"Flatterer," I said. "Does he have an alibi like everyone else?"
He grimaced. "Hard to tell."
I pushed aside the ribbons I'd been sorting. "Meaning?"
"He told us he was at home. But then he changed his story and said he'd seen Ariel on the night of her murder." He paused for effect. "He met her at CRAG"
I sank onto the stool next to him. "Ohmygod. He was there?"
"He insists she was alive when he left"
Something wasn't quite right, but I couldn't put my finger on it. "Did he admit to doing anything to my brakes?" I asked.
Barr shook his head. "Robin asked him point blank. He seemed confused by the question, but then again, he could be a good actor."
"Yesterday Zak told me he'd been seeing Ariel, but she broke up with him. That he didn't mind because he likes Daphne Sparks, her roommate."
"He told us the same thing. Only he admitted Ariel broke up with him that night. The night she was killed."
"Oh, wow. Really?" I frowned, trying to take it all in. "You did say strangulation is a crime of passion. And he could have killed his rival, too. He had the perfect access to Scott's patrol car."
"It's a pretty tidy package," Barr said. "But listen to this: Irene Nelson came in when we were talking to Zak and threw an absolute fit about him answering our questions. Then she told us Zak had been home with her during the timeframe of the murder. She said he'd been at CRAG, but that he'd gotten home before eight o'clock."
Shaking my head, I said, "But Irene is Chris' alibi. She can't be both, not unless Zak was with her at Chris' house." I scooped up my neatly arranged packaging materials and took them into my storeroom.
Barr followed on my heels. "When I pointed that out, she said she was lying about being at Chris' house"
"Was she?" I asked. "Or is she lying now to protect her son?"
"Your guess is as good as mine."
We clomped up the stairs to the kitchen. "My guess is that she's trying to protect Zak. After all, Ruth confirmed the group alibi at Chris' It's too bad. I like the kid, even if he does look like a walking magnet."
The screen door slammed, and a few moments later Meghan and Erin came into the kitchen.
"Hey, just in time," I said. "The rice'll be done in a jiffy, and the chicken and veggies are ready to hit the wok."
Erin looked horrified. "You're cooking chicken?"
"Uh, well, yeah. I thought you loved stir fry."
"Not chicken. God, Sophie Mae." She was still shaking her head in disbelief as she went out to the backyard to gather eggs.
I turned to my housemate. "What was that all about?"
"She won't eat chicken anymore. Don't tell me that surprises you." Meghan's tone was wry.
"Ah. Got it. The girls have made her a convert. She's a vegetarian now." I scrambled for recipes in my head that might pass muster with the newly militant member of the household.
"Oh, she's not a vegetarian." Meghan grinned. "She just won't eat chicken."
"I'm not sure whether I'm relieved or disappointed."
"Well, I'm glad you're not going to foist a bunch of rabbit food on me," Barr said.
Meghan laughed. "There's tofu in the fridge for her stir-fry. And I hope she likes it, because she's eating it."
TWENTY-NINE
ERIN ATE HER TOFU and claimed to love it. After dinner, Barr left to catch up on paperwork at the police station. While we did the dishes, I told Meghan what Barr had told me about Zak.
"I don't think he did it." She reached for the wok and began to rub oil onto the steel interior.
"Really?" I asked. "Tell me why."
"He's a nice kid."
I snorted. "That's what people always say about murderers." Playing the devil's advocate, though I felt the same way she did.
She placed the wok on a stove burner over a low flame to heat briefly, seasoning the metal. "He didn't try to hide where he was, or at least not very hard. It sounds like his mother is more worried about the police thinking he did it than he is."
"Which means his own mother thinks he killed that girl, and you don't."
"I'm not Irene Nelson." She pressed her lips together. "She can be a little..."
"Granted. Okay, then who did it?"
"You'd know better than I would. After all, you're the investigator."
"I am not! I'm just doing a little ... extracurricular..."
"Snooping," she offered.
I raised my palms. "Fine. Have it your way."
The corners of her mouth turned up. "Better be careful, Reynolds. This is when things tend to get out of hand. But I'm going to bed."
"Goodnight," I said, a little sarcastic bite in my tone. Only a few hours earlier hadn't she said it wasn't my responsibility? "Don't forget to take the phone with you"
She grinned. "Remember when you and Barr talked on the phone every night?"
I had to nod. She was right. At least I got to see Barr; she and Kelly only saw each other every six weeks or so.
"'Night," she said. "Oh, and tomorrow is the last day of Erin's math camp. It's a half day, and then we have to go pick Tootie and Felix up at the airport."
Tootie Hanover, part of the cruise set. Would wonders never cease?
"Noted. We can coordinate in the morning," I said.
Erin was already in bed, and with Meghan off to the land of nod, it was just Brodie and me. After everything that had happened that day, I should have been exhausted, but I felt like I was wired for sound.
Spinning had helped to relax me the other night. Might as well try it again.
After arranging the wheel, I oiled the moving parts, and attached the bands. Soon I was working my way through a length of off-white sheep's wool. It would be a while before I'd be spinning any more of Thea Hawke's light-as-thistle-down bamboo. The very thought of it left a sour taste in my mouth, after my bad behavior toward Gabi Kaminski. Tonight I even avoided the raw alpaca I'd given in and bought at the co-op. It seemed a good idea to go back to doing something I knew at least a little about.
But the act of spinning was just as soothing as ever. The Zen of it overtook me: the enthralling rhythm of the foot treadle combined with the soft whir of the fly wheel. The wool fairly flew out of my fingers, twisting into a uniform yarn and wrapping neatly onto the spool. It looked good. Really good. Way better than the stuff that had been used to strangle Ariel.
Ruth would be proud of me when I showed her.
The next morning I walked to the little house Ruth and Thaddeus Black shared and found their mint-green Buick gone from the carport. I knocked anyway. Rustling sounded from inside, and finally the interior door swung open. Thaddeus peered out.
Recognition dawned. He pushed the screen door open. "Sophie Mae! Come in, come in. Glad you dropped by. I'm not getting out as much as I used to, and it's nice to have a visitor"
"Hello, Thaddeus. Is Ruth around? I wanted to show her some yarn I spun last night."
"Nope. Went to the store. That woman shops for groceries every day. I just don't understand it." His cane thumped in exclamation.
"Oh" I couldn't keep the disappointment from my voice.
"She'll be right back, though. Never takes her long. You come on in and wait." He waved me in. The house smelled of fake lavender air freshener. I made a note to bring them some Winding Road gel fresheners, made with essential oils. Some nice soap, too, and bath salts. It was the least I could do to pay Ruth back for letting me borrow her wheel and teaching me so much.
Thaddeus trailed behind me into the living room. "I heard what happened to that little truck of yours. You're a lucky girl."
"Don't I know it."
He nodded. "Sit down for a minute."
I sat. No good trying to get out of a little socializing, and besides, I liked Thaddeus Black.
"Can I get you anything? Coffee, maybe?" he asked, the gra
cious host.
"I'm fine."
He settled into his own chair and smiled broadly.
I smiled in return. "How's Ruth holding up, with all the trauma and drama over at CRAC?"
"You mean that little girl getting herself killed?" He waved his hand dismissively. "Ruth and I go to a couple of funerals a month."
"This was a little different, wouldn't you say?"
"Well, sure. All I'm saying is that Ruth isn't exactly a wilting vine when it comes to the difficulties in life. She's gentle as a lamb, but tough as nails, too."
"I'm glad she was able to provide an alibi for Chris Popper," I said. "It saved Chris a lot of grief."
"Well now, I didn't realize she had. That was good of Ruth."
Good of her? "But she was over at Chris' house that night."
He nodded. "I remember. Some kind of meeting she had to go to.
"It was a meeting? I thought everyone was over there because it was the night before Scott's funeral."
"Huh. Well, I thought Ruth said it was a meeting about something going on at the co-op. Maybe I got that wrong. And who knows why she hightailed it out of here later."
I blinked. "I'm talking about the night of the twenty-second. The night Ariel Skylark was killed."
"I know which night you're talking about." He spoke carefully, like maybe I was a little slow. "Ruth went to her meeting at Chris, then she came home, and then she got that phone call and had to leave again. I was surprised, because it was almost nine o'clock, and she doesn't usually like to take the car out that late."
"Now, Thaddeus, I don't want you to think I'm questioning your recollection, but what time did Ruth come home from Chris' that night?"
"Oh, couple minutes after eight, I'd say. I'd just started watching a show on the history channel. You ever watch that channel? A lot of interesting things you can learn from it." He chuckled. "Even if you're an old fart like me. 'Course some of what they call, 'history' I call, `childhood"'
But I barely heard him, my brain was so busy trying to assimilate this new information. Ruth had lied, actually lied-to the police, to me, to everyone-about being at Chris Popper's during the time Ariel was killed.
Jake Beagle said he'd left before eight. That gave Felicia an alibi for the time of the murder, and providing her with an alibi meant he had one, too.
Irene said she was at Chris' until Zak got in trouble, and then she said she was at home, with him. Which gave him an alibi, but took away part of Chris' alibi. And now I'd just found out that Ruth couldn't give Chris an alibi, either.
The way I saw it, everyone supposedly had someone else who could account for them during the time Ariel was murdered-but no one really did.
"Sophie Mae?" Thaddeus leaned toward me with concern on his face.
"And you don't know why Ruth left the second time that night?" Tone it down, Sophie Mae. Way too eager.
Too late. Wariness settled across his face. He said, "I think maybe I've said enough. Maybe I do have the night wrong. After all, Ruth already told the police everything she knows."
Keeping my tone mild, I said. "I'm sure she was very helpful. Did the police talk to you?"
He shook his head. "Why would they? I didn't have anything to do with that whole business." Using his cane as leverage, he stood.
I stood, too, understanding that my welcome was over. "I have a few errands I need to run, Thaddeus. I enjoyed our chat. I'll drop by another time to show Ruth my yarn. Will you tell her thank you for me, for letting me borrow the wheel?"
"I sure will." His voice was hearty, smoothing over any misunderstanding we might have had. The sound of an engine wafted in through the open front door. Thaddeus pointed. "In fact, there she is. You can tell her yourself."
I kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks"
He smiled, at ease again.
Outside, I hurried around to the carport. "Let me get that," I said and lifted the grocery sack from the back seat before Ruth could protest.
"Why, thank you, dear."
"Glad to help. I just came by to thank you again for letting me borrow your wheel, and I wanted to show you some of the yarn I spun.
"I'm always happy when someone converts." She made spinning sound like a cult of some kind. Heck, maybe she was right.
I set the bag on the hood of the car. "Um, Ruth?"
She had already started for the back door that led into the kitchen. Now she stopped and turned. Watched and waited.
"The night Ariel was killed? Where did you go when you left here the second time? After you got back from Chris'?"
For a few moments she considered me. Then she nodded and said, "Let me put these groceries away, and then we'll go downtown and get a cup of coffee."
"But-"
She turned and went inside.
Picking up the bag again, I followed her into the kitchen.
THIRTY
"I DIDN'T WANT TO talk about this in front of Thad," Ruth said.
She sipped her iced latte and gazed at the Cadyville River. We were sitting on a park bench beside the river after stopping in at Beans R Us to get drinks. The afternoon sun was warm on our faces, and the sound of moving water had the usual soporific effect. I'd been patient, waiting until she was ready to tell me what had happened that night.
Now I prompted, "You, Chris, Irene, and Jake met to discuss something to do with CRAC."
Her eyes slewed my way, gauging what I already knew. Looking back at the sunlight sparkling on water, she nodded. "Yes" Another sip of latte.
Carefully erasing judgment from my voice, I asked, "You had a meeting about the co-op the night before Scott's funeral?"
"Yes."
"Must have been something pretty important."
"There was a problem that needed to be solved. We discussed it and decided what to do."
"You're being very vague." Frustration leaked out of my voice. I didn't like the way this conversation was going, didn't like it at all. Dread settled into my gut.
I hesitated, then pushed forward. "What else happened that night? After the meeting."
A long silence, and then a bracing breath. "Jake left first. A few minutes later I left."
Why, oh why, had Ruth provided a false alibi for Chris? With great effort I kept my mouth shut and let her continue.
"I went home," she said.
"And then you left again."
Slowly she nodded. But she didn't speak.
"Why, Ruth?"
Turning to look at me, she said, "Because Chris needed me. She insisted she wanted to be alone, but shortly after I got home, she called. Wanted me to come back. Irene had been getting ready to leave, but then Chris broke down, and she agreed to stay for awhile longer. So I drove back to Chris' house, and we spent two more hours with her, talking some, but mostly listening as she talked about Scott."
That wasn't so bad. I shook my head. "You lied about being with Chris all evening. I don't want that to come back on you. Why did you do it?"
"Right off the bat, that Detective Lane decided Chris had killed Ariel. I knew she hadn't. Irene knew she hadn't. Any gap in our story, and that detective would have arrested that poor woman for something she didn't do."
Relief breezed through me. "You have to tell the police the truth. Tell Barr if you don't want to talk to Detective Lane"
She stood and walked to the garbage can placed a few feet away from the bench. Tossed in her empty latte cup. Came back and stood beside me, looking down.
"We'll see."
"No! Ruth, this is murder. It's a small detail, you going home and coming back, and it probably doesn't affect a thing. But you need to tell them, anyway."
Resignation weighed her features, her shoulders, as she turned away. "I know, Sophie Mae. I know."
"Where are you going?"
"Home"
I stood.
"No," she said. "I
need to think."
Not knowing what else to do, I let her go.
Ruth's compassion for Chris was going to get her in trouble. But what had really happened wasn't that big of a deal.
Was it?
Meghan and I had picked up Erin from her last session of math camp-a half-day of awards and cupcakes-and gone down to the airport to pick up Tootie Hanover and her new, ninety-eight-yearold beau, Felix. They'd flown in from Florida after their cruise to the Virgin Islands. They'd looked tan and ridiculously happy, but were understandably exhausted. So we'd taken them directly to Ca- ladia Acres, the nursing home where she and Felix both lived. Tired or not, they were both more energetic and spry than they'd been before they'd started ... dating?
Now it was late afternoon, and I sat at the retail counter at CRAG gazing out the open door to where Meghan's Volvo sat in the parking lot. She'd been booked with massages all afternoon, so I'd borrowed it. Ariel's painting leaned against the wall by the door where Zak had left it. It was so big it hid half of a tropical-themed batik wall hanging.
Why hadn't Zak picked it up, after going to all the trouble of buying that egregious piece from Gabi in the first place? And it hadn't been cheap. Given his determination to have Ariel's creation and the state of Gabi's pocketbook, I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd paid even more than the exorbitant price her sister-in-law had originally asked.
Had he really killed Scott out of jealousy, and then Ariel when she tried to break up with him?
I thought about the look on Zak's face when he'd told me he'd attached a note to a painting, hoping he'd be allowed to buy it. Then later, what I'd seen as his straightforward honesty about his breakup with Ariel and affection for Daphne Sparks.
Maybe Robin and Barr were right. Maybe he did have both motive and opportunity for not only one, but two murders. But, like Meghan, I liked the kid. When he'd spoken of Ariel, there had been emotion on his face, certainly, but it hadn't struck me as either love or hate. Nothing even approaching such passion, good or bad.
I still thought Gabi had motive and opportunity. Did I want her to be guilty, just to prove myself right? Or was I gun shy about believing Zak was the murderer, after my failure to prove anything against Gabi?
Spin a Wicked Web: A Home Crafting Mystery Page 19
