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arrest he changed his name to Black—his mother’s surname.  In addition to that incident, he had his car impounded due to unpaid traffic tickets, he missed court dates, and generally had a reputation for skipping responsibilities.”
    I shook my head. “Figures. Corporate America puts up with that sort of thing better than gangs or even two-bit criminal organizations. I wasn’t paying a lot of attention to the phone call I overheard, but Joe said his mother would keep quiet even if she did see something. No idea what she might have seen or been at risk of seeing, but Joe was defending his move back into her place. Whoever was on the other end didn’t want witnesses.”
    Mark sighed. “That implies she doesn’t know about his involvement in anything shady.”
    “No, that implies Joe didn’t think she knew.  Those are two different things.”
    He smiled.  “True.”
    “For all we know, Joe was involved in multiple shady deals, only one of which got him murdered,” I grumbled.
    “You’re a suspicious sort, aren’t you?” Mark draped his arm around my shoulders and squeezed me in a hug.
    I poked his arm. “Whose fault is that?  I hang out with sneaky types.”
    “Used to hang out with.” He lost his grin.
    I had been including him in that assessment, and he knew it. “Whatever you say.  But the point is, Joe was the type to dive in well over his head.  He was definitely sinking fast at Borgot. There’s no reasonable way he landed the job by claiming Pig Latin as his second language. Someone had to want him there for another reason, or he lied on his resume or both.”
    “Probably both,” Mark agreed.
    “I’m not sure who hired him.  To hear him talk, he was hired as a development engineer, but he showed up at the test meetings.”  I was suddenly suspicious that all of my co-workers were up to no good.  Well, since Joe had met his final flushing at work, I’d already decided to be suspicious of them anyway.
    On the drive home, much to my surprise, we stopped at Barbette’s Bobbins. “We aren’t attending the sewing circle right now, are we? Together?” I asked.
    “You need a sewing machine, remember?  Your mom said Huntington gave you a finishing machine.  No one will believe that you are learning to sew if you don’t have a machine.”
    His attention to detail was a million miles above Huntington’s, but then Huntington had probably hoped I’d pay my own way when it was discovered he had only brought half the necessary equipment.  “You’re buying me a sewing machine?”  Was this some odd competition between the two brothers?
    He smiled and touched my chin before leaning in to brush a kiss across my lips. “My mom could lend you one, but I’m not sure how to break the news to her that you’re on the case too. I think Steve should have to explain to her exactly why he needs to put every woman he knows at risk by assigning them undercover work.”
    Ah, family tensions. I was enough of an expert on that subject to keep my mouth shut and follow him into Bobbins without saying a word.
    Barb of Bobbins was a nice lady, the owner and the sole creative mind behind the costumes that sold in the shop along with piles of fabric, patterns, ribbons and buttons. Barb also ran the local sewing circle in the back room of the shop.
    No time like the present to start my undercover duties.  I introduced myself as a beginner sewer needing the basics.  As soon as I said “O’Hala” she beamed.
    “Oh, yes, I remember you from when you came in here to help your sister-in-law shop! How is she?  Brenda bought many a costume from me. Has she had her baby?”
    “Yes, she did.  It’s a girl. Samantha.”
    “I’ll surely miss her visits.  She made a great Mrs. Santa Claus.”
    My memory of helping Brenda hide her pregnancy from her boss at work was not nearly as enthusiastic as Barb’s, but then, as the proprietor of the shop, she usually wore one of her handmade costumes.  Perhaps it