by Anne Canadeo
“How’s your tote coming?” Maggie peered over at Lucy’s project.
“Really good. I decided to enlarge the pattern, and use a mix of yarns. I’m almost halfway done.” Lucy held up the patch she’d completed so far and showed them her progress.
Instead of using the yarn suggested, or even some self-striping, she’d mixed a selection of odds and ends from her stash, connecting them together as needed. The different colors, fibers, and weights were creating a very colorful and textural effect, she thought. One of her best projects so far.
“Wow . . . that’s really stylish. I love it.” Dana leaned in for a closer look. “So creative, too.”
“I’m just having fun with it. I might give it to my mom as a belated birthday gift. She’s still on her trip but should be back in August,” Lucy told her friends.
“Oh? I thought she was coming to visit sooner . . . like around your birthday,” Suzanne said.
“That was her plan but I just got an e-mail this week. Some of her interviews and travel plans were delayed. So she had to extend her stay.”
“That’s too bad. But August isn’t that far,” Maggie said. “Julie will be back for a visit then, too.” Maggie smiled at the mere thought of a visit with her daughter, who was in Barcelona most of the summer on an internship.
“How does she like living in Spain?” Dana asked.
“She loves it. Who wouldn’t? She wants to move there permanently someday, she says.” Maggie shrugged with a helpless smile. Lucy knew her friend would not be happy if her only child decided to live so far away. But Maggie was not the type to interfere, or try to make Julie feel guilty for her choices.
“She has plenty of time to figure it out. She still has one more year of school, doesn’t she?” Lucy said.
Maggie nodded. “Yes, she does. Plenty of ball game left and a lot can change. And you have plenty of time to make another tote for yourself by the time your mother comes in August,” she added. “I’d love to use this one in my window when you’re done. The class is so successful, I’m going to offer it again in September. Your bag will be good advertising for me.”
“My work, in the shop’s window? Maggie . . . I’m honored.” Lucy was half teasing her and half totally honest, beaming with pride. She sat up a little higher in her chair.
“That is a gold star. You never ask to show off my projects.” Suzanne sounded pouty, her competitive side showing.
“You need to finish something first,” Maggie murmured in return. “Then we’ll talk.”
Suzanne was a slow, unfocused knitter and a messy one. They all knew that. But she loved the therapy of just stitching and chatting to her friends. It didn’t seem to matter if she ever produced anything usable.
“We each have our own style. No need to judge,” Dana said, playing referee. She turned back to Lucy’s bag. “I love the way you blended the colors, all in the same palette. Good planning.”
Lucy had chosen mostly blues and purples, sprinkling in a few strands of yellow and hot pink here and there for a little pop.
“I had a lot of blue and purple bits in my stash, I guess. It’s sort of my color.” She looked over her work a moment and then back at her friends. “I have to admit, all I can think of now when I see certain shades of purple is Cassandra Waters.”
“I know what you mean. I was thinking the same thing. Those are the only colors she ever wore. But I didn’t want to say,” Suzanne admitted.
Maggie’s head popped up. She looked straight at Lucy. “That reminds me, what happened at your interview? You were going to let me know. Then you said you’d wait until we were all together.”
“Did you tell them that you saw Richard and Cassandra together that night when you walked the dogs?” Suzanne asked.
Lucy took a sip of her cocktail, which was not too sweet but very strong. She needed some fortification for this conversation.
“Yes, I did. But before that, I had felt guilty, for some strange reason, at the thought of telling the police about that without telling Richard first. I didn’t want him to think I had accused him of anything.”
Her friends all nodded with understanding. “I know, it was weighing on your mind. You were in a tricky spot,” Maggie agreed.
“So, pretty much on impulse, I stopped at the Gilded Age on Tuesday morning. After I left your shop, Maggie. Nora wasn’t there. Richard said that she was still too upset to come to work. But I ended up having a long talk with Richard.”
Her friends immediately stopped knitting and leaned forward to hear more. Lucy quickly related the conversation and Richard’s confession, as simply and accurately as she could.
Just as she expected, her knitting circle sat back, looking stunned.
“Mother of pearl! That’s awful! That’s the worst thing I ever heard any husband do to his wife . . . and I’ve heard about a lot of bad behavior,” Suzanne railed.
“It is awful. Shockingly awful,” Maggie agreed quietly. “It’s almost worse than if he admitted having an affair with Cassandra.”
“That’s what I thought,” Lucy said. “He did seem so sorry and confused, as if he had only done it to help Nora and had never expected the situation to get so entirely out of control.”
“I believe he does think that’s why he did it,” Dana said. “You also have to consider that watching Nora in such a deep depression was painful for him, too. He rationalized, seeing a way to ease her pain—and his own—and get their life back on track.” She sighed with sympathy. “Unfortunately, there are no shortcuts through the mourning process. I hear this story pretty often,” she added. “A person looks back and says, ‘I just meant to break the rule one time, for a good reason.’ Or out of some desperate, overriding need. And they do believe the overall good it would do outweighs their transgression.”
“But in the end it always catches up,” Maggie finished for her.
“Usually. In one way or the other,” Dana replied.
Suzanne was wandering around with the cocktail pitcher again but everyone waved a hand over their glass. One raspberry mojito was more than enough for the evening, it seemed. “And now Cassandra is dead from unnatural causes, and their nasty arrangement is out in the open. . . . And it’s going to be another, even bigger blow to Nora if she ever hears about it,” Suzanne said, as she sat down again.
“Sad but true.” Maggie shook her head and sighed. “I wonder if the police have to tell her the truth.”
“I asked Detective Ruiz about that,” Lucy said. “But seems it’s too early to say. Even if she would have told me. She’s very hard to read. I did get the feeling that she doesn’t believe Richard’s story. But why would he make up something so embarrassing and damning to himself, just to explain being spotted at Cassandra’s house? There are a hundred things he could have said instead.”
“I agree with you, Lucy. But it’s also interesting that Detective Ruiz didn’t take it at face value.” Maggie was making a another tote, too. There was a thick section of rich, rust-colored mohair on the bottom and a smoother-fiber, dark orange yarn for the rest. “When you look at it from her point of view, even Richard baring his soul to you seems suspicious. He could have just acted insulted, or angry, and chased you out of his shop.”
“I thought of that, too. A while after. When it happened, though, he just seemed so . . . distraught. I even smelled liquor on his breath and it was like, nine in the morning?” Lucy said. “He’d been through so much with Nora the day before, when Cassandra was found dead, and maybe he just couldn’t take it anymore. Dreading Nora getting sick again.” She glanced at her friends and took up her knitting once more. “I felt like he would have unloaded on anybody. I think he needed to get it off his chest.”
Dana nodded. “That’s very possible. I think Richard has caregiver burnout. He’s been carrying a lot on his shoulders since his son died. His judgment probably isn’t very sound right now.”
Lucy could see that, too. “It’s a total game changer for the Gordon family and for Edie
, if she ever finds out,” Lucy added, glancing at Maggie.
“Oh, Edie . . . poor thing. I nearly forgot about her,” Suzanne said.
“She’ll be crushed. She loves Richard. And she’ll be broken-hearted for Nora. It’s going to be hard to keep this from her,” Maggie said.
Lucy had already realized that. “You are the closest to her, Maggie. If anyone tells her, I think you should. But maybe not right now. Maybe in a few days it won’t matter one way or the other. Edie will be mad at Richard. But she’ll be more focused on Nora and worried about her reaction. But if the police find Cassandra’s killer, Nora may never need to know.”
Maggie sighed. “Maybe so. But we all know. And the police do, too. It’s hard to say if something like that can stay secret forever.”
They knitted along in silence a moment, needles clicking in the flickering candlelight.
“I’m sorry, but someone’s got to say it.” Suzanne shook her head, brooding over her knitting. “Don’t you think it’s possible that Richard killed Cassandra? The police must be looking in that direction now. Maybe she wanted more money, more than the payments he was already forking over for Nora’s sessions. Or maybe Cassandra threatened to tell Nora that he was feeding her information about Kyle.”
“Blackmail, you mean,” Maggie clarified.
“That’s right. Or maybe he wanted Cassandra to start weaning Nora off these sessions and she wouldn’t do it.”
“Once you go in that direction, there are a lot of reasons that Richard could have become frustrated with Cassandra and wanted her out of his life,” Dana added. “But I heard that he has a pretty solid alibi for the night Cassandra was murdered.”
“Edie said he helped her close that night. But her dealings with him didn’t cover the whole time frame of the murder,” Maggie recalled. “What was the rest of his story? Was it verified by the police?”
“I’m not sure,” Dana replied. “He does have a clearer motive now.”
“Yes, he does,” Lucy said. She’d thought of that while Richard was confessing to her. But somehow, she just didn’t feel he was guilty. Was she too gullible? She wasn’t sure of that, either.
“Do the police have any good leads, besides Richard? Except for sifting through Cassandra’s client list?” Suzanne asked.
“Jack hasn’t heard about anything solid,” Dana reported. “The investigation is going in a few directions. Cassandra did have some customers in high places and the police are considering the possibility that she was blackmailing someone—and it all went sour.”
Suzanne seemed interested in this track. “For instance? Any big shots we’d know?”
Dana glanced at her and smiled. “No specifics, sorry. But he did hear that the wife of a big politician was on Cassandra’s list—Jack said we’d all know the name. The husband is thinking of running for Congress next fall.”
“That narrows it down to about . . . twenty guys I can think of. But go on.” Suzanne looked up from her knitting and sipped her cocktail.
“Just as an example. The equation sets a couple like that up perfectly for extortion. But no evidence of that has been found so far.” Dana sipped her jewel-colored drink, too. “Wow . . . these are strong, Suzanne. What did you put in them?”
Suzanne laughed. “I’m just testing the recipe for our outing. We’ll try one new cocktail at every knitting meeting and then we’ll vote.”
“Super plan. You bring the blender, I’ll bring big bottles of pain reliever, antacid, and ice packs,” Maggie said drily. “I could actually use some food to soak up my last gulp of that wicked brew.”
“Oh shush . . . I’m not sure you should even come to the beach house, Maggie. You never want to have any fun,” Suzanne scolded her.
But, prompted by Maggie’s grumblings, Suzanne did jump up and run over to the grill. Lucy followed to help, and they soon returned to the deck with large platters of grilled shrimp and an array of grilled vegetables.
There was a loaf of warm, crusty bread and green salad, along with a pitcher of ice water. Lucy kept refilling her glass, eager to stop her head from spinning. Just before she put her knitting project away, she’d counted four knitting needles, instead of two. Not a good sign. She had never been a fan of argyle. That she knew for sure.
“I do have something else to tell you about,” Lucy said as soon as a few bites had settled in her stomach. “Remember that online search I did of Cassandra’s possible real name, Jane Mullens? I had searched the phone service listed at her address.”
“I thought that search must have been a dud. You never mentioned it,” Suzanne said.
“The results came back on Tuesday, but with everything that happened with Richard, I didn’t even want to look.”
“The mood passed, I hope?” Suzanne pressed her.
“I knew you’d be waiting to hear what I found out. Interesting reading.” Lucy pulled the report from her knitting bag. It was a few pages long.
Maggie leaned over her shoulder. “Goodness . . . does it go back to nursery school?”
“Almost. It shows her age, marital status, and closest relatives. Mullens is a married name. West was her maiden.
“Other aliases. Judy Waters. Judy West. Jackie West. Sister Cassandra, Sister Jewel . . . There are many colorful name combinations.”
“Go on,” Dana said.
“Then there are previous addresses. The lady picked up her tent and moved on a lot. That takes up at least a page. Then a list of arrests and convictions, the really juicy part, which pretty much convinced me, Jane West Mullens and Cassandra Waters are one and the same.”
“What was she arrested for?” Dana asked.
“Let’s see . . . Fraud, theft, larceny, wire fraud . . .” Lucy looked up again. “A few times for each of those. She seemed to wiggle away from the law pretty easily. Sometimes without doing any jail time. Or just paying a fine. It seems that as long as you label yourself an ‘advisor,’ you can charge for your advice and get away with a lot.” Lucy looked up at her friends, their faces shadowed by the lanterns and candlelight. “Goes without saying, some people always want more. And if people are giving you money willingly, it’s hard to prove in a court of law that it was stolen or given under false circumstances.”
“Interesting. What makes larceny grand anyway?” Maggie asked curiously.
“I’m not really sure . . . do you know, Dana?” Lucy asked.
“I don’t know what the law in Massachusetts says exactly. It does differ from state to state. I do know our state has some of the strictest larceny laws. I think grand larceny is any amount of stolen money or goods over two hundred and fifty dollars,” Dana said. “Larceny basically means theft. But it’s different from burglary, because the thief hasn’t gone onto someone’s property or used violence to commit the crime. And it also must be proven that the alleged thief intended to keep the property. Not just borrow it. Like a neighbor borrowing your fancy tractor lawn mower and forgetting to give it back.”
“Or your new car?” Suzanne asked, in a tarter tone.
“Exactly.” Dana turned to Lucy. “Is that what Cassandra did? Pretended to borrow money or expensive goods from her clients?”
“Yes, but in a crafty way. More or less persuading them to give her large sums of cash or valuables, for their own good,” Lucy explained.
“Different from the way she was draining the Gordons’ bank account?” Maggie asked.
“With Richard’s help,” Suzanne added.
“Yes, the scam was different. I searched some of these names and the words ‘psychic arrested,’ and added the locations and time frame. It was easy to find some local news stories about her exploits.”
Lucy flipped the sheaf of pages to printouts of news stories. “Just as she did with Nora, she would find a vulnerable client grieving a loss. But unlike the Nora situation, Cassandra would tell the client that the spirit was displeased, or died unhappily and was projecting bad energy. Then she’d persuade them that they needed to clear the bad
energy. For a hefty fee, of course.”
Her friends sat back. Maggie shook her head. “Who knows, maybe that part of her routine was yet to come for Nora and Richard.”
“But how would she get hold of the goods?” Suzanne asked. “Would these clients just hand everything over? That seems too gullible to believe.”
“You remember how persuasive she was. We went into the reading to debunk her but ended up talking about her predictions as if they were possibly true,” Maggie reminded everyone. “Even you, Suzanne.”
Suzanne looked humbled for a moment. “She did push my buttons,” she admitted.
“She pushed everyone’s buttons,” Lucy said, not wanting to go there again. “To answer your question, though, Cassandra would say that some valuable piece of jewelry the client owned, or a large sum of money—maybe even an inheritance they had told her about—needed to be cleansed to release the bad energy from the unhappy spirit. She would promise to return the client’s valuables once the energy was cleared. Of course, there was a lot of mumbo jumbo, pseudo praying and chanting involved over the tainted stash.”
“Some smoky incense and feather waving?” Suzanne added. “Don’t tell me . . . before the smoke cleared, she’d skip town.”
“The woman was so brazen, sometimes she wouldn’t even bother. If the client complained, she’d tell them the valuables were still cursed and that they’d get sick or even die. Or say that someone close to them would die if they took back the money or jewelry before the energy was cleared. She had some good delay tactics,” Lucy added, scanning one of the articles. “Like saying it needed to be purified by a full cycle of the moon. Or the valuables had to be kept in the dark in a sacred space.”
“In a safe-deposit box with her name on it?” Dana suggested. Lucy nodded.
“People really fell for that?” Maggie shook her head, eyes rolling.
Dana shrugged. “She knew how to identify her victims. To find someone who was totally vulnerable, and prey on them.”
“Like Nora, you mean,” Maggie said quietly.
“That’s right, someone who had suffered real trauma, a deep loss or disappointment, and remained desperate for answers and sympathy.” Lucy leafed through the pages she’d printed out. “Here’s a good one. The most recent clip I found, probably happened right before she moved east. In Scottsdale, Arizona, her last stop. She found a rich, older woman who told Cassandra she’d had a baby out of wedlock when she was a teenager, but had given the child up for adoption. The woman was still upset over this loss, wondering what had happened to the child and all that. A big part of the reason she’d gone to Cassandra.”
