by Anne Canadeo
Dana rose and grabbed her water bottle. “I’m going home to grab a shower. So I’ll be ready if Ellie calls. I don’t want to go out there uninvited. They may need their privacy right now, or just be too busy with the police. I guess I’ll wait to hear from her.”
“Good idea. She might want you there, but maybe they are too overwhelmed right now.”
Just as her friends left, two customers entered the store. Maggie greeted them and answered their questions about a felting project one of the women had started in a class at the shop. It hadn’t gone very well, Maggie noticed. The customer had been aiming for a tote bag and wound up with a coin purse. As usual, Maggie tried to make the best of the situation and tactfully showed her where she’d gone wrong.
As the day went on, a steady stream of customers commanded her attention and Maggie’s thoughts turned away from Justin Ridley’s murder. But just as she was closing up, she found an e-mail from Dana, sent from her iPhone.
Maggie—Finally reached Ellie. The police did ask Ben to go down to the station today. As a formality, they say. But she’s very upset. I’m going out to the farm tomorrow, around noon. Are you busy? Want to take a ride with me? Dana
Maggie replied with a quick note:
I have no plans and would love to come. I’ll bring Ellie her patterns and some yarn, and we can both bring her some comfort and encouragement.—M.
Much needed comfort and encouragement, Maggie reflected. The police weren’t wasting any time. Formality or not, they were looking hard at Ben Krueger as a suspect. Or “a person of interest,” as law officials called it.
That was the first step. The Kruegers had to be careful now that Ben did not travel any further down this sorry path.
• • •
Ellie had invited them for lunch, and Dana picked up Maggie at noon the next day. Maggie had been looking forward to a ride into the country, though the actual visit at the farm did not promise to be relaxing. Anything but, she expected.
The weather was just the opposite of the temperate Indian summer day they’d all enjoyed at the festival only a week before. A low, gray sky stretched above the open fields that streamed past, and dark clouds were a backdrop to flocks of geese, practicing for the long flight south.
As Maggie got out of Dana’s Volvo and grabbed her purse and knitting tote from the backseat, a damp, chilling breeze cut through her thick sweater and fluffy brown wrap.
Dana had parked in the circle in front of the farmhouse. She’d brought a few things to cheer Ellie up, a box of pastries from a fancy bakery and a bunch of flowers. It might have been a purely social call, Maggie thought, except for the subject they’d be most likely to discuss.
“Lucy wanted to come, too,” Dana said as they headed for the front door, “but she has a deadline on a project and has to stay in and work all day.”
“It’s just as well. Ellie and Ben might feel invaded if too many of us descend on them.”
Ellie greeted them warmly and led them inside. “Thanks for coming out. It’s so good to see friendly faces.”
They followed her into the dining room, where the table was set with a floral-patterned cloth and old-fashioned-looking china.
“What beautiful dishes, Ellie. They go perfectly with the house,” Maggie noticed.
“I bought these dishes at a tag sale when we’d just started looking at property around here. I think this is the first time I’ve used them for entertaining. I thought we would have made more connections out here by now. I imagined lots of new friends. Dinner parties. That sort of thing.” She sighed and headed to the kitchen. “It hasn’t turned out like that at all, has it?”
Maggie and Dana exchanged a glance. They followed her into the big country kitchen. “You have the knitting group,” Dana reminded her. “That’s a start, right?”
Ellie turned from the counter, where she was tossing a green salad. She touched Dana’s arm. “That’s a lot. Really. I didn’t mean to sound as if I don’t treasure your friendship. Believe me. I do.”
They were all silent for a moment. Maggie felt as if Ellie had slipped away into her private thoughts and concerns.
“Can we help you with something? Carry things out?”
“Oh, yes . . . please. There’s a basket with rolls and a platter of cheese on the sideboard. I have some grilled chicken in the oven.”
The lunch was quickly set out. It looked delicious, and Maggie felt suddenly hungry. She noticed that the table was only set for three and wondered about Ben.
Dana was bold enough to ask. “How is Ben doing? Isn’t he having lunch with us?”
Ellie filled their glasses with sparkling water and then her own. “He said it sounded like a girls’ thing. He felt a little awkward. He’s still upset after yesterday. He took a ride to Newburyport. There’s a movie house up there that shows classic films. I think he said he was going to see Arsenic and Old Lace.”
“That’s a good one. With Cary Grant when he was very young,” Maggie said, though she couldn’t remember the plot.
“Yes, that’s the one. Ben is a bit of a film buff. That’s one thing he misses up here. That and good Thai or Indian food.”
Ellie laughed, and her friends did, too. But Maggie thought it sounded a bit forced.
“Newburyport isn’t that far. That town has everything Ben likes,” Dana pointed out. “It was probably a good idea for him to go up there and unwind.”
“That’s exactly what I thought,” Ellie agreed.
While they enjoyed Ellie’s well-prepared meal, Maggie took out the patterns and yarn she’d brought. They talked about their plans for the knitting charity project and other random topics, carefully avoiding the Ridley murder.
But once the dishes were cleared away and Ellie brought in coffee and dessert, the conversation turned back to Justin Ridley and Ben’s experience at the hands of local law enforcement.
“They kept saying it was just a formality. But it really was an ordeal,” Ellie admitted. “No wonder Ben needs to zone out at the movies today. I don’t think I’ve ever been inside a police station before. Maybe once, just in the entranceway for some reason. Ben was taken back to some office. I wasn’t allowed to go with him. I had to sit in a waiting area outside.”
“Did you call an attorney?” Dana’s voice was quiet, but Maggie sensed her intense concern.
Ellie just shook her head and stared down at the table. “Everything was happening so fast. The police just said they wanted to ask more questions. We didn’t think . . .” She suddenly lifted her head. “Ben didn’t need a lawyer. He didn’t hurt Justin Ridley. He never went near him.”
“I know.” Dana reached across the table and touched Ellie’s hand. “I just wish you’d called me. I know he had nothing to do with Ridley’s death, but he should have a lawyer anyway. Just so the police don’t step all over his rights.” Dana was concerned, and she sounded like it.
“Dana’s right,” Maggie quietly chimed in. “I was in the same situation. I doubt I’d be sitting here, having this lovely lunch, if I hadn’t taken that advice.”
Ellie didn’t answer at first. “All right. I’ll have Ben call Jack tomorrow and get a recommendation, whether we need it or not. I still hope yesterday was the end of it.”
Dana took a sip of coffee. “What happened at the police station? Besides the questioning. Did they ask for Ben’s fingerprints or a DNA sample?”
Maggie could see Ellie was reluctant to answer. Finally she nodded. “Yes, they did. They kept saying it was just so they could eliminate Ben from the investigation. Ben found the body, and even the police had seen him argue with Ridley. Ben just did what they said. He knows he’s innocent and just wanted to get out of there. I was upset at first,” she admitted, “but later I thought, well, maybe this is a good thing. If they find fingerprints or other evidence, they’ll see he’s not a match. They’ll have to accept that he wasn’t involved.”
“Good point. Detective Walsh could be onto a new lead right now,” Maggie said since
rely.
Dana, who was always more objective and dispassionate in her thinking, didn’t let it go at that. “Did they say they’d found fingerprints on the spindle?”
“I’m not sure. They didn’t tell Ben if they did,” Ellie replied.
Dana’s expression was serious. “It doesn’t necessarily mean that they didn’t. It could be that they’re having trouble lifting off a clean image. Or they’re just not ready to disclose that information. I’ll ask Jack to find out for you. Do you know what type of spindle it was?” she continued. “Did it have any yarn or fiber on it?”
Ellie looked upset by this question. Maggie was sorry Dana had pressed. But she was wondering about that, too.
“The police told Ben it was the same type of spindle I gave out at the festival. I must have given away at least a hundred of them. Maybe more. Anybody who came to the fair could have one and could have killed Ridley. We told the police that,” she added quickly. “But I kept getting the feeling that they still connected the spindle with us, with me and Ben.”
With Ben, she really meant. Maggie just nodded.
She hadn’t even addressed the other question, about fiber on the murder weapon. A good one, Maggie thought. A piece of physical evidence like that could say a lot.
Suddenly Ellie bowed her head and covered her face with her hands. “I know Ben has a bad temper sometimes. He’s very emotional. But he could never do anything like this. Never in a million years.”
She was quietly crying, and Dana leaned over and laid a hand on her back.
“Ellie, please don’t cry. I’m sorry for all the questions. I’m just concerned. I know what you’re saying is true. I don’t believe Ben did this, either.”
“Oh, it isn’t that. . . . You didn’t ask anything worse than Detective Walsh did yesterday. That’s for sure.” Ellie lifted her head and wiped her eyes with a tissue. “And I do know you’re trying to help. But it’s even worse than you think.” She sighed and took a deep breath. “The police asked where Ben was at the time of the murder. He said he was with me the entire night and only got up when the dogs woke us. That must have been about . . . half past four, or even five o’clock,” she added.
“But he wasn’t with you?” Maggie leaned forward in her seat. Ellie was talking so quietly now she could hardly hear her.
“No . . . not the whole night. But once we called the police, we knew they’d ask us that. So we agreed to stick to that story. It’s just . . . less complicated.”
“Less complicated than what? Where was he . . . exactly?” Dana asked.
“Ben has trouble sleeping through the night from time to time. We thought moving to the country would help. All the fresh air and exercise?” She shook her head, as if baffled now by her own naïveté. “It did help at first, but there are still stresses here. Maybe even more, in some ways.”
Dana looked as if she wanted to ask more questions, but restrained herself. “Go on, Ellie. We’re listening,” she said simply. “He doesn’t sleep well some nights.”
“He starts off fine, snoring away,” Ellie continued. “Then he wakes up and worries and gets so agitated, he has to get up, walk around. He usually goes into his office awhile. He’ll tinker with our website or take care of the orders. Or go over our finances. That rarely helps to put him back to sleep,” she added with a sigh.
“He worries about your business,” Maggie clarified.
“Night and day,” Ellie answered in a sad tone. “I feel so responsible. I was the one who pushed to come out here. He would have been happy to put the money we got from selling my PR firm in some easy, no-fuss investment—an apartment building or a fast food franchise. But I wanted the farm and the fiber business, and he wanted to make me happy.”
Ellie sighed. “We have a good business plan. It all works out on paper. But we’ve had to draw down on some savings that we’d promised not to touch. The harassment on the farm only added to the stress and his anxiety. No wonder the poor man can’t sleep. That’s not a crime,” she added.
“I understand,” Dana said simply. “Most people experience insomnia at some point or another. I think about eighteen million are actually diagnosed and get help for it. . . . Medication, or behavior modification therapy.”
“Oh, Ben would never take pills . . . and he’s not big on therapists, either. No offense,” Ellie quickly added.
“So he gets up and works. Sounds like what I’d do,” Maggie said sympathetically.
“If he was on the computer, there’ll be a record of e-mails and online activity on the hard drive,” Dana reminded her.
“Yes, I know that. I even told him. But he was all shaken up after finding Ridley’s body out there. We both were. We weren’t thinking clearly. He wasn’t sure when he was online and when he was just going over our bookkeeping. We had no idea when Ridley was attacked, either. He didn’t want to take a chance. It was simpler if I just backed him up and said we were in bed and he never got up until the dogs woke us.”
Simpler, yes . . . but couldn’t Ben have left the house and come back while Ellie was fast asleep? Maggie quickly caught herself. She didn’t want to go there. Though she knew the police had already found that hole in his alibi.
Maggie decided to change the subject. “I’m just curious, what happened to Ridley’s dogs? Where did the police take them?”
“To a shelter, I think. I’m not sure. I felt bad about it,” Ellie admitted. “But I certainly won’t miss hearing that howling at all hours. I’ll never forget the way they sounded the night Ridley was killed.”
Maggie could only imagine. Dogs were so devoted. They must be so confused now. Waiting for him to come and take them home again.
“What about the llamas? Did you hear them that night, too?” Dana asked.
“The llamas? Do they make sounds?” This was news to Maggie. The llamas looked so solemn and wise. Above making sounds of any kind. They reminded her of the ever-silent Sphinx, though she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was their exotic origin and flat, bold stare.
“Oh, yes, the llamas can be pretty vocal. When they feel like it. But mostly it’s a humming sound,” Ellie explained. “There are snorts and growls, too. If they get annoyed with something. Like being sprayed down with the hose. And there’s a sound called orgling. It’s a gurgling sound males make during breeding season. They do have a cry,” she added, “when they feel threatened or sense danger and want to warn the herd.”
“I’d heard that they make noises, but I didn’t realize they were so varied. Did you hear them that night? Were they frightened of anything?” Dana asked.
Ellie shook her head. “No . . . we didn’t hear a thing. Just the dogs barking.”
Before anyone could say more, they all heard the back door open and slam. Ben called out from the mudroom, “Ellie? I’m home.”
“We’re in here, Ben,” Ellie called back. “Come and say hello to Dana and Maggie.”
While Ellie turned and watched the doorway for her husband, Dana and Maggie exchanged a quick glance. Here was their cue to go, Maggie thought. She sensed Dana felt the same.
“Hello, everyone. Nice to see you.” Ben nodded and smiled as he walked in. He bent to give Ellie a kiss on the cheek, then stood beside her chair.
“How was the movie, as good as you remember?” Ellie asked him.
“It was great. Better than ever. Cary Grant was brilliant. I had a good laugh.”
“I know I’ve seen it, I just can’t remember the story,” Maggie mused aloud.
“Very funny. Cary Grant has these two old aunts who are killing off their boarders—out of good intentions, actually—and burying them in the basement. You should catch it if you have a chance. I’m not sure how long it will be there.” Ben put his hands in his pockets. His wide smile looked forced, Maggie thought.
He knew they’d been talking about Ridley’s murder and talking about him, too, and he felt self-conscious. It was only natural. She would feel the same under the circumstances.
“Th
at sounds like fun. Jack and I should go. We love old movies. Well, I think we ought to hit the road, don’t you, Maggie? Even Jack will be done playing golf by now,” Dana joked.
“Yes, I do. Thank you for lunch, Ellie. You didn’t have to go to so much trouble for us. Everything was lovely. You’ll have to come to my house next time.”
Maggie felt that she needed to say the usual things expected of a luncheon guest. Even though the reason for their visit had not been the usual kind at all.
Ellie walked them to the front door and gave them each a hug good-bye. “It was nothing. Thanks for coming. And for listening,” she added in a quieter voice. “I’ll have Ben call Jack tomorrow and get a referral,” she promised Dana.
Dana touched her shoulder a moment and nodded. “Will we see you this week at the knitting group meeting?”
“I’m going to try my best,” Ellie promised. “It’s hard to make plans right now.”
Maggie knew that meant she wanted to come but just wasn’t sure what the days ahead would bring. Fair enough. Who would have ever expected to find a dead body on her property one Saturday morning? The body of her husband’s worst enemy, no less.
After something like that happens, anyone would be wary of planning ahead.
Chapter Seven
Lucy had beat Maggie to the shop on Monday morning. Maggie found her sitting on the porch with her dogs, one on either side. They all were panting away, as if they’d just run a marathon—Lucy included, Maggie noticed.
Leashes were tied to the rail and a portable dog bowl sat between the dogs in a small puddle. Lucy sat sipping some human water from a plastic bottle.
Maggie smiled as she walked up the path. “Did they drag you out of bed like a sled team, or is this an early knitting emergency?”
Lucy came to her feet as Maggie unlocked the door. She wore a huge fleece pullover that Maggie suspected was Matt’s and black running tights.
“New exercise routine. Living with Matt is definitely putting on relationship pounds.”
Maggie tipped her head. “You look fine to me. But isn’t that why they call them love handles?”
