Till Death Do Us Purl

by Anne Canadeo

  “Of course he was. He’s crazy about you,” Suzanne insisted. “It won’t be that different. I bet you guys barely notice.”

  Lucy was crazy about Matt, too . . . but she knew she would notice.

  The rest of the evening went by quickly. When Dana brought out coffee and tea, Lucy served the cake she’d made. It was so rich, the first bite gave her a chocolate headache, but it was well worth it.

  Maggie remembered to wrap up an extralarge slice for Phoebe. “Chocolate is one of her three food groups, you know that, right? Along with Greek yogurt and black coffee.”

  Lucy also took a slice for Matt. It was his favorite.

  “So that’s how you hooked him,” Suzanne said between bites.

  “Not quite. But it didn’t hurt,” Lucy admitted. “I hope he doesn’t expect one of these every week now. I’ll gain a hundred pounds in no time.”

  “But he’ll love you anyway,” Dana reminded her.

  “Watch out, Lucy. You’ll be comfortable old married people before you know it,” Suzanne predicted.

  Lucy just smiled. She didn’t even want to think about that yet.

  Lucy dealt with her anxiety about Matt’s imminent change of address in her usual way. By making a list. On Monday morning she found a yellow legal pad and made a list of chores she needed to do before he arrived. “Clean closets” and “paint bedroom” were close to the top. Luckily, a break in deadlines gave her some time to prepare for this milestone.

  Matt was busy packing most of the weekend, but they managed to fit in a stop at the hardware store to look at paint chips.

  “I was thinking a soft, buttery yellow color. Something very Provence . . .” Lucy mused, twirling the rack.

  “Hey, this one is nice.” Matt pulled out a card. “I like that,” he said flatly.

  Lucy glanced at it. It was blue. Not even robin’s egg, but a dreary gray blue. Vulture’s egg blue, if she had to name it.

  She took a breath. “Not so bad . . . but the curtains and bedspread and all that go better with yellow.”

  “I have a nice quilt we could use. It’s gray and black with tan triangles and sort of stripes on the sides. That would go pretty well, don’t you think?”

  Lucy despised that quilt. She had to grit her teeth every time she looked at it. Luckily, whenever she stayed over, it was pretty dark in the room and she was too distracted to pay it much notice.

  She was really hoping that particular household item would not make its way over her threshold . . . their threshold, she reminded herself.

  The problem was that practically everything Matt owned was black, brown, gray, or tan. The “real man” color spectrum. Fitting his belongings in with hers was a decorating challenge. Or nightmare, depending on how you looked at it.

  “You know,” she said finally, “I’m not even sure we really need to paint that room right now. Why don’t we just move your things and see how it looks?”

  Matt agreed, since he didn’t have time to help her, anyway. Lucy was fine with that. She liked to paint and figured if she did the work, she got to pick the color. Right?

  When the week started, Lucy was so busy getting the cottage in shape, she totally neglected her knitting . . . and keeping up with her friends. She only left the house to go to the grocery store, and didn’t walk to town once. It was too rainy to walk much anyway.

  The sun finally appeared again on Wednesday. Lucy pulled back the drapes and squinted at her backyard. Everything looked so green, with spurts of grass pushing up from the dark earth and tiny buds on the trees and bushes. Birds hopped from branch to branch, driving Tink wild with their chirping.

  She opened the window a crack and the dog pressed her nose against the screen, eager to do more than bird-watch. Lucy wanted to get outside, too. She leashed up Tink and headed for Maggie’s shop.

  When she tied Tink to her usual spot on the porch, she noticed Maggie had changed the window display. The clever kites were gone. A flock of colorful knitted birds had taken their place, hopping around a tree Maggie had fashioned out of cardboard, complete with paper leaves.

  A few of the birds perched on branches, some in a nest of cottony white and tan roving. Maggie always had little chunks left on the spinning wheel and Lucy imagined she gathered them, much like a nesting bird herself.

  A sign on the tree read LEARN HOW TO MAKE THESE ADORABLE FEATHERED FRIENDS . . . AND MORE. IT’S EASY AND FUN. TRY OUR NEW CLASS: “BIRDS OF A FEATHER.” SIGN UP WITH A FRIEND AND GET A 50% DISCOUNT!

  A large knitting tote filled to the brim with needles, yarn, and pattern books was settled next to the tree trunk. Another sign read ENTER TO WIN THIS FABULOUS START-TO-KNIT KIT. NO PURCHASE NECESSARY. ENTRY SLIPS INSIDE.

  That was Maggie. She faced a problem squarely and took action. Not enough sales and traffic in her shop? Figure out a way to bring in more customers.

  Lucy entered the shop. There weren’t any customers around. But Maggie and Phoebe were busy rearranging the cubbies that held skeins of yarn built into one long wall on the right side of the shop.

  “Hello, stranger.” Maggie turned, her arms full of navy blue skeins. “Have you been on another deadline?”

  “Sort of.” Lucy sat down at the table and flipped open a new knitting magazine. “The Matt-moving-in deadline.”

  “Right, I almost forgot.” Maggie put the navy yarn into a basket, then started to fill the empty space with some bright aqua angora.

  “I’ve been cleaning like a madwoman. You’d think royalty was coming. Or maybe my mother,” Lucy added, only half joking. “It’s not like he’s never seen the dust bunnies and dog toys under the couch.”

  “Yes, but you want to start off on the right foot. It’s sort of a nesting instinct, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

  “I think you have nests on the brain,” Lucy tartly replied. “But I love the new window. I want to make some of those birds for Regina and Sophie,” she said, referring to her nieces. “Even though they’re probably getting old for that sort of thing.”

  “I love those little creatures. And I’m way older than your nieces.” Phoebe came out of the storeroom, carrying a pile of boxes. More spring yarn, Lucy assumed.

  “I’m going to make a few for my apartment. Maybe I’ll make a mobile for the living room.” Phoebe seemed so excited by the notion, Lucy didn’t have the heart to comment. “You know, you could put sachet inside of them, too,” Phoebe added.

  “I never thought of that,” Lucy said honestly.

  She suddenly felt better about Matt’s taste in home furnishings. Things could definitely be worse.

  The shop door opened and Dana walked in. Lucy was surprised to see her. It was a little late for Dana’s lunch break but too early for the end of her day.

  She wasn’t carrying her knitting tote, either, Lucy noticed. Surprising. In fact, she looked sort of disheveled. For Dana.

  “What’s up? Do you have a break this afternoon?”

  “Yes, luckily. I’m supposed to be at a meeting . . . but I decided to come here instead.” Dana waved her hands. “Gather round, I only want to say this once.”

  Maggie and Phoebe left the cubby and the cartons of yarn and came to the table. They all stared at Dana curiously. She seemed distressed. As if she didn’t know where to start.

  “Jack just called. He was at the police station, talking to a detective about some lawsuit he’s working on. He overheard some big news. A man’s body was found this morning in a motel room just outside of town. The police say it’s Jeremy Lassiter.”

  Maggie gasped and put her hand over mouth. “Jeremy? How can that be? We just went to his memorial service. There must be some mistake.”

  “No mistake. The body was positively identified. His driver’s license and passport . . . it was all in the room.”

  Lucy felt her mouth drop open. She couldn’t speak.

  “Wow . . . that is unreal.” Phoebe pressed her hand to her head and dropped into a chair, like a marionette. She turned and looked bac
k at Dana. “Maybe it was like, his twin brother?”

  “They checked that possibility. Alec is alive and well, still visiting at his mother’s estate. No, it’s definitely Jeremy.”

  “How can that be? How did he die?” Maggie asked quietly.

  “Strangled . . . with a woolen scarf,” Dana added.

  Lucy immediately recalled the scarf he’d worn the night he came to the shop. How he and Rebecca had joked about it. She guessed her friends were remembering that, too.

  “That is so . . . unbelievable.” Lucy was stunned, and her thoughts whirled with possibilities. “So all this time, the explosion and the fire, his funeral . . . everything. He’s been alive, hiding out?”

  “Looks like it.” Dana let out a breath and sat at the table, with her friends.

  “I don’t know what to say.” Maggie was definitely flustered. “You’d better call Suzanne. She’ll burst her buttons when she hears she’s missed out on this news flash.”

  “You’re right.” Dana slipped her phone out of her jacket pocket. “I’ll text her right now. But I’ll just say we’re all here and I have something important to tell her.”

  “Important . . . and unbelievable.” Maggie sighed. Then she turned and started toward the storeroom. “I really can’t get my head around this. I need a cup of tea. Anyone interested?”

  They all were interested and Phoebe followed Maggie to the storeroom to help her.

  “So Jeremy is dead . . . again.” Lucy looked over at Dana. “It’s so weird. I feel really bad. But I was already used to the idea that he was, you know, gone. So it’s hard to feel anything. Except confused.”

  “I know what you mean. I feel confused, too. And curious. And maybe a little foolish? He did trick everyone.”

  Lucy was quiet for a moment. “Do you think Rebecca knew? Could he have really done that to her, too? It looked to me like he really loved her.”

  “I had the same question. He did act as if he really loved her. But who can say what he was capable of now.” Dana sounded upset. Maybe, Dana thought, as a psychologist she should have picked up some sign that Jeremy was not as guileless as he seemed.

  “Oh, he had me fooled.” Maggie bustled back into the room, carrying a tray with a teapot, mugs, and all the necessary ingredients. Her expression suddenly dropped. “Wait a minute . . . If Jeremy’s ashes aren’t in that urn, who do you think is in there?”

  “Good point, Mag.” The question gave her a little chill. Lucy hadn’t thought that far yet. “I bet the police are wondering the same thing.”

  “Along with trying to figure out why Jeremy staged his own death. The body the police recovered at the lab . . . the body parts, rather,” Dana quietly clarified, “were wearing Jeremy’s clothes, his watch, his wedding ring. The victim’s body was beyond recognition. But Jeremy was the only one seen going into the lab that night on the security cameras. And only one body was found after the fire. That’s why they just assumed it was him, without a DNA test.”

  “I guess they’ll do that now. Better late than never.” Maggie shrugged as she peeked into the teapot. Lucy was ready for some tea, but knew Maggie wouldn’t pour it until the leaves had steeped long enough.

  “Maybe if they’re able to identify the John Doe in Jeremy’s urn, they’ll have some idea of why Jeremy ran and hid out,” Dana offered.

  “That’s the real question. Why did he stage his own death?” Lucy asked the others. “Was he trying to avoid marrying Rebecca? If that was the reason, why not do the disappearing act before the ceremony?”

  “That would make the most sense. But guys are totally illogical sometimes,” Phoebe said.

  “It would be the most elaborate and diabolical case of cold feet I’ve ever heard of,” Maggie said as she poured the tea and passed it around. “Jeremy was nothing if not logical.”

  “He was obviously trying to escape something,” Dana mused. “Which brings us back to wondering if Rebecca knew he was alive. Jack said the police want to question her. They went to the school where she teaches to give her the news. I guess she went back to work right away.”

  “Do you think that means she knew?” Lucy asked. “I mean, she wasn’t so brokenhearted that she had to take a lot of time from work.”

  Maggie shrugged. “Some people return to their routines right away after a loss so they won’t be alone with their sad thoughts. I don’t think that means anything. I’d bet the police are talking to the Lassiter family, too.”

  “Oh, no doubt,” Dana quickly answered. “The police have already interviewed everybody at At-Las Technologies about the explosion and fire. Now they have a whole new set of questions to ask them.”

  Maggie stirred some honey into her tea. It was suddenly so quiet, they could hear the spoon clinking against the inside of the mug.

  “Jack thinks Jeremy staged his death because he knew someone was after him. But his murderer must have figured out the ruse, and gotten to him anyway.” Dana reached across the table and took one of the oatmeal cookies Maggie had brought in on a plate.

  “How awful to think Jeremy might have been hunted down that way. But the theory makes sense,” Maggie conceded.

  “I bet it has something to do with that glue formula,” Lucy said. “It sounds like the Lassiters are obsessed with it . . . and other people are, too.”

  “Lewis Atkins, you mean.” Maggie glanced at her.

  “His name came to mind. You’re the one who overheard that he’s their main competition.” Lucy knew Maggie had gotten a favorable impression of Atkins and was usually a good judge of character. But look how Jeremy had tricked them.

  “His name would be at the top of any list,” Dana added. “But there could be others in this race. Players we don’t even know of. It might not be about the glue at all. I don’t think the police can narrow it down to just that one issue so quickly.”

  “Of course not . . . but . . .” Maggie sighed and didn’t bother to finish her sentence. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

  Dana’s phone buzzed and she checked the screen. “A text from Suzanne. She’s with a client and can’t get away right now. Guess I’ll have to fill her in later.”

  “You’d better. Or we’ll all regret it,” Phoebe warned her.

  “I hear you,” Dana agreed.

  “I should call Nora,” Maggie said quietly. “The poor woman. She’s been through so much the last few months. What could possibly be next?”

  Maggie found the shop phone and dialed Nora’s number. Lucy could tell the message machine had answered. “Hello, Nora. It’s Maggie. We just heard about . . . Jeremy. Give me a call if you like, anytime.”

  Maggie ended the call and looked back at her friends.

  “She’s probably with Rebecca . . . somewhere.” Maggie’s voice trailed off.

  At the police station? With the Lassiters, planning another funeral? Lucy’s head spun with possibilities.

  The shop door opened and they all turned to see who was coming in. Lucy expected their missing buddy, Suzanne. But it was no one she recognized.

  Maggie did, though, and waved to the two women. “Be right with you. We’ll sit up front today,” she added. “I’ll bring some tea.”

  “Time for a class. I almost forgot.” She glanced at her watch. “They’re a little early but I’d better hop to it.”

  Dana and Lucy also decided to go and walked out together.

  They stopped for a moment on the sidewalk in front of Maggie’s shop before parting.

  “I still can’t believe it,” Lucy said, holding on to Tink’s collar. “It’s so amazing. And confusing. I guess when Maggie talks to Nora, she’ll find out more.”

  “I’m sure she will.” Dana tied the belt on her coat and flipped up the collar. Lucy felt chilled, too. The sinking sun had brought colder weather. Or maybe it was just the strange news. “I just hope Rebecca isn’t pulled into this investigation. I’m not sure, but helping someone pretend that they’re dead is probably against the law.”

&n
bsp; “I never thought of that. I guess she could get in trouble if she knew he was alive.”

  “It could be even worse than that. The spouse is the first person the police look at as a suspect,” Dana reminded her.

  “Rebecca is such a sweet person. How could anyone ever suspect her?”

  Dana didn’t answer. She did have a point. Lucy knew that much about murder investigations. Detectives look at the spouse first and, more often than not, are looking in the right direction.

  “I’m glad Maggie called Nora,” Dana said finally. “I have a feeling the Baileys need our friendship even more.”

  Lucy had to agree. Nora and Rebecca needed all the friends they had right now.

  Chapter Seven

  The explosion and fire at At-Las Technologies three weeks ago had been big news around town. A terrible tragedy for the family and the young bride was the common consensus.

  But now that Jeremy Lassiter had been found dead again, people could talk of little else. Everywhere Lucy went—the dry cleaner, the Schooner, even at the library—she overheard speculation about the young scientist’s motives for such a desperate act and gossip about the Lassiter family.

  Which is all it really was, she kept reminding herself—speculation and gossip. The local newspaper hadn’t reported any hard evidence or explanation for the bizarre events, though there were three articles and a sidebar about the story in Thursday’s edition.

  Lucy hoped that Dana, or even Maggie, would have more to report at their knitting meeting that night. It was Suzanne’s turn to host, but the location was switched to the shop at the last minute. The ceiling in Suzanne’s kitchen had fallen down and Kevin was already working on it.

  “It didn’t fall down completely,” Suzanne explained when she called Lucy’s cell phone to head her off. “I mean, not on my head or anything like that. Just a few chunks sort of plopped into the chili I was making for you guys. But Kevin pretty much has to pull the rest down.” She explained how her teenage daughter Natalie had taken one of her three-hour showers and didn’t turn off the shower faucet tightly, allowing gallons of water to leak.