CHAPTER TWELVE
Petunia stared out the window on her ride to the sheriff’s department. She sighed. This really wasn’t the highlight of her day, being hauled off first thing in the morning, especially when her aunt woke her up so early this morning.
She really needed to ask Aunt Maxine outright if she was an unwed mother and gave the child up for adoption. More than one person seemed to believe that was the case. It sure seemed that if Aunt Maxine knew that Helen was her granddaughter, she’d have told Petunia something. Did Helen really show up in town with a plot to kill off her aging aunt in hopes of inheriting her fortune?
What was her Aunt Maxine hiding, if anything, and what did she do to her brother that would pit him against her enough that he’d much rather live in a nursing home as apposed to with his sister if he wasn’t able to care for himself? Was that even the case? Her grandfather certainly didn’t seem to have Alzheimer’s. Of course, he sure was in some kind of delusional state if he thought he had embarked on some type of investigation at Sunnybrook.
The sheriff passed Henry and Olivia Brownmeyer as they were leaving the post office. From the way they stared at the passing squad car, they surely caught sight of Petunia in the backseat. Petunia then slouched down in her seat. By the time the sheriff questioned her at the station, all of Lake Forest would know she had been taken in for questioning, but Petunia knew they’d all think she was under arrest for murder. She felt already that the shadow of guilt was on her since Jeremy had dated both Helen and her. Small towns were just like that, too, despite not knowing exactly what was going on inside the investigation. Petunia wasn’t sure either, but she’d certainly find out now.
Petunia sniffled then as she felt herself ready to sneeze, clamping both hands over her nose. For a moment, she hoped that it had passed. Surely since she hadn’t been sneezing bubbles lately, it had passed. The potion had worn off, but it really couldn’t haven been one at all since she certainly never added anything to her tea that would be considered any kind of concoction. No, she told herself. She simply refused to believe that even if she sneezed precisely at this moment, bubbles would appear.
She sat upright and bobbed her head a bit as the sensations in her nose built and resulted in a tiny sneeze, hardly worth mentioning. Her eyes widened as the backseat was overtaken by bubbles. She snuck a glance and, not seeing the sheriff looking her way or into his mirror, she proceeded to start popping bubbles. She jumped on the seat now, popping the remaining bubbles that she hadn’t already when the sheriff hit the brakes. Petunia fell forward into the screen that divided the front seat for the back one.
“What on earth are you doing back there?” Sheriff Pinkerton blubbered.
“Oh, there was a mosquito back here. I was just trying to smash the little bugger.”
“Well, stop it and get your seatbelt back on.”
“Is it really necessary to go all the way to the station? Why not just question me at my house?”
“Because that’s not how I handle questioning suspects.”
“Oh, you mean you just want it all captured on camera, is that right? I get it now.” Petunia slid back on the seat and put her seatbelt on. “Onward, James,” she said. In response, the sheriff’s eyes narrowed, but he then faced the front and his car was once again moving.
Oh, great. Thanks to that sneeze, the sheriff now must think she’s a candidate for the loony bin. Petunia thought that, too, since she communicated with Pansy regularly.
When the sheriff pulled into the department, at least he did so in the parking garage, which at least would conceal Petunia’s arrival. The car door was opened and Petunia strutted her way toward the door with complete confidence that she’d only be here half an hour, tops. What could the sheriff possibly ask her that he hadn’t already?
Deputies and office personnel alike stared at Petunia as she walked past with the sheriff. She narrowed her eyes slightly as if to say, ‘Why the hell are you being so judgment?’ Petunia was simply here for questioning and that was all.
She was ushered through a door and motioned to a seat. Before Petunia sat, she asked, “Can I use the bathroom first? You hardly gave me enough time to do that before you insisted that I come down here today.”
“Fine,” the sheriff grumbled. He then took her to the bathroom as he said, “Hurry up. I don’t have all day.”
Petunia went into the bathroom where a female deputy stood, washing her hands. She merely nodded at the deputy on her way to the stall. After she used the bathroom, the deputy was still there at the sink, washing her hands, or acting like it.
“You sure wash your hands a long time.”
“You’re Petunia Patterson, right?”
“Yes, how do you know?”
“You might not remember me, but we went to high school together. I’m Natalie Cartwright.”
Petunia washed her hands, staring at Natalie for a moment. Natalie’s brown hair was cut into a pixie and she was stocky, but in a muscular way. She must work out quite a bit from the look of her arms. She had more muscles than most men she knew. “Oh, I remember you now. You were in my chemistry class, I believe.”
“Yes, we were partners because nobody would pick me or you.” She laughed. “Funny how everyone back in high school thought you were a witch because of your aunt, but she certainly didn’t teach you much, if that was true. You kept blowing things up, or causing quite the stink, enough to drive the class to the gym until it cleared up.”
Petunia grimaced, recalling those days. She certainly wasn’t popular at all. She didn’t really fit in with anyone since everyone ostracized her because of what people thought her aunt was, but things changed when, in her senior year, she began dating Henry, and from that time forward they spent most of their time together, like most dating couples do.
“Yes, I’m not any good at making potions. I’m just a screw-up, I suppose, and now I’m here being questioned in a murder investigation.”
“I heard about that. Hopefully, things work out for you.”
“Thanks, but I’d better get back out there. The sheriff is waiting to question me. I just hope that this won’t take too, long.”
“Don’t let him rattle you. He’s just trying to solve the case.” She smiled.
Petunia was perplexed why this deputy was being so friendly to her. She had barely remembered her from high school, after all.
“If you’re really a witch like everyone says, you could easily turn them into a—”
“Cat,” Petunia interjected and then bit her fist.
“No,” she chuckled. “I was thinking more like a puff of smoke.”
Petunia grabbed the handle of the door now. “If I was a witch for real, I would have done that to half my teachers back in high school.” She then went out the door, not comfortable with that conversation at all. For a split second, Petunia thought she might be on to her. Of course, that wouldn’t be possible. How would anyone think even a witch could do turn anyone into a cat. She still was shocked herself, but she was no witch—or was she? She really needed to have a heart to heart with her aunt, and soon.
When she joined the sheriff, he glanced at his watch and then said, “You sure were in there long enough.”
Petunia put her hands on her hips now as she arched a brow. “Sorry.”
“Come along. It’s not like I have all day.”
Petunia followed the sheriff to that door to where she knew must be the interrogation room. When she walked inside, she frowned as the room only had a small table with a chair on either side and more chairs along the walls. There was also a window near the ceiling that helped lighten the room. Much too far to climb out of, thought Petunia.
As she pulled out the chair on the far side of the table, she exclaimed, “What, no doughnuts? In those cop shows, they always ply people with sweets to soften them up so they confess to a crime.”
His brow shot up. “Oh, are you planning to confess today? Because if you are, I’d be happy to fetch some doughnuts from
Nelson’s Bakery.”
She sat down in a huff. “Well, no.”
“Didn’t think I’d get that lucky.”
The door opened and Petunia glanced up, eyeing the same woman that she’d just spoken to in the bathroom, the deputy, Natalie Cartwright.
“Good, you’re here. Deputy Cartwright will be sitting in today while I question you.”
“What? You don’t have one of those see-through windows for someone to watch on the other side, detailing the questioning?”
“No, not in the budget.” Sheriff Pinkerton eased his bulk down on a chair opposite her now. “Look, this isn’t a formal questioning. So relax, but I do have a few questions for you.”
Petunia ignored the deputy, even though she did wonder why she’d spoken to her in the ladies’ room. She never even asked her anything that could incriminate her now. “Shoot, sheriff—or, I mean, ask away.”
The sheriff opened a folder he had hidden out of view, tucked under his arm. He spread it out, showing Petunia a photo of Jeremy. “Do you recognize this man?”
Petunia would have rolled her eyes if she was less a woman, and right now it was a losing battle not to act irritated. “Really, Sheriff? Fine, I’ll play along. That’s Jeremy Walters, as you know.”
“And you don’t know his whereabouts?”
“No, I told you that when you came to my house the day I found Helen’s body.”
“Just checking to see if there have been any more developments since I spoke to you the last time.”
Petunia wanted to shout, ‘The last time I saw Jeremy he was a cat and quite peeved that you made me come down to the station,’ but instead, she smiled and said, “No.”
“Okay, no need to go through that one then. I’ve already established that both you and Helen dated Jeremy, too.”
“Too bad she’s dead. She might just have been the person that could have helped you with the investigation into Jeremy’s disappearance. You did ask her about it, right?”
“Of course I did. She told me Jeremy was headed to your place that night, and it was the last place he was seen.”
Petunia arched a brow. “Oh? And how, exactly, would she know that? I didn’t see her peeking through the windows that night.”
“Oh, so you admit he was at your place that night he disappeared?”
“I don’t recall ever denying that he was, but he left about nine that night and I haven’t heard from him since.” Although Petunia sure heard plenty from Jeremy now that he was a cat. Truth be known, he never shut up. Yes, about nine was truly the last time Petunia did see him. After about ten minutes of him rolling on the floor and a puff of smoke, he was transformed from a man to a cat. And ever since, her life had changed in a big way.
“Actually, Cora was spying on you two that night with her binoculars, and she told Helen all about it. She saw him come inside, but never saw him leave.”
Petunia leaned forward now. “You’re not suggesting that he’s still somewhere in my house, are you?”
“No, of course not. I just find it interesting, is all.”
“So you never thought that he might have slept over and that’s why they never saw him leave that night?”
“I did think about that, and recently we found his car in the bottom of Lake Forest. We dredged the lake this morning.”
“He’s been gone for two months and you just now dredged the lake? Why not before now?”
Natalie smiled, putting a hand against her lips so that the sheriff didn’t hear her.
“After Helen’s death I knew we had to do it, to see if there might be a connection between you and Helen’s death.”
“So you think I first got rid of Jeremy and then killed Helen? Why, exactly?”
“Because you have a connection to the both of them.”
“Sorry, that sounds kind of crazy even for you, Sheriff.”
The sheriff turned a few pages over. “How about the other victims who died? Did you know them?”
“Victims?”
“Yes, two more women were found murdered with knitting needles thrust through their chests. You do knit, don’t you, Petunia?”
“Me and half of town, I think. Haven’t you ever noticed how busy it gets at the Hobby Shack?”
“Sorry, I don’t frequent the place.”
“Well, your wife, Michelle, does. She’s quite the knitter, from what I hear. Perhaps she’s the Knitting Needle Killer.”
Natalie snickered openly now.
The sheriff shot her a look and she quickly pursed her lips, silencing her laughter.
“You think you’re cute don’t you?”
“No, I’m just pointing out that you’re way off base with this line of questioning. Many women, both young and old, knit in this town. Happening to knit doesn’t necessarily make one a killer. I’m really shocked. I can’t even image why anyone would use knitting needles to commit murders. It’s scary, really. And to think that one of the murders happened right in my neighborhood.”
“Kaye Horton was the first victim. Did you know her?”
“Not personally.” When Natalie gave her the eye, she elaborated with, “We did go to high school together.”
“How did you get along?”
“I barely knew the woman.” Did she really need to explain things further?
“That’s strange. I heard you two didn’t get along.”
Petunia stared over to Natalie who was now looking down. It was obvious where he’d heard that from.
“I’ve heard the two of you have fought over a man before.”
Petunia bit down on her lower lip. “If you know the answer to all of these questions then what are you asking me for?”
“Just answer the question. Is there any truth to that?”
Petunia licked her lower lip now and admitted, “It would seem that Henry was still dating Kaye when he asked me out. I had no idea at the time until after he broke up with her.”
“And how did she take that?”
Petunia swallowed hard now. She had no idea that Henry hadn’t broken up with Kaye before he asked her out, not until later. By the time she did find out, it was too late to go back. Petunia was already falling in love with Henry, but in retrospect, it really was an example of who Henry was, the cheating bastard.
Kaye was quite curvy, although she had a beautiful face. It made Petunia feel all the more guilty back then. Petunia finally said, “She was very heartbroken. I swear I never knew that Henry broke up with her to be with me.”
“And since high school?”
“Again, I still felt guilty for what Henry did to her, enough to avoid her at all costs. There was just no way I could ever explain to her how I didn’t know and felt badly about what Henry did to her. I certainly wouldn’t ever hurt her more than she’s already been.”
“And you’ve had no contact with her since high school?”
“I might have seen her a few times at either Norm’s Meat Market, or Nelson’s Bakery, but I never spoke to her. I ran the opposite way, actually, since Kaye carried a grudge against me.”
“Have you ever wanted to get back at her for carrying a grudge against you, like stabbing her with knitting needles?”
“Gosh, no. Like I said, I stayed away from that one and that makes no sense. I don’t blame her for how she felt about me. I probably would have felt the same way if it were me.”
The sheriff turned over the next page and said, “That leaves us with Charlene Catlin.”
“I accidentally ran into her with a glass of punch and ruined her white prom gown. It happened right before she was going to be crowned prom queen, but she was so mortified that she went home.” Petunia paused and continued, “And she was really mad at me, but I swear it was an accident. I was sorry to hear she was murdered.”
Sheriff Pinkerton’s face softened, if only slightly. “I see.” He turned a few more pages and stood, putting his palms on the table now. “How much knitting do you do, Petunia?”
Where on earth was he
going with this line of questioning? “I don’t know. I knit blankets for the vets, enough to make a couple of blankets a month.”
“And how many knitting needles do you generally purchase?”
“It depends. I hardly keep track.”
“Ms. Patterson, it seems like you’ve purchased quite the number since right before the murders began. At least six packages. Since there’ve been three murder and three knitting needles in each victim you have three more to commit yet another murder.”
“I admire you and you math abilities, but no self-respecting woman who knits on a regular basis would use three knitting needles. They’d use two, since that’s all you need to knit with. I’d even venture to guess that you’re looking for someone who doesn’t knit at all, or realizes that I have a history with the victims.”
The sheriff sat back down. “So what’s the story about purchasing so many knitting needles?”
“Like I already told you, I don’t keep track of how many I purchase, but I must admit that I have a compulsion to buying extra since I always seem to misplace them. It’s quite possible my cats even carry them out the door, although I’ve never caught them doing that.”
“I didn’t know you let your cats outside.”
“I don’t, usually, but they sure can manage to get my screen door open at times and I have to form a search party to find them. Why, the day of the murder, my cat, Pansy, managed to make it all the way next door and into Noah’s house.”
“I see. Well, that’s sure some story and I’m not sure if I’m buying it.”
Petunia stood now. “Is that all you have, Sheriff. Have my fingerprints been lifted from the needles?”
“Yours aren’t already on file and no prints were on the needles, like the killer wore gloves or wiped them clean. You’ve lived your life on the straight and narrow for the most part, except for your role in making quite a few men bald from your supposed hair tonic you were selling on Craigslist.” He yanked out a Kleenex and proceeded to blow his nose on it and then said, “But no charges have been filed and I see that you’ve removed your ad.”
Meows, Magic and Murder Page 10
