Yarn to Go (6 page)

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Authors: Betty Hechtman

BOOK: Yarn to Go
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6

MY ALARM WENT OFF EARLY FRIDAY MORNING. I
started to shut it off and go back to sleep, thinking it was a regular day and I didn’t have to be anywhere until my night baking time. Then I remembered the retreat and threw back the covers.

I dressed quickly and went across the street. The clouds were particularly heavy, and the grounds seemed even more untamed than usual. The damp, chilly air made me want to curl up in front of a fireplace and drink hot chocolate.

I heard the clang of dishes and a low hum of conversation as I approached the dining hall. When I opened the door, I was greeted by the comforting scent of breakfast food—something cooked in butter, a touch of a maple syrup, a hint of the sage in sausage links, along with an overtone of freshly brewed coffee.

My stomach gurgled in response. How nice to have another hot meal.

Lucinda waved me over to the same table from the night before. Most of the group had beaten me there.

How did my friend always manage to look so put together? I’d hastily pulled on a pair of my better jeans and a turtleneck, and topped it with a black fleece jacket. My hair had gotten smushed overnight, so there’d been no choice but to neatly twist it up with a scrunchy.

We all exchanged greetings as I sat down. Lucinda pointed to the lidded cup at my place. “It’s a cappuccino. I can’t seem to stop with the restaurant stuff,” she said with a smile. “I figured you’d need a little jolt to start the day.” Bree had a plate of untouched food. She looked drawn and tired as she clutched her cell phone to her ear. Not that it made any difference in their ability to fuss, but Melissa and Sissy were on either side of her. Sissy seemed unhappy with her mother’s food choices. Lucinda explained that Kris was off getting her food.

Scott was sitting at another table talking to the person next to him. At least he was dressed more casually than the business wear he’d had on the day before. Lucinda leaned in close to me. “I think Kris has her work cut out for her. It’s pretty obvious those projects she handed out are supposed to evoke a change in the person who works on them.” Lucinda chuckled. “Except for me. I’ve just avoided purling because it feels awkward.”

“Good luck with me, then,” I said, rolling my eyes. I’d be the first to admit that I had a problem sticking with things. My job history was proof of that. Did she really think that doing a little work with a pair of needles and some yarn was going to change that?

Kris set her plate down across the table. “Where are the others?” she said, noting the empty seats.

“Here’s Olivia,” Lucinda said, pulling out the chair on the other side of her for the new arrival.

Olivia still had the distracted stare. The soft gray warm-up suit went better with her mood than the happy shade of pink had. She did give Lucinda a small forced smile as she accepted the seat. “I need coffee,” she said, reaching for the carafe on the lazy Susan in the middle of the table and pouring herself a cup.

I asked how she’d slept and Olivia shook her head. “The good thing about sleeping pills is that they knock you out. The bad thing is you feel out of it in the morning.” She picked up the coffee and began to drink it as her eyes half closed.

“Everyone is here but Edie,” I said. “Well, Scott’s here, but not exactly here,” I said, giving him a wave when he looked up.

“Maybe she decided to sleep in,” Bree said. She’d finally gotten off the phone and had begun to eat her breakfast. At first it was stop and start while she kept asking if anybody needed anything, then finally she settled in to eating. “This feels strange,” she said. “At home, it seems like I’m always jumping up to get something or wipe up something that got spilled.”

Kris smiled. “Enjoy, Bree. No guilt, either. I’m sure your boys are fine.” Kris turned to me. “We didn’t get a chance to talk yesterday. What do you think of knitting now that you’ve had a little time for it to sink in? When I handed you the bag you had that deer in the headlights look.”

“I wasn’t expecting to be a participant,” I said. Kris’s smile broadened.

“That was obvious.”

“It would be great if I could make something like that,” I said, touching the kimono-style knitted sweater she was wearing. It was a tweedy-looking brown and flattered the blond highlights in her wavy hair.

Kris laughed. “Don’t defeat yourself by taking on more than you can handle. For now just stick to practicing knitting and then work on the scarf. There’s nothing like finishing your first project to give you confidence.” She turned her attention to the rest of the table. “Joan always said these small retreats were life changing because you were pushed out of your comfort zone.” Kris glanced toward Scott at the next table. “With some people it’s harder than with others.”

I finally went to get my food, but the entire time I ate my pancakes, I kept looking toward the door expecting Edie to come in and make a stir.

“I’ll just call her and ask if she wants me to make up a plate for her,” I said, taking out my cell phone and the list of numbers. There might not be phones in the rooms, but these days, you could reach people anyway. I was disappointed when her phone went right to voice mail.

“I wonder what’s up with Edie,” I said.

“That wine really went to her head,” Melissa said, sounding judgmental. “She’s probably hungover and shut off her phone.”

“I hope she gets up in time for our morning session,” Kris said, setting down her coffee cup.

“Is there a problem?” Kevin St. John seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. As usual, the manager of Vista De Mar was dressed in a dark suit, crisp white shirt and conservative tie. His short dark hair didn’t have a single strand out of place. His formal dress clearly set him apart from the guests and the rest of the staff. I thought that was his plan.

Kris twisted in her seat and acted as spokesperson. “One of our retreaters is a sleepyhead,” she said with a smile. “No problem.”

Kevin eyed me. “I was thinking, if you’d rather turn things over to me now, I could step in and handle the rest of the weekend,” he said in a tone that was supposed to sound helpful, like he was throwing me a life preserver, but to me felt like it was just one more nudge from him to get hold of my aunt’s business. I smiled, thanked him and declined, all the while acting as if I thought he was doing a kindness. Not a surprise, he wasn’t happy with my answer.

He addressed the group. “I want you all to feel welcome and cared for here. We want repeat guests,” he said, taking out a handful of papers. “If you wouldn’t mind filling out some questionnaires about what you’d like to see in future retreats?”

His smarmy smile was annoying and, I knew, fake, because it didn’t show in his eyes. He was going ahead as if I’d already turned over my aunt’s files. I didn’t like his manner, and maybe there was something else. When somebody else wants something you have, you tend to hold on tighter. I surprised myself by putting up my hand to stop him from handing out the papers.

“Why don’t you wait until the end of the weekend,” I said. “I want my people to focus on the here and now.”

Kevin’s face clouded. “Well, of course, you’re right,” he said. He slipped the papers out of sight and with a nod wished us a good morning and moved toward the exit.

Had I really stepped up to the plate and said
my people
? I watched Kevin go. I was sure he’d only appeared to give up.

• • •

“THE FIRE FEELS GOOD,” KRIS SAID AS THE GROUP
reconvened in the Cypress meeting room. It was just as we’d left it the previous day. Someone had gotten a cheery fire going in the fireplace and brought in a fresh coffee and tea setup. I was surprised to see a black cat looking in the window. It was uncanny how its yellow eyes seemed to lock onto my gaze. A moment later it was gone. Scott came in last, looking around as he did. His eyes darted over the group as he edged toward his seat. Something like a sigh came out of his mouth as he picked up the huge red knitting needles and began to work them. Then he looked up to see if we were watching him. His eyes narrowed when he saw Kris approaching.

She gave him a supportive pat on the shoulder, and he let out his breath. “Sorry. I’m just so nervous about doing this in front of anyone,” he said, continuing his knitting frenzy as he talked. “If Edie hadn’t found me hiding out in the yarn department of the craft store . . .” He lowered his head, seeming to feel guilty. “I told my wife I was buying some art supplies for my daughter. Do you have any idea what it’s like to keep your yarn stash in your car?” He began to unload and explained that he only knitted in his car or when he was on the road. It was difficult when he flew because he was always afraid the security people would take his needles out of his carry-on and make a spectacle. “It really helped when Edie let me come over to her place and knit. I told my wife I was taking a class to relieve my stress, which was sort of true. It only lasted for a few afternoons. Something about her husband not being happy with her having a man over.”

Olivia stared at her knitting as if she was seeing something else. The conversation was flying past her unnoticed. Lucinda had picked up the work she’d started. She seemed nervous as she began to move her needles slowly and deliberately.

Melissa’s eyes flew skyward as her daughter began to work on her scarf. She seemed about to grab it out of her hand, but Kris stepped in and stopped her. Bree had her phone on the table. I could see a picture of her children, and every time the screen went dark, she did something to make the picture return. I supposed I should be glad she’d settled for just looking at a photo instead of talking to them. Her eyes widened as she looked at the balls of sari yarn. She picked up the little work she’d done. She looked at the work of the people on either side of her and seemed dismayed, remembering their knitting project was nothing like hers.

“How am I supposed to know if it looks right? I have nothing to compare it with,” she said.

While Kris reassured her, I kept looking toward the door, expecting Edie to come rushing in, talking a mile a minute about why she was delayed. I had to admit I missed her exuberance. Scott glanced toward her tote bag and the pair of circular needles. “Where’s Edie?”

I tried to call her again and got her voice mail. “Maybe I should go to her room,” Kris said, getting up.

“No, it’s my job,” I said. It was an automatic response, and once again I surprised myself.

Lucinda set down her work and pulled her Burberry jacket on. “I’ll come. I need to get something from my room anyway.”

Kris, Lucinda and I headed up the path to the weathered-looking building called Sand and Sea. A fire glowed in the fireplace of the living room area, but the overstuffed chairs were all empty. We went down the hallway to where all the rooms but Kris’s were located. A housekeeper’s cart was in the middle of the dark wood hall, and the door to one of the rooms was open. Lucinda directed us to Edie’s room at the end of the hall.

I walked ahead and knocked loudly on her door, but there was no response. I tried again with the same result. Lucinda caught my hand before I went to knock again. “Maybe they can help,” she said, gesturing toward the two women in gray uniforms pushing the cart in our direction.

I explained the situation, and one of them walked up to the door and rapped loudly. “Housekeeping,” she said. When there was no answer, she pulled out a key and stuck it in the lock. When the door swung open we all looked in. What we saw made us gasp.

7

THE CLUSTER OF COP CARS AND AN AMBULANCE
seemed out of place in the rustic setting of the conference center when I went outside. My legs still felt rubbery as I went down the few steps of the stoop at Sand and Sea’s back entrance. The gloominess of the day seemed the perfect backdrop for the gloominess I felt. What was I supposed to do now? I know what I wanted to do. I wanted to go up to Kevin St. John and hand over my aunt’s retreat file and say, “It’s all yours.” Then I could flee across the street to the guesthouse and pretend none of this happened.

But a voice in my head, probably my aunt Joan, told me to pull myself together and deal with the situation. I just couldn’t get the picture of Edie out of my mind. I’d been the first one to go into the room, while Kris and Lucinda hung behind me and the housekeeper took off.

Edie was lying in her bed on her back. Her eyes were closed and she almost looked like she was sleeping, but for the red ooze on her face, and on the bed. It barely registered that she was still in the print top and pants from the night before, because my eyes went right to the light glinting off the double-pointed steel knitting needles sticking in her chest. I heard someone letting out a shriek and then realized it was me.

Kris already had her cell phone out and was calling 911. Lucinda stepped forward, saying she knew CPR, but then winced at the idea of doing it under the circumstances. Despite having two doctors as parents, the limit of my abilities was to check Edie for a pulse, but her neck felt cold and still.

The cops and paramedics had arrived almost simultaneously. It was all a fog to me now, and I just recalled that Kevin St. John had led them down the hall toward us and then hustled the three of us back while the paramedics went ahead, carrying in some kind of rescue equipment.

“Good luck on that one,” I said under my breath, hoping I was somehow wrong. I felt a strong arm take mine and steer me down the hall. It didn’t register who’d grabbed me until I heard the voice. It was the same one I heard whenever the red truck drove by my house and the guy who lived down the street called something out the window. It was my neighbor, Mr. Party Guy Police Officer.

He didn’t let go or stop until we reached the living room area. “You’d better sit down,” he said, pointing me toward one of the overstuffed chairs. I started to object but realized he was right. I ought to sit down, before I fell down. I felt like my bones had dissolved and there was nothing holding me up. “Take a deep breath,” he ordered.

I had never thought about it before, but part of a cop’s job was dealing with people in my position. He seemed very good at it, but then I suppose all those parties he gave sharpened his people skills. I followed his command and felt some of my strength return.

“Thank you—” I peered up at his badge, trying to make out his name. My aunt had probably told me what it was, but I didn’t remember. “Officer Mangano,” I said, reading the blue letters.

“You can call me Dane,” he said. He was still standing and was holding a clipboard with some papers on it.

“Dane?” I said. “Like in Great Dane?”

His serious face cracked a smile and he nodded. “I’ve gotten that one more than a few times. What can I say? It’s obviously appropriate.”

“I’m glad to see you’re modest,” I said. Was I really thinking about his name and his cocky attitude just after encountering the body of someone in my group? Maybe it was an effort to distract myself from the situation.

“So, it’s Casey Feldstein,” he said, taking out a pen and beginning to write.

“You know my name?” I said, surprised.

“And a whole lot more,” he said, making eye contact. “This is a small town, and I’m a cop. Besides, I like to know who lives around me. I know you bake the desserts for the Blue Door and supply muffins for a number of coffee spots.” When I seemed surprised, he chuckled.

“It was kind of an accident how I found out. I had the late shift one night last fall and noticed lights on and someone moving around in the Blue Door long after closing. It looked pretty suspicious.” He cocked his eyebrow. “Luckily I checked with Tag Thornkill before I called out the SWAT team.” He glanced down at the clipboard. “Everybody thinks cops like donuts. Me, I’ll take a good muffin anytime, and yours are outstanding.”

I had a feeling that this little interlude was just an effort to make things seem more friendly before he got down to business.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he said.

“I don’t know what happened.” I explained that when Edie hadn’t shown up, the three of us had gone to see what was wrong. “Where are they, anyway?” I said, looking around the empty room for Kris and Lucinda.

“We like to get the facts from people individually. They’re being questioned by some of my associates in other locations.” He was acting all official now and encouraged me to go on about Edie.

“What do you think happened to her? She couldn’t have gotten that way on her own,” I said. Dane didn’t seem that happy with my answer.

“That’s not for me to say. Lieutenant Borgnine does the investigating, and the medical examiner will determine how she died.”

“But you must have some kind of gut feeling,” I said. “From your experience.”

“Actually, we don’t get many suspicious deaths in Cadbury,” he said.

“Aha, so you think it’s suspicious.” I waited while he blew out his breath and shook his head at my persistence.

“I’m supposed to be getting information from you,” he began. “But it’s pretty hard not to think it’s suspicious with those rods sticking out of her chest,” he said. “How about we get back to you talking. Could you give me the basics? The victim’s name. Your connection. I’m just after the facts. Lieutenant Borgnine will want to talk to you later.” He tapped the pen on the clipboard. “One thing, though. Lieutenant Borgnine won’t be happy with your answering a question by asking one.”

I shrugged off his comment. “They’re not rods,” I said. “The things sticking out of Edie are knitting needles.”

“At last, you gave me something I can write down,” he said with mock annoyance. “So now that you’ve started . . .” He waved his fingers for me to keep rolling.

I think he got more than he bargained for. Once I’d answered his questions about Edie, I kind of babbled on. I told him about the weekend and my aunt’s business and how I’d just wanted to get through the weekend and shut it down forever. He nodded a lot, but after the information about Edie, he didn’t write anything down or maybe even listen.

I know it was the chicken’s way out, but I was relieved when he said Lieutenant Borgnine would notify Edie’s husband. Dane examined my face. “Good, your color is coming back.” He gestured that he was done and held out his arm to steady me as I stood up.

“Remember, my door is always open if you need a cup of sugar or want to join the party,” he said with a wink.

I just bet it was.

I’d lost track of time and was surprised to hear the bell clang announcing lunch. I didn’t know what had happened to Lucinda and Kris, and I thought about the rest of the group we’d left in our meeting room. I hoped they’d had the sense to go to the dining hall.

I walked around to the front of the building and started down the slope. Ahead I saw Kevin St. John standing next to his golf cart. He didn’t look happy.

He waited until I was next to him to speak. “The whole Sand and Sea building has been put off-limits for the present. Your people won’t be allowed back in their rooms until—” He faltered. “Until they finish investigating and remove the body.”

I looked behind me and saw that yellow tape was being wound around the perimeter of the building in a discreet manner. “It shouldn’t matter to our many guests who are staying in the other residential building. I’m just telling anyone who asks that the yellow tape is caution tape closing off the area while we take care of some broken steps.” He mentioned that the cruisers and the ambulance had all entered the grounds with no lights or sirens and had parked out of sight around the back of the building.

His mouth twisted in distaste. “In all the years I’ve worked here, we’ve never had a suspicious death on the grounds. I’ve alerted the Delacorte sisters and they are very disturbed. We all agree there needs to be someone with a steady manner and experience handling your group.” He didn’t say it, but it was obvious he thought I lacked both qualities. “The sisters suggested that I step in and take over your duties.”

The Delacorte sisters were the owners of Vista Del Mar. They were the last surviving members of the family who’d owned just about everything in Cadbury by the Sea. There had been a fleet of fishing boats, a cannery to handle their catch and lots of land. They’d sold off the fishing boats, and the cannery had long since closed and been turned into a shopping mall. The land had been subdivided and turned into plots of houses. Neither woman had married or had any children. Unless something happened to change things, all their holdings would be left to a charity in town.

My aunt Joan had gotten to know them. Apparently, they’d been impressed to meet the former Tidy Soft toilet paper lady; they had sparked on her idea to put on yarn craft retreats, encouraged her to use their conference center and offered her a very reduced rate. I’d met Madeleine and Cora Delacorte only in passing and then again at my aunt’s funeral.

He was offering me an out, and I should have jumped at the chance, but instead I said, “No,” and folded my arms. “If the Delacorte sisters are so set on me giving up, let them call and tell me themselves.”

Kevin made a tsk-tsk sound. “Do you even realize what you have to do now? You have to save the weekend for your retreaters. Manage to make it a success when one of their own died on the first night. I thought you’d be relieved to be able to walk away.” The manager looked down and shook his head as he tried to shoo something away. The black cat I’d seen before sauntered across the path.

“Well, I’m not relieved by your offer nor do I want to walk away. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to find my people.” I walked away in a huff, as if his suggestion was totally ridiculous. Thank heavens he wasn’t a mind reader or he would have known how uncertain I was.

When I got to the dining hall, I found Bree, Olivia, Melissa and Sissy huddled around one side of a round table. None of them had their food, and they were staring at me as I approached the table.

I felt a pang of guilt that I had even considered abandoning them.

“What’s going on?” Olivia said, for once seeming to be in focus. “Mr. St. John came to our meeting room and told us we couldn’t go back to our rooms before lunch.”

“And I thought I saw a police car,” Bree said with a worried look. “Where are Kris and Lucinda?”

I stepped close to them and took a deep breath. “I’m very sorry to announce that Edie has died.”

“How?” Melissa asked with a gasp.

“I’m not sure, but the cops are calling it suspicious.” I tried to sound reassuring, but it didn’t work.

“You mean, she was murdered?” Melissa said with another gasp.

Kris and Lucinda came across the large room slightly apart but caught up to each other before they got to the table. Kris sank into a chair with a heavy sigh, and Lucinda grabbed the seat next to Bree.

“I told them about Edie,” I said. “Or at least the basics.” I shared what I knew, which it turned out was more than either of them.

Kris appeared all in. “The last thing I expected this weekend was to get questioned by the police.”

Lucinda had managed to freshen her lipstick and comb her hair and seemed the least discombobulated of the three of us. “Poor Edie.” She shook her head sadly. “She was so excited about being here.” She pulled out her cell phone. “I better call Tag and tell him I’m okay.”

Bree shrieked and then took out her phone, saying she ought to do the same. “It’ll probably be all over the news and my family will be worried.”

“Are you going to give us any details?” Melissa said, sounding upset and worried. She’d pulled her abundance of curly hair into a ponytail to get it off her face.

“Mother, can’t you see they’ve all had a shock,” Sissy said, her voice full of reproach.

“Melissa is right; we need to tell you what happened,” I said. I waited until Bree finished her call and then explained how we’d found Edie. They all cringed when I mentioned the double-point knitting needles.

“Who would want to kill Edie?” Bree said.

“Let’s see,” Lucinda said, “by my account, though I don’t think she realized it, she managed to insult just about everybody.”

“I think she meant well, but she did have a way of sticking her foot in her mouth. She even upset the manager of Vista Del Mar,” I said before explaining how uncomfortable he’d looked when she brought up his social life.

Bree started to push her chair back. “Well, I suppose that’s the end of the retreat.” She sounded relieved. “It’s fine by me. I didn’t sleep a wink last night. There were all these creaks and groans in the building all night long and the bed was lumpy. Did I mention that I’ve never stayed in a hotel room by myself before? Frankly, I don’t think I’ve missed much. My boys will be glad to see me coming home. I can just imagine what I’ll be coming home to.”

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