Till Death Do Us Purl

by Anne Canadeo

  “Well, here I am, Detective.” Maggie shrugged. “Doesn’t the girl have a right to call her attorney? What is this about anyway?”

  “It’s about the night Jeremy Lassiter was murdered. Mrs. Lassiter has told us several times that she visited her husband at his motel room once, in the late afternoon. Almost twelve hours before the crime was committed. We’ve just found some video from a security camera at the convenience store next to the motel that shows Mrs. Lassiter in her car much later that night.”

  Maggie felt as if she’d had the wind knocked out of her. “Are you sure it was her car? Are you positive?”

  “The model and plates are a match. Mrs. Lassiter can be seen pretty clearly through the windshield, too.”

  Rebecca’s eyes had filled with tears and she covered her face with her hands. Her book bag fell to the ground, the stack of papers covered with large, childish handwriting spilled out, the sheets flying off across the parking lot.

  Rebecca quietly sobbed and Maggie put her arm around the young woman’s shoulder.

  “Detective . . . please. There must be some mistake. Some explanation . . .” She saw a flicker of sympathy in Detective Reyes’s dark eyes, but Maggie could see she had come to do her job and was not going to be swayed. “Well, what if she was sitting there? It doesn’t mean anything,” Maggie insisted.

  The officer with Detective Reyes moved forward a step, preparing to take Rebecca’s arm and lead her away, Maggie thought. Detective Reyes froze him with a look.

  “Rebecca, you really need to come with us now. It will be much easier if you cooperate,” Detective Reyes said quietly.

  Rebecca calmed herself and nodded.

  “All right. I guess I have no choice.”

  She slipped from Maggie’s hold and walk toward Detective Reyes and her partner. Then turned and looked over her shoulder. “Please call my mom. She’ll know what to do.”

  Maggie nodded and bit her lower lip. She dreaded calling Nora with this news.

  Poor Nora. Poor Rebecca.

  It was going to be a long night for all of them.

  Chapter Eleven

  By the time she closed the shop on Thursday, Maggie was exhausted. She’d stayed close to Nora the night before, well past midnight, while Rebecca was held for several hours and then questioned for several more.

  Finally, Rebecca’s attorney reported that the police had decided not to charge her. A monumental relief. But Rebecca was still a “person of interest” in the case, Detective Reyes reminded her. Perhaps even more so now.

  After working all day on little sleep, Maggie just felt like going home, grabbing a quick bite, and falling into bed. Maybe dozing off while watching the news first. She didn’t even factor in knitting, which was rare.

  But it was Thursday and her friends were gathering at Suzanne’s house for their weekly meeting. Beyond sending a short e-mail, Maggie hadn’t found a spare minute all day to update anyone on Rebecca’s night in custody. So she felt obliged to join them, even if just for a little while.

  Maggie loved the Cavanaughs’ big, old rambling colonial. Suzanne had found it and convinced her husband to buy the place before it had even hit the market. It had plenty of space for their big family and “great potential,” a classic promise of real estate blurbs.

  Suzanne and her husband, Kevin—who had made some money years ago fixing and flipping houses—had not been daunted at all by the state of disrepair. Kevin owned and ran a construction company and renovated houses for a living.

  Now, years later, they were almost ready to admit that the house might be finished in time for their retirement years. The classic story of the shoemaker’s children going barefoot, Suzanne liked to say. Kevin never had time to work on their own house and never wanted to hire anybody to do the work he could do for free.

  But ongoing construction did not hamper Suzanne’s hostessing style in the least. She still managed to cook and entertain with great flair and creativity, even if she had to don a hard hat along with her apron.

  Tonight there were no acute emergencies. Just the usual ladders and paint cans in a hallway, and a wall ripped open, Maggie noticed as she walked in.

  “Hi, Mag . . . we’re back here!” Suzanne called out. She soon appeared in the wide entrance to the great room at the back of the house, the first and most complete addition.

  “Wow, you look beat. Late night with Rebecca and Nora, huh?”

  “It was long and difficult,” Maggie said honestly. “But Phoebe had a big exam today so I had to stay in the store.”

  “Come sit down.” Dana patted a couch cushion. “We’ll take care of you. Suzanne, get her a glass of wine.”

  “Just some tea, please,” Maggie said. “Wine might make me nod off right here.”

  “Not before you tell us what happened with Rebecca. I’ve been dying to hear about it all day.” Suzanne walked into the kitchen, which was separated from the family room area by a big island. Maggie watched her put a kettle on. “Before we get into Rebecca, I wanted you all to know I didn’t make a huge dinner. Just a lot of small plates. We’re doing tapas night, okay?”

  “Sounds perfect to me.” Maggie was so tired, she really wasn’t in the mood for a heavy meal.

  “Your small plates are always better than everyone else’s big plates anyway,” Lucy said.

  That was certainly true. Suzanne could whip up an impressive meal, from pesto to paella, with ease. Including a table setting and cocktails to match.

  “Well, we’ll see. There are a few surprises . . . You go ahead, Maggie. I’m listening,” Suzanne said, bending low to grab some dishes out of the refrigerator. “Did Rebecca really go back to the motel that night? I didn’t understand from your e-mail.”

  Maggie had already told her friends how she’d been standing in the school parking lot when the detectives approached and asked Rebecca to go to the station with them. And why they’d taken her.

  “Rebecca did drive back to that area. There’s no question about that. But she says she never went to the motel. She says she sat in the car in the convenience store parking lot for a while. Maybe half an hour? Then drove away.”

  “Is that what the video shows?” Dana asked.

  “It shows the car driving off. The problem is that there are no cameras in the motel lot,” Maggie reminded her friends. “So the police only have the eyewitness accounts of the night clerk. And the lot isn’t very well lit, either. He says that an hour or so after Rebecca was in the convenience store lot, he saw a woman fitting Rebecca’s description leaving Jeremy’s room.”

  “Did he see what kind of car the woman got into?” Dana asked.

  Maggie shook her head. “He didn’t notice. Unfortunately for Rebecca. For all we know, he could be entirely mistaken and this mystery woman was coming out of another room.”

  “But I’m sure the other guests, in the rooms near Jeremy, were contacted and interviewed by now,” Dana said astutely.

  “Yes . . . they were. They all deny they had any visitors in the middle of the night. But people will lie about things like that. For all kinds of reasons. They don’t understand a young woman’s life is at stake. Or really care.”

  Maggie knew she sounded upset. But she was. She couldn’t help it. She was convinced that Rebecca was innocent and could have never harmed a hair on Jeremy’s brainy little head.

  “That does sound bad,” Lucy agreed. “I guess the police can make a case that Rebecca parked somewhere nearby and walked to the motel?”

  “Something like that,” Maggie agreed.

  “But why did she go all the way back, in the middle of the night, and not go over to the motel?”

  Suzanne had returned and began to deliver her platters of tapas, which all looked delicious and smelled divine. Maybe I’m hungrier than I realized, Maggie thought, eyeing the ramekin of plump shrimp covered with green sauce, another filled with grilled chorizo, and one with slices of vegetable frittata.

  “She wanted to talk Jeremy out of the idea o
f running away. She had some time to think after the initial shock of finding out he was alive,” Maggie said. “At first, she’d agreed to all his instructions, caught up in the moment and happy to do anything for him. But once she really thought about it, she wondered if there was some other way.”

  She speared a shrimp with her fork and swirled it in the green sauce. The subtle scent of garlic was totally tantalizing as she lifted it to her lips. She paused in her conversation to savor it, then continued.

  “I think once Rebecca thought about it, she didn’t want to take part in Jeremy’s escape plan. Why did they have to lie to everyone? Hurt so many people they loved by running off to some foreign country, living in hiding, with little or no chance of ever returning here? Leaving all her friends and family and the work she loved? Rebecca was just not that type of person. It didn’t sit well with her. She didn’t even want to get married by a justice of the peace, remember? It was so radically different from everything she’d imagined her life with him would be.”

  “I can see that,” Dana nodded. She was a vegetarian and went straight for the marinated artichoke hearts and the vegetable frittata. “Jeremy’s plans were all very much against the grain of Rebecca’s character.”

  Maggie decided to try the chorizo next, though she rarely ate cured meats. It looked too good to pass up and she was too tired to deny herself. She slipped a few bites on her dish and added a slice of crusty French bread on the side.

  “Yes, they did go against the grain of her character,” she replied to Dana. “Defrauding the insurance company felt very wrong to her, too. No less keeping the secret that he’d survived the lab fire. Dana was right. Faking your own death is a crime, as well,” Maggie added.

  “Do you think she went over to the motel and had that conversation with him, and left him totally alive,” Lucy said, “then someone else came by soon after and killed him?”

  “That would explain the desk clerk seeing her there—I mean, seeing some woman leave his room,” Suzanne said, quickly correcting herself.

  Suzanne set down a few more dishes. The ingredients were getting more exotic, Maggie noticed. A bowl of mussels in what appeared to be a zesty vinaigrette and a platter of puffy, toasty-looking croquettes. She wasn’t sure what they were made of, but at this point, it hardly mattered. Everything was so delicious.

  “The police asked her that. About a thousand times, I’ll bet.” Maggie knew how it was to be interrogated. She hated to remember. She took a sip of tea as if to wash away the memory. “They were trying to make her admit she was in his room during the time frame of his death, I’m sure. But she stuck to her story and insisted that she never went back to the motel. She says that at the last minute, she chickened out. Jeremy had made her swear she wouldn’t come back. He said it was too dangerous. He didn’t want to risk being found, that his life depended on it. Rebecca says that she didn’t want to put him in any danger. Or even upset him. She decided she’d call him from school the next day. But of course, by then, he was dead.”

  “Wait . . . are there any security cameras at her apartment complex? Maybe there’s some video of her car coming back, before the time frame of the murder . . . or so close it would have to shed reasonable doubt,” Dana added.

  Maggie knew Dana was trying to be helpful. And it was a very good point. But she shuddered at the reference to a jury and the terminology. Was Rebecca that close to being arrested?

  “Yes, well . . . the problem is that Rebecca didn’t go straight back to her apartment. She says she drove around for a while, thinking. Feeling very upset and confused. She wanted to wake Nora up and tell her everything. But she finally decided not to do that, either. It seemed too disloyal to Jeremy. There are security cameras at her apartment complex,” Maggie added, finally answering Dana’s question. “But by the time Rebecca got back, the police say she could have . . . Well, let’s just say the timing doesn’t give her an alibi.”

  “Oh, dear. That makes it even worse, doesn’t it?” Suzanne shook her head and forked up a bite of artichoke. “Sounds like she’s lucky the police let her go.”

  “Her attorney convinced them that sitting in a car in a 7-Eleven parking lot is not a crime. Even though there’s a sign that says no loitering.” Maggie sighed, and helped herself to more of the tasty offerings. She hadn’t tried the grilled asparagus spears yet, she realize, nor the sautéed circles of squid. Or was it octopus?

  “Suzanne, you’ve really outdone yourself. This is delicious,” Maggie said sincerely.

  “It is indeed. A real feast,” Dana agreed between bites of asparagus. “A big part of the problem is that Rebecca lied in her interviews,” she said. “The police were already looking at her and this may have convinced them she’s the one. It’s certainly strengthened their case.”

  “Why did she lie about it? Did she ever say?” Lucy leaned over to help herself to another bite of the chicken-potato croquette.

  “Rebecca said she was afraid to tell them. She knew Jeremy had been killed around the same time and didn’t want them to suspect her. She didn’t get out of the car and didn’t think anyone saw her there. So she didn’t think anyone would ever find out she’d gone back.”

  “The real problem is that now the police may stop looking into any other leads and just hone in on her, trying to get more evidence to make a case.” Dana knew how these investigations went. But this time, Maggie wished Dana didn’t sound half so sure and knowledgeable.

  “And make charges stick in court, you mean?” Suzanne said.

  “Yes, I guess that’s what they’re working toward. And the only reason why they let her go,” Dana added. “The police need to make a strong case that will hold up in court. So they’ll focus on her until they get one. Right now, it’s all circumstantial and there’s only one questionable eyewitness, the night clerk who saw a woman from a considerable distance, in very poor lighting. A good attorney could very easily make hash out of that in a courtroom.”

  Maggie realized that, too. “Yes, but if they keep digging and digging . . . Oh, I know she’s innocent. I’m sure of it. But I’m worried now. I really am,” she admitted.

  Dana reached out and put her hand on Maggie’s shoulder, but didn’t say anything more. Maggie noticed her other friends exchanging concerned glances.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so emotional. I am very tired.” She suddenly felt as if she might cry and knew that wouldn’t help anything. “I’m just afraid that Dana is right. If the detectives close in on Rebecca, they may never find the real person who did this.”

  They were all quiet for a moment and Maggie was afraid that they agreed with her. And felt equally as exhausted . . . and hopeless.

  “I think Rebecca is innocent. If the police have stopped looking, we have to keep at it and figure out who really did it. Or at least figure out some angle that gets Rebecca off the hook,” Lucy said quietly.

  “Lucy’s right. There are a lot of loose ends here. What about the break-in at Rebecca’s apartment? Do the police think she did that, too? It’s just ridiculous.” Suzanne shook her head in frustration and finally pulled out her knitting.

  The tapas dishes had been so interesting and delicious, and the conversation so intense, no one had made much progress with her knitting tonight, Maggie noticed. But they were all slowly getting to it.

  “I know I keep saying this. But all roads lead back to that glue formula.” Lucy picked up her knitting, too. She’d gone back to the shrug she was knitting for herself in a pale shade of turquoise.

  “I agree. The secret formula is the glue that holds these folks together,” Suzanne laughed, paraphrasing the fortune cookie motto.

  “That reminds me, I think we should consider Jeremy’s family again,” Lucy suggested. “I’m not saying any of them killed him. But I think they could shed some light.”

  “Funny you should say that, Lucy.” Dana sat up and started searching her knitting tote. “I was looking through some old e-mails this afternoon and came across t
his invitation . . .” She pulled out a sheet of paper. “It’s a hospital event. I get invited to a lot of them. I hardly ever go.”

  In addition to her private practice, Dana worked a few hours a week at the local hospital, Harbor General, and had patient privileges there.

  “This one did catch my eye,” she continued. “The board is honoring a favorite donor. Look who it is . . .”

  The sheet came to Maggie first. She peered down at it through her reading glasses. “Patricia Moore. Jeremy’s mother. She’s being honored for her leadership in helping to bring quality health care to the area and her charitable contributions?”

  “That’s right. When I called up about it, the woman in the fund-raising office said that Ms. Moore had canceled the appearance due to the family tragedy. Then recently reconsidered, so it’s back on. She wants to dedicate a large gift in honor of Jeremy, to build a center for treating pediatric cancer. She’s going to announce it at the event.”

  “That means the rest of the family should be there. Claudia and Alec,” Lucy said. “We haven’t spoken to either of them yet.”

  “Don’t you think Rebecca is invited?” Lucy asked. “I mean, she is Jeremy’s widow.”

  “Nora said Patricia always liked Rebecca and was happy when they got engaged,” Maggie reported. “And Patricia and her children have stuck by Rebecca so far in all this. But maybe this last incident has given them doubts.”

  “That would be . . . unfortunate,” Dana said. She didn’t elaborate.

  “You mean, if it ever goes to court, it would be to Rebecca’s advantage if Jeremy’s family was on her side,” Maggie filled in for her.

  “Well . . . yes. That is true,” Dana admitted. “I’m not sure if attending this event will really help us. But why not?” She shrugged. “We might learn something. If only what Patricia and Jeremy’s siblings think about Rebecca right now.”