Died in the Wool

by Mary Kruger

  “I assume Edith told her. She was admiring the sweater I had on yesterday—”

  “Which one?”

  “The teal Icelandic. Anyway, she said that Edith had a pattern for it.”

  “It doesn’t mean it was yours. Anyone can make Icelandics in bright colors, rather than neutrals.”

  “True, but she said—”

  “The thing is, I can’t see Mrs. Perry paying anything for patterns,” Kaitlyn went on. She was leaning on the counter as she talked, and her face had cleared. “You know, I think she was downloading free patterns from the Internet.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I saw her once in the library with some.” Kaitlyn looked down. “We argued about it.”

  “Why?” Ari asked, surprised.

  “You know how I feel about that. Anyway, it wasn’t much of an argument. My mom came along and that ended that.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything about it before?”

  “Think about it. Would you want to admit arguing with someone a few days before she was killed?”

  “No, I suppose not.”

  “But you know, Ari, it really frosts me.”

  “What?”

  “The idea of Mrs. Perry getting free patterns.”

  Ari frowned as remembrance flooded back. “Do you know, I was looking at some patterns on the Internet the other night?”

  “When?”

  “Just before I was hit.”

  “Really? But that couldn’t have had anything to do with it, could it?”

  “I don’t see how.”

  “Ari, did you search for your own designs the other night?”

  “Online, you mean? Yes, but all I kept finding was the Vogue Knitting pattern, ad nauseam. Oh, and genealogical stuff.”

  “Oh. Well, maybe you’re okay.”

  Ari peered at her again. “Kait, are you sure you feel all right?”

  “Yes. But, you know, it’s not fair,” she said, with more spirit. “I mean, suppose someday someone wants to have one of my patterns for nothing? We work at those things, Ari. Why should we give them away?”

  “We shouldn’t, of course. The problem is that a lot of people who knit make little variations on patterns, so they think that’s all we do. They don’t realize how much work we put in.” She smiled again. “Like your candy-striped hat.”

  “I still think that could work,” Kaitlyn said stubbornly. “Maybe as a Christmas novelty.”

  Ari bit back a smile. Someone might like it, though. Everyone’s taste was different. “Maybe.”

  “Hello,” a voice called from the door.

  “Laura,” Ari said in surprise, turning. “What are you doing here? I didn’t expect to see you today.”

  “I need a new project.” Laura gazed aimlessly around at the yarn bins.

  “Do you mean you didn’t find anything yesterday?” Ari’s tone was sardonic.

  “No, dear. Do you have anything for me to do?”

  “Not at the moment. Why don’t you look at the patterns on the rack and choose something from there?”

  “Maybe I will. By the by, how is your head today?”

  Ari reached up to touch her scalp. “It’s still sore, but I’ll survive.”

  “I hope it won’t keep you from your date tonight.”

  “Date?” Kaitlyn’s face brightened. “Ari, you’re dating someone?”

  Ari closed the cash drawer. “Josh Pierce,” she said, managing to appear calm. The truth was that she was feeling nervous about seeing Josh, though it wasn’t really a date. Of course not.

  “Oh, cool. He’s cute for an old guy.”

  “Old!”

  “Old for me, anyway. He’s got to be in his thirties.”

  “You’re making me feel ancient,” Ari complained, reminded again of just how young Kaitlyn was. “I’m almost thirty.”

  “Oh. I didn’t mean—”

  “Forget it. Anyway, it doesn’t mean anything. We’re really just friends.”

  Kaitlyn gave her a sidelong glance. “Yeah, right.”

  “Yeah, right,” Ari shot back, feeling unsettled. It was possible that her arrangement with Josh would develop into something more personal. Just now she had nothing to discuss with him about the murder, or her attacker. Unless something else happened, she never would. Not that she wanted anything to happen, she thought hastily. But if something didn’t break soon on this mystery, she’d go nuts.

  Ari closed early on Saturdays, when most people were busy with other things. All told, it had been a mixed week, she thought as she counted her receipts, starting off with people coming in for gossip and then buying; and then, except for yesterday, continuing with weather that was too nice for people to want to buy yarn. In other ways it was mixed, too, at home and at the shop, with Josh. She was getting increasingly nervous about their date tonight. She’d be glad when it was over.

  She was glum as she pulled the store door firmly shut behind her and headed for home. The shop wouldn’t be open again until Tuesday, and the intervening two days yawned before her with nothing to do and no one to see. Megan was with Ted, her mother was doing chores, and Laura had decided to make the rounds of the discount stores: Building 19, Ocean State Job Lot, and Family Dollar. Worst of all, though, she no longer had a best friend she could turn to. Chances were that the friendship between her and Diane, though old and precious, was over. Even if she and Diane did mend things in some way, it would never be the same.

  Ari stopped in front of her house, reluctant to go in. Without Megan, the house would be unbearably empty. Ari was well aware that she hadn’t paid Megan the attention she needed since finding Edith’s body. Last night’s trip to McDonald’s had helped, but Ari had never believed in quality time versus quantity time. They needed to be together more. Something was wrong with Megan, she thought, and wondered if she’d ever find out what.

  And what was she going to do about Ted? He was driving her crazy, with his calls and his jealousy. He hadn’t seemed quite so interested in her when they were married, which was a major reason for their divorce. On the other hand, she thought, smiling to herself, if he’d been so attentive, so meddlesome, she would soon have been climbing the walls. It was a good thing Ted hadn’t been killed instead of Edith, or Ari would probably be in jail now.

  That thought brought Herb Perry to her mind again. She knew it was an axiom that most murders were committed by one’s nearest and dearest. Add in a financial motive, and Herb looked suspicious indeed. So did Eric, though no one could prove that he’d still been in Freeport when his mother was killed. Neither of them had an alibi, and Herb could have attacked her. He could easily have finished her off, she thought, shuddering. Unless he had been interrupted. Unless he wasn’t guilty. Though he was thin enough, and fit enough, somehow he didn’t fit her memory of her attacker. Probably he really had caught the attacker in the act, though his description of her didn’t match.

  Her? Yet again, Ari frowned at the implication of that word. At first she’d thought there’d been nothing overtly feminine about her attacker, and neither had Herb. Yet somehow she was certain her attacker had been female, as she’d long suspected the murderer was. The description would certainly fit any number of knitters Ari knew. Someone Edith knew, too. She had to have trusted whoever had lured her into the shop in the early morning, or someone she had no reason to fear. That sounded like either Herb, or an as-yet-unknown female. The problem with any suspect was how she’d gotten the yarn to make the garrote, assuming she’d brought the weapon with her.

  A motorcycle rode by, the roar of its engine startling her. She’d been standing before her house for a while, she realized. Ronnie Dean must be going nuts wondering what she was doing, she thought, and smiled. Still, the thought of going inside was unappealing, and not just because the weather was nice. She had nothing to do, no one to see. She didn’t even have anything she wanted to eat. She could make a salad, but she didn’t want to. She wanted something solid, comforting. A meatb
all sub, she thought suddenly, something she loved but rarely allowed herself to have. She’d treat herself to one, and maybe some Lindt truffles, if Marty’s had any. After this week, she deserved it.

  Marty’s was doing a brisk business. Ari had to park in the back, and then pass a number of people sitting at the picnic tables overlooking the inlet. Light sparkled like refracted diamonds on the bay, and the maple trees were more colorful than they had been just a few days earlier. Her spirits lifted a little. Maybe she’d stop at the library to see if they had any new mysteries in, and maybe she’d find something to do outside, too. The garden, which wouldn’t last much longer, needed some attention. The physical work would be a good antidote to all the stress of the week.

  At the deli counter inside the store, she ordered her sandwich and a Diet Coke, having decided that she’d eat outside, too. While she was waiting she might as well get her candy, she thought, and headed away from the counter. She turned into an aisle and came face to face with Diane.

  Neither said anything for a long minute. There was too much to say; there was not enough. Diane broke the silence first. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” Ari answered, almost shyly.

  “How’ve you been?”

  “Busy. You?” Ari said, and then wanted to kick herself. She had a fair idea of what Diane’s life was like at the moment.

  “Yes. Going to Dartmouth a lot.”

  Ari briefly closed her eyes. Of course Diane would go to visit Joe at the Bristol County House of Corrections, where he was awaiting further legal action. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s okay.”

  Ari nodded. “My sub should be ready—”

  “I’m waiting for a salad,” Diane said at the same time, and gave Ari the first hint of a smile. “I didn’t feel like cooking.”

  “Neither did I. I’m going to eat outside. Want to join me?” she said impulsively.

  Diane looked around the store. “No.”

  “Oh.” Ari’s spirits deflated. Diane probably didn’t want to have a thing to do with her.

  “Not here,” Diane went on. “There are too many people.”

  “Do you want to come back to my house?”

  Diane shook her head. “I have to get back. Would you want to…”

  “Yes,” Ari said, spirits rising again. Maybe things weren’t as bad as they’d seemed a little while ago.

  “Ari, sub’s ready,” Marty, at work behind the deli counter, called. “Yours, too, Diane.”

  “I’ll follow you out,” Ari said as they moved to the counter.

  “Good. See you there.”

  The maples on Acushnet Road were almost as pretty as the ones in town, Ari thought. She reflected irrelevantly on their choice of cars. Diane drove a shiny black Jeep, while she drove a boxy Subaru station wagon, a real mama car, even though she really would rather have something sporty. A Mercedes roadster, maybe. But she didn’t want to be a minivan or an SUV mother; at the least she’d save on gas.

  The sheep were cropping the grass in front of Diane’s house when Ari pulled into the driveway. Once she had gotten caught in the middle of the flock when they were heading to the barn for their evening meal. Diane, laughing, had rescued her from what Ari later called “attack sheep.” The memory made her smile.

  Diane slammed the door to the Jeep, her face serious. Ari’s stomach, and her hopes, plummeted. Though they’d been cordial enough at Marty’s, things might go much differently now that they were alone. A lot hinged on the next few minutes. In spite of all they’d been through in the past, their friendship could be over.

  Diane stared at her for a moment, and then lunged, enfolding Ari in a fierce hug. “Ari.” Her voice was choked. “I wanted to see you, but I just didn’t know if I should.”

  “Me, too.” Ari’s hug was just as tight. “I thought you were mad at me.”

  “Pissed off,” Diane said, and pulled back, glaring at her. “Damn, Ari, I’m still mad.”

  “I couldn’t warn you,” Ari protested. “I wanted to, but I couldn’t.”

  “Yeah.” Diane stared at her for a moment and then turned away. “Come on in.”

  Ari followed her into the kitchen, her nervousness returning. Their friendship had been tested before, but never like this. “Di, I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Diane filled a teakettle. “Tea or soda?”

  “Thanks, I’ve got a drink.” The silence was awkward, broken only by the sounds of paper bags crinkling as each took out her lunch. “How is the spinning?”

  Diane shrugged as she put plates on the table. “It’s been hard to get to, with everything going on. I need to, though. If Joe’s convicted, I don’t know what’ll happen to the farm.”

  “Can you run it yourself?”

  She shrugged again. When the kettle began to whistle, she poured water into a flowery bone china cup and put it down beside her salad. “Probably, but the problem is that we’ve got a mortgage from when we built the new barn.” She looked down at her cup as she dunked her tea bag up and down. “How’s your business?”

  “Booming.” Ari rested her cheeks on her hands. “Di, you wouldn’t believe the people coming in. Everyone wants to know everything. Thank God they usually buy something, even the expensive stuff.”

  “Edith wouldn’t have.”

  “Di, that’s awful,” Ari said, but she grinned. There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere.

  “But true. Gossip’s free, yarn isn’t.” Diane set down her fork and reached out to cover Ari’s hand. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Me, too. I didn’t know if you’d want to see me.”

  “Oh, yeah, but after last time…”

  “I know.” Ari looked down at their hands. “I heard the police searched here, again.”

  “Yeah.” Diane pulled back, her face drawn, and made a production out of tossing her salad. “At least this time we know why.”

  “What?”

  “A cane, or something like that, our lawyer said.”

  “They can’t think you attacked me!”

  Diane straightened. “Was that what was used on you?”

  “I think so.” She frowned. “I’m not really sure.”

  “Well, of course they found one. Joe’s uncle used one when he got sick.”

  “Aluminum?”

  “No, wood.”

  “Good.”

  “Why?”

  “They’d be looking for something with my blood on it, or maybe hair. They’d show up on wood.”

  “Huh. All anyone would have to do with something like that is throw it in the woods. Who’d keep it around?” Her face lengthened. “Not like that piece of window stop.”

  “No. And see, Diane?” Ari leaned forward. “That’s how I know you couldn’t be guilty. You’re not that stupid.”

  “Tell that to the police.”

  “I know.” Ari took a bite of the meatball sub, wiped tomato sauce off her face, and frowned. “You know, Diane,” she said when she could, “whatever hit me—I’m not sure it was a cane, but I think I’ve seen something like it before.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know. I keep trying to remember, but I can’t.” She took a sip of soda. “I thought it could be Herb, but my landlord didn’t give him a new key to the building.”

  “How do you know that? Oh.” Diane set her cup down. “Your friend.”

  “Well, yes.” Ari looked down. “He talks to me a little.”

  Diane leaned forward. “He does?”

  “Yes. Di, don’t tell anyone. Don’t tell your lawyer. Don’t even tell Joe.”

  “Why not?”

  “Josh could get in trouble.”

  “Oh. Josh, is it?”

  “Yes, Josh. The case is supposed to be closed. If anyone finds out he’s still working on it—”

  “Is he?”

  “Sort of. If anyone finds out, he’ll be yanked off it so fast your head’ll spin.”

  Diane leaned forward. �
��Do you mean he’s doing it on his own?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wow! Why?”

  “He’s not satisfied.”

  “Ari! Do you mean he thinks Joe’s innocent?”

  “He’s leaving things open. But you can’t tell anyone, Di.”

  Diane’s grin was broader. “Do you think I’ll be able to hide it?”

  Ari almost groaned. Sometimes Diane was transparent in her emotions. “You can’t tell anyone. Viking honor?”

  “Viking honor,” Diane said, and held up a finger to either side of her head, in imitation of a Viking helmet. “It’s such good news.”

  “Josh is the only one who has doubts. Well, no, the D.A. does, too, after my attack, but the investigation is officially closed. If you say anything, Joe won’t have a prayer.”

  That brought Diane back to earth. “Oh. That’s true, isn’t it?” She leaned forward, arms crossed on the table, eyes intent. “But Ari, what is he going to do?”

  “We don’t really know.”

  “‘We’?” Diane leaned forward. “Ari, are you seeing him?”

  “Well, sort of.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Well, we are going out tonight.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “It’s no big deal. There aren’t many available men around here,” she said defiantly.

  “Too young, too old, or too married.”

  “Di…”

  “So you’re not really sleeping with the enemy?”

  “He’s not the enemy!” Ari exclaimed, and then reddened. “No, of course not. We’re not. Really.”

  “Yeah, right,” Diane said, smirking. “So if you’re not dating, what are you really doing?”

  Ari took a deep breath. “I guess I’m still investigating. But, Di, don’t tell anyone that, either.”

  “Ari.” Diane stared at her. “After getting attacked?”

  “I don’t know why that happened,” Ari said swiftly. “It might not even be connected.”

  “Yeah, right,” Diane said again.

  “Okay. It has to be, especially with the same weapon. Oops. You didn’t hear that from me.”

  “You mean, that was a cane, too?”

  “Herb thinks it was a baseball bat.”