Spin a Wicked Web (20 page)

"Coffee?" Lindsey asked.

I shook my head. "I'm full up. Thanks, though." I walked over
to the loom. "Are you the weaver?"

"I am." Her voice was deep, confident, her manner easy and
unhurried.

"And the alpacas?"

"I raise them for wool and sell them for breeding."

Gabi had mentioned that she could get sheep and alpaca wool
locally. Lindsey was probably one of her sources.

"My husband's the painter," she said. "He's out of town at a
gallery show right now."

"It practically vibrates with creativity in here."

She smiled. And waited.

"I understand you were a good friend of Ariel's," I said, wondering what this self-possessed woman had in common with Arieland what Ariel got out of it. "I'm very sorry for your loss."

"Thank you." Sad about her friend's death, certainly, but not
grief stricken. Serene. But how could I presume to know how she
expressed sorrow?

She looked down, her face suddenly pinched. "We all have to
go eventually, but no one deserves to die like that. The venom, the
hatred behind such an act of violence. It's inconceivable."

And yet, inconceivable as it was, this was the third time I'd been
involved in a murder in our little town. A woman could get a real
complex about something like that.

"Everything all right?" Lindsey's concerned voice brought me
back to earth.

I shook my head. "I find what happened to her upsetting, too."
I'd started feeling downright sorry for myself there for a second.
"Had you known Ariel for a long time?"

She took a sip of her coffee and considered me. "How did you
know I knew her at all? Did she mention me?"

"Um, no. Her sister-in-law did, though. I was there last night."

"You stayed the night at the Kaminskis?"

I nodded.

"Friend of the family?" Obvious intelligence shone from her
eyes. No way I'd get away with lying to her.

"Not exactly." I took a deep breath. "Ariel and I belong ... belonged to the same artists' co-op. I drove up with her paintings, to
give to her brother. One thing led to another, mostly because Gabi
and I hit it off and have a common interest in spinning. I ended up staying the night. She mentioned you and Ariel were friends in
high school, and what road you lived on, and when I was driving
by on the way home, I sort of..." I trailed off, lame as could be.

She squinted. "I guess I still don't quite understand why you're
here."

Why indeed? "Um. Well, I keep finding out things about Ariel
that I hadn't known before. I thought you might be able to tell me
more.

"You're simply curious, then."

I grimaced.

Lindsey laughed, which disconcerted me further. "It's okay.
Ariel was an odd little thing."

"But you were friends."

"In high school. Since then it had devolved to exchanging
Christmas cards. At least most of the time. Once in awhile she still
called when she needed to."

Something about the way she said that. "When she needed to?"

Lindsey inclined her head a fraction, holding my gaze.

"And when," I pushed, "was that?"

She looked speculative then seemed to make a decision. "When
she started to fall back into her old habits."

This time I was the one who waited.

Another sip of coffee, followed by a small, self-deprecating smile.
"Ariel and I had something in common in high school that bound
us. We were both anorexic. My parents caught on, and I began seeing a local psychologist who specialized in eating disorders. Ariel's
parents were both gone by then, and her brother had no idea what
was going on. But once I started to get better, I convinced her to go
with me. The woman who was treating me was an angel; she agreed to let Ariel share my sessions for no extra fee. By the time my mother
and father found out, I was improving, so they let it continue. Over
the course of two years, we both learned how to deal with having an
eating disorder." She paused, watching the alpacas outside the window. "I was lucky. Staying well has been easier for me. Ariel had a
difficult time."

"That explains it," I said, without thinking.

"Explains what?"

I ran my hands over my face, suddenly tired. "I keep hearing
Ariel wasn't exactly, um, overflowing with the milk of human kindness, if you know what I mean. She didn't like people so much for
who they were, as for what they could do for her. She cultivated
those who could provide her with something she needed."

Lindsey didn't respond, continued watching the herd. I began
to get a sick feeling, like I'd stepped on a puppy. I shouldn't have
spoken so frankly.

Then she turned back to me. "I never really thought about it
that way. But, of course, you're right. She did exactly that."

"You were awfully nice, letting her come to your sessions. It must
have made it harder for you," I said, plunging in further.

"She was killing herself." The simple words, stated so matter-
of-factly, gave me goose bumps.

I couldn't help asking, though, "Did you like her?"

"I accepted her. Many people didn't."

"Did you accept everything about her?"

"You mean the men?"

"You knew about the high school teacher, then. Owens."

Lindsey's expression clouded. "He should have known better.
She acted tough, but she was just a kid. A wildly insecure kid. He
lost his job over it, but he should have been prosecuted."

"Did you know she was recently having an affair with a married man?"

She hesitated, licking her lips. "She called me a couple of weeks
ago, as a matter of fact."

Interesting. Lindsey hadn't been going to tell me that.

"Did she mention Scott Popper?"

"She talked about two men, both associated with the artists'
co-op.

"She was having affairs with both of them?" So she and Jake
had progressed beyond e-mails. No wonder Felicia had made that
angry phone call.

Lindsey was silent.

"Listen, I know you want to keep her confidence, and I don't
blame you. But she was murdered. The police are probably going
to show up on your doorstep, asking these same questions. At
least, I hope they are, because the people she was involved with
right before she died are important, and you have information
about them."

Okay, so I wasn't being particularly nice anymore.

With pity on her face-for Ariel and not for me, I hoped-she
said, "Yes, she was having affairs with both of them."

"One was a cop, and the other one was a doctor, right?"

Lindsey frowned. "One was a policeman, yes. The other was a
mechanic."

"A mechanic?"

"Zak something?"

Oh, wow. Zak Nelson. Not exactly associated with the co-op,
but close enough. No wonder he'd wanted to buy one of Ariel's
giant canvases. And no wonder Irene seemed to hate Ariel so
much; she knew what was going on.

"What else did she say?" I asked.

However, Lindsey was shaking her head. "No. This has gone far
enough. I'm sure you're a very nice person, but I don't know you,
and I shouldn't be talking to you about Ariel like this. If the police
come, fine. But you're not the police, and I'd like you to leave
now.

"But-"

"I don't have anything else to tell you. Please. Go."

"All right. Thank you for talking to me," I said. It sounded weak.
I could tell by the rueful look on her face that Lindsey regretted talking to me at all. At my insistence she had violated a personal code of
ethics.

On one hand, the last twenty-four hours had gleaned a pile of
new information about Ariel, some of which might be helpful in
determining who murdered her.

On the other hand, I felt like dirt.

I'D LEARNED A LOT about Ariel, things that Robin and Barr might
not have unearthed by themselves. I'd sworn up and down I wasn't
going to investigate her murder, yet it sure looked like that was
exactly what I was doing. Why couldn't I stop asking questions?
Did I have some kind of genetic mutation?

Gawd. Well, that was it. Finished. Over. Finito. No more snooping or questioning or even wondering to myself. No more gnawing on the problem like it was a big juicy bone and I was a hungry
terrier. Barr had asked me to gossip, but by stealing Ariel's diary
and talking to Lindsey Drucker, I'd crossed that line.

Too many people knew I'd been asking questions. Someone had
killed Ariel in a very violent manner, and the last thing I wanted was
to set them off or make them think I was a danger in anyway, shape,
or form. After all, it was more than likely I knew the murderer.

Nope, I thought. Stick a fork in me; I'm done.

At least for a few days.

I mean, it made sense to back off and see how things played
out. I knew a lot more about Ariel now. Maybe it was enough. I'd
learned by now that it was a bad idea to barrel ahead, poking at
hornet nests just to see what came out.

Because I already knew the result would be hornets. And I
didn't like getting stung.

Our yellow house on the edge of the historic district of Cadyville
looked as welcoming as a grandmother's hug. Brilliant azure clematis twined up a trellis to one side of the tiny porch, breathtaking
against the butter color of the wall. Lavender bushes lined the
walkway, and showy annuals brightened the more sedate perennials tucked all over the small yard. As I walked to the front door, I
couldn't help smiling. I was such a homebody, and this was definitely my home. Time for a shower and then back to my normal
life.

Once inside the door, though, my cheerful disposition faded.
Voices drew me into the living room, where I found Meghan and
Barr, iced coffees in hand, chatting up a storm. As soon as I entered, though, their animated conversation died a sudden death.
The looks on both of their faces didn't improve my mood.

"What happened?" I asked.

Meghan glanced at Barr, then said, "Hannah stopped by."

I dropped into a chair. "Again" It wasn't a question.

She nodded. "She seems determined to talk to you."

I exhaled audibly. "Fine. I'll talk to her. Let's just get it over
with."

"We have to find her first," Barr said. "And when we do, I want
to be the first one to speak with her."

Something ominous in his tone. I peered at Meghan. "What
did she say?"

She twisted her mouth and shrugged. "Only that she wanted to
talk to you, was in fact determined to talk to you. It wasn't so
much what she said, as how she said it."

Hmmm. Meghan had been spooked enough to call Barr.

"Well, I'm here now," I said. "So next time she comes back she
can have her wish. I don't know that she's going to be very happy
with what I have to say, though." I smiled at Barr. It was not a nice
smile.

He stood. "I'm going to try and track her down before she gets
a chance to bother you again. I'm sorry about all this, Meghan."

She shook her head. "It's all right. I know you'll take care of it."

I walked him to the door. "I have a lot to tell you about my trip
to La Conner."

"Can it wait?" he asked. "I really want to find Hannah."

Great. He was neglecting his job just to track down his ex-wife
so she'd stop bugging us.

"I guess," I said. "Or I could tell Robin."

He looked alarmed. "No, let me do that." Bending down, he
gave me a long kiss. Then he whispered, "Come over tonight and
tell me all about it, okay? We'll have dinner."

I nodded. "What sounds good?"

"Huh uh. I'm cooking for you. But I'm afraid my repertoire is
somewhat limited, so you'll have to take what you get."

He was cooking for me? "Deal," I said. This was the first time
he'd cooked a meal for me. It was bound to be horrible, but I didn't
care. It was a case of the thought that counts.