You Better Knot Die

by Betty Hechtman

  “I think Emily Perkins took them with her. The backpack and afghan must have traces of her DNA, and after she stabbed him, probably his blood.” The detective looked at me to see if I was following what she said.

  “Right, so they would tie her to the crime,” I said. Detective Heather walked around the yarn department.

  “I can’t believe I’m actually asking for your help, but I really need to find that backpack and afghan. The murder weapon would help, too,” she muttered. “She let me look around her place, which makes me think she knew I wouldn’t find anything. Any ideas?”

  We threw ideas back and forth for a moment. I suggested she might have thrown the knife by the side of the road or in a trash can. But Detective Heather nixed the idea. “I don’t think she’d take the chance of dumping it. I think she has it stashed somewhere. Keep your eyes open.”

  She had stopped in front of a bin of rust-colored mohair. She picked up a skein and turned it around in her hand.

  “That color would look good on you,” I said. She turned toward me and seemed surprised. My comment was personal—girlfriendish—and all of our dealings had always been on the adversarial side. For a moment she let down her guard and held the skein up near her face.

  “You really think so?” I nodded and she gathered two more skeins.

  “There’s a lot of tension in my job and knitting helps.” She caught herself and went back into professional mode and finished up our interview. After she left, I saw her take the yarn up to the cashier stand. The color really did look good on her.

  Even though it was late when I left the bookstore, I went over to Dinah’s. I was pretty sure the news media was parked in front of the Perkins’ now that he was dead. I wasn’t up for dealing with trying to sneak past them. Besides I needed to sort out everything that had happened.

  I expected Dinah was having some kind of aftermath from the day, too. I knew I was right as soon as she opened the door. She had a frozen, stunned look on her face. I hadn’t realized it until now, but this was her first body.

  We hugged each other and just stood there for a few moments. Then we collapsed on her couch and leaned against each other for support. With the kids there, she’d decorated and the house seemed festive with the lighted tree. The kids had made another chain from construction paper and it hung over the windows. The usually clear dining room table had crayons and art supplies spread over the top. There was a foam dreidel and a jar of gold glitter. For a moment I forgot my heavy heart and thought back to the fun of making holiday decorations with kids.

  “It didn’t hit me at first,” Dinah said. “I just kept going through the motions. I picked up the kids and apologized for being late. I ordered pizza and let them watch a video. Somewhere around then I started to fall apart. I kept seeing Bradley lying there.” She shook her head as if trying to get rid of the image.

  I told her about Detective Heather’s little visit. “She’s decided Emily Perkins is the guy,” I said.

  “Well, she is, isn’t she? We saw her with him. And then he was dead.” Dinah said.

  “I agree she had motive. The man left her with a mess. And she had means. His knife provided that. And as for opportunity, she get’s points for that, too.”

  Dinah noticed me hesitating. “But you don’t think it was her, do you?”

  “I agree all arrows point to her, but I don’t want it to be her,” I said.

  Dinah got it. I had helped Emily get the afghan. If she had killed him, I was somehow involved. “If Emily didn’t kill him, then who did?” Dinah said, bringing up the obvious question.

  I had been thinking about it. “There’s no shortage of people angry enough to want to do him in. The very top of the list is Logan Belmont. He not only lost his money but his reputation as well. Nicholas said he’d lost some money. He didn’t seem that upset, but it could have just been a cover. And what about Bradley’s sister? Who knows what’s going on with her. And you could throw in a bunch of other people.” I mentioned the woman on the news who’d lost her life savings.

  “Okay, but you might have noticed there was no one up there but the four of us,” Dinah said.

  I thought a moment and was about to say she had a point when I remembered something. “There was someone else,” I said excitedly. Dinah seemed surprised and wanted to know who. “I forgot all about it until now. Remember the person on a mountain bike who rode past us?” I said.

  Dinah processed the information and her face lit up with recognition. “You’re right. Was it a man or a woman?”

  I admitted I hadn’t really noticed. They’d been moving fast and from the back all I remembered was a helmet and dark clothes. We discussed the fact that the biker had seemed to have gone past us, but we realized they could have left the road ahead and doubled back on a trail without us seeing them. “Suppose they waited until we left, and Emily left and then made their move?” I said. Dinah nodded in agreement. I commented that it was pointless to mention any of this to Detective Heather. She had settled on Emily being the killer and nothing was going to change her mind.

  “All Detective Heather cares about is gathering evidence and building a case against Emily. I bet she keeps working on her, trying to get her to confess,” I said. Dinah agreed and said something about Detective Heather being relentless.

  I mentioned the girlfriend moment with Detective Heather and Dinah chuckled. I got up to leave. “It’s been a killer day,” I said.

  “You can say that again.” Dinah stood and walked me to the door. She seemed to have something else on her mind. Dinah was a direct person; that was how she dealt with her students, by just confronting the problem and telling them to knock it off. Her hesitancy to speak seemed odd. Finally she sighed.

  “I don’t think it’s going to work out with Commander.” She sounded wistful. I shut the door and we sat down again and I asked what the problem was.

  “He was supposed to come over tonight. It wouldn’t have been the best night anyway, but he canceled. He can’t seem to understand why I am involved with my ex-husband’s kids with another woman.” Dinah leaned back and looked at her hands. “Who their parents are isn’t the point anymore. I care about the kids for themselves.” Dinah left the rest hanging, but I knew what she was thinking. We weren’t teenage girls anymore, where you dumped anything or anyone that got in the way of your boyfriend. No more pretending to like anchovy pizza, even if it made you gag, just because he did. No more changing to suit someone else. “Maybe he’ll come around,” I said. I had an idea and presented it to her. “What about this?” I said. “Maybe he’s upset because he feels like he’s getting pushed off to the side. Why don’t I babysit for you one evening and you go out with Commander—just the two of you.”

  My friend’s face brightened as she accepted my offer and I finally left. All the way home I kept thinking about Emily and Bradley. Everything did point toward her being the murderer, didn’t it?

  CHAPTER 22

  STOPPING AT DINAH’S HAD ONLY PUT OFF THE INEVITABLE. No quiet street tonight. The news vans were out in force and a clog of people were in the street in front of the Perkins’ house. As I got closer I saw the lights trained on each of the reporters. Obviously Bradley’s death had hit the news and they were preparing for live reports for the late broadcast. As I pulled in my driveway, the attention turned in my direction and I saw several of the reporters rush over. I drove up quickly and parked in the garage, ending their pursuit. Ryder was probably out there in the midst of all the excitement.

  It was a relief to get inside. The dogs made a fast trip outside before I called them in and fed them. The light was flashing on my phone, and when I checked, there were messages from Barry and Mason. Both messages were pretty much the same—they’d called my cell and I hadn’t answered. Please call.

  I was talked out, exhausted and worn down from my day. I needed a little peace before I was ready to talk to anybody—even Barry and Mason. The phone rang and I thought about not answering it but finally ga
ve in. Emily sounded frantic when I answered.

  “I need to talk to you,” she said. “Some homicide detective thinks I killed Bradley. It’s nonsense. Of course I didn’t do it.” She let out a yelp of consternation. “Those reporters keep ringing the bell. Can’t they leave me alone?”

  I didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t just Detective Heather who thought she’d killed Bradley. Everyone I’d talked to thought she was the guy. Even though I’d expressed some doubts, it was hard for me to believe it was anyone else. Did I want to invite a possible murderer over, particularly since it was because of me that Detective Heather knew that she’d been up there with Bradley? His body might not have been found for days. In other words she might have a grudge against me. And if you’ve killed one person . . .

  I told her I was sorry for all of her trouble, but right now was a bad time. Maybe tomorrow. I figured by then I’d have thought of some way out of it. She breathed heavily a few times and clearly wasn’t pleased with my answer and hung up.

  I made myself a cup of camomile tea and the sweet flowery scent filled the air as I took it to the kitchen table. It was supposed to be relaxing and I hoped it would work its magic. I took a sip and closed my eyes. I hadn’t realized how hunched my shoulders were and I made a conscious effort to lower them. Just when I was beginning to feel a little better, I heard someone pounding on the window of the back door. When I looked up, Emily was looking in on me. Before I had a chance to think of what to do, the door pushed open and she came inside.

  Her eyes had a crazed look and I swallowed hard, glancing around the kitchen. The block with the knives was on the counter in plain sight.

  I mumbled something about wondering how she’d gotten past all the reporters. She stood in front of the large windows facing my backyard and pointed toward the white bench Mason and I had used to climb over. She’d noticed me standing on it when I’d thrown the afghan over the fence. She’d been able to step on her hose holder and then hold on to the shed in her yard while she stepped over the fence and onto the bench. She’d done exactly what Mason and I had in reverse. I suddenly felt very alone in the big house. Blondie had gone back to her chair. Only Cosmo had responded to the sound of the door opening. He seemed confused. He knew her, but something about the way she was acting seemed strange. The small black dog sat down across the kitchen and watched her.

  I jumped up from the table, wanting to put some space between me and Emily. I grabbed the broom and started sweeping the floor, thinking of its potential as a weapon.

  “I need to talk to you,” she said. Her short choppy breath was a sure sign of anxiety.

  “What about your girls? You didn’t leave them home alone?” I said. She took a step closer to me and said Bradley’s sister, Madison, was with them next door.

  “I was trying to figure out how that police detective even knew I was with Bradley. I was so careful to make sure none of the people investigating Bradley’s business followed me, I knew it couldn’t be any of them. Then I realized it was right after you’d given me the afghan. It was you, wasn’t it?” Emily looked at me intently.

  I clutched the broom a little tighter. It didn’t matter that I didn’t answer, she repeated that it was me.

  My heart was pounding and I considered what to do. She started talking, the words tumbling out of her mouth.

  She had believed the suicide note and thought Bradley was dead until the night I’d seen the motorcycle. “I heard some noise, and when I went out in the driveway, Bradley was coming out of the bushes. He didn’t see me at first and I’m pretty sure he would have just gotten on the motorcycle and left if I hadn’t moved, triggering the motion-sensor light. As soon as he heard the police helicopter in the distance, he begged me to hide the motorcycle and him.

  “He admitted he’d gambled away all the investors’ money. All his supposed business trips to Vegas weren’t to see clients. He kept thinking he’d win it back.” She looked disgusted. “Like that ever happens.”

  Someone had complained to the Securities and Exchange Commission and Bradley knew that once they looked at his books, they’d figure out what he’d done. “He said he wasn’t going to go to prison,” she said. He told her the fake suicide had been a hasty plan. Mason and I had been right. Bradley had put a newly purchased motorcycle in the back of the SUV. He parked the Suburban in the Long Beach Terminal parking lot and put the motorcycle in the spot next to it. He used a credit card to buy a one-way ticket on the Catalina Express. Midway on the trip he planted his wallet and cell phone on a bench. It’s a slow time of year and there were plenty of empty spots on the boat so nobody noticed what he did. Just before the boat reached Catalina, he alerted a crew member about the wallet and phone. “I didn’t recognize him in the crowd getting off the boat because he put on a thick coat and a baseball cap,” Emily said.

  She explained that he’d merely bought a return ticket with cash, gone back to Long Beach and left on the motorcycle. He’d dropped the suicide letter in the mail. His plan was to ride across the border into Mexico and disappear. “He said it was better for me if I thought he was dead.”

  “Why’d he come back?” I asked.

  “It was for his watch and the afghan. With all that he’d done, who would figure that he was sentimental. He said it wasn’t about the value of the Rolex Bond watch, but because his father had given it to him. His sister had made the afghan for him. I didn’t have either. The watch was still at the shop for cleaning and I had given you the afghan. He insisted he had to have them. He had kept some traveling money and if I could get those items for him, he’d share some of the money.” Emily tried to read my face to see if I was judging her. “I was up against a wall. Everything was frozen or canceled. I have children,” she wailed. Getting the watch had been no problem, but after telling me that she didn’t like the afghan and never wanted to see it again, she thought it would look suspicious if she asked for it back. Since she just thought he wanted it as something from his sister, she had asked her to make another one for Bradley. There wasn’t a lot of time and Madison had whipped up something on a big hook with bulky yarn.

  By now Madison knew what her brother had done, but when she heard how he felt about the afghan, she wanted to see him one last time.

  Emily detailed the convoluted plan to meet Bradley, and how she’d given him the two items. I asked why she didn’t turn him in.

  “He was my husband and I loved him,” she said as if it was an of course. “Bradley assured me that once they got investigating they’d realize I had nothing to do with any of it and leave me alone.”

  Then everything had gotten weird. “He hadn’t looked at the afghan until after we left. He called and yelled that he didn’t just want an afghan his sister made, he had to have the original one. I told him it was gone and I couldn’t get it. But he kept calling me and started offering more and more money for it and I was feeling desperate.”

  I was feeling a little desperate myself. It had been my experience that when people did a whole lot of confessing like this, they planned to kill you. I clutched the broom tighter, ready to start swatting.

  She kept on talking, describing how she and Bradley used to walk in the mountains and he’d arranged for them to meet at a familiar spot. He’d checked the afghan that time, and when it was the right one, he’d handed over the promised money. She slouched in despair. “That police detective kept hammering away at me. ‘You’ll feel better if you tell the truth. Just tell me what happened and we can work something out.’ On and on,” Emily said, getting agitated. She walked to the counter. I knew what was coming next. Any second she’d start telling me she had killed Bradley and all the reasons why. Then she’d say she was really sorry, but now that I knew, she’d have to get rid of me, and she’d grab one of my knives and stab me. But I was ready for her. I’d clock her with the broom as soon as her hand even got near a knife.

  She was looking down at the counter and I had come up behind her and raised the broom, ready to strike. The b
ack door made a noise as it opened and Emily turned toward it just as Mason came in, fussing about me not returning calls. She took in my raised broom and her mouth fell open. “Are you crazy?” she yelled as she pushed past me and Mason and took off without a word. She rushed across the yard, jumped on the bench and launched herself over the fence.

  “Was it something I said?” Mason said, deadpan.

  I didn’t react to Mason’s comment. I was a little zoned out by what had just happened. I’d been so geared up for Emily to make a move, it seemed anticlimactic that she’d run off. Finally Mason waved his hand in front of my face to get my attention and asked what had just happened.

  “I’m not sure,” I said. I started to tell him everything about Bradley from the beginning, but he already knew.

  “That’s why I’m here,” he said. “Greenberg got in touch with me. He was worried you might need a lawyer. Something about you being found hovering over Perkins’ body, covered in his blood. I left you a bunch of messages.” I still had the broom poised for action and Mason took it out of my hands and put it in the corner.

  “Detective Heather said I was a person of interest, but I think that was just to bug me. She seems to have focused on Emily being the killer.” I shuddered when I said that, thinking she’d been in my kitchen with close access to knives a few minutes ago. Still there was something that didn’t seem right. I’d noticed it when she was running across my yard. I mentioned to Mason that she had on the same clothes she had on in the photos. “If she’d stabbed Bradley, you’d think she would have gotten blood on her clothes or been worried that she had and she would have changed them,” I said.

  “It’s too bad the detective didn’t arrest her,” Mason said, glancing out the window toward the fence. “I don’t like leaving you here. Come to my place.” When I looked askance, he quickly added there was no hidden agenda in his offer.