She’ll Stitch You Up Read online

  “Will you stop worrying about recycling and secret sisters, and just open the damned thing?”

  Ethel gave her a look, then finally, opened the wrapper. “Look, it’s my makeup.”

  “Just what you needed, more rouge. If you want your cheeks red, I’ll gladly slap your face.”

  “Well, what a thing to say. You’d never lay a hand on me, and you know it.” She gave her sister a scolding look and took her time unwrapping the next little package, which was a set of false eyelashes. “Oh, I can’t wait to try these! I am going to wear them on Sunday. Maybe I’ll get the attention of that new bachelor at church.”

  “Bachelor? You mean the widower? He’s buried two wives, Ethel. Don’t be the third.”

  “He’s a nice man, and he has all of his teeth. He hasn’t lost not a one.”

  “That’s because they’re all connected. If he loses one, he’ll lose them all. Now would you stop dawdling? I want to see my surprise before my shows come on.”

  “I’m looking at my cosmetics.” Ethel stuck her nose in the air and continued to sift through the box.

  “I don’t know why you felt the need to buy all of that junk. You don’t have anywhere to wear it, and when you do, you’re too embarrassed you’ll look like a harlot.”

  Ethel rolled her eyes. “That was one time, and I couldn’t wear passion pink to church.”

  Velma picked up a tube of lipstick as it rolled out from the next wad of tissue paper Ethel placed on the table. She held the little tube away from her and then pulled it forward, back and forth, with no luck reading the tiny label. “I suppose scarlet slut is better?”

  Ethel’s eyes widened as she snatched the tube from Velma. “It does not say that!” She looked at the tube and then sprang from her seat to go to the window. “It was supposed to be peony. You wouldn’t believe some of the names they had for the colors.” She lowered her voice. “Lick-me-Lilac and Frenzy Frost. There was even one called Vampire Kisses. I tried, of course, to find something befitting a lady.”

  “Oh, are you giving these as gifts?” She smiled at her joke, but it went right over Ethel’s head. So she took the opportunity to try and peek in the box while Ethel’s back was turned, but she quickly spun around and headed back to the table.

  “No, they are for me. You never know when the opportunity will arise for a party or event. At least I’ll be prepared to doll myself up when the time comes. In the meantime, I thought this would be fun.” She reached into the box, giving Velma a knowing smile. “You’re going to love this!”

  “If I make it through the suspense. It’s killing me.” Velma wasn’t going to let herself get too overwhelmed with excitement. From the looks of the makeup, which was packaged like it was meant for a preteen, the final surprise was bound to be underwhelming.

  Ethel tore off more of the pink packaging and let it fall to the floor where it startled Miss Vicky, causing the cat to dart into the living room.

  Velma could tell right away that it was a T-shirt, and from the bright blue color, it wasn’t anything she’d wear. But when Ethel held it up for her to see the front and she read the pink and black sparkly letters, her eyes widened. “I’m not wearing that.”

  The shirt read: Sisters by marriage, friends by choice.

  And if that weren’t bad enough, there were two cartoon women whose facial proportions were grossly exaggerated with polka dots for their eyes.

  “But it looks just like us! Isn’t it the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?” Ethel took out another package, and it didn’t take too long for Velma to realize it was an exact match.

  “And look at this,” Ethel continued with a big smile. She turned the shirts around, and Velma cringed. On the back, right across the bottom, were their names.

  “Ethel, those idiots put the names too low.”

  “No, Velma! This is the way the kids wear it these days.”

  “In case you’ve forgotten, Ethel, we’re not kids. And my butt is big enough without some hot pink, God-awful lettering spelling out my name. I’ll look like a damned walking billboard.”

  “I, for one, am not afraid of a little advertisement,” said Ethel. “It’s not like we’re flashing our unmentionables. And I bought it special. I can’t return it.” Ethel quickly put the paper back in the box and tossed it in the trash. Then she took her shirt and held it up. “I love it.”

  Velma stared at the ugly thing on the table and wondered what to do with it. She had to get rid of it somehow. She glanced toward the living room sofa. If only it really were a portal to Hell, that would be the perfect place to hide it. Ethel would never find it there, and she could claim it was lost.

  “Here,” said Ethel, pushing the shirt at Velma. “Go hang this in your closet. We don’t want them to get stained. Maybe we could wear them to the next crochet meeting.”

  Velma cringed. “I’m not wearing that out in public. Not with my name across my ass. It’s just not going to happen.” Velma felt terrible when she saw the look in Ethel’s eyes, but she couldn’t understand what had gotten into the woman, ordering something so flashy. It wasn’t at all her style. Maybe it was Ethel’s, but Velma was more conservative and didn’t like to draw attention to herself, especially when it would make her look and feel like an idiot.

  She grabbed up the shirt and headed to her room as Ethel called to her. “That blue is going to look beautiful on you.”

  When Velma got to her room, she opened up her panty drawer, prepared to shove the shirt to the very back. Miss Vicky sauntered into the room. “You keep your mouth shut, or I’ll send you to the glue factory.”

  The cat drew back and hissed, arching its back before darting under her bed. She quickly stowed the shirt in the drawer, which then wouldn’t close. “Ethel, come and get this filthy critter!” She kicked at the edge of her bed, hoping the little shit didn’t stay there the entire evening. She didn’t want it crawling up into bed with her again. The last time had been just horrible.

  Ethel sighed as she came into the room, wondering why Velma always had to overreact when it came to their sweet little kitty. “Don’t make a fuss, and she’ll come out when she’s ready.”

  “The last time he did that, the damned thing crawled into my bed and up the back of my nightgown. It took me twenty minutes to get it free, and it’s hissed at me ever since.”

  “That’s because you scared it to death with your ranting and raving, and you probably squished her. I’m sure it was a traumatic experience for Miss Vicky as well.”

  As soon as Miss Vicky darted out from under the bed, Ethel left the room. “Come on,” she said, looking back at Velma. “Let’s cook something for dinner before we wither away.”

  “I don’t think either of us have to worry about that. You go on ahead, and I’ll catch up.” She waited for her sister to go, and once the coast was clear, she took the shirt out of her panty drawer and held it up to her front. The color wasn’t so bad, but it didn’t change the goofy design or the fact that her name was spread across her backside. She wadded it up, walked over to the closet, and tossed it in the back corner. Hopefully, she’d never have to look at the thing again.

  Chapter 3

  The old, brown Buick sputtered down the road as Ethel drove them to crochet class. Pulling up to the community center, there was only one car out front, and she knew that the small Prius belonged to her instructor.

  “Great, looks like we’re early again.” Velma hated to be too early because that always meant their instructor, Nicole, would put them to work.

  Ethel smiled as she parked the car. “I don’t mind it,” she said. “We have nothing better to do.”

  “I disagree. There are a million other places I’d rather be.”

  Ethel gave her a sideward glare and then reached over the seat to get her crochet bag. “You know you love class. You’re just being a mean old lady again.”

  Velma had been called worse, but she didn’t want to argue. “Let’s go inside. Hopefully, she’s finished with the refres
hment table. And maybe this time, they’ll be fresh.” She opened up her door, and after a couple of unsuccessful tries, she managed to get upright.

  Ethel came around and helped her get her bag from the back seat. “I think she does a fabulous job with our meetings. She doesn’t have to provide refreshments, you know?” She clutched her purse, and they made their way into the community center.

  Nicole was across the room with a large cake box and a stack of cups. “Hello, ladies,” she said, putting the items down on the bare table. “I’ve got to get the table set before the others come, and I’m running a bit later than usual. Do you think you can lend me a hand?”

  “Of course,” said Ethel. “I’m happy to help out.” She took one end of the table cloth and spread it out.

  “I have a real treat today. I brought a cake.” She took the cake out of the box and then placed it on the table. “Oh.” She made a face.

  Velma looked down and saw the problem. The cake was piped with large purple roses, a scalloped border, and the message: Good luck on your vasectomy, T-Boy.

  “Is that supposed to be a pair of scissors?” asked Ethel?”

  “Yes,” said Velma, “And that’s—”

  Velma didn’t have time to say anything more because Ethel reached out and put her hand over her mouth.

  “Yes, it is,” Nicole said with a red face. “I guess I should have looked at it. I usually get the day-olds from Betty’s Bakehouse, and when they said they had a cake cancellation, I thought it would be great for us.”

  Ethel clutched her cross. “Well, I for one think Betty needs to find Jesus. Imagine making a cake like that!” She had never heard of such a thing.

  “I wonder if T-Boy made it through surgery,” said Velma. “With a name like T-Boy, at least we know he won’t be reproducing.”

  Ethel shot her a dirty look and then turned her attention back to Nicole. “Well, you can’t serve it like that. Did you have anything else to put out?”

  “Just some chips and a half-dozen cookies,” said Nicole.

  “I’m sure that will be fine.” Ethel’s face burned each time she caught a glimpse of the cake.

  “Well, it’s not easy organizing classes. Finding deals helps.” The younger woman was clearly embarrassed.

  Velma sighed and picked up the serving knife. She scraped the icing, smoothing it out until it was illegible. “There. I think that should do it.”

  The girl breathed a sigh of relief, then took the knife and carved the cake into equal slices. “Much better,” she said. “I better go and get the sherbet for the punch. I’ll be right back.”

  As soon as Nicole was gone, Ethel turned to Velma and let out a long-held breath. “Oh, that was so embarrassing,” she said. “I don’t think I can eat that cake.” She couldn’t forget what she saw. The image still burned in her mind every time she looked at the smeared flesh-toned icing.

  “It’s just like any other cake now. Besides, we’re the only ones who know what was on it. Just don’t say anything about it.”

  “Don’t say anything about what, sweet cheeks?”

  Ethel and Velma’s attention went to the only man in their group, Ray Wetzel, who strolled in with a shit-eating grin that Velma wished she could slap off his silly face. “Great,” she mumbled.

  Ethel hid her face. “Oh no, I’m glad he didn’t see the cake.” The old man would have definitely made something of it. She couldn’t help being embarrassed.

  “Relax, Ethel.” Velma stepped in between the two of them. “Why don’t you go crochet yourself into a corner?”

  “Only if you care to join me there, hot stuff.” He wagged his brows and snickered.

  Ethel began muttering to herself. Then she looked up at Ray. “I just said a prayer for your soul, Mr. Wetzel.”

  Velma grabbed Ethel’s arm and pulled her away to take their seats.

  “I hope that man finds Jesus,” said Ethel.

  “Me too,” Velma muttered. “In person.” She plopped down on the old tattered sofa she and Ethel liked to share at the community center. The thing smelled of ointment, and one of the springs poked Velma in the butt, reminding her of the old park bench.

  Faye and Dottie came into the room with their stuff, and the other ladies all arrived shortly after, each with crochet bags and a smile. Even Daisy Pratt made it in, lugging her oxygen tank behind her on squeaky wheels. By the time she got to the refreshments, she’d had to fight off one of Ray’s advances.

  After everyone had arrived and settled, Nicole kicked off their class. “So, this week, we’re going to learn the shell stitch. This is a super easy and fun stitch that gives such an intricate look. People will think you’ve worked a lot longer and harder on your pieces. Once you learn the basic technique, I am confident that you’ll be able to work fairly quick on this project.”

  “I don’t know about that,” mumbled Velma. She had always had a hard time keeping up with the projects, and she had so many started and unfinished, she didn’t think she was ever going to complete anything other than potholders.

  Ethel gave her an elbow in the side as a couple of the others who heard her gave a soft chuckle.

  “The first thing we’re going to do is make our chain. We want to always start with multiples of six, plus one single crochet. Then, double stitch into the third stitch.” She quickly made a chain. “I’m just going to do thirty-one today, but you could follow the afghan pattern I gave you or make up your own.”

  Nicole made it look so easy as she slowly sped up her pace. Velma had to say it was a bit disheartening, knowing she would never be as fast.

  “Next, we’re going to double crochet into the same stitch four more times. And you’ll start to see the first shell emerging. Isn’t this a wonderful pattern?” Nicole’s enthusiasm was so contagious that the others were smiling, getting into it.

  Every person in the group had the hang of it in no time, except for Velma. Her yarn was a twisted mess and had already formed a small knot. “How on earth does that happen?” she asked, showing the knot to Ethel.

  “Is there a problem, Ms. Harmon?”

  “My yarn is knotted up.” She dropped the work to her lap, frustrated.

  “I think you’re caught up in your tail. You don’t need one that long, remember?” Nicole had shown her a hundred times, but Velma didn’t pay much attention. If she would, Nicole had no doubt she could learn it.

  “I forgot to trim it,” she said, taking out the tiny pair of scissors and snipping it.

  “Just take your time, and watch me. I’ll come around and make sure you’re all getting off on the right foot.” Nicole gave her a reassuring smile, but Velma was still frustrated. She wanted to do something that made her feel alive, not something that made her feel like a fool.

  If only there was another mystery to solve, then she would feel like her life had meaning and purpose. She was even content not to take the credit, which she’d tried not to do the last time she had solved a murder. But she had to admit, when word finally spread that she’d lent a hand, it was nice to be recognized.

  Class winded down, and some of the other women had already left, but Ethel waited as Nicole gave Velma one-on-one instruction.

  “I’m just not sure I’m cut out for this,” Velma said, feeling the frustration settle in. “There has to be something else an old woman like me can do. I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t retired so early.”

  “What did you do before you retired?” asked Nicole.

  “I taught mythology at the local college for decades.”

  “That’s fascinating,” said Nicole. “I love those old stories.”

  “You can be my Aphrodite,” sang Ray, who had been lingering around and listening. He sat down nearby with a huge slab of cake and a glass of green sherbet punch. “This cake might be too rich for me, teach. You’ve really outdone yourself this week.” He stuck his finger in the icing and licked it clean with a sly smile.

  “I’m glad you like it,” said Nicole, forcing a smile. T
he old man had not hit on her like he had the others, but that was probably because he was old enough to be her grandfather.

  “Careful that icing doesn’t stain your dentures,” said Velma. “You already look like you’ve been soaking them in coffee.”

  Ray thumbed his nose at her and then sipped his punch, leaving a green mustache. “I’ve always wanted a woman like you to take care of me. Maybe you could come over later and teach me a thing or two. I’d love to hear some of those Greek myths.”

  Ethel watched the two go back and forth as she poured a drink, careful to get a big lump of sherbet in her glass.

  “The only thing I’ll teach you is a lesson in manners,” Velma said.

  “I love it when you play hard to get, Velma. It reminds me of high school.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t waste your breath.”

  “Wait,” said Nicole. “You two went to school together?”

  “Yeah, don’t remind me.” She kept her face down to her work, and thankfully, she’d gotten the hang of it. She was ready to leave before Ray made her sick.

  Ray gave her a dirty look and then took another huge bite of cake.

  Velma turned her attention back to her instructor. “I think I’ve got a handle on it. Thanks for the extra help.”

  “I think you’re doing better than you think with the technique. Sure, you might be a little slower than the others, but your stitches are perfect. You keep plugging along, and you’ll put these patterns and techniques to good use. Take your time, and you’ll be fine.” Nicole patted her on the back.

  Velma forced a smile and then looked at her work. Maybe it wasn’t half bad, but it wasn’t very adventurous.

  Ethel sipped her punch and then handed Velma her bag. “I’ll help her if she gets stuck,” she said to Nicole. “She’s really just itching for another crime to solve.”

  Velma turned her eyes to Ethel with a scolding look. “Now, no one wants to talk about that.”

  “I heard that you helped out with the Randy Knox murder investigation,” Nicole said. “That’s very impressive.”

  “They’re a couple of nosy old women, is what I heard,” said Ray. “They even managed to earn a restraining order from Mayor Sheffield’s office. I heard that you and Ethel tried to accuse him first.”