“I hope it’s okay, but Crystal realized that the people making the dolls might want different yarn for the hair. She was concerned they might not have crochet hooks for the doll’s dress, too.” She gestured toward the array of small balls of brown, black and yellow yarn and a handful of crochet hooks. “And as long as I was coming, I brought along some small balls of novelty yarn, packets of beads and some other things for the dolls’ faces.”
Before I could say yes or no, a crowd was at the front of the table poking through the supplies. Wanda had stepped close to me and watched as her group joined in, looking through what Gwen had brought. “I tried to tell you the mystery bag idea wouldn’t work. People like to pick their own supplies.” Wanda moved away and Lucinda took her spot.
“So much for the mystery bags,” I muttered.
“As long as they’re happy, so what?” Lucinda said, and I realized she had a point. And as long as Gwen was there, I decided to grab some black yarn for my doll’s hair.
“Crystal said you were asking a bunch of questions about the family trees of people in Cadbury.”
I didn’t want to tell her why, so instead said I found it fascinating how all their lives intertwined in the small town. “Growing up in Chicago and living in a tall building downtown was a much different experience,” I said. “You know how people always fantasize about how friendly life in a small town is.”
“Nothing is ever as perfect as people imagine, but all in all, Cadbury is a good place to live,” Gwen said. It was funny, but if I were picking whose mother she was by looking at her clothes, I would have thought that she was Wanda’s. She was a plain dresser and her socks matched, unlike her daughter’s. But in temperament she probably was more like her daughters, both of whom had milder personalities than Wanda.
I mentioned to her who Maggie thought Diana could be and Gwen’s eyes opened wider. “Oh my goodness, that’s who the dead woman is.” She let it all sink in for a moment. “We were in Girl Scouts together. Her parents had broken up and I thought we might be friends since we now both had single mothers, but Diana wanted no part of it.” Gwen looked down at her plain attire. “I was too dull for her. She was kind of wild, and the next thing I heard, she’d gone off to live with her father. If she came back to town, I didn’t see her. I don’t know if she even came for her grandmother’s funeral.” Gwen stopped again. “You were interested in our intertwined lives. How about this—she was Kevin St. John’s half aunt.”
I feigned surprise and then asked about their relationship. “Diana was much younger than his mother so she hardly would have seemed like an aunt. And she wasn’t around long after he was born. Neither was his own mother.” I got the details again that Kevin’s mother was very young and unmarried and only stayed around until she turned eighteen before she left, too. “I have to tell you, he was an odd kid. The kind who seemed old already. I suppose it was hard being brought up by his grandmother. She worked at Vista Del Mar in the gift shop and she brought him with her and let him wander on the grounds. I guess it is no wonder he thinks of it as being his place.”
I saw Gwen do a double take when she noticed Madeleine thumbing through the yarn for the doll’s hair. “So now she’s trying to pretend she’s one of us,” Gwen said. I was surprised by the yarn store owner’s harsh tone. I had thought of her as one of those people who accepted what the world delivered to her and got along with everybody. When I said something, Gwen rushed to smooth it over. “Everybody puts the Delacortes on a level above the rest of us, and they have always seemed to think they deserve it. I was just a little surprised to see one of the sisters acting like a normal person.”
I wondered if there was more to it than that. I noticed that Gwen let Crystal take care of Madeleine’s sale. I was relieved when no one seemed to mind buying what they needed instead of expecting me to pick up the tab.
As it was, putting on these retreats was closer to a hobby than a moneymaking business. I regretted not getting more information from Norman Rathman about the business end of things as he seemed to be turning a nice profit.
I could hear my aunt saying she’d put them on out of the love of doing it. I could also hear my mother’s response to the whole thing. “You’re really turning down cooking school in Paris for this?”
Then my mother would remind me that my father’s sister had been in a different place in her life when she started the yarn retreat business. I couldn’t dispute that. My aunt Joan had had a long acting career in L.A. She wasn’t the kind of actress where people recognized her name, but they did recognize her face, particularly after she was the Tidy Soft toilet paper lady. That commercial had left her with a nice nest egg, so she didn’t have to worry about the yarn retreat business making a profit.
If anybody needed a worry doll, it was me. I was worried about Sammy, worried about making a decision with Dane, worried that my mother might be right and I was wasting my time. I joined the others and picked out some bulky black yarn to use for hair on my doll. Then I picked up my needles and got to work. I was pleased that I’d gotten a lot of rows done by the time Wanda announced the session was ending. She and Crystal discussed it and then told both their groups that it was okay to take their projects with them to work on during their free time as long as they didn’t need any help with them. A lot of the people took theirs. I didn’t feel confident that I wouldn’t need help and left mine on the table.
I was deep in thought as I did a little cleanup and pulled the door shut.
The mist was gone when I went outside. Not that I noticed. I was so busy thinking about all the information on Kevin St. John and his family that I paid no attention to my surroundings until I bumped into Jimmie Phelps. When I say bumped into him, I mean I literally smacked into him. He reached out to steady me so I wouldn’t fall.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should look where I’m going.”
I laughed. “I think I’m the one who should do that. I knocked into you.” He wouldn’t let me take the blame, and all I could think was what a gentleman. He then insisted on making sure I wasn’t hurt in any way. “It’s been years since I played pro, but I’ve still got the arms.” He made a muscle and showed off his biceps and mentioned I could see him in action the next day when he took part in the softball game.
Up close I could see his tanned skin was a little leathery from all those games in the sun. His hair was silver with just a hint that it was once black. He had more going than just his biceps, though; he moved with the grace of someone for whom keeping in shape was second nature.
“I think I could use one of those energy drinks I saw you offering your people,” I said, thinking how much I needed a boost to get through the rest of the afternoon and evening ahead of me.
He flashed the smile straight off his baseball card and led me by the hand. “I think this is your lucky day.” A red cooler was sitting next to one of the Monterey pines and he flipped up the lid. The interior was filled with the red cans and some ice. He grabbed a can and handed it to me.
“Are you going to join me?” I said, popping open the top.
“It’s a great drink and believe me I do use them a lot, but moderation is my watchword.” I took a sip and he regarded me with interest. “What do you think?” he said.
It tasted like sweet raspberries and I did feel an immediate boost of energy. “It’s good. What’s in it?” I looked over the ingredients.
“It’s nothing too secret. Caffeine is what provides the ‘energy,’” he said. “There is a display in the gift shop. With all the vitamins and minerals, this drink is a lot better than the packets of caffeine tablets they sell.”
Maybe it was the boost of the drink, but my mind seemed very clear and things I’d heard earlier slipped back into my thoughts. It had been brought up that Diana’s father had been an announcer for the Giants. Jimmie Phelps had played for the team. Of course he must have known her father. I wondered if he’d know
n her then as well.
“It was terrible about that woman,” I said. Jimmie’s good humor faded in an instant.
“Yes,” he said with anger in his voice. I took a chance and seized on his response.
“It sounds personal. Did you know her?” I asked. He seemed uncomfortable with my question.
“I told the cop the whole story.” He paused and I thought that was going to be the end of it, but after a brief hesitation he explained her father’s connection with the team. “It’s useless to try to act indifferent. I watched Diana grow up. Her father always brought her along. She was literally at every game we played.”
“Do you think she came to the retreat because she knew you were going to be here?” I asked.
“We lost touch a long time ago.” He suddenly seemed nervous. “Nothing ever happened between us when she was underage,” he said quickly.
Right after he said it, he seemed regretful about what he’d said and I had the feeling if I pursued it, he’d simply stop talking. So I glossed right over it and continued on.
“Did you spend much time with her here?” I said.
“No. She came up to me at the mixer and we talked about old times. She told me she was getting a divorce and wanted to start a new chapter in her life.” He stopped and seemed to consider his words. “Okay, I thought she might mean she wanted something romantic with me. I kind of ended the conversation and said we’d talk more over the weekend. Then she made that scene with her husband and the magician. I thought she might have been upset because I gave her the brush-off.”
What I was really looking for was an alibi for Sammy. “Did you see what happened to the magician’s silk after she grabbed it?’
“She took it, like it was some kind of prize, and stuffed it in the pocket of her sweater.” He suddenly looked wary. “Why all the questions? Are you the one Kevin St. John warned us about? The amateur sleuth?”
“I’m more than an amateur. I’ll have you know I was an assistant detective at a very large firm in Chicago.” The title I gave myself was questionable. I think Frank would have been more likely to refer to me as a detective’s assistant. But I figured my version put me ahead of the Miss Marple wannabes of the world.
“Whatever you are, I assure you I had nothing to do with her death. Why would I want to kill her?”
I offered a reassuring smile and nodded in agreement, but all the while I was thinking that he’d offered a possible motive when he brought up the underage thing. At the very least it implied they’d had some kind of relationship. Suppose what he’d said about nothing underage wasn’t true and she’d decided to bring it out into the open? Even if it was too late to make a criminal charge, it would kill his squeaky clean image and end his lucrative business with the energy drink.
I wanted to ask him more about their relationship, although I was pretty sure he wouldn’t answer. But maybe if I told him what I was after, I’d catch him off guard. “Sorry for all the questions,” I said. “This is really about the magician. He’s a friend of mine. I’m hoping I can find out an alibi for him.”
“Oh,” Jimmie said, his demeanor changing. “Now I understand what you’re doing. But I’m afraid I can’t help you there.” I wasn’t expecting such a short answer and was trying to figure how to steer the conversation back to Jimmie’s relationship with Diana, but we were interrupted as Bree Meyers caught up with us. Her blond fluff of curls bounced as she waved her hands. She had baseballs in each and wanted Jimmie to sign them for her boys.
“If you think of anything, please let me know,” I said.
“How?” he said, bringing up the difficulty of communicating at Vista Del Mar.
“There’s always the message board,” I said.
“Right. Just like the old days.”
22
I had to take numerous photos of Bree with Jimmie before I could extricate myself. My early bird retreater’s cell phone might not work to make calls, but the camera function was still fine. She was all aflutter about how impressed her husband would be that she’d met a real baseball star. Even when I walked away, I could hear her excited voice. The grounds were busy with people now that the afternoon activities had all ended and both groups had free time.
A number of the 1963 people were heading to the boardwalk that cut through the dunes. It looked like some kind of impromptu nature walk.
A breeze ruffled past, making me want to zip up my fleece jacket. Today’s was a dark olive green and I’d added a pale blue lacy mohair scarf my aunt had made. I had to remind myself again that it was August and summer. I realized this was a good area for knitters to live. It was scarf weather year-round.
My group had spread out. I recognized Lucinda’s Ralph Lauren jacket up ahead with several other people. They turned off at the Sea and Sand building. Her room was in there, but I guessed she and the others were heading to the living room–like lobby. With soft easy chairs and the glowing fire, it was a perfect spot to hold a knitting session, and it was certainly an appealing one on a cool afternoon like this.
When I got to the bottom of the small hill, I saw Olivia walking with a bunch of the others toward the Lodge. They were no doubt going to have a square-making session. It was such a relief not to have to worry about everyone. I pictured them in the Cora and Madeleine Delacorte Café sitting around a table full of steaming mugs. It was definitely coffee weather.
Gwen and her daughter were headed the other way. Crystal pulled her mother’s plastic bin toward a small parking area near the main building. Since the hotel and conference center was over a hundred years old, when it was designed where to put cars was hardly an issue. Parking spots had been added in small spaces around the grounds. Wanda was already shutting the door to her blue Smart Car. A moment later, she zipped out of the parking lot and headed up the driveway.
I watched the dynamic of the mother and daughter for a moment. Because of my up-and-down relationship with my mother, I was always curious to see how other mother-daughter combos reacted. It was clear from the body language that there was no contention going on. I found that so surprising, considering the difference between the plain utilitarian look of Gwen and the unmatched and colorful vibe of her daughter. The fact that they were able to live together with Crystal’s kids in that small house amazed me. I shuddered to think what life would be like if I showed up on my mother’s doorstep with a couple of kids.
They stopped when they got next to Gwen’s boxy Volvo wagon with the Cadbury Yarn decal on the door. Neither of them seemed to notice that just beyond the small parking lot, yellow tape still marked off the area where Diana Rathman had been found.
I didn’t want to have to answer any questions about where I was going or, worse, have Madeleine show up and want to join me. I held back until Gwen had gotten in her car and Crystal walked down to her dusty Ford Explorer. I was relieved to see Madeleine rush up to her golf cart. She had a lead foot with the small vehicle and was already turning out of the driveway before the other two cars had backed out.
When they were all gone, I walked up toward the street. I wanted to check on Sammy, and I wanted to call Frank. Maybe my ex-boss could help me make some sense of all that I knew. Everything seemed quiet as I headed up my driveway. I looked at the guest house and it was so silent I wondered if Sammy was still in there. I was about to knock on the window that was only visible from my small backyard in what had become our signal.
I glanced around wondering if Lieutenant Borgnine had someone watching. I knew a little about surveillance. I’d done it once when I was working for Frank. One of his associates had a toothache and I took over for him so he could go to the dentist. I always told Frank it would have turned out differently if I’d known I was going to be doing surveillance when I came to work. I certainly wouldn’t have worn a bloodred shirt. Of course, with that shirt I was noticed and the whole thing went bust.
But I’d learned from the e
xperience. If somebody was watching my place, they’d have to do it from the street. I retraced my steps and looked down the expanse of the black asphalt in both directions. The only vehicle parked was an old blue van with some kind of writing on the side. Could it be a cover?
I walked down to it and looked in the windows. It appeared empty, but there was something blocking the view of the rear area. I went around to check the back. I leaned against the doors to see if I could hear anything.
“What are you doing?” a voice said, startling me, and instinctively I jumped back.
“Hey, that’s my foot,” the voice complained as arms grabbed me. My instinct was to push away, but then my surroundings came into focus and I saw that the red truck had pulled to the curb in front of the van. When I looked over my shoulder, Dane’s face was inches from mine.
“So what exactly are you up to?” he said, releasing me. “You’re not planning on stealing that van.” His grin made it clear he was teasing.
I went with the truth. “I thought your lieutenant might have someone watching my place.”
Dane shook his head. “Cadbury PD isn’t that sophisticated. When we watch people, it’s more direct.” He made a V out of his fingers and pointed at his eyes. “Besides, Borgnine doesn’t think Sammy is here. He’s gotten it into his head that the doctor/magician has left the area, but he thinks you know where Sammy is. By the way, he’s saying that he’s not looking to arrest Sammy, that he just wants to talk to him.”
“Yeah, right,” I said. “How about he’s telling you that so you’ll tell me and then I’ll give up Sammy’s location.”
“Probably true,” Dane said with a shrug. There was a silence after that. Was Dane expecting me to say something, like actually give up Sammy’s location?
Wound Up In Murder Page 18
