Silence of the Lamb's Wool (A Yarn Retreat Mystery) (18 page)

I had a feeling it was.

I went on to the Sea Foam dining hall and found my group. Lucinda had acted as hostess on the meals I’d missed and had taken over a group of the round tables for the retreaters. It was nice to see how they had all befriended one another. I made my way around all the tables and was pleased that everyone seemed to be enjoying the retreat.

I finally sat down next to Lucinda. Bree, Olivia and Scott had stayed together and were at the table, too. I barely ate, being far too busy talking to everyone. When dinner ended, I brought the group to the grassy circle outside the social hall. The sun had come out again, just in time for a last hurrah before it went down. The orange glow of the sky morphed into evening blue as Virgil met up with us and directed the group toward the boardwalk. I was determined to take part in this activity and walked at the front with the tall white-haired man. It was a real effort not to be looking at my watch, knowing my baking time was coming near.

“Let’s go through the dunes,” Virgil said, turning back to the trail of people behind him. I stayed alongside him and we took the turnoff on the boardwalk. Everything was beginning to blend together now and the silky white sand of the dunes had a bluish cast. In the semidarkness it was impossible to see all the shades of green on the white sand.

Virgil held up his hand to stop the group and then pointed toward some large bushes growing in the sand. Two deer came from behind them and stopped for a moment before moving off over the hill.

I stayed close to the older man as he commented that even after all these years, he loved taking evening walks, whether it was here in the dunes or along the water in town. He mentioned that even in his days working at the bank, he’d done it.

His mention of the bank stirred my mind and I thought back to my stop at Nicole’s shop earlier in the day. I mentioned the empty binders and the sheet I’d seen in the paper shredder.

“Those binders sound like the ones we used for the safety- deposit box sign-ins,” he said. “When Mrs. Welton rented it, she got it as is, with all the old papers left behind. I don’t know why anybody would bother shredding the sheets now when they could just throw them out. Talk about out-of-date.”

We walked on until we’d reached the highest point of the dunes. The lights had come on at Vista Del Mar and I could make out the assorted buildings. In the other direction the foam of the waves as they broke on the beach was still visible.

“Mrs. Welton wondered about those ledgers, too. She said she was going to use the pages for kindling in the fireplace and wanted to make sure what they were first.”

Virgil started to speak to the group, pointing out the lighthouse up ahead, and beyond, how you could see the curve of Monterey Bay before we headed down into a valley. In the half darkness, I could see the silhouettes of the tall bushes. I knew we were approaching the area where Bree had found Nicole. “This is as far as we can go,” Virgil said, pointing to the barricade across the boardwalk up ahead.

I heard Virgil sigh as we turned back. “It’s too bad what happened to that young woman. I don’t know what they’re going to do about the bench. I suppose they’ll take it out. If they leave it, it will always have a negative reputation.”

When we’d gotten back to where we’d started, Kevin St. John came out and announced there was going to be marshmallow roasting at the fire pit.

“You’re alone,” Tag said when I came into the Blue Door. I arrived after the restaurant had closed and had expected to have to use my key, but when I had tried to door, it was still unlocked.

Tag rushed to help me carry the recycled bags full of muffin ingredients and followed me as I went into the kitchen. “I thought Lucinda might have come with you.” The very precise man sounded disappointed.

I didn’t want to tell him the truth—that Lucinda was having a wonderful time and was enjoying the time on her own. It wasn’t really a reflection on him. I noticed a lot of the women talked about how glad they were to be away from their families. It wasn’t that they didn’t love them; they just needed time to regroup.

Tag sighed a few times and stayed in the kitchen as I emptied the bags. “I really miss her, you know,” he said. “I know I’m hard to live with, but I’d be lost without Lucinda. She is planning to come back at the end of the weekend, isn’t she?”

I thought he was joking, but the forlorn look on his face told me he wasn’t. I assured him that she was coming home and he appeared a little happier. But he still made no move to leave. Since it was his restaurant, I really couldn’t say anything. He started talking about how much he liked living in Cadbury.

“After our trip to the sheep ranch, I got interested in finding out more about the history of this area. I went back over to the historical society. Those docents really know their stuff.”

Tag had settled in as I went right into making the cheesecake. I was going to make extra so they would have enough for two nights. I began working on the crust, which was really just graham cracker crumbs and melted better.

“They have a model of the Delacorte Cannery. You’d never know by looking at Monterey Bay now, but it turns out the sardine cannery made a mess of it. All the stuff from the cannery was dumped into the water. If they hadn’t fished out all the sardines and closed the cannery, the bay might never have gotten cleaned up.”

I was only half listening, but when I heard him mention Edmund Delacorte’s name, I paid attention. It seemed he’d felt guilty about his family’s role in damaging the bay and he was determined to keep the Vista Del Mar grounds in their natural state and to restore the dunes by removing the gypsy plants that had taken over and bringing back the natural plants. Edmund had decided to run for governor and was in the process of campaigning when he died. I started to zone out again when he got too detailed with the Delacorte family tree and how it was ending with the two sisters, since neither had any children and Edmund’s only child, a son, had died barely a year after his father had.

Tag noticed some buttery crumbs had landed on the counter. I could see he was staring at them and getting agitated. Finally, he grabbed a paper towel and wiped them up. He let out a sigh of relief when he’d tossed the paper towel, then he looked sheepish. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it. Please don’t tell Lucinda. I am really trying to relax, but you have no idea what it’s like for me. Those crumbs were nagging at me. I had to get rid of them.” His voice had grown tense.

Until he’d described it, I’d had no idea what it was like for him. I guess I just thought he was being difficult. “We all have our things to deal with,” I said. For him it was crumbs on the counter and for me it was learning how to stick with something long term.

I had the cheesecake filling ready to pour over the crumb crusts. I lifted the bowl off the stand mixer and carried it over to the two big pans and prepared to pour it in. Tag was watching my every move and I could see he was ready to lunge forward and wipe up any spill. Even though I now had some understanding about why, it was making me nervous. I was doing my best to get all of the cream cheese mixture where it belonged, but when I scraped out the bowl and was ready to transfer what was on the scraper, a glop of it fell off and landed on Tag’s shoe.

He looked down at his shoe and got more and more upset. I got a paper towel and wiped it off, but it didn’t come completely clean. Tag was suddenly beside himself. I could see that having even the faint mark on his shoe was more than he could handle. He rushed out, saying he had to go home, where he had the right supplies to take care of it.

I was grateful for the peace and a little time to regroup. It had been nonstop action with the early birds’ arrival, then Nicole’s death, Wanda’s taking over the retreat and me trying to keep up with my baking. Not to mention trying to figure out what really happened to Nicole. My mind went to Dane and then I laughed at myself. I had brushed off all of his flirting and friendly gestures. But now when it appeared he was taken, suddenly I had regrets. Wasn’t that human nature? You always wanted what seemed out of your reach.

I had chosen to make the cheesecakes because it didn’t require baking and I thought it would be faster, but Tag’s presence had slowed me down. I picked up speed now that I didn’t feel a pair of eyes on me just waiting for me to make a mess.

I poured on the blanched almonds and the layer of cherry topping and set the two finished pans of cheesecakes in the refrigerator. Now they had dessert for Saturday and Sunday. And I’d be free to spend Saturday evening at Vista Del Mar with my people.

I cleaned up from the cheesecakes and began to take out the ingredients for the muffins. I was just going to bake one day’s worth.

I was going to make plain ones. I had originally called them Plain Janes, but after Jane had started working at Vista Del Mar, I’d dropped the name, afraid she might take it personally. I started calling them Simplicity.

I heard a knock on the glass part of the door. My first thought was that Tag had gone home, changed shoes and come back, but when I got to the door, I saw Sammy standing close to the glass, trying to look in.

When I opened the door, I was surprised to see that he was carrying a backpack.

“What’s up?” I said, which was really a polite way of asking what he was doing there. Sammy was usually all smiles with an easygoing manner, but I was surprised to see him looking tense as he came in.

“Case, I’ve got so much on my plate right now. I needed to talk to somebody and like I always say, you’re the one who understands me.” I led him farther into the place and offered a place to sit. I’d never seen him like this. It always seemed that he just let any kind of stress roll off his back.

He refused the seat. “Is it work?” I asked. “Something with one of your patients?” Sammy never talked shop, but since he’d temporarily joined a local urology practice and was probably still getting used to it, I thought that might be it.

“No, Case.” He waved his hand dismissively. “I could do those exams with my eyes closed. Though I am a little stressed about my living arrangements. I have to make some kind of change.”

Sammy was still staying at the bed-and-breakfast across the street even though he’d been in Cadbury for months now. “Are they pushing you out?”

He laughed. “No way. I’m the hit of the place. You know how they always have wine and cheese in the evening. I always do a little magic to liven things up.” I had him follow me into the kitchen so I could get back to work. “It was fine just to have a room at first, but I need a little more space. They’re adding on a studio apartment sort of thing, but I don’t know if I want to wait until they finish.” I had this feeling he was going to bring up the converted garage/guesthouse I had. No way did I want to have him as a tenant. I quickly changed the subject.

“So then what has you so stressed?” I said quickly.

“It’s tomorrow night,” he said, looking at his watch, then wailed it was almost midnight and then it would become today he was worried about.

I tried to calm him down and said it was just table magic for an audience who would be so glad to have any entertainment during dinner, it wouldn’t matter what he did. It didn’t seem to help.

“Case, you don’t get it. The thing about magic is that it really is right before your eyes, and it’s up to me to make sure your eyes are in the right place.” I knew what he was going to say, but I let him say it again anyway. He began to explain that we really had a very small area of visual focus and as long as there was something going on in that space, we’d miss whatever he was doing outside of that space.

“Could you do me a really, really big favor?” he said. “Could I do all my tricks for you just the way I’m going to do them in the dining hall, close-up?”

I started to make a face, wondering if this was like his kissing trick and just a way to get close to me, but I quickly realized he’d meant exactly what he’d said. He wanted an audience of one for a dress rehearsal. What could I say, particularly when he gave me his best puppy dog look and said that I was the best.

Somehow I managed to finish the muffins while picking a card and having coins disappear and reappear and my wristwatch vanish. Sammy seemed a little off rhythm at first, but then he seemed to hit his stride and he did fine. I was surprised at how nervous he was. Somehow I’d always thought of him having a certain level of confidence. Didn’t it take confidence to show up in Cadbury after we’d broken up and, calm as anything, say he’d decided to relocate? Even that close to him, I still never figured out how he did all the tricks.

Something he kept saying struck me. Everything was right in front of your face; you just had to know where to look.

“Sorry,” I said as I rolled back the covers and Julius went rolling with them. He gave me a plaintive meow and turned his fall into a jump. It was Saturday morning and there was no time for even a few extra minutes under the covers. This was the big day of the retreat. Time for the main event. Although I’d called it Sheep to Shawl, it was really about the spinning.

Sammy had hung around until I finished the muffins and then followed me as I made my rounds dropping them off. We ended up almost at his doorstep—the big yellow Victorian across the street that had been turned into a bed-and-breakfast. I was glad to see him walk away with a jaunty stride. His dress rehearsal had given him a boost of confidence.

I was fighting with a thought as I walked to the kitchen. It had taken all of Friday to wash the yarn, card it and form it into long pieces that could be spun. How long was it going to take for them to learn how to spin? And who knew if there was enough wool? I had tried bringing up my concerns to Wanda, but anytime I said anything to her, she took it as some kind of reproach and blew me off.

Right then and there I made a decision. If I put on another retreat, I’d thoroughly learn whatever the theme was going to be. In my head I could hear my mother laughing at the concept that, number one, I would stick with this business long enough to put on another retreat, and number two, I would have the perseverance to go through a whole process that was unfamiliar to me.

Julius beat me to the kitchen and walked past his full bowl of kitty stew with disdain. “It’s stink fish or starve, huh?” I swear it seemed like the black cat nodded.

“I must love you,” I said as I took out a can I’d hidden at the back of the pantry. Julius jumped up on the counter next to me and licked his chops as I ran the electric can opener.

When he was happily eating, I hastily pulled open a carton of yogurt and grabbed the phone. I called Maggie and got her this time. There was the sound of voices in the background. I heard the steam from the espresso machine and someone giving an order for a nonfat, foam-only cappuccino. “This isn’t the best time to talk,” she said. Her helper, Carol, was there, but this was prime time in the coffee business. I quickly told her about the muffin that had been at the crime scene.

“Now I get what you meant in your message,” she said. “That certainly changes everything. Whoever bought the coffee and chocolate and vanilla muffin must have come in on Monday. I know we sold out of those muffins before noon. It is kind of strange, though. If you’re right and somebody gave Nicole the poisoned coffee, why would they use coffee from the day before? Let me think about it and see if I can remember anything about that morning.”

My mind was still on Nicole as I showered and got ready. I was frustrated that everything seemed all over the place and there were lots of questions bouncing around in my mind. As I sat wrapped in a towel I picked up the phone and punched in Frank’s number.

“Feldstein, is that really you?” he said in mock surprise. “I can’t believe you’re calling at such a reasonable time, though it is Saturday, which lots of people consider an off day.”

“C’mon, Frank. You told me a good detective never has a day off.”

“No, Feldstein. What I said was a detective’s dream was to have enough work that he had to work weekends.” I heard the squeak of his recliner chair, which he had told me he had in both the office and at home. “So what’s up? More dead bodies? Something going on with the cop down the street? Your old boyfriend make himself disappear and can’t find his way back?” Frank punctuated it with a chortle.

“This is serious,” I said. “I have a whole lot of pieces of information like a jigsaw puzzle and I can’t seem to make out what the picture is. I thought you could help.”

“Uh-oh, you aren’t about to start laying it on about what a crime-solving genius I am, are you?” I heard him laugh, so I knew he was joking, even though there was some truth in what he said. Only I’d planned to leave it at “superdetective.”

“Okay, let’s hear what you’ve got.”

It turned out the first thing I had to do was bring Frank up to speed. “Feldstein, I haven’t been sitting around here mulling about your last phone call. All I remember is something about some awful-sounding jewelry and maybe some blackmail.”

I reminded him about Nicole and how we’d both agreed it didn’t seem like suicide. I started to talk about the fact that Nicole hadn’t been well liked and there were a number of people who might have wanted her dead. “There’s a woman named Wanda who seems to have been the town’s premier spinner until Nicole came along,” I said.

Frank started to protest, saying he hoped I wasn’t going to say she was trying to spin gold out of straw. I knew he was trying to be funny, but I persisted and told him how Wanda had ended up taking Nicole’s place for my retreat. “And there’s something odd—” I debated if I should tell him about the salad spinners she’d bought before Nicole was dead. It seemed like a lot of effort to explain what the salad spinners were used for. I finally kept it short and just said Wanda had bought some equipment for the retreat when Nicole still had the job.

Frank was having a hard time understanding how important being the premier spinner was to Wanda. I started to explain that she was rather plain and had been overshadowed by her younger sister, who had been the prom queen.

“It was the same year that Nicole’s husband was the prom king,” I added. “He was quite the heartthrob and I think a number of women were upset when he married Nicole.”

“Maybe Wanda’s sister was one of them and she decided to get her out of the way?” Frank said. “It wouldn’t be the first time something like that has happened. But it seems to me you thought the victim was involved in blackmail. Doesn’t it make sense to be looking at the guy you saw leave her an envelope? Any ideas what information she might have had on him?”

“I have no proof the envelope had anything to do with blackmail. I could ask Burton Fiore about it, but if it had to do with blackmail, I’m sure he would lie.”

“Good thinking, Feldstein,” Frank said, punctuating it with a chuckle. “People rarely fess up to stuff like that.”

I brought up the bank that had become Nicole’s store and how I’d found out it had sat vacant until she’d rented it. I described how she’d had to leave it looking like a bank, with the tellers’ cages and the vault, and how there’d even been a stack of old ledgers, though she’d used the paper for kindling in the fireplace.

“A fireplace in a bank,” Frank said incredulously.

“It’s a small town and I guess it was the only source of heat in those days,” I said, surprised by his comment. I mentioned how I’d thought someone had broken into the place earlier in the week, but it had been explained away. “But when I went in there yesterday, it looked like somebody had been in there looking for something again.”

“Maybe it was the victim’s husband,” Frank said.

“I don’t think so. He gave me free access to it and everything in there. I’m sure he dreads having to deal with the place. It is such a reminder of her.”

“So cross him off the list. Any idea what whoever was after?” Frank asked. I made the mistake of bringing up the box of moldy clothes and the items I’d thought were hidden in the box. Frank had a good laugh.

“Feldstein, it sounds like a box waiting for the trash.” I told him Nicole’s husband had thought the same thing, but she’d insisted she wanted to refurbish the old fabrics.

“There’s something more. It seems like someone was shredding the pages of those old ledgers.” I could tell I was losing Frank’s interest, so I quickly added more or less what Virgil had said, that the pages were such ancient history it seemed like a waste of time to bother shredding them when you could just throw them away. “The man who’d worked at the bank told me the ledgers had held the old sign-in sheets when people wanted to access their safety-deposit boxes.”

There was silence on Frank’s end and I wondered if he’d fallen asleep or hung up, but then I heard the squeak of the recliner chair and a grunt as he shifted his weight. “I was just thinking,” he said, “I wonder what was on those sheets. Too bad you didn’t have a look at them.”

“Wait a second,” I said, walking across the kitchen before going across to the guesthouse. I had forgotten the obvious—the way I knew what was being shredded was by the partial sheet I’d found in the shredder. I smelled the mildewy scent as soon as I went inside. I lifted the torn sheet off the top and looked at it.

“See anything interesting, Feldstein?” Frank asked.

At first my eye just went down the page and I was about to say that it just seemed to be a list of signatures and printed names, but then one of the names popped out at me. “Edmund Delacorte,” I said.

“Who’s that? Frank asked. I scanned the sheet again and I noticed something weird. “Feldstein, are you still there?” Frank demanded.

“Sorry,” I said. I gave him a quick review of the Delacorte family and who Edmund had been. “But here’s the strange thing,” I said. “There’s a box number next to Edmund’s name and then a few lines down, the same box number appears again.”

“So maybe he went into his box twice,” Frank suggested.

“No. It’s a different name. Or at least the beginning of a different name. That’s just where the page is torn. All I can see is that it began with an
M
.” Something from the back of my mind came to the forefront. “The man I met who used to work at the bank said that Edmund Delacorte came into the bank every Friday and went to his safety-deposit box.” Julius had followed me into the guesthouse and sat down next to me and began cleaning himself.

“And then what, Feldstein,” Frank said, sounding impatient. “Maybe the bank guy knows who this M was?”

“No. Virgil made a point that Edmund came into the bank just as he was going to lunch.” I stopped talking as I realized that it sounded like a plan.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Feldstein?”

“Edmund was leaving something in the safety-deposit box and the M person was picking it up,” I said, getting excited.

“How about it was money and some kind of payoff,” Frank offered. “Very clever for him to time it so he got there just before this Virgil guy went to lunch, and then to have the mysterious M come in while somebody took over for Virgil. There was probably fill-in staff and different people all the time, so they wouldn’t have noticed the same person coming in every week. Have you had a look at the safety-deposit boxes?” he asked. I told him the locks were all off and the boxes were empty.

“Nicole must have figured it out. She must have looked through the ledgers and seen the same pair of names connected to the same box,” I said.

“But what did she figure out? What was this Edmund paying somebody off for? Feldstein, you got a lot of facts there, but there are still some missing pieces. You’re smart. You’ll figure it out.” I hadn’t even gotten to mention my threatening note. I barely had time to thank him for his help before he was hanging up.

Had Frank just given me a compliment? Or was it just a way to get off the phone? I tried to put the pieces together, but still all I got was that Nicole must have figured out that Edmund was paying somebody off. But why would anybody care now? There was no more time to think about it. I had a retreat to run.