Gone with the Wool (9 page)

“I'm happy to do it.” She stopped on the path to respond to my thanks. “I was very fond of your aunt, and I'm pleased that you took over the retreats. They're a real boost for our business. Not only do you get a lot of supplies through us, but when the other guests see your people working with needles, they want to knit, too, and they buy the yarn we supply to the gift shop.” She gathered herself up, and I sensed she was going to go.

“There's something else I want to talk to you about,” I said.

“It's about what happened last night, isn't it?” Gwen said. “What a thing to happen here. I think everyone is trying to put on a good front and just carry on despite it.” She adjusted the lid of a bin that had come loose. I realized right then that this was definitely not the time to bring up her real identity. However, it might be a good time to ask her a few questions, as I remembered that she had been on the grounds the night before.

“I noticed you said you came by last night to drop off the yarn. Didn't I see you come in the dining hall when Rosalie Hardcastle introduced the Princess Court? I suppose you wanted to see your granddaughter get her crown. Marcy must have been very excited. Did you stay for the Blessing of the Butterflies?”

Gwen had started to walk now, and I was following her down the path. “I have to get back to the store. I did look into the dining hall when Marcy got her crown, but the Blessing of the Butterflies seems like stupid theatrics to me. I heard a
bunch of commotion coming from there as I was leaving, which made me even gladder that I didn't go.”

“When did you hear what happened?” I asked, struggling to keep up with her fast pace.

“Last night, when Crystal and Marcy got home. My daughter was upset that the police insisted on talking to Marcy. The one with the rumpled jacket came by this morning to talk to her again and ask her if she saw anything. She told him that she didn't. How could she have seen anything if the lights were off?”

“Then she has no idea who stabbed Rosalie?” I asked.

“It was the girl with the blue hair,” Gwen said. “After what Rosalie did to her, who could blame her?”

I stopped in my tracks, but Gwen went on, the wheels of the carrier making a squeaking noise as she went down the path. It was clear I wasn't going to get any more out of her, so I turned and headed back to the meeting room.

Now that everybody had the same yarn and the same round loom, Wanda gave them instructions how to cast on using an e-wrap. Crystal didn't object—I think she had accepted that Wanda was best at giving instructions.

“Aren't you going to join us?” Wanda asked me. I actually liked being part of the workshops. When I'd started doing the retreats I'd had no skills with yarn, but I was getting there. I grabbed one of the round looms and some extra yarn Gwen had left and took a seat. By the end of the workshop, all of us had mastered the e-wrap cast on and had begun our hats. The funny thing was that the knitters who had been so insistent on sticking with needles saw the rest of us working with the looms and felt left out. They ended up joining us, saying they wanted to have the loom experience, too.

When the workshop ended, they all headed off for free time before dinner and our evening event. As had happened with my previous retreats, a few groups arranged their own smaller gatherings to knit together before dinner. Some of them went to the living rooms of the buildings their guest rooms were in, and some went to the Lodge.

Lucinda caught up with me. “You did a great job at straightening things out. Who would have figured they'd all want to use the same color?” Like the others, she'd taken her work with her and took out the loom to examine the rows of stitches hanging off it. “This looks like a way I can make something quickly and easily. Just my style.” She smiled and then noticed that I seemed quiet. “What's the matter?”

I let out a mirthless laugh at her question and told her what Dane had put in my lap. “And Wanda, Crystal and Gwen all said they thought it was Chloe who stabbed Rosalie, as if it was a given.”

Lucinda didn't say anything for a minute. “I don't like to have to say this, but if you consider the facts, it could be true. There was that whole fuss between Rosalie and Chloe in the dining hall. I don't really know Chloe, other than what you've said about her, but she doesn't seem like someone who would go away quietly.” Lucinda's last comment was certainly diplomatic.

“It just can't be true,” I said. “I haven't gotten any exact details yet, but I am getting the vibe that Rosalie wasn't well liked. And Chloe may have some edges, but I just don't buy that she would stab someone.”

We'd reached the center of Vista Del Mar, and there were people walking toward the Lodge. “She's lucky to have you on her side,” Lucinda said. “If anybody can help her, it's you.”

I appreciated her belief in me. “There's more,” I said. Lucinda stopped walking and turned to me. I told her about Sammy and his parents, and her expression lightened.

“Good, something for comic relief. He's a grown man—why can't he just tell his parents that he loves magic and he actually has a career here? Maybe if they saw him in action, doing table magic at Vista Del Mar, they'd see how much it means to him. And how much the crowd likes it, too. Tag and I even talked about having him do his act at the Blue Door on one of our slow nights, but there doesn't seem to be enough space.”

“If you met his parents, you'd understand. Actually, you probably will meet them. They want to do things with ‘the happy couple' while they're here.”

“You know that I'm here if you need any help,” my friend said. We started to walk again, heading into the Lodge. There was a lot of activity going on. A group was gathering for a nature walk, and the pool table and table tennis were both in use. The seating area was filled. I saw that some of my group had taken over a table and were putting out their knitting things. As always, there was a line for the old-fashioned phone booths. It was a hard adjustment for people to go without cell phones and Internet when they were so used to being instantly connected.

“I have to call Tag,” Lucinda said, looking toward the line. I offered to let her use my place, but she said she wanted to stay on the grounds and keep the illusion that she was away on vacation somewhere going as long as possible.

I was about to leave when the clerk behind the massive registration counter waved me over.

“I wanted to tell you about this directly,” she said. “So you can take care of it before Mr. St. John finds out.” It was
common knowledge among the staff that he was looking for a way to push me out of the retreats. Luckily, I got along with the workers and they were on my side. The clerk handed me a check, and it was stamped Returned for insufficient funds. I started to panic until I saw that it wasn't my check, but rather the one Liz Buckley had given me for the two Danish women's retreat costs. I'd merely signed it over to Vista Del Mar to cover their rooms, but the clerk reminded me that I'd gotten cash for the difference. Just what I needed: another problem.

While my group enjoyed their free time before dinner and the evening's activity, which was something called the Beckoning of the Butterflies, I went into town. It was late in the day, and I hoped that Liz was still in her office. I was sure that the problem with the check was some kind of mistake, and I just wanted to take care of it quickly, so Kevin St. John didn't find out.

The street was unusually busy. Cadbury got tourists from all over the world, but this week there were even more. It was very festive with all the banners hanging from the light poles. They fluttered in the wind, and it almost looked like the monarchs were flapping their wings.

Cadbury Travel was located in one of the bland-looking modern buildings on Grand Street. I thought the Victorian-style storefronts were so much more interesting, with their bright colors and fish-scale siding.

A bell rang on the door when I walked in, and Liz looked up from her desk. She was on the phone and held up a finger to let me know she'd be with me in a minute. I took a seat and glanced at the posters of the Manhattan skyline and a cruise ship going through the Panama Canal. I checked out the rack with brochures on river cruises.

When she hung up, she waved me over to the desk and offered me a seat. “Is there a problem with the Danish women?” she said with a worried look.

I assured her that everything was fine with them. I took the check out of my bag and laid on the desk, turning it so she could see the red words stamped on it. “I'm sure this was just some kind of mistake,” I said.

The color drained from Liz's face, and she swallowed loudly when she saw that I had signed it over to Vista Del Mar. She took out her checkbook and looked at the register.

“The bank must have made some kind of error. I'm sure there's money in the account,” she said with a forced smile. “Let me give you a new check.”

She seemed to be trying to hide her embarrassment as she handed me the new check. “I guess since you gave the check to Vista Del Mar there isn't any way to keep this quiet.”

I told her only the one clerk knew and I wasn't going to spread the word. When I looked up she was leaning on the desk. “Thank you so much,” she said, almost in tears. I had been considering asking her about the Blessing of the Butterflies, but it didn't seem like the right time.

The whole episode with Liz left me unnerved. She had always seemed businesslike and in control of things, especially compared to me, as I tended to be all over the place.

Instead of heading back to my yellow Mini Cooper, I went down the street to the Coffee Shop. That was actually the
real name of it. People in Cadbury shunned anything that smacked of cuteness and preferred to go for the clear meaning. I had started out calling my muffins clever names like 40 Carrots and Merry Berry, but I'd quickly gotten the message to simply call them what they were. So while my blueberry muffins would forever be The Blues in my mind, when I made them for the town coffee spots they were simply called blueberry muffins.

And in my mind the Coffee Shop was known as Maggie's. The smell of freshly ground coffee permeated the small shop on the corner. Maggie was behind the counter, dispensing drinks. There was a line, and I was glad to see that she had help. Maggie always wore something red. It was her trademark of sorts. I'd heard she'd adopted it as a way to keep herself cheerful after she'd lost her husband and daughter. Lately, she'd simplified and usually just wore a tomato red apron and a matching head scarf.

I waited until the line went down to wave her a greeting. Before I could say a word, she said, “One cappuccino coming up.” Maggie's personality was as warm as her color of choice. She'd been the first person to sell my muffins and make me feel welcome in town. Maggie also knew everything about everyone in town.

I took a tiny table in the corner, and a moment later Maggie brought my drink over, along with one for herself. She slipped into the seat across from me. “It's been crazy all day. I need an excuse for a break.”

“Thank you for standing up for me last night,” I said. I took a sip of the hot drink, which, as usual, was made with just the right balance of steamed milk and espresso.

“Nonsense. I was just speaking the truth. I'd say something
about how lousy I thought Rosalie's behavior was, but under the circumstances it seems like very bad taste.”

I wanted to tell her about my dealings with Liz Buckley, but I'd given my word to keep it quiet, and Maggie
was
like information central. Besides, Rosalie Hardcastle was the hot topic. “What a shock,” I said, before explaining I'd been there when it happened.

Maggie gave my shoulder a reassuring pat. “I was there for the dinner and the scene with the princesses, but then I left. There are only so many times I can watch the Blessing of the Butterflies,” she said.

“I heard it was always the same.” I drank some more of the cappuccino, enjoying the boost it gave me. It had been a long day, and it was far from over.

“That's an understatement.” She checked the counter to make sure her helper was managing. What she'd said had made me think of something.

“If it was always the same, then it would have been easy to figure when Rosalie would be sitting with her back to the open door.” Maggie nodded and I continued. “Someone just had to come at the appropriate time with a knife.”

“I'm afraid that doesn't narrow it down. I think everybody in town knows the program by heart. It really was a perfect setup for murder—the lights off, loud music with lots of people moving around and Rosalie in the perfect position to get stabbed in the back.”

“Poor Rosalie was a sitting duck,” I said. I expected Maggie to say something about how terrible it was, but she surprised me.

“This might be in bad taste, but it's also the truth: she wasn't a very nice person.” Maggie's tone was surprisingly harsh. “Unlike her husband. Have you ever met him?”

“No. I just heard that everybody seems to like him.”

“Yes, Hank is a great guy and was easy pickings for Rosalie. I don't know if you've seen him, but he's kind of plain. She made a play for him when she was Butterfly Queen for the first time, so she was like a town celebrity. He's an easygoing person and was flattered by all her attention. He didn't get it. It wasn't Hank she wanted as much as being a Hardcastle. Rosalie wanted to be a big deal in town, like the Delacortes, and the closest she was going to get was being a Hardcastle. They weren't close to the Delacortes in terms of a fortune, but Hank's family owned a lot of property around town.” Maggie chuckled. “Rosalie never liked it that Hank's parents were low-key like he is, and she never got to play the wealthy matron.” Maggie played with her cup and seemed to be thinking about something. “But now everything has changed, and for Hank as well.” It almost seemed like she was talking to herself.

“It seems strange that he wasn't at the event the other night,” I said.

“He was probably working,” Maggie said. I wanted to get more details, but there was a sudden rush of customers. “Break time is over,” Maggie sighed, picking up her cup.

I took a moment to finish my drink before I got up to leave. I glanced toward the counter and felt my breath stop when I saw the basket Maggie kept my muffins in. It was still half full. Maggie saw me looking.

“It doesn't mean anything,” she said. “Everything is off because of Butterfly Week.”

No matter what she said, I knew the truth, I thought as I left the Coffee Shop. My muffins were definitely under a cloud of suspicion.

I remember what Sammy had said about testing samples
of the food. Could there be anything left from the chili dinner to test? On the chance, I took a detour and walked down a side street to the Cadbury Natural History Museum. A banner announcing Butterfly Week was draped across the statute of a whale in front of the Spanish-style building. It was tiny compared to the Field Museum I'd gone to in Chicago, but it dated from the late 1800s and served as a community center.

I went into the entrance hall. One whole side of the museum was devoted to the monarchs and their travels and life cycles. There was even a model of the local area that had become known as the Sanctuary in a glass case, complete with tiny butterflies hanging on the trees.

The entrance to the multipurpose room was at the back. A bunch of kids were making papier-mâché butterflies, and no one even looked up when I went through. The large room looked a lot different from the night of the chili dinner. Then, there had been long tables with checkered tablecloths set up for the team and their families. The walls had been decorated with the high school team's pennants.

A swinging door led to the kitchen. It was deserted at the moment, but I saw a bunch of things packed in a box marked
Chili Dinner
. I started to take everything out in the hopes of finding a leftover muffin. It would be rock hard by now but could still be tested. The pennants were on top, and some large pans were underneath. I assumed the pans must have been Rosalie's. I took everything out and didn't find even a crumb of a muffin, so I started to pack everything back in. A strip of paper fluttered down. I picked it up and saw it was some kind of receipt. It seemed to have been tucked between the pans, so I put it back. I finished by putting the pennants across the top.

I checked the refrigerator to see if there was any of the chili left. If I got it tested and it was the culprit, my muffins would be off the hook. But all that was in there were several brown bags with names on them. I assumed they were staff members' lunches.

I was on my way out when I remembered that the Hardcastles had donated an exhibit to the museum. Actually, I think Rosalie had called it a pavilion, which implied an addition or a big space. I asked about it at the front desk and was directed to the main room. Everyone was flocking to the butterfly exhibit, so I had the room to myself. That is, if you didn't count all the displays of animals specimens, which was a nice way of saying dead stuffed animals. Was it my imagination or did they seem to all be staring at me with those shiny glass eyes? It was supposed to be educational to be able to see all the wildlife up close, but it was also creepy, particularly in the deliberately low light. I liked to think that all they had all died naturally before they ended up being stuffed and put on display.

I noticed some little brass plates in front of the glass cases and saw they explained that the exhibit was a gift from someone. There was clearly no pavilion, and I began to think it was more likely a glass case. I didn't feel like making the rounds of the whole room to find the Hardcastle exhibit and was about to go back to the front and ask the docent to be more specific about its location, but it turned out I didn't have to. As I took a step back, I felt something behind me, and when I turned I found myself almost in the embrace of a seven-foot grizzly bear, his long claws next to my face. When I looked up at his black eyes, I almost thought they were moving, but then I realized that it was just a reflection in the glass eyes from outside. I knew the bear wasn't alive, but it
definitely made me uncomfortable, and I quickly stepped away from his clutches. As I moved, I noticed a large brass plaque that said the bear was a gift of Rosalie and Hank Hardcastle.

It was definitely the biggest animal on display, and from what I was learning about Rosalie lately, it made sense. It certainly stood out from the rest of the room.

When I got outside and looked at my watch, I was shocked to see the time. I had to get back to my retreaters.

I made a quick stop at home first and was surprised to see I had seven phone messages. When I checked, they were all from the coffee places that sold my muffins, asking me for just half the usual order. Only Maggie hadn't called to change her order. Of all the things I'd considered happening to make me leave Cadbury, it had never occurred to me that there would be a problem with my baking business. Without it, I could never afford to stay. Julius must have sensed trouble, because he was practically glued to my ankle and for once wasn't trying to get me to serve up some stink fish.

“Don't worry, wherever I go, you're coming, too,” I told him. The way I looked at it, Julius and I had found each other. I still wasn't sure which of us was the pet, but then, he was the first animal companion I'd ever had. “I'm sure they sell stink fish everywhere.”

Julius watched me from the kitchen counter as I went out the door and back across the street. When I'd first seen him wandering the grounds of Vista Del Mar, it seemed like he'd been abandoned. I hoped he realized that wasn't going to happen again.

I tried to put a positive spin on my troubles by telling myself that at least I wouldn't have to do as much baking. With everything else I had going on, that was actually a good thing. The
dinner bell had already rung, and just a few stragglers were on the path as I made my way to the dining hall. With all of Lucinda's restaurant experience, she naturally acted as host, so I didn't have to worry about getting to meals on time. I made a stop in the Lodge and gave Liz Buckley's new check to the clerk. She seemed a little hesitant to take it.