by Eryn Scott
Suze’s eyes lit up. “Oh, and he also showed me the silver BMW his buddy’s loaning him since his old car was repossessed to pay for his fines.”
“I don’t know.” Paul’s forehead creased. “Big strong guys, if that’s what we’re calling Robert now, don’t usually overmedicate people as a means of murder. If it was an emotional crime, revenge, and he’s so strong now—which, by the way, I still don’t know if I believe—it would make much more sense for the guy to strangle Edith or stab her.”
Paul’s words hung heavy in the air of the kitchen, uncomfortable in their intensity.
Suze blinked, recovering quickly. “Because he needed to make it appear that she died naturally.”
“But he had to know the autopsy would show foul play, right?” Hadley asked. “Robert is too smart to overlook that.”
“The guy was stealing from old people and went to prison. Smart isn’t exactly how I’d describe him,” Paul added.
“And did he have an alibi?” Hadley set down the last quarter of her sandwich. All of this talk of killing and prison was making her lose her appetite.
The same was not true for Suze, who took another big bite, chewed, and then swallowed it before answering. “He was at home, he says, and Hazel was at work, so she couldn’t confirm or deny the fact.”
“So he could’ve easily been anywhere.” Paul leaned forward.
Suze touched her pointer finger to her nose.
Hadley pulled in a deep breath. “It sounds like your horse is pulling into the lead.”
“What about yours?” Suze turned to Paul.
He shook his head. “Threw a shoe on the back nine.”
Suze snorted. “Back nine? Well of course he lost the race if he was playing golf. You’re terrible at track talk.”
“And you’re suddenly an expert?” Paul asked.
“I’ve bet on the ponies once or twice.”
Hadley pursed her lips together to hide a smile as Paul scoffed.
“Dirk said he took a long lunch break and went home. I haven’t talked with Cathy yet, but his secretary says he goes home for lunch a lot, so …” Paul shrugged.
“Oh, that’s not a thrown shoe. That’s just a tight muscle. Cathy might very well be in on this whole affair,” Suze said.
The James twins glanced at her skeptically. Cathy had been the PTA president for a good five years during her sons’ time at the local elementary school. She was the kind of mom who had freshly baked cookies waiting for her kids when they got off the bus and made the best pie—aside from Mickie’s—when it came to the harvest pie walk.
Paul stared out the large front windows of the jam kitchen. Hadley followed his gaze and watched the people passing by. This whole situation was new to them. Having to suss out a killer in their small town was not something any of them had ever thought would be within their duties, even Paul. He’d gone into law enforcement to help, of course, but he’d expected to assist people with quarrels, help solve petty crimes, and rescue the odd cat out of a tree.
It simply felt wrong to think of their fellow townspeople like this. But ever since they’d found out Edith hadn’t died naturally, it had to be their reality.
Paul sighed. “I’d say stick with your horses. We’re not at the finish line yet. I think we need way more information on each of our marks. We don’t have enough to know who to put our money on.”
“Inspiring as it was, so much of what you just said was wrong,” Suze said with a groan.
“Ponies can be unpredictable,” Paul said. “I’d say any of them could pull ahead at this point.”
13
That evening found Hadley clutching a Pretty Jam Good tote bag full of yarn, confusing needles, and a load of apprehension.
And that was just surrounding her I’m gonna knit socks idea, not even the fact that she was going in to Main Street Skeins to find out whether or not Louise could’ve killed her boss.
Hadley swallowed the worst of her reservations as the building came into view to her right. Even though the closed sign hung in the front window, Hadley pulled open the front door and walked inside. She followed the sound of voices to the back room.
The knitting room was open to customers all throughout the week. Many of Edith’s regulars would come sit back there during the day to chat and work on their latest project. But on Thursday nights, the local knitting group commandeered the space.
As Hadley entered, she scanned the people gathered around the large oak table in the middle of the room, her gaze falling on a host of familiar faces.
“Oh good,” Louise said as she stood. “I was hoping you wouldn’t chicken out on us.” She hustled over to Hadley’s side as if she was afraid the young woman would bolt at any moment.
If she is, she’s more right than she knows, Hadley thought, pulling in a deep breath as Louise led her over to an open chair around the table. Perching on the edge of the seat, Hadley glanced up, pasting a smile on her nervous face.
“Hadley is working on her first pair of socks,” Louise explained as she returned to her seat and picked up her project once more.
Positive, encouraging murmurs swept around the table like the wave in a sports stadium. Hadley felt her shoulders settle a bit.
“They’re going to be for my mom.” She pulled out the variegated yarn, showing off the bright colors.
Nadine, a quiet, forty-something mother of four said, “What a lovely present. Your mother will love them.” She smiled warmly at Hadley.
“A very ambitious project.” Gretta, the sole elementary school bus driver in town, was known for being blunt and a little brusque, so Hadley wasn’t surprised by her statement.
Jennifer, a primary school teacher close to Hadley’s age and obviously used to keeping order and peace, jumped in. “Nothing you can’t handle, though, especially with Louise’s help.”
The group agreed. Seeing that they had all started on their projects, Hadley dug out the needles and set them on the table next to her first ball of yarn.
“Oh good, she’s got you using circulars.” Gretta raised her eyebrows, impressed. “Changed my knitting life.” She held up her own pair, the beginnings of something pink and lacy hanging from them. “I use them for everything now, not just when I’m knitting in the round.”
Nadine nodded. “Me too. They’re much more kid-proof too.”
“Well, I can use all the help I can get.” Hadley picked up her pair. “How do they work, exactly?”
The group laughed, and Louise came over to help her cast on.
Fifteen minutes—and three restarts—later, Hadley was finally getting the hang of the Magic Loop technique. She glanced up as Halverson Walters, the owner of Hal’s Food N Stuff walked into the room.
He set down a bag and settled into one of the remaining empty seats. “Sorry I’m late tonight, ladies.” His deep voice was leathery and dry, matching his weathered face. When he caught sight of Hadley, the wrinkles around his eyes deepened. “Why, I didn’t know you’d be joining us, missy.”
She grinned. Hadley loved Hal. Besides the fact that she’d been seeing him almost every day since her divorce for food and supplies, the man had been a fixture of her childhood as he lived next door to her parents. She and Paul had grown up hearing his booming voice in the mornings as he greeted his chickens and whistled to his many dogs as they galloped around his property. Hal’s wife had passed away when Hadley was ten, so the James family always made sure to invite the man to holiday celebrations and meals.
“Just getting some lessons,” Hadley said, in response to Hal.
He pulled out his own project, a gray, wool hat with a brown mountain pattern zigzagging around the circumference.
Cheesy as it sounded, Hal’s Food N Stuff was actually quite the eclectic store. One might even call it a boutique. Not only did he carry local meat, produce, and dairy, but he also had a huge assortment of gourmet and organic bulk items. He also sold some clothing and handmade items like his own knitted hats, scarves, and gloves.
And while his small store was a few miles outside of town, it was still a popular tourist destination for that reason. His stock was always changing, but it was bound to be interesting and delightful.
Despite being as tall and craggy-looking as the mountains surrounding Stoneybrook, Hal was one of the better knitters in town, having mastered the Fair Isle technique of intermixing colors and patterns. His wife had taught him before she died; they’d had long periods of time waiting together during her chemotherapy treatments, and she’d used the time to teach him everything she knew.
Hal still donated most of what he earned from his knitting sales to a cancer research fund in Julie’s name.
Now that Hadley didn’t need Louise hanging over her shoulder helping her with every stitch, the group fell into a relaxing rhythm. The sound of needles clicking away punctuated the scattered conversations about what was happening in each person’s life. Sometimes no one spoke for long minutes. The silence wasn’t awkward, however. Instead it flowed around the room like slow curling steam from a mug of tea until another conversation began.
At one point, when Hadley was beginning to feel like she was getting the hang of the concept of knitting in the round, she glanced down and realized she’d dropped a stitch a few rows back. Louise was busy answering a question Jennifer had asked and Hadley hated to interrupt. She bit back her initial reaction of mild panic, remembering that her mother had taught her how to pick up a dropped stitch. At least she could try to fix it on her own before asking for Louise’s help.
The task consumed all of Hadley’s focus, but she succeeded in remedying the problem and was back to knitting normally minutes later. Ready to celebrate with the others, Hadley turned her attention back to the knitters.
“I heard they got a hold of her only sister, but she couldn’t come out until the Friday after next, so they’ll wait to do the funeral that Saturday,” Gretta was saying.
Hadley held her breath, hoping she hadn’t missed anything too important. She needed to pay more attention to what they were saying and less attention to her knitting.
“Did you have any idea she would leave the place to you?” Jennifer asked Louise.
The older woman shook her head. “Not even an inkling. You all knew Edith; she was controlling, harsh, and pessimistic in the best of times.”
Hadley froze, swallowing back her celebration about her retrieved stitch. She’d been so focused on it that she’d missed the conversation switching to Edith. Remembering that this was in fact what she’d come here for, that the knitting was actually a ruse, she listened in.
“You wanted to buy it from her, right?” Jennifer asked.
“Yes, I’d asked her many times what she planned on doing with the shop when she was ready to retire or even if I could partner with her now. But each time I mentioned anything of the sort, she snapped at me and told me she wasn’t going anywhere for a long time.” Louise’s needles clicked away at what appeared to be a fluffy, periwinkle shawl.
The others commented that they’d heard Edith make similar claims. And while Hadley had to take a break from her project while she listened, everyone around the table just kept knitting while they talked, sometimes not even looking down at their needles at all. It might’ve boggled her mind if she’d let herself think about it, but Hadley had a job to do. She’d let Louise get away without getting an alibi from her once already, and wasn’t about to let it happen again.
Though, as Hadley waited for an opportunity to jump into the conversation, she realized she was feeling less and less convinced that Louise had anything to do with Edith’s death. She said herself that she hadn’t known Edith planned to leave the business to her. Without that, Louise’s motive was decidedly diluted.
Or was it just that Hadley was happy and comfortable around the group of knitters? Did Louise being so kind and helpful have something to do with the reason Hadley was feeling like she couldn’t have been involved?
Hadley checked her project, which was starting to resemble the toe of a sock. Maybe the fact that her opinion of Louise was changing was even more reason to figure out once and for all if she had an alibi, to prove she couldn’t have done this.
Sensing a lull in the conversation, Hadley said, “I just keep thinking about if I had been there for Edith, maybe she wouldn’t have passed away.” Hadley shook her head.
The others nodded then focused on their knitting.
“I mean, I was probably in town having lunch after making jam all morning. What if I had gone home to eat and stopped by to make sure she didn’t need anything? Do you guys ever think like that?” She glanced up at the group.
Jennifer smiled. “There wasn’t much I could’ve done. I had twenty kids hanging on me all morning and I had to make copies during my lunch, so I barely even had a chance to eat, let alone leave.”
“Yeah, I was taking the third graders up to Cascade Ridge for a field trip to the museum.” Gretta sighed.
“To be honest,” Hal said, “I liked Edith all right, but the woman didn’t have many friends, and she lived so far out of the way. She’s lucky you found her, Had, or I’m not sure anyone would’ve for a while.”
While the man had a point, it still made Hadley’s stomach churn with discomfort. She noticed Nadine and Louise still hadn’t said anything. And while Hadley was sure Nadine would’ve been taking care of her toddler and baby, it could’ve been Louise’s silver car parked out front of Edith’s place that day.
“What about you, Louise?” Hadley asked, hoping she wasn’t being too transparent with her question. “I know you and Edith had a difficult relationship, but …”
Louise’s gaze flicked down to her knitting and there was a slight break in the rhythmic cadence of her needles clicking against each other. “She was difficult.” Louise nodded. “But yes, I have wondered if I hadn’t been so busy here at the shop, if I would’ve gone by to check on her; would that have made any difference?”
Hadley concentrated on not letting her relief whoosh out of her in a big exhale. Louise had been here, working. She couldn’t have been parked at Edith’s place.
After getting Louise’s alibi, Hadley relaxed, focusing on her knitting and the people around her. By the time everyone began packing up a few hours later, the setting sun was painting the mountainous skyline with oranges and pinks in a way that felt, to Hadley, like a celebration.
The knitters waved goodbye, calling out “see you later” and “until next week!” Hadley wasn’t sure if she would come back for another meeting since she seemed to be getting the hang of the sock pattern, but she thanked everyone and told them she’d see them around. As she turned to walk back to the kitchen down the street where her bike was parked, Hadley sighed, pulling in a deep breath of the cool spring evening air.
Hadley yelped as she was suddenly yanked into the alley between the knitting shop and the town attorney’s office. Her heart raced until her wild gaze settled on Nadine’s face. She put a hand over her heart.
“Nadine! Oh my gosh, you almost gave me a heart atta—”
Nadine’s hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off her statement. “Shh,” the woman whispered, looking in every direction before backing them farther down the alley.
Hadley’s heart rate spiked again, worried at the quiet mother’s odd behavior. “What’s going on?” she asked when Nadine finally stopped and took her hand away from Hadley’s mouth.
Nadine’s blue eyes were wide as she stopped looking around and focused on Hadley. Her voice shook as she said, “Louise lied in there. I came into town to take the kids on a walk along the river, and I saw her leave in her car that day, right around lunchtime. She was driving toward Edith’s house.”
14
Hadley’s breath felt ragged as it left her. Nadine’s hands still gripped her arms and they tightened as she saw her words register.
“What? I—how do you know?” Hadley couldn’t create a coherent sentence, but Nadine seemed to understand what she was asking.
“It�
�s all over town that Edith didn’t die of natural causes. I figured that was what you were getting at by asking us all what we were doing.” Nadine glanced over her shoulder at a scraping sound but then turned back to face Hadley when it turned out to be nothing.
So much for Paul’s plan to ask as many questions as they could before word got out about Edith’s cause of death. Hadley suppressed a disappointed head shake.
“Which means Louise knows too.” Hadley slumped back, letting her body rest on the building behind her.
“And her lie proves you can’t believe anything she just told you.”
“Great.” Hadley let out a disappointed scoff and then added Louise’s name back to the suspect list in her mind.
“Sorry to spill all my secrets and run,” Nadine said with a furrow of her forehead. “But Nick’s got all the kiddos, and I want to get home for bedtime. If either of us tries to go it alone, we end up falling asleep in one of the kids’ bedrooms from the fatigue of four bath times, four pajama wrestling matches, and four stories.”
Hadley waved a hand to show Nadine she understood. Still too shocked to speak, she watched as Nadine retreated to her minivan. Hadley didn’t feel like she even blinked until she could no longer see the taillights of the van in the distance. Then she exited the alley, back to Main Street, and the safety of her kitchen.
While she walked, she pulled out her phone and texted Paul and Suze in a group message.
And with a sudden turn of events, Hadley’s horse pulls way ahead.
Mere seconds after she sent the message, Suze texted back.
Aww. Is it weird that I feel disappointed my horse/suspect might not win?
Yes, Hadley wrote back, but at the same time as she hit send, a text from Paul came through.
Don’t count your chickens till they hatch, Had. My horse just made a pitstop and is raring to go.
Suze texted back, Dude, come on … now you’re mixing metaphors on purpose!
