A Murder in Mohair (25 page)

“Lucy was just showing us the tote she made. She still has to felt it and add handles. We've mainly been working on that project lately,” Maggie explained, pushing the knitted swath to the center of the table.

“That's lovely.” Nora smoothed her hand over the piece, first smiling a bit, then looking thoughtful, Lucy noticed. Did the colors and even the mohair strands remind her of Cassandra's flowing blue garments and shawl? Lucy would not have been surprised about that.

“So many textures and tones. Was that in the pattern?” Nora asked.

“I just wanted to use up some of my stash,” Lucy replied. “I didn't make a dent.”

“Nice work,” Edie said, fingering the stitches. “Looks fast and easy. Maybe I can do something like that in yellow yarn . . . for a cute diaper bag.”

Leave it to Edie to translate every project into a baby gift, Lucy thought.

“It's possible, I suppose.” Maggie glanced at Lucy, looking amused, too, obviously thinking the same thing.

“I could fill this room with tote bags and I wouldn't make a dent in my stash. I've started hiding boxes of yarn in the attic, so Jack won't get annoyed that I keep buying more,” Dana confessed.

“Breaking news . . . Dana Haeger confesses to secret vice.” Suzanne looked genuinely pleased at Dana's admission.

“Come on, you already knew that.” Dana smiled and waved at her. “It's not exactly a secret.”

“No, it isn't. And definitely not a vice,” Maggie clarified. “Though it does annoy our significant others. That's a perk of living alone. I store my stash in the best closet in the house. I don't have to hide it from anyone,” Maggie boasted. “Which reminds me, I did find a project that might also look interesting with different weights and textures of yarn mixed together. A summer shawl, open work. Not very difficult and should be very fast knitting. You can use a large needle and thicker yarn, if you choose.”

Maggie looked straight at Lucy, the Queen of No. 50 Needles. At least I'm the queen of something, Lucy thought, suddenly recalling the card Cassandra had assigned to her, the Queen of Cups.

She glanced at the pattern and picture Maggie had passed around, then heard the timer go off in the stockroom kitchen and went back to check on dinner. The pasta dish she'd brought over seemed warm enough. In the midst of a taste test, she heard a knock at the front door.

Phoebe, coming in late. It was her day off and she'd gone to the beach with the guy she liked, the potter. But it was odd that she'd knock and not just walk in. Or use her own key.

Then Lucy heard unfamiliar voices and heavy steps on the shop's wooden floor. She dropped the oven mitt and trotted out to see what was going on.

Detective Marisol Ruiz walked up to the table where the knitters were seated. A uniformed police officer followed.

“Mrs. Gordon, some new information has come to our attention in the investigation of the death of Cassandra Waters. It's important that we talk to you. At the station. Can you come with us now, please?”

Nora looked terrified, her mouth hanging open as if she was about to scream, but no sound came out.

Edie stood up and blocked her niece from view with her big body. Like a female polar bear, protecting a cub.

“Are you arresting her? On what grounds? Do you have a warrant? You can't just walk in here and drag her off. That's not how it works. This is still a free country!” she shouted.

Detective Ruiz didn't look the least bit fazed by Edie's outburst. She stood perfectly straight and still, as if waiting for a huge wave to crash on the shoreline and then slide back into the sea.

“We're not arresting you, Mrs. Gordon. But you are a person of interest in this investigation. It's in your best interest to cooperate and come with me to the station for an interview. Otherwise, we may have to arrest you. For obstruction.”

A person of interest? Uh-oh, Lucy thought. The phrase was chilling and would set Edie off on another tirade.

Nora looked up at her aunt, her face like a little girl's. She was twisting her hands nervously, uncontrollably. Lucy saw that her fingers were red and chapped.

“I'd better go with them, Aunt Edie. I don't want to make a scene. I didn't do anything. I loved Cassandra. I have nothing to hide.” Her chin trembled, her voice close to tears.

“She has to have a lawyer with her. You can't talk to her without a lawyer there,” Edie insisted.

“That's Mrs. Gordon's right and her choice,” Detective Ruiz replied evenly.

Nora had come to her feet, her head bowed. She grabbed her purse and knitting bag and Edie walked alongside her as she approached the police officer and detective.

“Don't worry, hon. I'm calling the lawyer right now,” Edie said. “Can I come?” she asked the detective.

“You can follow and stay in the waiting room. You won't be admitted inside,” Detective Ruiz replied.

“It's all right. It won't help by waiting there all night, Auntie,” Nora murmured to Edie. “Call Richard. He'll know what to do.”

Nora walked toward the door with the police officer on one side and Detective Ruiz on the other. Edie staggered behind. “Don't you make a peep until the lawyer gets there, Nora,” she called after her. “And for God's sake, don't sign anything.”

Nora tried to turn around, but the police officers kept her at a steady pace. Finally, the trio walked out, into the quiet night.

Edie stood in the middle of the empty shop, staring at the door. No one spoke. Or even breathed, it seemed to Lucy.

When Edie finally turned, tears streamed down her face, tracing lines in the pressed powder on her saggy cheeks.

“Dear Lord, I knew this was coming. My sweet Nora. Who's going to help her now? The police will get her in one of those rooms and start pummeling her with questions . . . who knows what she's liable to say?”

O
n Friday morning, Lucy rode her bike straight to the knitting shop. A short distance down Main Street, she saw police vehicles parked around the Gilded Age; yellow tape and orange traffic cones were blocking the sidewalk.

Police officers walked in and out of the building, some in uniform, some in plain clothes, a few wearing hazmat suits.

One cruiser pulled away as Lucy stood there. She wondered if the search team had been there all night and was already finishing up their assignment.

As she balanced her bike against the building, she saw Maggie's Subaru coming down the street, but instead of parking in front of her store, as she usually did, Maggie pulled up in front of the Schooner. She quickly got out of the car and walked into the diner before Lucy could catch her attention.

Of course, Maggie wanted to see Edie right away and hear how Nora was faring. Lucy ran across the street to join her.

She found Maggie sitting at the counter on a swivel stool. Edie was not in her usual spot behind the register, but Lucy saw her at the back of the café, pouring coffee for a customer.

Lucy took the empty seat next to Maggie. “I saw you come in. I was already at the shop.”

“You were? I didn't even see you, sorry,” Maggie said. “Too distracted by that swarm of police at the antique store. They're all over that place.”

“I wonder if they found anything,” Lucy asked quietly.

Everyone in town was probably talking about Nora Gordon this morning, but it seemed insensitive to gossip about her situation in earshot of Edie.

Maggie sighed; she seemed to be thinking the same thing. “Here comes Edie . . . I guess we can ask her.”

Lucy turned also to see Edie's impressive, apron-covered form squeeze in behind the counter and head their way. Edie was a brave soul to carry on, business as usual. Despite her ailing heart and all her professed ills, she had a pioneer woman's constitution, Lucy thought. Or maybe just a thick skin and strong will.

“I guess you saw the news this morning: the police still have Nora and they're searching her house, the shop, and everything. I don't know what they think they're going to find.”

“They haven't found anything significant, tying her to the crime scene, have they?” Maggie asked.

Edie shook her head and dried a thick white soup bowl with urgent force. “Not a crumb. Her lawyer says they can't hold her any longer unless they do, and he's getting her out in an hour or two.”

“That's a relief,” Lucy said.

“I knew this was a big bluff. But they had to pick on somebody, to make it look like they're not just sitting on their big donut-stuffed duffs. Nora's the unfortunate victim of circumstances . . . again,” she said with a sigh.

“I'm just afraid of what she might have said to them. Even with that lawyer sitting there.” Edie set the bowl down and began working on a spot on the counter. “Putting words in her mouth, I'll bet. My poor niece, she's confused enough as it is. All the drugs she takes just to get up out of bed every day and have a life. She ought to get a doctor's note or something. She's not fit to be questioned this way. I've asked the lawyer about that,” she added. “I hope he works on that angle.”

Nora had looked a bit dazed and drugged the other night, Lucy recalled. But who could blame her?

“Don't the police take that into account? Her physical condition? Why, she doesn't look strong enough to have attacked anyone,” Maggie pointed out.

“You don't have to tell me that. You're preaching to the choir. Weak as a kitten,” Edie asserted. “But she's had . . . episodes, I guess you'd have to say. It's all on record. Richard once had to call the police to help him.”

“Episodes . . . what do you mean?” Lucy didn't understand, though she guessed it had something to do with Nora's emotional instability.

Edie set her wiping cloth aside and leaned closer, her voice barely audible. “I guess you'd call them fits. She'd get sad and wild and angry. Angry at the world, no one in particular,” she quickly clarified. “There was this one time she took a kitchen knife out and threatened to kill herself. Then threatened to hurt Richard when he tried to take it away from her. She was half out of her mind with grief, over Kyle. . . . She doesn't even remember it. Now they're using that against her, too.”

“Oh . . . I see,” Maggie said quietly.

“That's not fair,” Lucy added.

“Of course it's not. Go tell the cops, though they don't care what they say once they get you in one of those little rooms. They can say anything they like, too. I heard that once on a true-crime show I watch.”

Lucy knew that was true as well. “I don't think they would be allowed to talk about that incident in court, though, Edie.”

Edie looked suddenly alarmed. “Heaven forbid. I'd confess myself before I see it get that far. If they're so gung ho to blame Nora they obviously don't care who they put on trial. Everybody knows she didn't do it. She wasn't physically capable of it, and had zero motivation. At that time,” she added.

“What do the police think was her motive?” Lucy asked.

“They're saying that somehow, Nora found out that Cassandra had been deceiving her all this time, making up all those messages from Kyle's spirit. They think she must have gone back to the cottage, confronted that evil creature, and flew into a rage.”

Unfortunately, Lucy got a vivid picture of this actually happening. But only owing to the heartless scheming of Cassandra, which could definitely elicit that reaction from most anyone . . . not because of Nora, she reminded herself. Even with Nora's history of emotional episodes, Lucy still didn't believe she was capable of this gruesome act.

“Nora denies that, of course,” Maggie said.

“Absolutely. But they keep going at her, trying to break down her story, trying to confuse her about when she heard this or that. Or knew what Richard did or didn't do. Those tricky suckers even ask her if she hears voices in her head, telling her to do things. Bad things . . .” Edie looked up at them, her expression somewhere between murderous rage and more tears. “Can you believe that? Baiting a poor, confused, grief-stricken person that way? Why, it shouldn't be legal, I tell you.”

Unfortunately, Lucy knew all that Edie said was true. And that it was legal. Once the police focused on a suspect, they used every trick in the book to break down a story and get their confessions. She saw Edie sigh and shake her head, using both hands to brace herself on the ledge of the chrome cooler.

“How is Richard doing?” Lucy asked. “He must be awfully upset.”

Despite the hoax he'd been involved in, Lucy couldn't help feeling sorry for him, too. She did believe he loved Nora.

“He's been up all night. Sounds like a zombie on the phone, but I guess he won't rest until she's out. He keeps calling me with updates. He's trying to take care of her, as always. Even though things between them are rough. You can just imagine.”

Lucy nodded, feeling a warm rush of color in her cheeks. She felt so guilty, remembering how she'd confronted Richard in his shop, just because she'd seen him at Cassandra's house. She'd forced his hand, making him tell the police why he was really there. And causing Nora to find out, as well. If only I'd kept my mouth shut, she scolded herself. The police would have no reason to suspect Nora.