Free Knot in My Backyard (A Quilting Mystery) by Mary Marks Page A

school hasn’t changed a bit. Same families, same teachers, same headmaster, just more iPads and cell phones.”
    Did she say same headmaster?
    “So your husband was headmaster when you were a student?”
    She waved her hand. “I know, I know. It’s not like what you’re thinking. I mean, I never dated him when I was a kid. He was, like, an uncle or something. He and his wife were friends with my parents.”
    “How did you, um, get together?”
    Diane spoke in what sounded like questions: “My mom modeled when she was young? She got me a couple of gigs in high school just to see if I liked it. After I graduated, Daddy bought me an apartment in Manhattan? And I got to travel to Europe to walk a lot of runways. It was, like, one long party. Once you hit twenty-five? You’re pretty much over-the-hill in that business.”
    I couldn’t imagine anyone looking like her being too old for the beauty business.
    She tucked her hair behind her left ear. “Anyways, five years ago, I came home for Christmas and Jefferson showed up alone at my parents’ annual bash. His wife died the year before. I wore Marchesa? A hot little white strapless, with lots of sparkles. My parents had just given me diamond drops as a coming-home present? So I put my hair up to show them off. I’ve got a nice, long neck.”
    Her voice gave out and she took a sip of water. “Anyways, Jefferson couldn’t take his eyes off me. We started talking and, well, we just clicked. He’s way older than me? But that’s cool. He takes good care of me.”
    “Did you and Dax Martin stay in touch over the years?”
    “No. We really came from different social circles. He got to Beaumont on a baseball scholarship. He was hot, though. We dated in our senior year. After he graduated, he went to San Jose State in Northern California, and I went to New York. You know how that goes. Out of sight? It was sad for a minute.”
    I could teach her a lot about sad endings today.
    Just then, her cell phone made a chiming noise. She reached in her purse, saw who the caller was, then looked at me apologetically. “Hi, honey. No, I’m with a friend. No, you don’t know her. Her name’s Martha? No, we just met. We’re at her house? Okay, I’ll be there soon.”
    Diane put down her water and stood up. “He likes to check to see if I’m okay.” She rolled her eyes. “Several times a day.”
    Seems like I’m not the only one with trust issues.
    She hoisted her yellow Birkin bag on her shoulder. “I have to give him props for loving me so much. I mean, most husbands are too busy to even care what you do, right?”
    That’s one way of looking at it.
    “You’re lucky to have him.”
    She looked around the room. “Thank you so much for the cold drink, Martha. Your house is really cute.”
    “My pleasure. I hope you’re feeling better.”
    Diane Davis put her perfect sunglasses back on her perfect face and glided out the door of my really cute house toward her perfect yellow Mercedes.
    Too perfect.
    Diane Davis was hiding something. Her puffy eyes revealed she’d been crying for quite a while. I knew exactly what that looked like. Why all the tears?
    Just how close had Diane really been to Dax Martin? She admitted they had a romantic history. Didn’t she say they joked about ending up where they started? Maybe she didn’t just mean back at the Beaumont School. Maybe she meant back in each other’s arms. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time that happened with the young wife of an older man.
    What kind of husband checked up on his wife several times a day? You didn’t have to be a psychiatrist to figure out he must be a control freak. Did the lovely young woman who had sat before me feel trapped in her marriage to this older man? Was he the source of her grief? What if he found out about his wife’s affair with one of his employees? Would Jefferson Davis go so far as to kill Martin?
    Given the conflict between Ed and the school, Davis could have known where