by Lin, Harper
“Sylvia was at our party on New Year’s Eve,” I said.
Mom nodded. “And your father drove her home.”
“Rhonda left early. She said she was going home, but she could’ve stopped by Martha’s easily.”
“To think that Rhonda could murder someone…”
Mom still couldn’t wrap her head around this possibility, but the evidence was starting to point Rhonda’s way. I recalled the scene this morning at the inn. A ball of lavender yarn had rolled loose on the floor, but it hasn’t been used. A bunch of regular needles poked out from a bag. A yellow scarf was in the process of being completed with a pair of these normal-seized needles and it rested on top of the bag. It meant that Martha was already working on something. Maybe Rhonda came in, there was a scuffle and she stabbed Martha at the height of her anger.
Dad poked his head in from the kitchen door. “Lunch is ready. Emma, do you want to call Nick down?”
“Sure, Dad.”
I ran back up and knocked on Nick’s door. He had fallen asleep and groggily sat up when I came in.
“Nick, did you ever see Martha knit?”
“Yes, all the time.”
“Did you ever see her knit with those big needles?”
He thought about it. “I recall Martha talking about knitting. She said she was finishing a scarf to donate to sick children at the hospital. Those were with regular needles, I think. That was yesterday. I don’t know if she was knitting with those big needles or not.”
“But you would notice if she were knitting with big needles, right?”
“Maybe,” said Nick.
He wasn’t the most reliable guy when it came to details. Sometimes he’d go days without noticing that I had gotten my hair cut.
The only way to find out whether those needles were Rhonda’s was to go to the source.
CHAPTER FIVE
I knew that Rhonda was in her late fifties. She lived with her daughter’s family and owned a cheese shop on the corner of Samford Street and Marble Avenue.
I didn’t want to tell Sterling about the needles belonging to Rhonda just yet. I was afraid that he’d be too tough on her and frighten her with his questions when all I wanted for now were some simple answers. If Rhonda was the killer and she was comfortable speaking to me, she might let something slip.
Another reason I didn’t want to talk to Sterling was that I wasn’t ready to talk to him yet. I was sure he was mad at me for seeing Nick, and he would be more upset to know that he was staying with me now too. I knew I had to talk to him sometime, but not before I gathered the info that I wanted to support my case.
Many of the shops on the main shopping streets were open on New Year’s Day, including Mirabelle’s Chocoholic Cafe. Rhonda’s cheese shop, “Cheese, Please”, was also open. I was glad because I had an excuse to see Rhonda.
I picked up a few things from the supermarket to make it seem as if I was just shopping before I entered Cheese, Please.
“Hi girls,” I said brightly.
Sylvia and Rhonda were both behind the counter wearing red gingham aprons. They were all smiles at the sight of me.
“Hello, dear! Have you tried our cheese of the week?” Syliva pointed to the cheese samples on the counter.
“Hmm, Gouda.” I didn’t even like cheese that much, but tried one anyway.
“Food shopping, already?” asked Rhonda. “Thought you had plenty after last night’s bash.”
“Actually, most of the food is gone,” I said. “Everyone kept eating well into the morning.”
“Sounds like some party,” said Rhonda. “I guess things really began to heat up after I left.”
“Are you looking for anything in particular?” Sylvia asked.
“I’ll take this,” I said about the Gouda. “Dad loves cheese. I’m sure he’ll like this one.”
“It’s from the Netherlands,” said Sylvia.
“Do you know that they have a cheese museum in Amsterdam?” said Rhonda. “I would love to visit sometime.”
Telling by their cheerful demeanors, they haven’t heard about Martha’s death. Or perhaps Rhonda was simply feigning ignorance.
“Have you heard about Martha?” I said.
“What about Martha?” Sylvia asked.
I told them that she was found murdered this morning by a guest at her inn.
Shock splashed across both of their faces. Sylvia gasped.
“Oh my God,” said Rhonda. “How?”
“She was stabbed with a knitting needle. A very chunky needle the size of my wrist.”
Rhonda turned white. “Oh, Jesus.”
Sylvia turned to Rhonda with her mouth open and I held my breath, anticipating Rhonda’s admission. How would she get out of this?
“Those are my needles,” Rhonda admitted.
“Your needles?” Sylvia said. “How can you be sure?”
“Because I let Martha borrow them.”
“When?” I asked.
“Yesterday night,” Rhonda said, her voice shaking. “I had agreed to let her borrow them, but I’d forgotten to give them to her yesterday. When I open my trunk to store my empty Tubberware from your party, I saw the needles there, and I decided I’d just go and give them to Martha, since her inn was on the way home.”
Sylvia frowned. “But you just got those needles. Why would you let her borrow them?”
Rhonda hung her head a bit. “Well, I didn’t want to tell you, but Martha wanted to kick you out of the knitting group.”
“What?” Sylvia exclaimed.
“She was trying to convince the other members that you were…crazy. Martha was very offended that you kept calling her house haunted and creepy, and wanted to vote you out of the group.”
“But…” Sylvia looked hurt. “How could she?”
“You know how vindictive she can get when she feels wronged. I was trying to talk her out of it, to not start any drama that would cause more arguments in the group. That was the only way the group could survive. As a peace offering, I lend her the needles, knowing how much she liked them. She planned on making a shawl with them. That was the deal. She got the needles until hers came in the mail, and she’d drop this little war on Sylvia. I think what she really wanted was control, because she was so lonely. Her son moved out and she had nobody to listen to her anymore, except us. I knew she didn’t have anywhere to go on New Year’s Eve. She wasn’t invited anywhere. It was late, but her light was on, so I went to see her. I thought she would welcome the company, so I chatted with her a bit about her knitting project. She was cranky when she answered the door, but she was in a better mood when I left, probably because someone actually came to visit her. Although she’d be too proud to admit any of this.”
“Was anyone else in the inn?” I asked.
“Not that I was aware of. I heard no voices. Although…” Something struck Rhonda. “When I was driving away, I did see a pickup truck pull up in front of the inn.”
“Did you see who it was?” I asked.
“No. It was too dark, and I didn’t think much of it.”
“What color was it?”
“I don’t know exactly, but it was a dark color.”
“You know who it could be?” Sylvia said.
“Martha’s ex-boyfriend!” Rhonda exclaimed.
“Right, what was his name?”
“Edward…Edward Herman. He’s a dairy farmer.”
“When did they break up?” I asked.
“About six months ago,” Rhonda said. “We saw him only once the entire time we started holding knitting group meetings at the inn. After their breakup, Martha became more and more bitter.”
“I don’t think their breakup was very civil,” Sylvia. “But with Martha, she made a big drama about everything. She was angry a lot.”
“Did she ever mention why they broke up?” I asked.
“No,” said Rhonda. “Martha never spoke about her personal life. She was hoping to get remarried, and she would rant about how all men were
scum anytime one of the knitting group members would start talking about their husbands or boyfriends.”
“She was extremely bitter around this time,” Sylvia agreed.
“So you don’t know much else about him?” I asked.
Rhonda shook her head. “No. He doesn’t live in Hartfield. At least I’d never seen him in town.”
“So he lives on a farm, huh?” I said.
“He’s a dairy farmer. Not sure where he lives.”
Sylvia’s eyes were as big as saucers. “Do you think he’s the killer?”
Rhonda went pale. “To think that we met a killer!”
“Is Sterling on the case?” Sylvia asked me.
“Yes,” I said. “I’ll be sure to tell him to look more into Edward Herman.”
I paid for the Gouda and thanked the ladies. I was relieved that Rhonda didn’t have anything to do with it. Unless she was a very good actress sending me on a wild goose chase.
After I left, I immediately called Sterling.
CHAPTER SIX
“We need to talk,” I said when Sterling answered his phone.
“About?” He sounded nonchalant, but I knew it was only because he was still hurt.
“I have news about the case. A new lead.”
“Okay.” He sounded surprised, but he shouldn’t have been. He knew how much passion I had for solving mysteries. “Shoot.”
“Can I meet you?”
“Well, I’m finishing up my lunch at the office.”
“Can I come by?” I asked.
“Does it even matter what I say?” Sterling sighed. “I know you’re going to come whether I say yes or not.”
I grinned and started heading over to the police station. One of the reasons why I loved Sterling was that he got me, completely. And I got him. Beneath that hard shell, he was a sensitive and intuitive guy who could empathize with people. Which was why I felt guilty for hurting him. But romance wasn’t on my mind right now.
Sterling had his arms crossed when I entered the office. A frosty reception, but I tried to focus on the matter at hand.
“What did you find out?” he asked.
I told him that I had just spoken to Rhonda and Sylvia, and about Edward Herman.
“He’s on top of my suspect list too,” Sterling said. “Martha’s son mentioned that this Edward Herman got into many arguments with Martha when they were together. Once he even laid his hands on her.”
“Oh, really?”
“Slapped her right across the face.”
“What did else did her son say about this guy? Does he know much else about him?”
“Edward wasn’t very personable. He didn’t have children of his own, and didn’t make much of an effort in getting to know her son. Craig, Martha’s son, said they were together for about six months, but they had frequent screaming matches. ”
I pulled up a chair and sat across from his desk. “What did they argue about?”
“Martha used to get jealous a lot and often accused Edward of cheating on her.”
“Was he?” I asked.
Sterling shrugged. “Craig seems to think so, but he didn’t have proof. He didn’t stick around to hear them fight.”
“Doesn’t sound like this Edward stuck around long for the fights either,” I said.
“Funny enough, before you came in, I was doing a background check on this guy. He lives alone on his dairy farm thirty minutes from here. He does have a few employees, but they don’t live on site. I was just going to go visit him.”
“And you’re taking me with you, right?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so, Emma.”
“Please,” I said. “If he’s a lady’s man as much as Martha claims he is, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have a female with you.”
“I thought I was the detective,” he said. “I’ve been doing fine on my own.”
“Wasn’t I a help on the last case?” I asked.
“Sure, but, that was directly related to you. You don’t know who Edward Herman is. He could be dangerous.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I know Krav Maga. I can defend myself.”
Sterling looked at me with amusement. His arms were not crossed anymore and there was a small smile on his face.
“What am I going to do with you?”
“You can take me along to help.”
“Fine.” He gave an exaggerated sigh and stood up.
“Great!” I put my mittens on. “Let’s go.”
As we walked out of the station, Sterling got a call.
“Sterling Matthews.”
Sterling listened for a bit and then said, “So nothing huh? Keep trying.”
He shut off his phone and sighed.
“Forensic haven’t found anything useful so far. No fingerprints, no footprints. I seems like someone had taken care to clean the place—and any evidence along with it. Even the floor is clean and properly washed.”
“What? Whoever was there tried to clean around the body?”
Sterling nodded and unlocked the door of his car. “Yup. The killer took great effort into cleaning up the evidence.”
“But not so much that they would clean up the body as well.”
I got in and Sterling started the engine. He turned and looked me in the eye.
“Are you sure Nick didn’t have anything to do with this?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Nick is definitely not a killer.”
“Seems a bit odd that he’d sleep through the whole murdering and cleaning up process.”
“That’s Nick. When he’s asleep, he’s asleep.”
Nick could be oblivious to his surroundings. I guess you could say he was a little self-involved sometimes. Narcissism was expected of a movie star, I suppose, but I shouldn’t excuse him because of that. It drove me crazy.
“So are you guys back together now?” Sterling asked
“No,” I said. “Of course not.”
I didn’t want to have this conversation, but I guess we had to. We were on the road together for the next half hour. And I did owe Sterling an explanation.
“He came to town with a ring, saying that he wanted to propose. It’s what you wanted, right?”
