The guests were all out enjoying the town, so Julie chose the next best thing to direct questioning. She booted up her computer and punched in the first guest's name.

"Knock, knock." Hannah was standing in the doorway with a plate of pastries.

"Come in, especially if those treats are for me." Julie leaned back in her chair and eyed the plate. "Is that what I think it is?"

"I thought you could use a little culinary pick-me-up." Hannah shrugged, but Julie had a feeling her friend was near to bursting with pride. "Millie thought it would be good to play up the whole German town thing."

Julie forked off a piece of the flaky cinnamon strudel and didn't even try to stifle her moan of pleasure as she took a bite.

Hannah looked uncharacteristically pleased with herself.

"This is almost as good as pickles and caramel," Julie teased, knowing Hannah was repulsed by Julie's comfort food of choice.

Hannah scrunched her nose. "This is so much better."

"You're right." Julie said. "And if you keep this up, I'll gain twenty pounds by fall." She took another bite and sighed as the pastry melted in her mouth.

Hannah settled into a nearby chair and watched Julie eat.

"You really missed your calling, you know that?" Julie said.

"How so?"

"You should have been cooking professionally long ago."

Hannah tucked her feet underneath her. "Maybe. I am really enjoying it." She waited a heartbeat before continuing.

"Is this going to mess everything up?"

"This?"

"The murder."

"Absolutely not." Julie shook her head, though she wasn't as certain as she pretended to be. Still she knew how badly her friend wanted to remain in Straussberg. Hannah had fully embraced life in small-town Missouri. "Everything is going to be fine."

Hannah grimaced. "You know what I mean. Do you think this was the work of the ...? Well, you know. Do you think they mistook Alice for you?"

Julie was a good three inches taller than Alice Peyton, and she hadn't been in the room for most of the time the power was out. But she had been there when Alice was struck.

"I don't think I was the target, if that's what you mean." Even as Julie said the words, worry seeped into her thoughts. It had been dark in the dining room. Very dark.

"Have you been investigating?" Hannah nodded toward the computer.

"Just got started."

"Anything interesting come up?"

"Not yet." Julie took another bite of the pastry and then set the plate on her desk. A couple of clicks later the face of her first guest filled the screen. "Gregory Wilson was arrested," Julie said with some alarm. "He took a rare baseball card from a store in Montana."

"Did he go to jail for it?"

"Yeah, looks like he did. He was also accused of stealing a painting in California, but those charges were dropped."

"Well, theft and murder are worlds apart," Hannah pointed out.

Julie just raised an eyebrow at Hannah and typed in another name. "Sadie Davidson is a retired librarian. She never married and has three cats. She and Joyce have been friends since grade school. Joyce was recently widowed when her husband died of a heart attack."

"We knew all this already."

Julie nodded. "Both are on a fixed income."

"And that is suspect how?" Hannah asked.

"Well, it's a little strange. There are cheaper places to stay in the area than the Quilt Haus Inn. It didn't have to be their first choice for a simple vacation."

"But think about it," Hannah said. "All Sadie has talked about since she got here is quilting. And they get two meals a day included in the weekend's special price as well as the evening entertainment. Even with a more expensive room rate, it's a pretty good deal."

"I suppose. They did mention that a murder mystery was on their bucket list," Julie conceded. Before she dismissed them from suspicion, she scanned the screen for any information she might have missed. "What about this? Joyce lost all of her money in a Ponzi scheme."

"All of it?" Hannah's eyes were wide with surprise.

"She's a complainant in a lawsuit against an investment company, but there aren't too many details about it."

"If she lost all of her money, then how did she pay for this?"

Julie shrugged. "Sadie?"

"Maybe. What about ... Alice Peyton?" Hannah hesitated briefly before saying the woman's name.

Julie couldn't say she blamed her friend. They'd both seen a lot in their years recovering stolen antiquities, but never anything so morbid this close to home. She typed "Alice Peyton" into the search engine, and several hits came up. Julie chose the one that looked like the Alice that had been staying with them at the inn. "Single, mother of two, worked for a man named Eric Rutherford from Rutherford International."

"What of kind company is that?"

Julie shrugged. "It doesn't say." So why did it sound so familiar? She leaned back in her seat and forked up another bite of the strudel.

"Why are you frowning at my strudel?" Hannah demanded.

"That name. It sounds so familiar." Julie tapped her fork on the plate as she tried to remember. Then it hit her. "Eric Rutherford is the expert I called to appraise the Civil War journal."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." Julie typed his name into the search engine. "Yep. Same one." Which meant Alice definitely knew about the journal when she came to the inn. The newspaper section in her suitcase was no fluke. But what would any of that have to do with murder?

"I guess this is too bizarre to be a coincidence," Hannah said, her brows furrowed.

"And the story gets weirder."

"How so?"

"Alice's family came by this morning. They were a strange bunch, to say the least." Julie recounted the odd trio who had shown up to get Alice's bags. "And then they told me that they didn't buy her this weekend trip. They claimed her boyfriend bought it for her-and she wasn't divorced, but widowed."

"Why would Alice lie about something like that?" Hannah asked.

"That's what I've been trying to figure out. It's a weird lie to tell. Her son said maybe I misunderstood, but I vividly remember her saying that."

Hannah nodded and then waited as Julie tapped away at the keyboard.

"Kenneth and Susan Calhoun," Julie announced the names of the next two guests. "He's an overworked podiatrist. She's a housewife and part-time office manager for Kenneth's practice. Mother of three."

"Exactly who they claimed to be?" Hannah asked.

"Almost too much so," Julie muttered.

"Don't let your imagination get the better of you," Hannah warned. "Stick to the facts."

"Well, we have to conjecture a little," Julie said. "And there's something not right about those two."

"Yeah, they're terrible," Hannah said, rolling her eyes dramatically. "People who have nothing to hide are the worst."

Julie shot her an annoyed look and continued. "They have three children-two boys and a girl. All three are in college."

"And?"

"His website says he extended his hours of operation as of last year. Maybe the doctor is trying to make ends meet. He did say this is the first vacation he's had in three years." Which proved absolutely nothing.

"So, that's it on them?" Hannah asked.

"No," Julie said, holding up a finger. "Susan's father was an art collector. Nothing big though." It was the closest thing to a connection she had. She wondered if Susan Calhoun's tie to the art world could be relevant.

"And Carrie?" Hannah asked.

"I can't find Carrie at all."

"Really?"

Julie shrugged. "Nineteen listings pop up, but only three are in Missouri. And none matched the picture of our Carrie Windsor."

"Where did she say she was from?" Hannah asked.

"Kansas City." Julie drummed her fingers on the desk. "But maybe she meant Kansas City, Kansas." Julie searched, but there were no listings in Kansas. "Huh."

"Perhaps 'Carrie' is short for something. Like 'Carolina.'"

"Could be," Julie said. "But it could just as easily be short for something else."

"That only leaves the handsome Dr. Liam Preston." "Right." Julie typed his name into the search engine window and scanned the results list that appeared on her screen. "Do you suppose Liam is short for William?"

Hannah raised her brows. "No idea. Why?"

"Liam Preston lives in New York with his two Yorkies and his very young a.s.sistant. He's eighty-four years old."

"That doesn't sound like the Liam Preston staying here. He said he was a professor at a university in Missouri, right?"

Julie was just about to close out the browser window when a name caught her attention. She clicked on the link and then read the screen twice to make sure she truly understood. "Well, that explains why he could never remember to answer when someone called his name."

"What do you mean?"

"Liam Preston is none other than L.P. Wallis," Julie said.

Hannah stared at her blankly. "And this is supposed to mean something to me?"

"L.P. Wallis? One of the hottest mystery writers around."

The statement had no more than pa.s.sed through Julie's lips when a scream rang out.

FIVE.

In an instant, Julie and Hannah were both on their feet. They raced out of the office as the scream sounded again.

"It sounded like it came from upstairs," Hannah said.

Despite her very high heels, Julie took the stairs two at a time, leaving the shorter Hannah to scramble behind.

"It's in there!" Susan screeched at Julie. She stood outside the shared bathroom on the second floor with one hand clamped over her mouth, her eyes wide and fearful. She pointed toward the open door. "Get it!"