Till Death Do Us Purl (26 page)

Lucy could see Maggie felt embarrassed about that. But what could she do? Maggie hadn’t gone running to the police right after their conversation. But this was different.

“I thought you were tending to believe what Alec Lassiter told you, that Lewis loved Jeremy and never could have harmed him.”

Maggie worked quickly, picking off the garbage and spoiled yarn, Lucy noticed. But she paused and shook her head, her short brown curls bouncing around her face.

“See, that’s the thing. It all gets
muddled. I do believe Alec. I heard Lewis talk about Jeremy with my own ears, at the memorial service, in such a tender, loving way. It is hard, if not impossible, to believe Lewis would have tracked Jeremy down and harmed him. Or even hired someone to do it while he sat and enjoyed an opera.” Maggie sighed, looking at a hunk of shaving-cream-soaked yarn. “I’m not even sure this trick-or-treat-type trashing is his style. He seems too neat and methodical a person. Though whoever did this car may have ransacked Rebecca’s apartment. Even Detective Reyes had to admit the two incidents might be connected.”

“We keep forgetting about Erica Ferris,” Lucy reminded her.

“Yes, out of sight but not out of mind. She does hate knitting or anything even vaguely connected. Maybe this masterpiece is her artistic statement . . . yarn combined with garbage and rotten eggs?”

“I know what you mean. I was wondering the same thing.”

Lucy heard a car approaching and turned to see Suzanne’s huge SUV turning into the driveway. She parked behind Maggie’s car and jumped out from behind the wheel. Dana hopped out the other side.

They were dressed in their oldest jeans and sweatshirts, Lucy noticed. Suzanne waved bottles of white vinegar in both hands, as if she were bringing vintage wines to a picnic in the country.

“We’re here . . . with vinegar to spare. I bet you don’t have nearly enough.”

“We haven’t even gotten to the vinegar yet.” Lucy stood back from the side of the car she’d been working on. “We’re still picking off the litter.”

“Didn’t the police take it away,
as evidence?” Dana looked perfectly serious asking the question.

“They took a few samples. That’s all they needed to track the forensics of this”—Lucy pulled up a bit of trash with her rubber-gloved hand—“old spaghetti?”

Suzanne drew closer and peered at the specimen. “Looks like linguine to me. Whole wheat, I’d say.”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “Thank you, Watson. I’ll have to call Detective Reyes later and tell her that. Maybe she can trace the garbage to an Italian health food restaurant. I don’t even buy whole wheat linguine.” She looked over at Suzanne and Dana again. “You guys didn’t have to come over like this. I appreciate it, really. But shouldn’t you both be at work now?”

“I don’t have any appointments until the afternoon,” Dana replied. “Besides, we couldn’t leave you alone with this, once Phoebe told us what happened.”

“I told her not to sound the alarm,” Maggie said. “I didn’t want to bother everyone.”

“I have today off. Just some follow-up calls to make,” Suzanne said. She looked over at Maggie’s car. “What a mess. This is the handiwork of a truly sick puppy.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Dana pulled some plastic gloves from the box sitting on the lawn and handed a pair to Suzanne. “Do the police have any idea who did it?”

“Not that they were willing to share with me,” Maggie said. “But we have one or two,” she glanced at Lucy.

“I had a feeling you would say that.” Dana made a queasy face, wiping off a handful of gunk from the tailgate. “Let’s spin some theories, ladies. It will distract us while we work.”

With all four of her friends working,
cleaning Maggie’s car did not take nearly as long as Lucy expected. The scent of the white vinegar solution was almost as bad as the trash smell, but in a different way. Most of the egg came off, but the paint was damaged in spots. It made Maggie’s car look like a camouflaged vehicle.

“You can go undercover much easier now, Mag,” Lucy told her.

“There’s always an upside, if you look long enough, right?” Maggie said drily. “But don’t tell Detective Reyes,” she added.

After the cleanup, Suzanne and Dana headed off to resume their postponed schedules. Lucy went home to shower and change, then returned to Maggie’s house to drive her into the village. The car was cleaned off, but the tires were still flat. A roadside assistance service was coming and Maggie was pleased to hear they could make the repair without her being home. She decided to cover the back window with a wooden board and leave that repair for another day.

Maggie’s house was a long walk into town and she was tired from the ordeal during the night and the cleanup. Lucy didn’t mind the extra favor. She was too distracted to get any real work done in the afternoon anyway.

When they reached the shop, Nora Bailey was waiting.

“Maggie, I’m so sorry about your car. What an ordeal.” Nora gave her a quick hug. “Rebecca and I feel responsible. It wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t trying to help her. Please let us pay for the repairs. We really want to do that,” Nora insisted.

“Don’t worry, Nora. My insurance might cover all of it. It’s not your fault or Rebecca’s. I think the blame falls squarely
on the nut job who came over last night.”

“Well . . . that’s true. But you know what I mean,” Nora sat on the love seat in the small side room, and took out her knitting.

Lucy sat in an armchair nearby and leafed through a new knitting magazine with spring patterns and projects. She was almost finished with the shrug and wanted to try something new.

“Alec Lassiter called last night. He and Rebecca talked for a while. He said he’d felt bad about not being in touch lately. Something about being a bad brother-in-law.” Nora shook her head. “He said he met you at some fancy party and you made him feel guilty.”

“Oh . . . I didn’t mean to . . . Well, maybe I did a little,” she admitted.

Maggie had slipped on her glasses and was going through the mail. Phoebe was in the back helping a customer choose yarn to fit a pattern she had out on the worktable.

“I only said it would help tamp down some of this nasty gossip if he and his family stood by Rebecca right now. And people could see Jeremy’s own family believed she was innocent.”

“It would help. But I think the Lassiters have their own worries. Alec’s sister and father probably need his help right now even more than Rebecca does. Have you seen the newspaper this morning? Oh, you must have been too busy,” Nora said.

Lucy put the magazine in her lap and looked over at Maggie. She had a copy of the newspaper in her hand, along with the rest of the mail. She put down the envelopes and unfolded the paper.

“It’s on the second page, I think . . .” Nora put her knitting
aside and walked over to Maggie, so they could read the article with her. Lucy did the same.

Maggie quickly opened the paper and found the news article. “Here it is . . . a big headline. ‘Investment Scandal Rocks Mighty At-Las.’”

Maggie held out the paper so Lucy could read it, too. Nora had already seen the news and stood by waiting.

The article reported that an emergency board meeting was being held that morning. “‘It is expected that Philip Lassiter will be ousted as the chairman and CEO. The move comes in reaction to his alleged mishandling of investments earmarked for research and development of a new resin product, touted as a miracle adhesive,’” Maggie read aloud in a shocked tone.

“‘An investigation, mounted by federal authorities, is expected to be completed within hours. Sources close to the investigation predict Philip Lassiter will be charged with luring investors into a pyramid, or Ponzi-type scheme, over the past two years or more. The elaborate scheme included false financial statements and earnings reports on bogus advanced sales of an adhesive product that the company claimed was not perfected yet but already in demand.’”

Maggie looked up at them, sounding breathless. “I can’t say that’s a complete surprise. Jeremy’s brother told me last night the ax was about to fall. Sounds like it’s coming down right now.”

“And heads are rolling,” Lucy finished for her. “So Philip is a mini-Madoff, after all. Does it say anything more about the glue formula?”

“Let me see . . .” Maggie scanned the article again, which
she hadn’t completed. “Wait . . . here’s something. ‘Philip Lassiter’s son Jeremy Lassiter invented the formula but had not finalized the product for production and marketing at the time of his death.’ Not that anyone knows of,” Maggie added. She took a breath and continued.

“‘Claudia Lassiter, vice president of operations and marketing, maintains that the company can produce the product, but the staff is still trying to reconstruct her brother’s records and laboratory notes.’”

Maggie sighed and looked up at both of them. “Just like Alec predicted. His sister is left to shoulder all the responsibility. Look down here.” She pointed to the bottom paragraph. “Philip Lassiter is in the hospital again. ‘—admitted late last night,’” she read aloud, “‘and according to the family, is being treated for a chronic stomach ailment.’”

“That’s the second time in a month. He went into the hospital right after Jeremy’s memorial service,” Lucy recalled.

“That’s right. He was there when Jeremy was found in the motel,” Nora added.

“Do you think the company can survive this?” Lucy looked at Maggie and then at Nora.

“It sounds like Jeremy’s father will be arrested,” Nora said. “There will be a trial. And the company will have to pay back all the people they’ve cheated.”

“Which will probably push At-Las all the way under. The company must be leveraged and running at a loss already. Why else would Philip go to such lengths to bring in more cash?”

“He believed it was all going to be paid back, and more. When they started selling
the new glue,” Lucy reasoned. “If Claudia can finally figure out the formula, maybe she can salvage something.”

“If she’s not sent to jail first, you mean,” Maggie said quietly. “She may be involved in this, too. We don’t know. It’s very complicated. But clearly another dark day for the Lassiters.”

“I don’t know much about either of them, Alec or Claudia,” Nora said, returning to her knitting. “They both treated Rebecca well. I don’t wish them any harm. As for Philip Lassiter, I think he’ll get what’s coming to him. What he’s dished out to everyone else his entire life—including his own children. And that is nothing good.”

Nora was the first person Lucy heard voice that prediction. But hardly the last. The town was buzzing with the news of Philip Lassiter’s downfall. There were few, if any, sympathizers.

“Schadenfreude,” Matt observed one night during dinner. “Taking pleasure in someone else’s pain. Especially your enemy’s. People do like to see the high and mighty knocked down to size.”

It was not pleasant to watch, but true, Lucy thought.

Of course Edie Steiber visited Maggie’s shop to brag about how she was approached by the bogus investment offering, but between her tingling big toe and her big gut, she wisely turned down the opportunity to be robbed blind. “Like the rest of those poor suckers. Seniors like me, mostly.”

The following days brought more news. Lucy read the articles each morning, before she spread the newspaper out on the floor for her painting project.

Claudia was arrested in her office
and led from the building in handcuffs. There was even a photograph, though her head was ducked away from the camera. Philip was also arrested, right in his hospital bed. But his medical condition was far more serious than the family had revealed.

The truth was finally disclosed. He was suffering from stomach cancer, which had been kept hidden from the public for more than a year. He was in the last stages and there was nothing more to be done. He confessed that there was no glue formula. Jeremy had not completed it before he faked his own death. Philip was sure it could be perfected and had pressed his son to continue the research so he could satisfy his investors and save his company.

But Jeremy had given up and tried to escape the entire mess. And had nearly succeeded, Lucy thought, reading the latest report in the newspaper.

It was very doubtful Philip would live to stand trial. Police officers were posted outside his room. Not that he presented any great flight risk, Lucy realized. But there were so many enraged people in town who might do him harm. Investors who were cheated out of hundreds of thousands of dollars, a life savings for some of them.

All for the promise of cashing in big on the miracle glue.

But there was little mention of the missing formula in the latest news reports, Lucy noticed.

Lucy finally took a break from painting on Wednesday afternoon. All she had left was a second coat on the molding and doors and she was home free. She washed what she could from her hands and face, but didn’t bother changing her
splattered jeans and sweatshirt before heading out to Maggie’s store.

It was a full-blown spring day, no doubt about it now. She’d been working with the windows open but feeling the warm sun on her face and breathing in the fresh air was a world of difference from the paint smell.

Even Tink and Walley had a bounce in their steps today. Though walking down to town went a bit slower with the two of them—two noses stopping to sniff at every opportunity.

She tied them on the porch of the shop, noticing a big splotch of paint on Tink’s tail.

“Tink . . . what did you do? How am I supposed to get that out, cut your tail off?”

The dog stared up at her, already working on her chewy bone. All Lucy could think of was what she might have smeared in the house with her tail swinging around like a giant paintbrush.

She had wanted to check out yarns and patterns for a new project today anyway, an afghan that would match the new wall color in the bedroom. She had forgotten a paint chip, but at least she had Tink’s tail.

“Welcome back, stranger,” Maggie greeted her. “Are you still painting the bedroom?”

“It’s almost done,” Lucy reported. “I needed to use primer and two coats. We’re covering a dark color with a light one.”