Thread and Gone by Lea Wait Page B

interested in Rob’s whereabouts than in Lenore’s death. Or maybe the death hadn’t sunk in yet.
    â€œI don’t know, Mary. I thought you might know. He told the police he was there to look at the needlepoint.”
    She shook her head. “That doesn’t make sense. He didn’t even like it. And he’d seen it Tuesday night.”
    â€œHave you talked to him today?” I asked.
    â€œNo. But that’s not unusual. Most days he’s out with Arvin until early afternoon.” She started to put what I’d said together. “He and Arvin take the boat out between five and six in the morning. When was he at Mrs. Pendleton’s office?”
    â€œI don’t know exactly,” I admitted. “I assume it was about nine-thirty. That’s when I saw the police cars heading toward her house.”
    â€œAnd he found her dead?” Mary looked confused. “Why wouldn’t he have told me?”
    â€œI don’t know.” I wanted to know that myself. “But he did the right thing. He called the police.”
    â€œâ€˜The police’ is his brother. Of course he’d do that,” said Mary. “When was Mrs. Pendleton killed?”
    â€œLate last night or early this morning.”
    â€œI talked to her yesterday afternoon. She sounded fine then.”
    â€œYou talked to her yesterday?”
    â€œAround three. She told me you’d been by to drop off the embroidery. She’d just heard Rob and I were engaged.”
    I was the one who’d told Lenore that.
    â€œShe wanted to talk to me about all the things that would change, legally, if I got married.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œShe asked a lot of questions about our plans. She was trying to tell me not to get married soon. I stopped listening after a while. It’s my life. Rob and I love each other, and we’re getting married. No one can tell me what to do after I’m eighteen.”
    I suspected Mary was right: Lenore hadn’t seemed happy about finding out Mary was engaged. “Did you make an appointment to see her?”
    â€œNo. She was interrupted while we were talking. She got off the phone because someone came to her office. Just because she has fancy diplomas on her wall doesn’t mean she knows what’s best for me,” said Mary defensively.
    â€œTrue,” I had to agree. “But now Lenore’s gone. When she was found her safe was open. Your needlepoint was one of the things that was gone.”
    Mary looked at me. “The murderer stole my needlepoint?”
    â€œAnd jewelry that was in the safe.”
    â€œWhy would anyone take my needlepoint?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œAnd how would anyone know to look for it?” Mary looked dazed.
    â€œI don’t know, Mary. I have no idea. They may not have known what it was—just thought it might be valuable because it was in the safe.”
    To my surprise, Mary started crying. “I’m trying so hard. I hate going through everything Mom and Dad loved. Everything from when I was a little girl. Soon it’s all going to be gone. I don’t remember seeing the needlepoint before I found it in the attic. But it must have been important to someone in my family. I wanted to keep that little piece of my past.” Tears were now running down her face. “Why would anyone take it? It was mine. Not anyone else’s.”
    â€œMary, it was just embroidery,” said Jude, who looked confused about what was happening. “Rob said you were going to sell it anyway.”
    Mary shook her head rapidly. “No way. I was going to keep it.”
    I reached over and tried to hug Mary. Her body was stiff and unyielding. And now racked with sobs. “I didn’t even want to show it to Rob,” she said. “But he saw the leather packet and opened it. He took it to his mom’s house, because she does needlepoint, and his brother said to take it to