Vineyard Quilt: Pattern Of Betrayal Part 23

Murmurs buzzed around the table. But all of the expressions proclaimed innocence. No one was giving away anything.

The detective turned his hawklike eyes toward the doctor. "Kenneth Calhoun."

Kenneth stood and stretched his legs. Susan looked as if she were going to cry.

"I wonder what that's all about," Joyce whispered after the two men left the room to talk in the hall.

"That cop." Gregory shook his head. "He's trying to intimidate us. Make somebody crack." He looked at each of them in turn as if watching for a sign of weakness. "I guess there's no way we can pretend it didn't happen with him here."

Susan bit her lip, obviously trying to hear what was going on in the hall. Everyone else picked at their key lime pie. After what seemed like an eternity of Gregory glaring at everyone in the room, Kenneth returned.

"I hope you saved a piece for me," he said as he took his seat.

Susan wilted with relief.

Julie couldn't help but wonder why the woman had been so worried. What did she know?

Detective Frost stopped at the door and looked to tiny Carrie Windsor, also known as CeCe the Pop Star. "Miss Windsor?"

Carrie looked at Sadie and Joyce as if somehow they could help her. Both of the older women promptly dropped their gazes to their pie.

"Coming." Carrie pushed to her feet and followed the detective into the hall.

Gregory turned to Kenneth. "What'd he ask you?"

This time, Liam dropped all pretense of merely paying attention and pulled out a notebook, pen poised and ready to write.

"Nothing he hasn't already asked before," Kenneth said, but Julie knew he was lying.

She looked to Daniel, who gave a small shrug. Then he pushed a piece of paper toward her with a note scrawled on it.

"What if there really are two?"

Two what? Julie studied his face, and his meaning finally registered. Two people involved in the murder. She hadn't put much stock in the theory before.

But what if there were two criminals under her roof?

It was eight-thirty by the time Detective Frost escorted Carrie back into the room. She looked calm enough, as if she'd just had a talk with a good friend instead of a hardened detective on a mission.

"Time's up," Frost said, looking around the faces in the room.

"So that's it?" Gregory asked. "We're free to go?"

The detective nodded. "For now. But we may need to contact you in the near future as we continue the investigation. I expect you all to answer the phone when we call. I guarantee you it will make things easier for everyone if you do."

"It's about time." Gregory stood and stalked out the door, presumably to pack his bags and get out of town. The tension in the room dropped after he was gone, but it didn't go away completely.

"Would it be OK if we stayed until tomorrow?" Sadie asked Julie. "It'll be dark soon, and I don't like driving in the dark."

Joyce nodded her head in emphasis to her friend's words.

"Of course," Julie said. "We don't have many bookings this week, so you're in luck."

Liam was already staying as were Susan and Kenneth. Julie felt her hopes about the dreadful weekend drawing to a close soon slip away. Half of her guests weren't leaving when they were supposed to.

"What about you, dear?" Sadie asked Carrie. "Can you stay one more night with us?"

Suddenly the girl seemed very interested in her own fingernails. "I have my room booked for the whole week, but I don't think I can stay."

"You should call your manager," Joyce said. "You have people missing you and wondering if you're all right."

Carrie nodded.

Sadie patted the girl's knee. "You tell them you have people who are watching out for you. They can come and get you tomorrow, but for now you need one more night of rest."

Carrie sighed. "I guess it's about time I went back to my real life."

Julie smiled rea.s.suringly. "You can come hide out here anytime you want."

Carrie's eyes lit up like she'd been given the best gift on the planet. "You really mean that?"

Julie nodded, surprised the girl would even entertain the thought after the weekend they'd had. "You'll always have a room here."

Upon hearing it all, Detective Frost left, shaking his head as he went.

"I know Aston Cooper will be here tomorrow to check out the journal," Daniel said as Julie unlocked the safe and took out the book. "But this can't wait until then." His eyes sparkled, and his hands shook with excitement.

"I can tell," she replied with a laugh.

Daniel opened the book to the t.i.tle page. "This is no ordinary book."

"I thought we covered this," Julie said. "It might have belonged to Mark Twain."

"It's a manual on how to play baseball."

"Baseball?"

"Yeah." Daniel grinned.

"Was it even a sport in 1861?" Julie searched her brain for everything she knew about baseball. There wasn't much.

"It was a new game then. People were just starting to play it at the beginning of the Civil War. Some regiments received pocket manuals on all the rules."

"But the notes in the margins?"

"Pure Mark Twain."

"And this makes it more valuable?" Julie asked.

"There aren't a whole lot of these left. The game evolves, you know. Rules change, and things like this get destroyed. It's sad, really."

"Yes," she murmured. So much history tossed aside for the sake of advancement. "So, you're saying once we get this authenticated as belonging to Mark Twain, there's no telling what it'll be worth."

"I'm saying it will definitely be one of a kind," Daniel said. "And one-of-a-kind items are generally worth a lot."

Julie stared at the leather-bound book. Everything was falling into place, except ..."It really bothers me that we still don't know who the killer is."

"Of course it does," Daniel said. "It's your nature. It bothers me too."

Julie regarded him with curiosity. "About that note you wrote at dinner, when you said 'two,' I a.s.sume you didn't mean Sadie and Joyce."

"Nope." Daniel sat down in the chair behind her desk.

"Who then?"

"Eric Rutherford, for one."

"But how did he get in that night?" Julie shook her head. "No, I don't think he killed Alice. In fact, her family said the two of them were dating. Why would he kill his girlfriend?"

"For starters, it's not an uncommon scenario. Relations.h.i.+ps turn sour. People get jealous. Who knows?"

"I don't think so. That doesn't feel like the right answer in this case."

"But you do believe that she was here to steal the book," Daniel pressed.

"Yes. I think Alice came to steal the book for Rutherford, and someone else wanted it and killed her for it."

"And that person is most likely whoever Carrie met in the hallway Friday night."

"Right," Julie said. "Someone like ... Gregory."

Daniel rubbed his chin. "Aside from his charming personality, what makes you say that?"

"I'm being serious. Hear me out." She tapped one finger against her jaw as she thought out loud. "Gregory was accused of stealing a rare baseball card years ago, right?"

"Right."

"So, he'd probably know the worth of an antique baseball manual, say, one from the Civil War."

"But the article that ran in the newspapers didn't say anything about the journal being a baseball rule book."

"No, but there were pictures," Julie said. "Anyone looking close enough could see that."

Daniel nodded. "Especially someone who specialized in baseball collecting."

"We've been looking at this all wrong. It wasn't someone interested in the fact that it could have belonged to Mark Twain. It was someone who wanted it for its value in the world of sports."

"You should call Detective Frost right now-before Gregory can get too far out of town."

Julie nodded and started for the phone.

"How about you sit back down instead," an unfamiliar voice drawled from the door.

Julie whirled around.

Eric Rutherford stood in the doorway of her office holding a handgun aimed at her chest. He indicated the book with his free hand. "I'll take that."

Daniel's frown deepened into a scowl. Despite the gun the newcomer held, the historian was reluctant to give up the book. "You killed Alice Peyton."

Rutherford looked like he might come unglued. "I didn't kill her! I loved her."

"Against her family's wishes," Julie added, trying to figure out how she and Daniel were possibly going to get out of the mess alive. "I understand they didn't care for you."

Rutherford made a face to show exactly what he thought about Alice's family. "We were planning to get married. That book was going to set us up for life."

Julie thought about the bitter, sour-faced Alice and tried to picture her in love with the crazed man holding them at gunpoint. Even though Julie knew they'd been a couple, the image didn't gel. But the emotion in the man's words did. "You sent Alice here to steal the book from me?" she asked.

"Who's going to suspect a middle-aged divorcee?"

"She wasn't divorced," Julie countered.

"You didn't know that."

True enough. Alice would have been the last person on the suspect list of thieves as far as Julie was concerned. She had no previous record.

"Other people know that I have the book," Julie said. "If you try to take it, they'll know you stole it."

"You of all people should know there are other markets to sell such valuable items, Miss Ellis. Markets where buyers aren't so stringent about details like proper owners.h.i.+p."

Someone did their homework.

Rutherford took a few steps forward and waved the gun at Daniel. "Now hand it over."

Julie caught Daniel's eye, and she could see his resolve slipping. It was a valuable book, but not worth getting killed over.

"You lied to me," Julie said, inching toward the phone. "You told me the book was nothing special."

He shrugged. "Did you really think I was going to tell you the real value of what you have here?"

"Well, yeah." Julie nodded. "You are a consultant, after all."

The man laughed. "It's worth a fortune. And I mean to have it. Hand it over now." He c.o.c.ked the gun. "Before someone gets hurt."

"OK. We'll give you the book." Julie shot Daniel a pointed look. She would not allow him to get shot over a stupid book. "But will you at least tell me this: If you didn't kill Alice, who did?"

"I did."

Their gazes all swung to the doorway where Gregory stood, a gun trained on them-a gun larger and meaner looking than the one Rutherford held.