Read Online The Quick and the Thread by Amanda Lee - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Amanda Lee
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she got into the Jeep. “I might’ve been the last person to see Mr. Trelawney alive.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh . . . I know. Geesh.”
“I didn’t mean just the murderer.” I started the engine. “There were probably lots of people Mr. Trelawney visited before . . . Before.”
“That’s true. His death might not even be connected to you or to Timothy Enright. I mean, it could’ve been a robbery gone wrong. That’s what Chief Myers believes.”
“A robbery gone wrong in the middle of the day?”
“It’s possible. I overheard some people talking at the shop, and apparently Mr. Trelawney was pretty far out of town, near some deserted old buildings.”
“Then that makes it even less likely it was a robbery gone wrong, Sadie. I mean, what possible reason would Mr. Trelawney have for going to some deserted old buildings?”
“He was a landlord. Maybe he was thinking about buying them and renovating them.” She looked over at me. “But I’m guessing you have another theory.”
I checked my rearview mirror and then backed out of the parking spot. “I do have another theory. I think he was meeting someone who was involved with Four Square Development. You said yourself he was acting completely out of character, and I could tell when I spoke with him that he was really upset about the four square message being scratched onto the wall.”
“I mean, Marcy, the guy was a landlord. Maybe he didn’t like that someone defaced his property.”
“Really?” I asked. “Is that really what you think?”
She didn’t answer.
“Neither do I,” I said.
Chapter Five
T he Trelawney house was already crowded by the time Sadie and I arrived. When we got inside, I looked around for both Mrs. Trelawney and Riley Kendall. I didn’t see either one. I was rather relieved not to see Riley and rather concerned not to see Mrs. Trelawney.
A woman who appeared to be in her mid to late sixties, with what the women of Steel Magnolias would’ve called a football-helmet hairdo, greeted us and thanked us for coming.
“Where’s Mrs. Trelawney?” I asked.
The woman thinned her already thin lips. “She’s sitting in the den. She was blubbering and babbling so much, I sent her in there.”
“And who are you?” Sadie asked with her customary tact.
“I’m Sylvia Shaw, Bill’s sister. I’m here to see to his affairs. Maggie certainly isn’t capable of doing so.”
“Where’s the den?” I asked.
“Down the hall, second door on your right.”
“Thank you.”
“What nerve,” Sadie whispered as we started down the hall.
“Poor Mrs. Trelawney. First her husband dies, and then she has to deal with this shrew.” I knocked quietly on the den door.
“Come in,” came the muffled answer from inside the room.
I opened the door, and Sadie and I stepped into the room. There were no lights on, so we had to adjust our eyes to the dim light filtering in from the hallway. The den had two walls covered with bookshelves. The books were all hardcovers, and most of them appeared to be old, as far as I could tell. A large desk sat in the middle of the room, and there were two brown leather couches facing each other from either side of the desk. Mrs. Trelawney lay on the couch that was facing away from the door.
I closed the door halfway, hoping we wouldn’t be disturbed but needing the glimmer of light. “Mrs. Trelawney, it’s Marcy Singer and Sadie MacKenzie. Are you all right?”
“No, my dears. How could I be all right?”
Sadie and I shared a glance and then approached Mrs. Trelawney.
“We’re so sorry,” I said.
“Blake and I made some of your favorite muffins and scones today,” Sadie said. “Before we go, I’ll put this basket in the kitchen.”
“Thank you.”
“Is there anything we can do for you, Mrs. Trelawney?” I asked. “Anything you need us to get for you?”
“Anyone we can call for you?” Sadie added.
Mrs. Trelawney smiled wanly. “Somebody besides Sylvia, you
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh . . . I know. Geesh.”
“I didn’t mean just the murderer.” I started the engine. “There were probably lots of people Mr. Trelawney visited before . . . Before.”
“That’s true. His death might not even be connected to you or to Timothy Enright. I mean, it could’ve been a robbery gone wrong. That’s what Chief Myers believes.”
“A robbery gone wrong in the middle of the day?”
“It’s possible. I overheard some people talking at the shop, and apparently Mr. Trelawney was pretty far out of town, near some deserted old buildings.”
“Then that makes it even less likely it was a robbery gone wrong, Sadie. I mean, what possible reason would Mr. Trelawney have for going to some deserted old buildings?”
“He was a landlord. Maybe he was thinking about buying them and renovating them.” She looked over at me. “But I’m guessing you have another theory.”
I checked my rearview mirror and then backed out of the parking spot. “I do have another theory. I think he was meeting someone who was involved with Four Square Development. You said yourself he was acting completely out of character, and I could tell when I spoke with him that he was really upset about the four square message being scratched onto the wall.”
“I mean, Marcy, the guy was a landlord. Maybe he didn’t like that someone defaced his property.”
“Really?” I asked. “Is that really what you think?”
She didn’t answer.
“Neither do I,” I said.
Chapter Five
T he Trelawney house was already crowded by the time Sadie and I arrived. When we got inside, I looked around for both Mrs. Trelawney and Riley Kendall. I didn’t see either one. I was rather relieved not to see Riley and rather concerned not to see Mrs. Trelawney.
A woman who appeared to be in her mid to late sixties, with what the women of Steel Magnolias would’ve called a football-helmet hairdo, greeted us and thanked us for coming.
“Where’s Mrs. Trelawney?” I asked.
The woman thinned her already thin lips. “She’s sitting in the den. She was blubbering and babbling so much, I sent her in there.”
“And who are you?” Sadie asked with her customary tact.
“I’m Sylvia Shaw, Bill’s sister. I’m here to see to his affairs. Maggie certainly isn’t capable of doing so.”
“Where’s the den?” I asked.
“Down the hall, second door on your right.”
“Thank you.”
“What nerve,” Sadie whispered as we started down the hall.
“Poor Mrs. Trelawney. First her husband dies, and then she has to deal with this shrew.” I knocked quietly on the den door.
“Come in,” came the muffled answer from inside the room.
I opened the door, and Sadie and I stepped into the room. There were no lights on, so we had to adjust our eyes to the dim light filtering in from the hallway. The den had two walls covered with bookshelves. The books were all hardcovers, and most of them appeared to be old, as far as I could tell. A large desk sat in the middle of the room, and there were two brown leather couches facing each other from either side of the desk. Mrs. Trelawney lay on the couch that was facing away from the door.
I closed the door halfway, hoping we wouldn’t be disturbed but needing the glimmer of light. “Mrs. Trelawney, it’s Marcy Singer and Sadie MacKenzie. Are you all right?”
“No, my dears. How could I be all right?”
Sadie and I shared a glance and then approached Mrs. Trelawney.
“We’re so sorry,” I said.
“Blake and I made some of your favorite muffins and scones today,” Sadie said. “Before we go, I’ll put this basket in the kitchen.”
“Thank you.”
“Is there anything we can do for you, Mrs. Trelawney?” I asked. “Anything you need us to get for you?”
“Anyone we can call for you?” Sadie added.
Mrs. Trelawney smiled wanly. “Somebody besides Sylvia, you
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