Silence of the Lamb's Wool (A Yarn Retreat Mystery) (23 page)

And now with Maggie being stabbed with the wool comb . . . Maybe what Maggie knew pointed the finger at Wanda.

I sat knitting with the group. The pattern was simple and with the thick yarn and big needles, the shawl began to work up quickly, even for me, still a novice knitter. Lucinda moved over to sit next to me.

There was a pleasant hum of conversation. One of the nice things about working with yarn in a group was that people tended to talk and friendships developed. I could see it in the group of retreaters. Bree seemed to have become close with the Ginger. The woman had seemed tense and subdued at the beginning of the weekend, but now was talking readily. Olivia was the center of another group and there appeared to be a lively conversation going on. Scott had attracted a group, too.

I thought of my mother’s words. She was right. Was I actually even thinking those words? I chuckled to myself. The retreat was going to end on a high note. I had worked things out. One way or another I had actually managed to take the group from sheep to shawl. Did it really matter that Dr. Sammy had been a stand-in for the sheep or that they hadn’t spun all the yarn for their shawls? We had started with piles of wool and they were well on their way to completing the small wraps.

“Tag was upset when I told him about Maggie,” Lucinda said, interrupting my good thoughts. Instantly I thought of my friend in the hospital and went back into worry mode.

“He’s going to check on her and come here during our break,” she said. She smiled at the thought of her husband. “It’s kind of sweet the way he’s worried about me. He said he just wanted to see me in person to be sure I’m all right.”

I had stopped knitting while she talked. I still needed to pay attention to one thing or another. But then I began again, working the garter stitch and watching the shawlette grow a little wider with each row. I might not be able to talk and knit, but I certainly could think and knit. Everything about Nicole began to roll around in my mind. Even with all the alibis and excuses, I wasn’t sure that one of the blackmailees wasn’t the guilty party in her death. But I didn’t have anything to prove they were. My whole sting had fallen flat when too many people showed up. And well, without the name of the mother, all my so-called evidence of what Nicole knew just became conjecture. The thing about DNA evidence was you had to know who to compare it with.

Lucinda had begun talking to the woman on the other side of her and I listened to their conversation. At first they talked about the yarn and I was relieved to hear that it didn’t seem to matter to the woman that she hadn’t personally spun the yarn she was using. Then she began to talk about Wanda’s sister.

“Such a lovely young woman,” the woman said. And then she repeated what I’d thought—how amazing it was that while Wanda and her sister resembled each other, the end result in their appearance was so different. “That young woman’s eyes just sparkled when she said she was going to go looking for someone,” the woman said. “My guess is it was a man and someone she really liked.”

The words resonated in my mind. The woman was right. The look on Angelina’s face and the tone of her voice had all changed when she said Will’s name. I thought back to what I’d heard about him and the young women in town. He was the high school hero type. He’d been the prom king when Angelina had been the prom queen. Something nagged at me there. Hadn’t someone said that he’d taken someone else to the prom? Maybe that someone had gotten in the way of their relationship then and it had happened again with Nicole. With her out of the way, Will was available. And an entirely new motive for murder showed up.

The whole while I was knitting, I played around with the idea in my mind and by the time we took our break I wanted to go talk to Will. As we headed outside, I thought of going off to look for him, but Lucinda came up next to me and put her arm through mine as I zipped up my fleece jacket against the cool morning air.

“I told Tag we’d meet him in the café. He should have some news about Maggie,” she said.

Finding out about my friend who favored red won out and I changed my plans, going with Lucinda. The café was packed and the crowd spilled out into the main room of the Lodge hall. There was a lot of activity between people checking out and grouping by the door to wait for the van to take them to the airport.

Lucinda went on ahead to find Tag, while I stopped in the main room with several of the retreaters who needed help arranging for transportation to the airport. I was surprised to see Liz Buckley and her daughter, Stacey, but then realized they were there in their professional capacity as travel agents picking up a group for a local tour when I saw the daughter holding a sign that said
WINE TOUR
.

“Greetings,” Virgil Scarantino said in a cheerful voice as I passed. “I’m gathering folks for a wildflower hike. Any of your people want to join?”

I nodded a hello. “My group is still busy.” Someone squeezed between us, interrupting. “This must be like a family reunion for you,” I said to the distinguished-looking former banker as I pointed out his daughter and granddaughter surrounded by the wine tasters.

“Being tour guides must be in our genes,” he said with a little laugh.

I was about to explain we were just taking a break from our last workshop, when Kevin St. John made his way across the cavernous room. I was going to duck away quickly, figuring I was really a persona non grata after the whole gathering of blackmailees at The Bank, but Kevin stopped right in front of me before I could disappear.

“Ms. Feldstein,” he said in his formal managerial tone with a nod of greeting, “I wanted to speak to you.” I was glad when Virgil interrupted and said he had a quick question for Kevin St. John. Anything to take the spotlight off me. I edged away as Virgil mentioned the hike and wanted to know if the boardwalk was still blocked off. Kevin St. John said the bench was to be removed in the afternoon, but for now the area was still off-limits. Then Kevin put his hand on my arm, stopping my exit.

Here it comes,
I thought,
he’s got me trapped so he can dump on the reproach.
Even as Virgil moved away, the manager held on to my arm.

Rather than waiting, I finally just looked him in the eye. “Okay, what is it?”

The moon-faced man smiled at me and I tried to determine the meaning behind it. Was it sinister, triumphant or maybe gloating? Was he about to tell me that he’d gotten the Delacorte sisters to cancel the deal they’d offered me and maybe even ban me from having retreats there? But then I noticed something I’d never seen before in my dealings with him. The clue was in the set of his lips. The smile went all the way up to his eyes. Was he giving me a first-ever genuine smile?

“I wanted to thank you,” he said. There was a long pause and I waited for the sarcastic kicker to come. But he said nothing, letting the tension build, probably taking pleasure in making me squirm.

“Okay, you’re a master at suspense, but I’m in kind of a hurry. Could you get to the punch line?” I said.

His expression gave in and he began to speak at a regular rate. “This is hard for me to say, but thanks to your efforts at being a detective, Burton Fiore is out of the picture.” Kevin St. John seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. “And now if you could just leave everything as it is,” he said. The smile had faded and his tone seemed to have a touch of warning to it.

He let go of my arm abruptly and I gave him a little salute as I moved on.

The café was so crowded, I noticed two people working the counter. Lucinda waved me over.

“Tag got drinks for us,” she said when I got to the table. Lucinda was holding hers and I realized the one on the table was mine. My friend noticed me staring at it. “You know Tag,” she said. “He didn’t want your cappuccino to get cold.”

Tag went into detail how he’d put another cup over the original one to insulate it and he’d added a lid.

I was more interested in news about Maggie and asked about her before I even sat down. Tag didn’t do well at being interrupted. It messed with his sense of order and he had to get out the last part of his efforts to keep my drink hot before he would talk about Maggie. “You need to know all the steps I took,” he said. He pointed out the plug in the sip hole and said it had done double duty. It had kept my drink warm and marked it as the cappuccino.

“Tell her about Maggie,” Lucinda said, trying to get him to move on.

“She’s in critical condition,” he said. “The next twelve hours are crucial.” It wasn’t good, but at least she was still alive.

He stared at my drink and I could see he was getting fidgety. He couldn’t help himself, he started gesturing with his whole body for me to try it. I undid all his fixings and in the process managed to slop some liquid out of the cup. I quickly took a sip and told him the temperature was just right.

I heard Tag make a
tsk
sound as he picked up a napkin and began to blot the ring my cup had left.

“I feel better seeing that you’re both okay,” he said, keeping his voice low. He turned to me. “Lucinda said you didn’t think the motive with Maggie was robbery.” He gave me all the points in favor of it being robbery, like the cash drawer was open and money was missing.

Tag didn’t like my sleuthing, particularly when I included his wife. Even so, I told him I thought Maggie had been attacked because of something she knew—if for no other reason than to make him realize there wasn’t a robber on the loose in Cadbury, no matter what Lieutenant Borgnine thought. Tag, with his eye for detail, appreciated how I’d determined by the kind of muffin that had been found with Nicole that it had been purchased on Monday morning, not Tuesday, the day she’d supposedly killed herself. Then he got quiet and I could tell the wheels in his head were spinning.

“You know I take a walk very early every weekday morning up and down Grand Street,” he said. “And you know that I pay attention to everything.” He stopped for a moment as if running over something in his mind and then his eyes lit up. “I did notice something odd Monday morning when I passed the Coffee Shop.”

He leaned in close and whispered something. I started to dismiss it as the usual kind of useless detail that bothered him, but then I began to think about what he had said. Could it be?

Tag had turned back to his wife and began trying to convince her to leave the retreat now. I tuned him out and stared down at the table, letting things roll through my mind. It was like staring at an anagram and suddenly seeing the word hidden in the mixed-up letters.

There was a slight problem. If I presented what I’d just figured out to Lieutenant Borgnine, he would laugh me out of the police station. I needed some piece of proof to change it from conjecture to fact. And then I thought of something. It was a long shot, but still possible there was a piece of evidence the cops had overlooked.

There was no way I could follow my hunch immediately. It was the last part of the final session of the retreat and I had to be there, so I set a few things in motion before I rushed on ahead, wanting to be in the meeting room when my people all arrived.

I was glad to see Lucinda come in with the group. Tag hadn’t won. I did my best to focus on my retreaters and join them in knitting for that last hour, but my mind was elsewhere. I was anxious to check out my theory, particularly after I’d heard about the plan to move the bench.

The workshop ended as the lunch bell rang. I tried to appear calm as they gathered up all their things, but I was finding it almost impossible not to hurry them along so I could take off.

Lucinda saw me edging away and figured something was up. “You’re onto something, aren’t you?” she said. “Need some help?”

It was thanks to her that all those people had shown up for my blackmail sting even though most of them had heard her tease by accident, and I would have liked some backup, but I was really more concerned that she have lunch with the knitters and act as hostess for their last meal. She agreed and went on ahead, saying she’d left her jacket when we’d met Tag and she’d pick it up on the way.

I took a quick detour, holding out my cell phone. I had already written the text and as soon as I got a signal in the middle of the street, I hit send. I was breathless from running and from anticipation as I got back to the main path in the conference center.

I was going the opposite way as people headed toward the dining hall, while others were pulling suitcases toward their cars. It got quiet when I headed across the grassy area in front of the Lodge
and by the time I reached the boardwalk, the only sound was the rhythm of the waves coming from the beach and my footsteps on the boards. I took the turnoff on the planked walkway. I headed up the hilly dune and then saw the barricade up ahead. I stepped around it easily. All that sand absorbed the sound and as I descended into the valley there was an eerie silence. The tall bushes were just ahead and I hoped that Kevin St. John hadn’t jumped the gun and had the bench removed already. If there was any evidence still there, the moving of the bench would be sure to trample it and disperse it forever in the shifting sand.

I had to get all the way to the space between the bushes before I could tell the bench was still there. The yellow police tape was gone, but had been replaced by a large blue tarp draped across the open space and held in place by rope tied to the greenery. It was easy to peek over the tarp and see the bench behind it. When I lifted the tarp to climb under it, the ropes came loose and the whole thing fell to the ground.

There were clumps of native plants on either end of the seat and underneath it. I got on my hands and knees and began to poke through the stalks under one end of the bench. I checked the other end and came up empty. My last shot was the row of plants just below the seat. And then I saw it. No wonder the cops missed it. It was green, just like the stems of the plants, and blended right in.

I was considering what to do as I stood up. I felt something prickle my back and I turned quickly.

“Good, you found it,” Jane said. She held the other wool comb toward me with the tines out in a threatening manner. “Lucky for me I asked where you were when your friend came to pick up her jacket. Easy as anything she said you were off looking for some evidence.” With the sharp metal tines of the wool comb resting against my arm, she leaned down and looked under the bench. I tried to step away, but as she stood, she pressed the weapon harder against my skin. I could feel the tines beginning to cut into my arm.

“Why couldn’t you have just stayed out of it? Everyone bought Nicole’s death as suicide. The case was closed. Nobody was going to look for any more evidence and once the bench was gone, the whole episode would be smoothed over, just like the sand.”

“It was all about Will, wasn’t it?” I said. “I asked Stacey Buckley and she said you were the person Will took to the prom.” I left off what else she’d said, that it was a pity date.

A wisp of her pale brown hair blew across her face, she raked it back with her hand and I was surprised to see her expression. The only word to describe it was
fierce
. “Yes,” she said. “It was wonderful. I had to take care of my mother and I never got to go to many school things. It was like a dream. He said I looked like a princess. That’s when I knew that Will and I were meant to be together.” The hair flew in front of her face again and she moved it away from her eyes with her free hand. I was relieved that she had stopped pressing the wool comb against my arm, but she still held it as a threat.

“He seemed to be so understanding that I had to be there to take care of my mother. Never pushing for us to get together or anything, but whenever he saw me, we’d talk and he’d remind me of the prom and say what a special night it had been.” She stopped and shook her head. “I was sure it was some kind of mistake when Will got engaged to Nicole. I suppose she used some of those sophisticated tricks she learned in San Francisco.”

Jane sounded angry as she described what a rough time it had been for her. Her mother had died shortly after Will and Nicole’s wedding and Jane had fallen into a depression, working at several stores in downtown Cadbury. “But when I got the job at the café, everything changed. Will stopped in all the time and he’d talk to me. I could tell he wasn’t happy with Nicole anymore, and then when he confided in me that she was involved with something that could mess up the whole town . . .” Her voice trailed off. “I did it for Will. I couldn’t let her ruin his life.” I considered trying to make a run for it, but she sensed it and moved the wool comb against my arm again. The tines were sharp as tiny swords and I could feel them prick at my skin.

She looked me in the eye. “And now we’re going to be together. I know I’m right about that. Look at how fast he came back to work. He did it so we could spend time together and it wouldn’t look strange.”

“Why did you have to hurt Maggie?” I said. “Everybody loves her. She’s wonderful to everyone, probably even to you.”

Jane looked down. “It’s really your fault. Everyone wanted to accept that Nicole killed herself. Nobody liked her very well. She thought she could just come into town and take over.” Her head lifted and she glared at me. “Just like you. We don’t need any amateur investigators. You should have paid attention to that note I left in your bag when you came in with Wanda. If you hadn’t kept talking to Maggie and then brought up that stupid muffin . . .” Jane shook her head. “I thought bringing the muffin with the coffee would make my meeting with Nicole seem more friendly.” She had a determined expression and I had a bad feeling.

“Well,” she said. Again I glanced at the path. Anything she had in mind for me seemed to include pain, so I did my best to stall her.

I got her to talk about Maggie. She’d figured there might be something sharp with the knitting tools and found the wool comb, though it had ended up being mostly for show. She’d slipped in behind Maggie and gotten the coffeepot off the shelf before Maggie knew what was going on. I had a hard time listening to Jane describe hitting Maggie over the head repeatedly. She’d heard Carol at the front door and quickly grabbed a handful of money to make it look like a robbery and then rushed out the back door.

Jane appeared as if she’d just thought of something. “If you didn’t talk to Maggie, how—”

“Did I figure it out?” I said. Great. It was another chance to stall. “It all really came together a little while ago,” I began. And then I told her what Tag had whispered. “Tag Thornkill mentioned seeing you in Maggie’s on Monday. He thought it seemed strange that a person who worked in a place selling coffee would stop for a cup at another place. It made me start thinking and putting things together. Like the delivery guy saying you weren’t there to sign for the order on Tuesday morning. And when I stared at the lengths Tag had gone to to keep my coffee warm and then saw the ring on the table from my cup, it reminded me there had been one on the bench when I saw Nicole. It was clearly far away from where she’d been sitting and indicated there had been someone else there also with a drink. And then I came up with a scenario.”

“Oh yeah,” she said with almost a dare in her voice. “I bet you don’t know how I did it.”

“I admit it was very clever,” I began and Jane’s eyes widened at the praise. And then I laid it out. She’d gone to Maggie’s on Monday morning and asked for a coffee, and waited until Maggie had pulled off one of the paper cups before Jane had requested it be double cupped. That way, Maggie’s fingerprints would be on the inner cup, but not Jane’s. She had picked up the muffin at the same time. She’d either drunk the coffee or dumped it. Either way, it was immaterial. Then on Tuesday, she’d brought the cups and muffin to work with her. Getting the insecticide was no problem since the shed was left open. I imagined that she’d used gloves to separate the cups, making sure to use the inner one for Nicole’s poison-laced latte.

It was obvious by Jane’s expression that I had gotten it right. She seemed a little miffed that I’d figured it out and took over telling me how she’d done the rest, adding more details as she did. I had wondered how she’d gotten Nicole to meet her. It wasn’t as if they were friends. Jane had asked Nicole’s advice for making over her appearance. Jane had asked her not to tell anyone about their meeting because she was embarrassed to have to ask for help. Apparently Nicole had fallen for it completely.

“I used the outer cup for a coffee for me,” she said. I put lids on them and fit them in one of those cardboard carriers we have. That way I could offer it to Nicole without ever having to touch the cup. I even told her I’d gotten the coffees from the Coffee Shop because I knew she liked their drinks the best.” I noticed Jane stopped there because she’d gotten to her one slipup.

“But it must have occurred to you that the cups looked the same and you wanted to make sure she took the right one. So you marked it by putting one of the green plugs in the sip hole.”

Jane’s features tightened. “I don’t know how I forgot about it,” she said. “Everything else went according to plan. I waited until the poison began to take effect, which only took a few minutes. Then I wrote the note on her phone and wiped off the screen. I grabbed my coffee cup and the cardboard holder and walked away.”

Jane let out a sigh. “But it wasn’t really such a bad mistake.” Pressing the sharp metal against my arm, she bent down quickly and plucked the green plug off the ground. She broke it into pieces with her free hand and threw them off into the wild blue yonder, where they would be sure to be lost forever.

“Just like that, evidence gone.” She looked down at the weapon in her hand. “I read up on these. Saint Somebody got killed with one. It was quite painful, the skin ripped from his body. I learned some medical stuff when I was taking care of my mother.” She looked at my wrists. “A few punctures in the right place and it would be just like slashing your wrists.”

I took another look at the path and there was no one coming. I made a last attempt at a stall and brought up Maggie. Jane was convinced she wasn’t going to make it and on the slight chance she did, would probably have no memory of anything. There was a shift in her demeanor and I realized I was now completely out of time.

Jane started to move closer as my eyes focused right in front of me and I flinched at something flying by, swiping my free hand at it.

“What are you doing?” she snapped. “Don’t move.”

I swished the air with the back of my hand. “It’s a bee,” I said, ducking my head back to miss it. “Look out, it’s headed for you.” Jane’s eyes moved over the air in front of her and I reached out, swatting my hand in front of her nose to shoo it away. Jane moved her head as I waved my hand again.

I heard the rhythm of footsteps and then a voice called out. “Hey, what’s going on?” Dane said as he rushed down the boardwalk from the other direction. From that side, the bench and all that was going on was clearly visible.

“Don’t come any closer.” Jane’s voice sounded threatening as she lifted her hand to move the wool comb close to my face. “I’ll slash her cheek.” But when she looked at her hand, she was surprised to see it was empty and horrified when she saw the wooden comb was in my possession now.

“It’s all in the wrists,” I said to her in a snarky manner. “I learned it from the Amazing Dr. Sammy. People have a tiny area of focus and their eyes are captured by movement. You were so busy watching me swat that imaginary bee, you didn’t even feel my other hand take the wool comb out of yours.”

I unloaded the whole story on Dane, who wisely chose to handcuff her. She gave me a dirty look as I got to the end of the tale.

“Except there’s nothing to prove it,” she said with a shrug.

“Maybe there is,” I said. I looked at her directly. The plug you picked up was the one I brought along to poke through the plants. No way did I want to touch any evidence. The real one is still there.” I pointed out the clump of greenery under the bench.

While we were waiting for the troops to come, Will and another man came by to pick up the bench.