Murder of a Needled Knitter (23 page)

Skye knew it was a lame explanation, but since the women ahead of her had just asked if the ship made its own electricity, she figured the staff was used to answering weird questions.

“One moment.” The receptionist tapped a few keys on the computer and said, “Ah. Now I remember. Our other stylist was on sick call. In fact, she went into hospital at the next port, so Nicolette had to take all her appointments, too. Nic was double-booked from nine a.m. until three p.m.” The receptionist made a face. “The poor thing didn't even get to go to lunch, so I brought her a coffee and roll around noon to tide her over.”

Gangway

I
t was eleven a.m. and bingo was about to begin. The guys had taken a pass, but Trixie, Skye, and May were seated at one of the bars that overlooked the main floor of Club Creation. This was the last session of the cruise and the place was packed. The winner of the final game had the chance to collect five thousand dollars.

“I feel lucky today,” May commented as she arranged her set of three cards on the counter in front of her and uncapped her bright blue dauber. “I haven't won the whole trip, so it's my turn.”

“I haven't won, either, so it could be my turn.” Trixie tested her neon green marker on the edge of her cards, then frowned. “But the same pair seems to be doing most of the winning. I'm pretty sure they're cheating somehow.”

“How many times have you played?” Skye had her pink dauber at the ready. She'd only been to bingo once—that first sea day with Trixie.

“Every session,” Trixie answered.

“Did they have bingo when we were in port?” Skye asked.

“They managed to squeeze it in.” May scanned the
crowds. “Heck, a lot of women even missed the knitting activities in order to play.”

“Wow.” Skye enjoyed bingo, but not that much.

“How have the knitting events been with Guinevere gone?” Trixie asked.

“Great!” May said loudly. “The activities are so much better now. Guinevere just sucked the fun out of things.”

“Shh!” Skye glanced around nervously. “You need to be more careful about what you say in public. Surely, you're old enough to know better.”

“Age doesn't always bring wisdom to the party,” Trixie joked. “Sometimes age comes all by itself and hangs out alone.”

May stuck out her tongue at Trixie, thus proving the younger woman right. But May did lower her voice when she said, “I hate to speak ill of the dead, but Guinevere was always late to our events or ending them early, and she was so critical of everyone. I'm surprised she kept getting hired by the cruise line.”

“Well, considering what we've learned about her blackmail schemes, she probably had something on the person in charge of offering contracts to group leaders,” Skye said. She and Trixie had already told May about what they'd learned about the knitting guru threatening to turn in Nicolette for her drug selling operation. “And maybe the cruise company
had
stopped hiring Guinevere, considering she wasn't supposed to be working this trip.”

“That's right.” Trixie's brown eyes grew thoughtful. “She was a last-minute fill-in. I wonder if that's important. We need to remember to consider that when we get together with the guys to talk about the case.”

The six of them had agreed to split up for the morning and catch lunch on their own, then reconvene in the Fraynes' suite at one p.m. Jed's plans included sitting at the Star Fish bar located at the aft of the ship, eating burgers and ice cream, and watching the waves roll by.
Wally had gone to a lecture on the real pirates of the Caribbean and Owen was at a movie being shown on the outdoor mega screen.

“The people taking turns leading the knitting group are doing a good job, then?” Skye said almost to herself. There was something she was missing about the murder and she had a feeling it centered on the knitters. All the suspects employed by the cruise line had alibis, but no one had really interrogated the passengers about their whereabouts. The problem was that no one knitter seemed to hate Guinevere more than all the others did.

Crap!
They should have been concentrating on them and now it was nearly too late. Skye wasn't truly worried that her mother would actually be convicted of murdering Guinevere. After all, there was no physical evidence against May. But if they didn't find the real killer, the FBI might give her a hard time and that cloud of suspicion would always hang over her head.

“Everyone has really pulled together and made the activities fun,” May said. “There's one last knitting session this afternoon at two that I'm going to skip so I can meet with you all about the case, and there's a farewell party this evening at nine, which is when the results of the contest will be announced. I didn't enter so I don't really care who wins. And that's it.”

Before Skye could comment or decide what was bothering her, the first of the five bingo games began. It was surprisingly slow going. The caller clowned around and repeated the number two or three times. Skye figured that was to give the folks with multiple cards a chance to check them all.

The fourth game had just ended when Trixie pointed and hissed, “See that woman sitting in the booth below us with the guy wearing black socks and sandals?”

“Uh-huh.” Skye nodded, looking where Trixie indicated. “It's Jane Harkin. Remember, she was the Knitting
Jeopardy!
contestant with the English accent.”

Skye nibbled her thumbnail. Now that she thought about it, Jane had also been the one who had complained at the cocktail party about the extra costs associated with the cruise. So this was where she'd seen the English knitter previously. Jane had won at bingo the first time Skye had played. She was the one that Trixie was sure had been cheating.

“What about her?” May asked, standing on the rungs of her stool and peering downward.

Trixie answered, keeping her voice low. “This is the first time she or that man with her hasn't won at least a couple of the games.”

“You're right.” May's brows drew together. “They are the ones who usually win.”

“Hmm.” Trixie's tongue darted out, as if she could almost taste victory. “Do you think their luck has finally run out?”

“That would blow your theory that they've been cheating,” Skye teased.

Trixie was saved from responding with the start of the last game. It was cover-all and in order to get the five-thousand-dollar prize the players had to bingo in fifty-four calls. The chatter died down and the mood turned serious. For the next twenty minutes, Skye concentrated on her cards. Then as the fifty-second ball was drawn, she glanced around the room. Three people were standing, which indicated they had only one number left open on their cards.

The caller announced O-75 and May and one other player leaped out of their seats. Now five people were on their feet. With the fifty-third number, Trixie joined that group.

Skye was too excited to inhale. Her mother needed B-8 to win and Trixie needed N-44. Five thousand dollars would mean a lot to her parents and to the Fraynes and in her head Skye alternately chanted B-8 and N-44 over and over again.

“The last number for our big prize is . . .” The caller paused dramatically, then said, “B . . .”

May gripped Skye's hand, her nails digging into her daughter's palm.

“Two,” the caller finished.

There was a short silence; then suddenly Jane Harkin screamed, “Bingo!”

May sank back into her chair and Trixie and Skye patted her shoulder.

While the cruise staff checked Jane's card, Trixie muttered, “I know she cheated. I just can't figure out how she did it.”

“Trixie, everyone wants to win, but that sounds a lot like poor sportsmanship,” Skye chided gently. “Would you let the cheerleading squad you coach get away with that kind of talk?”

“Maybe. It's too hard to be nice all the time.” Trixie crossed her arms. “That's why sometimes I struggle with my inner demons and other times I just hug them and let them join the celebration.”

Skye choked back her giggles, and May smiled wanly. Once the card was verified and Jane, accompanied by her male friend, was escorted up to the front to receive her winnings, there was a rush for the exits.

As Skye and May stood, Trixie said, “Wait a minute. I want to see something.”

She pushed her way through the throng, heading in the opposite direction, and moments later, Skye spotted Trixie kneeling on the booth where Jane and her friend had been sitting. As Skye watched, Trixie reached behind the back of the seat and pulled up a wad of paper. What in the world was Trixie up to now?

A few seconds later, Trixie returned with the crumpled paper clutched in her fingers. “I knew it!”

“What?” Skye and May asked in unison.

“In the past, Jane and her friend took their cards with them, but this time after the cruise staff verified
the card and handed it back to Jane, the guy insisted that she go with them to collect her money. Jane's expression was odd, and as I watched, I saw her slip the winning card to her buddy. As soon as the staff member led Jane away, her pal crumpled the card and dropped it between the back of the booth and the railing in front of us before following Jane.”

Skye examined the card closely, not seeing what Trixie was so excited about until May leaned in and scratched at the surface. A square of paper that had been glued over one of the numbers shredded under her fingernail. Skye could see that the square had been reproduced to match the printing on the card exactly, and it had been applied with an expert hand. By running their nails over the card, Skye, Trixie, and May found three more altered numbers.

“Now what?” Trixie asked.

“Let's go find Jane and demand she turn herself in,” May demanded, her face red. “I hate cheaters. I could just kill her.”

“Shush!” Skye squeaked, then glanced around, thankful to see everyone else had left. All they needed was to have her mother overheard threatening to murder someone. “We should turn this card over to Officer Trencher and let security handle it.”

“You're no fun at all.” Trixie pouted.

“She never was.” May sulked.

“Hey,” Trixie said, brightening, “maybe Guinevere found out Jane was cheating at bingo. She might have tried her usual blackmail, and Jane stabbed her with her knitting needles.”

“I wish.” Skye shook her head. “But I saw Jane and her friend sitting right in front of us the morning Guinevere was killed. She and her buddy had just ordered a drink when we left to go up to Cloud Walkers, and I bet the server would remember if she left before the drink arrived. Also, she would have had to get in front of us, race up the stairs, and sneak in the lounge without us
seeing her.” Skye sighed. “We can mention it to the security chief to check out, but unfortunately, Jane has an alibi.”

•   •   •

After explaining the bingo cheating scheme to Officer Trencher and grabbing a quick lunch at the buffet, Skye, May, and Trixie headed to the Fraynes' suite. When the women arrived, the men were already there, bottles of beer in their hands. The guys had spread the crime scene photos out on the coffee table, ready for the brainstorming session.

The group instinctively arranged themselves the same way they had the previous night in Skye and Wally's suite—the women on the couch, Jed and Owen in the two chairs, and Wally on the stool from the vanity.

Once they were settled, Skye said, “Trixie and I asked the staff member working the library if she had a magnifying glass, but no luck.”

“None of the knitters had one either,” May said, narrowing her eyes. “Or at least none of them admitted to having one when I asked.”

Wally frowned. “The purser and security offices were a bust, too.”

“I couldn't find a magnifying glass, but I did scrounge up this.” Owen held up what looked like a whistle. “I borrowed it from one of the shops.”

“What is that thing?” May asked, tilting her head.

“A jeweler's loupe.” Owen slid a lens from the casing. “I was walking by the store with all the rings and necklaces displayed in the window and remembered seeing a special on TV about gemstones. The expert on that show used a loupe to look at them, so I asked if the shop had one and whether I could use it for a couple of hours.”

“What a clever idea.” Trixie beamed at her husband.

“How does it work?” Skye asked.

Owen handed it to her. “Hold the loupe one or two inches in front of your dominant eye. If what you're
looking at is too far away, it will be upside down and you have to move the lens closer.”

Wally shuffled through the photos. When he found the one of the service door, he gave it to Skye. She adjusted the loupe and examined the picture, zooming in on the red marks on the white paper that they'd noticed the night before.

“Do you see anything?” May demanded, breaking the silence.

“There's definitely a capital E and a capital F.” Skye squinted into the loupe again. “But what I first thought was an ampersand is actually one of those ribbon symbols you see stuck on the bumper of cars. You know, the different colored ones that indicate your support of the troops or the need for research to cure a specific illness.” Her mind raced. “It had to come from one of those rubber awareness bracelets so many folks wear.”

“Huh?” Jed grunted. “Why would anyone wear a rubber band on their wrist?”

“Not a rubber band.” Trixie giggled. “A rubber wristband that has a slogan embossed into the silicone. They're sold to raise awareness for charitable causes. Lance Armstrong's, which is one of the most popular bracelets, is yellow, but every disease known to man has a specific color and a specific saying engraved into the rubber.”

“Exactly,” Skye said. “And the way the messages are carved into the silicone would make them a perfect stamp if they were inked then pressed to a piece of paper.”

“This is a good clue,” Wally said, squeezing Skye's hand. “Remember we said last night that there was evidence that the killer knelt beside Guinevere after stabbing her? Seeing this, my guess is that the perp got blood on his or her arm. Then, when the murderer tried to open the service door and had to fish for the recessed handle, the bracelet he or she was wearing pressed against the paper taped underneath the lever and left an imprint.”

“We need to figure out which of the organizations the bracelet represents,” Trixie said, darting over to the desk and grabbing her netbook. “The cause could give as an idea of who's wearing it.”