I put fresh sheets on the bed, dusted, vacuumed, and put a small crystal bowl of foil-wrapped chocolates on the chest of drawers. I’d have put the chocolates on the nightstand, but I was afraid a certain curious dog would find them. Once the pillows were fluffed and lavender sachets put in the dresser drawers, Angus and I headed for the Seven-Year Stitch. I’d barely shrugged out of my jacket when Jared Willoughby came in. Surprisingly, he was dressed in khakis, a red knit sweater, and a navy blue sport coat. “Hey, Marcy, are you alone?” Jared asked as Angus loped over to say hello. “Not anymore.” I tried to force a smile, but the fact was that I didn’t want to be here alone with Jared. Not that I thought he was a killer . . . but deep down I was no longer so sure of his innocence. He ruffled Angus’s ears before going over to sit on the sofa. “Come talk with me for a minute.
What do You think about The Stitching Hour (2015)?
