Yarn to Go (14 page)

I let out a little laugh. “It really isn’t easy for me,” I began. Why not tell her the truth. “You have your life together. You have a family and a group of people you knit with. I bet you have no trouble finishing things you begin.”

Bree seemed surprised by what I said. “Of course I finish things. You have to with kids. And all the Ewes finish the projects we start.”

Then I told her my whole story. How I had trouble sticking with anything. “Even this weekend. This is outside of my comfort zone, but I am doing it because of my aunt.” Bree hugged me and thanked me for sharing. She said she’d thought I had everything so together. Ha, that was a laugh and a half. It seemed to make her feel better, and then I did something that surprised even me. I suggested we work on our squares together.

She sat next to me, and we took out our knitting. It was quiet except for the soft clicking of our needles. The repetitive motion and the silence melded together, and I felt the tension of the day leave as my eyes started to grow heavy and finally closed.

16

I AWOKE WITH A START, CONFUSED ABOUT MY
surroundings and the fact that I was sitting up. It took a moment for the mental fog to clear, and when I saw Bree’s blond frizz of curls against my shoulder, it all came back to me. I checked the window and saw that it was just getting light. I got up carefully and then laid her down and covered her with the blanket from the other bed. She was in such a deep sleep, she didn’t even stir.

Outside, misty fog was floating in, blurring the edges of the dark wood buildings. The street was empty, but still I looked both ways, thinking of my aunt. She had been hit just about this time of day. As I dashed across the street, I glanced toward Dane’s. No cars this time. Party over.

Thinking of my bed and catching a little more sleep, I started up my driveway. The silence was broken by the rhythm of footsteps.

“Morning, neighbor,” Dane said. I turned toward the voice. He came up the driveway behind me and started running in place. His pace began to slow, and he said something about cooling down. He wore black shorts, a gray T-shirt stained with sweat and sneakers. The bare arms and legs made me shiver, but he seemed fine despite the chilly outside temperature.

How could he party all night and then be off jogging at dawn and look so good? Did I really say that even in my head? Okay, there was no denying that he was hot looking. But it was more than looks. There was something about the vibe he gave off. I stopped my thoughts before they could go further. This was Mr. Party Hardy, I reminded myself.

“All quiet on the retreat front?” He gave me a once-over and mentioned I was still wearing the same clothes. I instinctively patted my hair, and it felt like it might be sticking up all over my head.

“You’re just who I wanted to see,” I said, remembering the sheet of notes from my conversation with my old boss. I would seize the moment. Of course he misunderstood my comment and turned on the flirty charm.

“Really?” he said with a big grin.

“I wanted to ask you some things about the investigation of Edie Spaghazzi’s death.” I watched as his cocky smile deflated, a little. “I realized that the door to her room was locked when we got there, so I wondered how somebody got in. And was there a sign of a struggle?”

His grin ramped up again. “This is for your Nancy Drew business, huh?” He seemed to be considering what to say for a moment before he continued. “You really don’t need to worry about the case. Lieutenant Borgnine was a big-city investigator before he came here. I’m sure he has all the bases covered.” I thought he was going to end it there and not give me any info, but he shrugged to himself and talked on. “But I suppose there’s no reason you can’t know.” He glanced up and down the street and seemed concerned. “It’s kind of confidential, though. I’m not sure we should be discussing this out in the street.” He nodded toward my place with a question in his eye.

I wanted the information, so I guessed I was going to have to play his game. He followed me up the driveway and into the guesthouse. As soon as he closed the door behind him, he unabashedly began checking out the place. The way he looked around, you’d think it was a crime scene. He caught me staring at him. “Sorry for being so nosy, but I was curious to see what your aunt did with the space, since my garage is similar.”

“No mirrors on the ceiling here,” I said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. But since he’d offered me spaghetti at his place, it seemed rude not to offer him something, particularly since I wanted to pick his brain. “So how about some coffee or something?” I said as he moved his snooping to what went for a kitchen.

“I see Joan put in an all-in-one unit.”

“Is that what it’s called?” I said, watching as he opened every door on what I called my kitchen. It was very compact but had all the essentials and according to him was actually all connected. There was a counter with a refrigerator below it, a small stove on one end, a sink in the middle, two cabinets above and a microwave mounted over the counter area. I had brought in a three-level cart to hold my baking equipment, which seemed an odd mix with the stripped-down kitchen.

“For someone who does all that cooking, you don’t have much in the way of supplies,” he said as he opened the cabinets.

“Baking. I do baking. And I don’t do most of it here,” I said.

He opened the refrigerator, saying he was curious how much it held. When he opened the freezer compartment, he pulled out a frozen entrée. “You eat frozen dinners?”

“I don’t have the way with tomato sauce you do,” I said, taking the ziti entrée out of his hand and putting it back in before shutting the door.

“Would you like some coffee and oatmeal?” I said, finally. I opened the cabinet and took out a box of instant oatmeal, and he wrinkled his nose.

“Cooking the real stuff only takes a few minutes longer,” he said. He grabbed my hand and led me back toward the door. “I’ll answer any questions you want, but over a decent breakfast.”

Was I really letting him take me back to his place? Anything to get the necessary information.

We went in through his kitchen. Whatever had gone on the night before, he’d cleared up the evidence. Not a dirty dish in the sink or a soaking pot on the stove. It was surprising how homey his kitchen was for a guy, and a party hardy guy at that. He refused my offer of help and told me to sit at the table.

Within a few minutes, he’d made oatmeal from scratch, coffee and fresh-squeezed orange juice. He set a bowl of the steamy cereal in front of me. I was surprised to see it dotted with butter and sprinkled with walnuts and raisins. He picked up a bottle on the table and drizzled a little maple syrup over the top, announcing as he did that it was the real kind that came from trees.

“How’d you become such an accomplished cook and homemaker?” I asked, gesturing toward his well-appointed kitchen.

“Is that the question you wanted to ask me?” he said in a teasing voice as he slid into the seat next to me.

I rocked my head with frustration. Why was he making this so hard? I rolled my eyes at him, and he laughed and urged me to eat while the oatmeal was hot. It was delicious, so delicious I was tempted to swoon as I ate it, but I didn’t, sure that he would take that as some kind of response to his company.

“So, what’s the information you want?” he said as I scraped the last of the oatmeal from the bowl.

I debated whether I should tell him about the list of things to consider Frank had given me but decided to leave it out. Why tell him any more than I had to? I’d already spent too much time. Now it was just get the information and get out of there. Even if the coffee was delicious and the strong brew just what my brain needed.

“I noticed that the door to Edie’s room was locked when I got there . . .”

“And you want to know how we think the killer got in,” he said. I noticed that he’d begun to say
we
, even if the real investigator was Lieutenant Borgnine. “There was no sign of forced entry, so it looks like Ms. Spaghazzi let the person in.”

“Do you know if Lieutenant Borgnine thinks she struggled with the assailant?” I was pretty impressed with my word choice. It made me sound almost professional. Dane reacted with a grin on his angular face.

“You’re getting the terms down, huh? No, it doesn’t seem like she struggled. The only thing we found under her fingernails was yarn fibers from her knitting.” He paused as though he was thinking about saying more.

“And . . . ?” I encouraged.

“And it’s kind of odd, because the natural tendency when someone puts a pillow over your face is to fight.”

“How about this? She was so out of it from the wine and sleeping pills, she didn’t know what was happening to her?”

Dane seemed a little perturbed. “A possibility. You might be getting carried away with this Nancy Drew stuff.”

“What about the knitting needles?” I tried to sound very casual. “Any idea where they came from?”

“Nancy, you’re falling down on the job. The woman was there for your knitting retreat. There was a cloth bag in her room with yarn and several sets of needles.” He waited a beat for emphasis. “Ta-da, I think it seems like a safe deduction they were hers and the killer just helped themselves.”

So, he didn’t know that Lieutenant Borgnine wasn’t so sure that the needles had belonged to Edie. Or was it part of some setup? “Don’t you cops have some kind of gut reaction that points you to who did it?” I said. It was an attempt to see if they had Olivia in their sights. He pushed his empty bowl away and picked up his mug.

“I’m not sure I should disclose that,” he said.

I tried all the hair twirling and eyelash batting I could muster, but he didn’t budge, and I was running out of time. I started to take my bowl and juice glass to the sink, but he told me he’d take care of it, and I thanked him for the breakfast.

Realizing he’d never answered my question about how he’d learned his homemaking skills, I brought it up again. But he just changed the subject.

“You showed me yours,” he said, vaguely gesturing in the direction of my place. “I’d be glad to show you mine.” His garage studio was clearly visible through the window over the sink. “I have mirrors all over the place, and the whole floor is soft and cushy.”

Eewww!

17

AFTER LEAVING DANE’S I’D GRABBED A SHORT NAP
and a fast shower. When I came outside, I looked around for the black cat, but there was no sign of it. Even so, I set down a dish with some yogurt just in case it came by. As I sprinted across the street, I saw the van from Channel 3 pulling up outside the gate to Vista Del Mar. The same reporter I’d seen on TV the night before jumped out and stepped in front of me as I tried to pass. Her cameraman got out of the other side with his camera loaded on his shoulder.

“Could I have a word?” she said. She was doing a good job of blocking my path, and I didn’t have much of a choice. The wheels in my head were whirring with everything I shouldn’t say. When she asked me my name, I almost said, “No comment.”

“Everybody is being very close-lipped about the investigation,” the reporter said after she’d gotten my name. “Can you tell us what the mood is like inside Vista Del Mar? Are the guests worried there is a killer on the loose?”

I turned on a smile and said that in general murders were committed by people who knew the victim, so most of the guests didn’t seem concerned. I started to walk away, but she walked with me.

“I understand some double-pointed knitting needles are a key clue to the case. Do you have anything to say about that?”

“No comment,” I said, moving away. She tried to follow me and ask me more questions, but as I entered the driveway and the Vista Del Mar grounds, it was as if she’d hit an invisible door and stopped.

As I kept walking, I replayed my conversion with Dane from earlier in the morning and realized much of the information was like an arrow pointing right at Olivia. There was no forced entry, because Olivia could have walked right into the room with Edie. And no struggle because Olivia could have just waited until Edie passed out to do her work with the pillow. The fact that Olivia was missing sleeping pills looked even more suspicious.

As I reached the center of Vista Del Mar, I passed a group following a man in a khaki camp shirt. From the tidbit of his spiel I heard, I figured it was some kind of nature walk. Another group, all in yellow T-shirts that said
Alpine Esoteric Society
, headed up the path toward a meeting room. Two kids carrying pails ran ahead of their parents in search of the boardwalk that led to the beach.

To all of them, this was a normal Saturday morning, and murder wasn’t on their minds. I must admit, Kevin St. John had done a good job of handling things about Edie discreetly. I was sure there were probably some guests who knew someone had died, but no one seemed concerned, let alone panicky. Well, except for my group.

“There you are,” Lucinda said as I walked to the group’s table in the dining hall just as they were finishing breakfast. “I tried your cell phone, the landline and sent you an email.” She got up and hugged me. “I’m so glad to see you. When I couldn’t reach you, I was afraid . . .” She didn’t have to say the rest. I got what she meant. She thought I’d been victim number two.

I hugged her back and apologized. “I’ll explain in a minute,” I said, noting that she was perfectly coordinated as usual. The black slacks and loose teal blue silk top were elegantly casual. I felt my lips to see if I’d remembered to put some lip balm on as I noted her subtle but complete makeup job. Not a surprise—in my haste I’d forgotten.

I’d turned my phone to silent when I was sitting next to Bree as she was falling asleep. I hadn’t been home to answer the landline and had been in too much of a hurry to check emails.

Bree was out of her chair a moment later. She hugged me like a long-lost friend. “Thank you for sitting with me last night.”

Melissa’s head shot up. “What is she talking about? Is it something about Edie?” I wondered if I should say anything. Would Bree be embarrassed? Apparently not, because she stepped in and told the group about what I’d done. Kris put down her coffee cup and looked at me with an approving smile.

“And you were worried about being in charge,” Lucinda said, stepping close and dropping her voice.

“What a nice thing to do,” Sissy said from across the table. I had a feeling it had been her idea to sit across the table from her mother. The moment was interrupted as Bree dropped her cell phone on the table with a thud.

“Hanging on to it and staring isn’t going to make it ring,” Olivia said, pushing the phone toward Bree.

Olivia had a plate of untouched food in front of her. After the phone episode, she went back to eavesdropping on a family sitting at the next table. Olivia was leaning so far back in her chair, I was afraid she might go over backward. Whatever was going on didn’t seem to be pleasing Olivia. Her mouth was pursed, which made her brows furrow. The odd part was, the family seemed to be having a good time.

And even though Scott was sitting at another table, he actually lifted his hand in a greeting to me. Maybe he was making progress. Though I doubted his table companions would have guessed that the man in the lime green polo shirt had a bunch of knitting stuff in the briefcase at his feet. I looked around for the elusive Michael so I could point him out to Melissa and Lucinda, but he wasn’t there.

I wanted to tell Lucinda about my breakfast with Dane, but not in front of the others. Instead I grabbed the thermal pot and poured myself a cup of coffee before taking one of the empty chairs.

“There’s something we need to talk about,” Melissa said. Her tone of voice made it sound like some kind of problem, and I felt myself girding for it. “Because of Edie’s . . .” Melissa started, but she caught herself before she said
death
. “Because of everything with her, we missed out on the morning workshop and none of us were really functioning that well for the afternoon one. I know I shouldn’t be thinking about things like our workshop when she’s lying on a slab somewhere, but still.” She let it hang in the air.

It hadn’t occurred to me that the missed time would be a problem. But now that she mentioned it, I saw how it was. Between going with us to find Edie and then being questioned by the police, Kris had been gone for just about the whole session. And she was the workshop. The whole point was that she was supposed to be there to help them.

“I’m sorry,” Kris said with a shrug. “It wasn’t by choice. I would have much preferred to be with you in the meeting room.” It seemed like her attitude was that it was over with and, given the circumstances, the group should just accept they’d lost that time with her.

Melissa didn’t say anything, but her expression did. She wasn’t happy with what Kris had said.

“There must be something I can do to make it up,” I said. I was thinking off the top of my head. “What if I talk to Kevin St. John and see if instead of having our last workshop Sunday morning, we can have the room for Sunday afternoon as well?” I looked toward Kris. At first I didn’t think she liked the idea. The way things stood now, she would be finished after the morning workshop and could head home to Santa Cruz while the group was having their last lunch. Maybe it was the pressure of having everyone staring at her with hopeful expressions, but she finally smiled and nodded.

“Certainly, if you can get the room, I’ll stay,” she said.

Someone pointed out that Kevin St. John had just come into the dining room. “And look who he’s with,” Olivia said with a groan.

Kevin St. John was standing just inside of the door of the dining hall with Lieutenant Borgnine and the rumpled-looking man I’d seen the night before. All three of them were staring at me, and then they turned and went outside. As always, the manager was wearing an impeccable dark suit, and the almost no-neck police lieutenant had the same jacket I’d seen him in before.

I was pretty sure the rumpled man was Edie’s husband. I rushed after the trio, caught up with them outside and heard the tail end of their conversation.

“I realize this is very hard for you,” Kevin St. John said in a solicitous manner. “As I told you last night when you arrived, we’ll do anything we can to make this time easier for you. I’m so sorry about the room. I thought it had been taken care of.” The three men all turned toward me as I stopped next to them. I was going to introduce myself, but Kevin St. John beat me to it.

“This is Casey Feldstein,” Kevin St. John said to the rumpled man. “She’s the one in charge of your late wife’s retreat now.” Let’s just say that the manager’s tone was full of reproach.

I put out my hands and took one of his in both of mine. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Edie was a special woman.” I was close enough to get a good look at him. He was on the tall side and had longish black hair. I’d call his looks ordinary, the kind of guy you would have a hard time picking out of a crowd. The clothes didn’t help. He wore a plaid shirt over black cotton pants and a beige bomber-style jacket that looked like he’d sat on it.

The man seemed a little surprised by my gesture. “Lou Spaghazzi,” he said in a gravelly voice. “So you’re the one in charge. How could you have let something happen to my Edie?” Behind him I could see Kevin nodding his head and giving me a disparaging look.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “We’re trying to find out what happened and who is responsible,” I said. Kevin’s eyes bugged out at my comment, and he gave me a disparaging shake of his head this time.

“Don’t worry, the investigation isn’t up to some amateur sleuth,” Lieutenant Borgnine interjected. “The Cadbury police are on top of the situation, and I am sure we will have the guilty party identified before the weekend’s end.”

“That’s tomorrow,” Lou said with a disbelieving tone. He looked at me. “I know Edie loved these knitting things, but I think there was something more. Maybe you know something. Did you see her with a man?” he asked.

What was I going to say? I had seen her talking to a man who I was pretty sure was Michael. He’d claimed they had some kind of vague acquaintanceship. He might or might not have been Edie’s dinner companion at the Blue Door, and he may or may not have been the man Melissa had seen her talking to. Personally, I thought what Michael had said about their relationship was bogus and that he’d been the man with Edie on all those occasions, but I wasn’t sure. And why upset Lou Spaghazzi any further?

Finally, I said that as far as I knew all she came to Cadbury for was the knitting. Lieutenant Borgnine seemed to be listening to my comment, then he turned to Edie’s husband.

“If you can think of anything else, let me know.” The two men shook hands, and the lieutenant left us. Kevin St. John said Lou was going to pack up Edie’s things.

“I’m going to accompany him. A man shouldn’t have to do something like that alone.” There was more reproach in Kevin St. John’s voice aimed toward me. “Someone truly in charge knows things like that and handles them accordingly.” I got it. Not only was he making it sound like it was my fault Edie was dead, but I was handling everything poorly.

Thank heavens it was already Saturday. Just one more day of dealing with him. I paused, thinking of the business about asking for the meeting room for the afternoon. It didn’t seem the best time to bring it up.

I could practically hear my aunt’s voice telling me to step in and help Lou with the packing up. “It’s so nice of you to have handled this so far,” I said to Kevin St. John in such a sickeningly sweet voice it was making me nauseous. “But I will take over from here.”

No surprise, the hotel manager wasn’t happy with my comment and reluctantly backed away.

I didn’t think Lou cared if anyone accompanied him, and we walked in silence to the Sand and Sea building. As we went inside, I said we should have gotten a key.

He held up the key in his hand. “Mr. St. John gave me Edie’s key.” He started to walk ahead of me. “I can handle this myself.”

“I’m sure you can, but it will be easier if you’re not alone. Do you know what happened to the other key?” I said, remembering the point she’d made when she registered that she wanted two keys.

Lou turned back to look at me. “He just gave me one.”

I dreaded seeing the room again, remembering my first view the day before and, well, the smell, which by now I figured would have only gotten worse. He opened the door and walked in ahead of me. The first thing I noticed was that it now smelled like bleach and cleaner. The bed had been stripped, and the pillow was gone. Evidence, maybe. A cleaning crew must have come in once the cops released it, because there wasn’t even a hint of the red puddle that had been on the floor. Frankly, I was relieved.

I tried to make conversation as he went through the room picking up Edie’s things. But he was acting almost as if I weren’t there. He seemed to be looking for something as he ruffled through the items on the dresser. I tried not to be too obvious that I was watching him. Finally, he picked up her cell phone but made some disparaging sound as he tried to turn it on. It looked to me like it had been stepped on. He threw it in the suitcase with the rest of her things.

“I guess that’s it,” he said, looking around the room. I walked him back outside through the grounds to a small parking lot near the Lodge. He put the suitcase in the trunk.

He looked down at the ground. “Thank you for coming with me,” he said. “Having someone there did make it easier.” I felt for the man. He seemed to be struggling. Or was it just an act?