Free Stitch Me Deadly by Amanda Lee Page A

in prison when the baby is born. Maybe we can help cheer him up. And maybe he can tell us more about Adam Gray and give us more insight into Louisa Ralston and her relationships with her family members.”
    “We?” Mom asked.
    “Sure . . . I mean . . . if you’ll still be here Sunday and would like to go. It’s a pretty good drive, and on the way home we can stop in Lincoln City for dinner. We’ll make a day of it.”
    Mom closed her eyes and began rubbing her forehead. I went to let Angus out of the bathroom.
    “So,” I said when I returned, “would you like to go on Sunday?”
    “No. But I’m not letting you traipse off to a prison on your own. I might never hear from you again.”

Chapter Seven
    C ary took Mom and me to a lovely restaurant overlooking the ocean. The interior was paneled in light oak and tastefully decorated with marine images and photography. The floor was a burgundy carpet, and the tables had white cloths, white napkins with burgundy napkin rings, and fresh pink carnations. Small hurricane lamps on the tables bathed each of them in a warm glow.
    We had already ordered and were awaiting our food when I happened to remember Mrs. Ralston’s locket.
    “Cary,” I said, “I feel awful about this, but at the visitation for your aunt yesterday evening I forgot to tell Eleanor I found a locket in Mrs. Ralston’s sewing kit.”
    He nodded. “I recall your mentioning a locket.”
    “I have it with me. Would you mind giving it to her?” I took it out of my purse and handed it to Cary.
    “Not at all,” he said as he took the locket. He opened it and held it up to the light. “This is a fantastic photo of Aunt Louisa. She looks so young and innocent. Yet there’s something in her eyes, don’t you think?”
    Mom was sitting to Cary’s left, so she leaned over to examine the picture. “There is something a little sad about her expression.”
    “The baby girl certainly looks happy, though,” I said. “Look what a grin.”
    Cary frowned. “I wonder who this baby is. Aunt Louisa’s only child was a boy . . . Eleanorʹs father.”
    “Maybe the child was ill,” Mom said. “That could be why Louisa looks sad.”
    “You think the baby might’ve died?” I asked.
    “Possibly.” Mom took a drink of her water.
    “But no one ever mentioned that Aunt Louisa had a child who’d died,” Cary said. “I’ll ask Mother about it.” He closed the locket and placed it in his pocket as the waiter arrived with our meals.
    Dinner was delicious. Both Cary and Mom had lobster tails, petit filets mignon, and baked potatoes. I had a salmon steak with perfectly crisp steamed vegetables. Mom had a glass of white wine with her meal, while Cary and I stuck with water, he because he was driving and I because I wanted to have all my faculties about me when we explored Louisa’s fabulous house.
    It was dark by the time we got to the Ralston home. It was stunning there in the moonlight, in all its Victorian splendor. But for some reason, the entire scene reminded me of those famous first lines from Alfred Noyes’ “The Highwayman”:
    The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees.
    The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.
    I had the fanciful notion that Louisa Ralston’s ghost was standing behind the curtains in one of those dark upstairs windows. Louisa’s ghost or her murderer. I noticed Cary staring at me intently, and I suppressed a shudder.
    “Are you okay, Marcy?” he asked.
    “I’m fine. It’s a little chilly out here, that’s all.”
    “Then let’s get you ladies inside.” He fished a key from his pants pocket and led the way up the steps to the door.
    “Do you live here, Cary?” Mom asked.
    “Nope. I keep a bachelor pad on the other side of town, but I dropped by Adam’s office earlier today and borrowed his key. The reading of the will is to take place day after tomorrow, and then I suppose Eleanor will take possession of the home.” He pushed open the door