Knit, Purl, Die

by Anne Canadeo

No one said a word more about it. They ate breakfast, then took out their knitting and waited. Each time a golf cart rolled up to the little gatehouse and the brightly dressed golfers emptied out, Lucy’s pulse quickened. But so far, she had not recognized Mike Novak in any of the groups.

  Dana was watching, too, from her seat that faced the course. She suddenly leaned closer to Suzanne and Lucy, her blue eyes wide with alarm. “That’s him … he’s coming off the course. I see him in that cart that’s parking.”

  Suzanne sat back and took a deep breath. She reached over and squeezed Lucy’s hand, then dropped a knitting needle, which rattled on the cement floor and rolled under the table.

  “Just stay calm everyone …” Dana reached into the pocket of her white hoodie, pulled out a lip gloss, and swiped a bit over her mouth. “How do I look?” she asked her friends.

  “Great,” Suzanne whispered back, “go get ’em.”

  Dana smiled widely and sat back in her chair. Lucy saw her stare out toward the course, then give a big wave, her glowing smile ratcheting up a few more watts.

  “Mike … Mike Novak? Why, hello … how are you?” she cooed as he approached their table.

  Lucy glanced up at him for an instant, then down at her knitting again, stitching away at another blue square. She almost didn’t recognize the notorious attorney in his golfing outfit, pale blue slacks, and black polo shirt with a ubiquitous embroidered emblem on the pocket.

  He wore a black baseball-style cap that said “Pebble Beach” across the peak and pulled it off, exposing his distinctively dyed hair. The graviatas sideburns were even phonier looking close up.

  He stared down at Dana curiously as she leaned back in her chair to get a better look at him. He was tall and lean, quite good looking, Lucy thought. She could understand Gloria’s attraction. He was also a more appropriate choice for her in age and experience than Jamie. But there’s always the X factor and sometimes what looks good on paper just doesn’t translate to real life.

  “Dana Haeger,” Dana reminded him. “Jack’s wife. Is Jack out there? He’s just been obsessed lately. Trying to break eighty,” she confided, rolling her eyes. “How was your game? Did it go well?” she rattled on.

  “Not too bad. I had two birdies on the back nine.” Lucy wasn’t sure what that meant, but pitied the poor birds nonetheless.

  “Good for you. Better to finish on a good note, don’t you think?”

  “I guess so,” he agreed, looking at her curiously now.

  “Listen, I saw you and Beth at Gloria Sterling’s memorial service. I’m so sorry I didn’t get a chance to say hello,” she apologized in a more intimate tone.

  “Oh … that’s all right. Awful news about Gloria.” An appropriately somber expression fell over his features. “What a tragedy.”

  “Yes, it was.” Dana nodded, looking sad. “Why don’t you sit down and have a cup of coffee with us?” she said quickly.

  The table was set for four and an empty chair stood beside her. She gestured at it and offered another inviting smile.

  “Oh … I don’t know.” He smiled briefly, then checked his watch. A Rolex, Lucy noticed. Not a knockoff from a stall at the mall, either. “I’d love to … but I really have to get into the office. This early morning golf game is my secret weakness.”

  Don’t be so modest, Mike, Lucy nearly said aloud. A guy like you has plenty of secret weaknesses, I’ll bet.

  “Just for a minute?” Dana wheedled him. Lucy was fairly shocked. She’d never seen Dana go into coquette mode before. She was pretty good.

  “We’re all old friends of Gloria’s, you know,” she added, glancing at Suzanne and Lucy. “We just want to talk to you a minute. About her. It won’t take long.”

  “Gloria?” Now she’d snagged his interest. He was tugging off his black golf glove, but it was stuck. “What about her?” he asked pointedly.

  “Well, let’s see …” Dana paused and pursed her glossy lips. “We know you had a long, close … relationship with her. And we know you gave her some property recently. Transferred a deed, or two.” Dana stopped and waited to see his reaction.

  He stared at her bug-eyed. Then his gaze narrowed.

  “Who told you that?”

  Dana shrugged. “It’s public record. You can find it pretty easily on the Internet.”

  Of course he knew that. What he was really asking was, “Why were you looking?”

  He stared down at all of them. Then, with his mouth set in a harsh line, he took the seat between Dana and Lucy. He yanked his chair in closer to the table and it made a scraping sound, like nails on a chalkboard. He was a big man and Lucy could practically feel the heat radiating off his body.

  “So … what’s this all about? Just get it out on the table. I don’t have all day,” he reminded her.

  “Neither do we,” she assured him. “Let’s start with the property. Why did you transfer those deeds to Gloria? We know she didn’t pay you anything.”

  He shrugged. Lucy could see he thought they were no match for him. “How do you know we didn’t exchange any money? Maybe we just wanted to hide the transaction, avoid the taxes.”

  “Possibly. Though it is illegal and you’re an officer of the court. You could get disbarred if anyone discovered it.”

  He didn’t answer that, but held her in a steady gaze.

  “I was repaying Gloria for a loan she’d given me. I didn’t have the cash, but she was willing to accept the title to the property. Like Monopoly, you know?”

  His tone had turned a bit condescending, Lucy thought. Or maybe he was trying to strike a humorous note?

  Dana didn’t look like she was buying it, but it was plausible. “I guess you’d have some letter or agreement, to back that up?” Dana asked him.

  He nearly laughed at her. “Who’s asking?”

  “How about the police? We hear from her husband they might be investigating her death again. They may have been mistaken, calling it natural causes so quickly.”

  Touché, Dana, Lucy thought.

  “And now, some very curious information about her life is coming forward. Gloria had a lot of secrets, you know?” she asked.

  Yeah, he knew. He was one of them.

  Mike Novak looked angry now; his tanned face had turned into a scowling mask. The kind people bring back as souvenirs from exotic locales.

  “Gloria and I had a long, complicated relationship,” he said bluntly. “I don’t know what she told you about it. But we ended it last year. She wanted me to leave my family and I wouldn’t do it. Even for her. Except for settling that loan, I didn’t have much contact with her since she got back from Florida with … with that South Beach idiot boy she married.”

  Now that was a lie. Dana knew he’d been practically stalking Gloria, trying to persuade her to come back to him. Maybe he thought he could undermine the version she’d told her friends, now that she was gone and couldn’t refute him.

  “You didn’t try to see her or call her in all that time?” Dana asked. “That’s not what she told me.”

  “Once or twice, in regard to the loan, maybe,” he backtracked, gazing out at the golf course again.

  Dana followed with a combination punch. “Did she know Avalon bribed the DEC to report that the Sea Breeze site was safe to build on? Is that why you gave her the property?”

  And when did you stop beating your wife, Mike? Lucy silently added.

  His head snapped up again. “You know I can’t discuss Avalon. That’s privileged information.”

  “Oh … right,” Dana said meekly. Of course she knew, she was an attorney’s wife. She’d just wanted to rattle his cage a little.

  “So where were you the night Gloria fell into her swimming pool?” Suzanne suddenly asked him. “You didn’t happen to drop by her house to chat about the those loans? Or reminisce about old times?”

  He leaned forward angrily, his bright white teeth bared like a snarling dog. “I was right here, the entire day,” he said in a low harsh voice, one fi
nger tapping the tabletop. “I played twenty-seven holes, ate dinner with some friends, and then got sucked into a card game that didn’t break up until two a.m.” He turned to Dana. “Not that I owe you women any explanation. I don’t even know why I’m talking to you …”

  Lucy decided it was her turn to jump in and deflect his attention from Dana. “Sounds like you’re a real family man, Mike. I can see why it didn’t work out with Gloria.”

  He glared at her, then stood up, nearly knocking his chair backward. He picked up his golf cap and glove.

  “I think you ladies ought to go back to the nail salon and stop meddling where you don’t belong. You don’t know what you’re doing and you could hurt a lot of innocent people, wandering around town, spreading this kind of malicious … slander.”

  He tugged his hat back on and grabbed his golf cart.

  “It’s slander. I won’t sit still for it,” he added, a not-so-subtle warning that he knew how to file a lawsuit and didn’t mind filling out the paperwork.

  “I catch your meaning, Mike,” Dana said lightly. “Luckily I know a good lawyer.”

  “Yes, lucky for you. Tell Jack I’d rather meet him on the golf course than in a courtroom. But if I have to, I will.”

  Head hunkered down, shoulders set, he stomped off, dragging his clubs. The cleats on his golf shoes made a racket on the stone floor.

  They all sat perfectly still for a long moment. “Just breathe,” Dana murmured. “In through the nose … out through the mouth. Slow and steady,” she coached them.

  Lucy did as she was advised. She even closed her eyes for a moment. Facing down a shady attorney first thing in the day was very draining. Maybe she should take a yoga class today.

  “Dana, you were masterful,” Suzanne said. “No offense, but I didn’t think you had it in you. The way you handled that guy? I was blown away.”

  “Why, thank you. I rather enjoyed it. I do deal with a lot of sociopaths. I know how they operate.”

  “Well, what do you think?” Suzanne asked her and then looked at Lucy.

  “I think he could be lying about the property transfers. But sounds like he has an airtight alibi for the night Gloria died. Maybe he wasn’t her mysterious visitor after all?”

  Dana sounded genuinely disappointed to realize that theory had been taken off the table. Lucy was, too.

  “I guess not,” Suzanne agreed. She sounded puzzled. “But if it wasn’t him, who could it have been? I think we’re back to square one.”

  Lucy didn’t like hearing that, but she had to agree. They had ventured to the dark side to face down the fearsome golfing cyborg, Mike Novak. But they hadn’t ended up any closer to filling in the blanks in this saga.

  Maybe Maggie had been right to discourage the adventure. Maybe it wasn’t their place to try to solve this conundrum. Maybe it was all just as it appeared—Gloria had fallen in the water and drowned by accident and there was no great mystery to it.

  Maybe it was best left now to the police or a private investigator working for Jamie, and they had followed their slim thread of suspicions and quasi-incriminating facts as far as they would stretch.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lucy was actually relieved that the knitting group wasn’t meeting until Friday night. After Tuesday’s showdown with Mike Novak in the hushed, luxurious environs of the Harbor Club, she needed a break from talk about Gloria, and even from her dear friends.

  Suzanne, who was hosting the meeting at her house, had e-mailed everyone on Tuesday night about a sudden change in her schedule. Thursday was her mother-in-law’s birthday and she’d been called into action.

  Kevin invited her here for a barbeque. Without even asking me, by the way. Nice, right? Think I’ll try that Ragin’ Cajun Arsenic Marinade I found online the other day. As Emeril says, “Kick it up a notch.” :)

  While Suzanne was cooking up revenge fantasies Thursday night, Lucy was cooking for Matt. They usually ate out, so making him dinner was sort of an event … and made her a little nervous. She decided to make something simple, so she wouldn’t be jumping up and checking the food every five seconds.

  Suzanne had served them a pasta dish earlier in the spring, with roasted asparagus, artichoke hearts, and pesto sauce. Lucy decided to try it, figuring she could fix it ahead. A big salad, some bread, and dessert from the bakery would fill out the rest of the menu and leave her time to take her third shower of the day. It was still hot out and not the greatest night for cooking. The steam from the pasta pot had provided a minifacial, which saved time on her primping-for-the-boy-friend routine.

  Matt arrived right on time, with a bottle of cold white wine, a bunch of sunflowers, and a gigantic chewy bone for Tink. The hostess gift for the dog bode well. He obviously planned on staying over and wanted Tink fully occupied.

  They ate outside, on the little brick back patio behind the cottage where Lucy had placed an umbrella table. It was a perfect summer evening, the air smelled sweet and flowery and the light from the sinking sun cast the yard in long golden shadows.

  The garden looked lush, with all kinds of perennials and huge flowering bushes in bloom. Lucy didn’t know the names of half of them. She hadn’t taken much interest in the property so far, beyond mowing the lawn and raking leaves. But Maggie was an avid gardener and had been teaching her about different plants, what grew best where. Lucy could see herself getting into it. She’d always liked to dig in the dirt as a kid.

  “This pasta is great. You’re a woman of many talents, Lucy,” Matt said.

  “Suzanne’s recipe. It’s really easy,” she confessed.

  She sipped her wine. Matt was a fairly good cook himself, not some single guy surviving on Chinese takeout and sub sandwiches, so his compliment was even more meaningful.

  She was secretly glad he liked it. Had the Almost-Ex cooked much? He hadn’t mentioned it.

  It was still light out after dinner. They decided to take a walk down to the beach with Tink. Matt took her hand as they reached the water’s edge.

  “You seem distracted tonight. Anything going on?” he asked. “Worried about work?”

  “Work is fine. The art director liked the chapters I handed in. They called yesterday.”

  “That’s good.”

  She glanced at him. She usually didn’t share all the gossipy goings-on from her knitting group, maybe because they hadn’t been seeing each other all that long. Maybe because a lot of it was so silly, hardly necessary to pass on. But this business with Gloria did weigh on her mind and she wanted to let Matt in on it. Wasn’t that what you were supposed to do in a good relationship?

  “There is something I’ve been thinking about a lot. Something that has to do with Gloria,” she began.

  “Gloria? What about her?” Matt had let Tink loose. He tossed a stick and then sat in the sand, waiting for her return. He might be sitting there a long time, Lucy thought. She folded her long cotton skirt under her and sat down next to him.

  While Tink played fetch, she filled Matt in on the suspicions she and her friends had about Gloria’s death. All the loose ends that didn’t quite tie up, not nearly as neatly as the police and coroner had determined.

  She also told him about their confrontation with Mike Novak, though she edited the story a bit, making it sound as if it had been an accidental meeting and they had not been lying in wait to pounce on him and as if the conversation had been much more reasonable.

  He still looked troubled. Very troubled.

  “I understand what you’re saying, Lucy. And I agree, the questions do sound valid and this guy Novak sounds pretty shady. But you shouldn’t be messing with this stuff.” He sounded almost angry with her. Concerned, she realized. “This is for the police to figure out. I thought you learned your lesson with that loony tune Cara Newhouse.”

  Matt was talking about the night Lucy had suddenly figured out who had murdered yarn shop owner Amanda Goran. It had not been Maggie, of course. But it wasn’t Amanda’s estranged husband, either, whom the police
had brought into custody.

  The culprit had turned out to be an old student of Maggie’s, who had tried to frame her. By the time Lucy realized it—on her way home from her first date with Matt—Amanda’s killer had Maggie in her sights, too, and Lucy accidentally had walked in on the confrontation.

  “A memorable evening. Our first date, too,” she reminded him.

  “Right. And those lovely memories will forever be eclipsed by recollections of hours in the police station, giving sworn statements.”

  Lucy had to laugh. It was almost true. She leaned closer and kissed him on the ear. “You’ve made a big impression since. Believe me.”

  “That’s nice to hear …” He squeezed her hand. “Let’s go home. I’d like to impress you some more.”

  Matt stood and offered Lucy a hand up, then he whistled once and called the dog.

  Miraculously, Tink galloped back, then stood wagging her tail, awaiting further instructions. Lucy had expected to be chasing her down the beach, waving dog biscuits for half an hour, her usual method of getting Tink’s attention.

  She was relieved. Who wanted to ruin the mood with that routine?

  “Good dog, Tink.” She leaned down and quickly clipped her leash. “You are a very good dog tonight … yes, you are.”

  Matt hung around a little longer on Friday morning than he usually did on a weekday. Lucy made breakfast, toasted pieces of French bread left over from the night before, butter, good jam—which she got at Christmastime from friends and never knew what to do with—fresh strawberries, and coffee. They sat at the table outside again, the birds chirping in the branches and Tink lying under the table, catching all the toast crumbs. They read the newspaper together, exchanging sections, like a regular couple.

  Nice, Lucy thought. But scary.

  He had just left for his office when the phone rang. Lucy went inside to pick it up, or at least screen the message. She wondered who would be calling her this early. Her sister, Ellen, possibly, who had probably already cleaned her huge house, put in a load of laundry, and started dinner. She was disgustingly organized.