The Lover's Knot

by Clare O'Donohue

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I want to know who killed Marc.”

  Jesse’s head tilted slightly, like a confused puppy. “Why? Did you care about him that much?”

  “Do you have to care about someone to want justice for them?”

  “That’s bull. That’s not why you’re here.” He started pacing. “And just for your information, it’s my job to get justice for people.”

  Instantly I was twelve years old and getting a talking-to from my father for skipping math class. What I had done, as far as he was concerned, was indefensible. And yet I was required to stand there and defend myself.

  “If you felt that way, why did you let me go into the doctor’s office with you?”

  “Because if I hadn’t, then you would have gone in alone and told me that you had an appointment. I wouldn’t have been able to prove otherwise.” Jesse looked at his feet and then at me. “I will arrest you,” he said. There was no anger in his voice, but it was serious in tone. I was meant to be scared. But I wasn’t.

  “No you won’t.”

  “Because you will not do this again. Do you understand?”

  Without meaning to, I laughed. This did not go over well.

  “Nell,” he said as he fingered the handcuffs that were attached at the side of his belt. “If Ryan did it, I will find out.”

  “He didn’t do it,” I said.

  “If you really believed that one hundred percent, you wouldn’t be here.”

  “I just don’t want this hanging over us. He wants . . .” I hesitated. I wasn’t sure if I should say it. “He wants to get married.”

  Jesse’s face changed into a sympathetic half smile. “Congratulations, ” he said softly. “As of when?”

  “Yesterday.”

  He stood silent for a minute, then lowered his eyes. “Get in the car,” he said.

  CHAPTER 39

  “Where are we going?” I asked for the second time, but Jesse was ignoring me. “Shouldn’t you obey the speed limit?” I asked as he flew down Main Street.

  “I’m going like twenty-five miles an hour.” I looked at the speedometer. He was going closer to forty, but it wasn’t as if anyone would pull him over.

  “Are you going to tell me or not?”

  Jesse glanced over. “Let me ask you something,” Jesse said. “When Ryan came to the shop on Friday to see you, did he come inside?”

  “I think so,” I said, but I was lying.

  Jesse looked over at me. “Okay.”

  “Why?”

  “His fingerprints.”

  “You said they weren’t on the scissors.”

  “They weren’t,” he said. “But they were on a number of items in the box that contained the scissors. Did he have any reason to touch that box?”

  “He helped me move some things . . . in the shop.” Another lie.

  A moment passed, then, “Okay.”

  Jesse slowed the car down and made a turn, and I instantly knew where he was taking me. In another few seconds we pulled up in front of my grandmother’s house.

  “Enjoy the rest of your day,” Jesse said as he stopped the car.

  “Jesse . . . ,” I started.

  “Nell, I know you mean well. But you can’t prove Ryan is innocent and you can get yourself in a lot of trouble. I don’t want to see that happen, so this ends here. Okay?”

  I gritted my teeth and nodded. “It ends here,” I agreed and got out of the car.

  Inside, Nancy and Eleanor were busy helping customers. I thought for a second I might be able to slip by without being noticed, but no luck.

  “Things okay at the shop?” Eleanor called out.

  I walked into the dining room and nearly tripped on one of the bolts of fabric that now had taken over the room. “Everything’s great. I’m taking a break. I thought I would call Natalie and see if she wanted to get together for lunch, actually,” I said. “Do you have her number?”

  “Oh, how lovely.” Nancy smiled. “Hold on a second.” Nancy went to a pile of papers and began sorting through them, finally stopping on one. She handed it to me. “The quilt club phone list. You should have a copy anyway.”

  I was about to protest that I wasn’t really a part of the quilt club, but I had the list with the names, numbers and addresses of the entire club, so I just smiled. I was almost out of the room when Eleanor spoke again.

  “Have you cut the flowers for the quilt?”

  I stopped. “Almost done,” I said quickly and headed for the kitchen.

  In the kitchen I grabbed the car keys and headed back out of the house, in the car and back on the main road.

  Natalie lived in a two-bedroom apartment just a few blocks from her mother’s house. I expected the place to have the same eccentric flare as her mother’s, but the living room was almost completely beige. Not “haven’t gotten around to decorating” beige, but beige as a design choice. All shades and all textures of one color scheme in what seemed almost a deliberate break from her mother’s view of the world. The only exception was a six-foot square quilt hanging on the wall behind her couch. The quilt was an abstract design of circles and half circles appliquéd on squares. It seemed to be made from dozens of fabrics in the deepest shades of red and purple. Against the monochromatic background, it was startling and beautiful.

  “We made it together, my mom and I,” Natalie said when she caught me studying it. “It was my first quilt.”

  “If I could make something like that my first time out, I might take up quilting myself,” I said. For the first time, I was a little envious of the artistry that each of these woman could access. They seemed to take it for granted that anyone with a few bits of fabric and some time could create an object that would not only keep you warm but also be an object of beauty.

  “You should do it,” she said. “If you don’t want Eleanor to teach you, I can. I think it’s really the absolute best way to deal with a problem.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nancy says it’s a right brain, left brain activity.” Natalie settled into a beige leather chair, while I sat at the corner of the couch. “There’s a lot of math and figuring out patterns and amounts of fabrics, so that’s one side, then the other is taken up with the whole creative process. So when you’re quilting, you are completely involved in it. There’s no space in your brain left over for worrying about your problems.” She pointed to a pile of about ten quilts neatly folded on top of an armoire. “I made most of those when my husband and I were separated. It kept me from going crazy.”

  “Well, then, I should take it up,” I laughed. “And quickly.”

  “Let me get you some soda,” Natalie said. “Diet or regular?”

  “Regular,” I said. “The more fattening the better.”

  Natalie left the room and returned with two Cokes and some store-bought cookies. “It’s so great to have someone come to hang out,” she said. “I’m so glad you dropped by.”

  I took a deep breath. “I was at Dr. Parnell’s office today, asking him some questions about Marc.”

  Natalie blushed. “Why would Dr. Parnell know anything about Marc?”

  “Apparently,” I said as gently as I could, “Marc went to see him about you and your son.”

  “Did Dr. Parnell tell you that?”

  “Not exactly, but that was what we figured he meant.”

  “We?”

  “I was with Jesse. I just happened to be there when Jesse was questioning the doctor,” I said, lying for the fourth time today. I wasn’t fond of my new habit, or the fact that it was getting easier each time.

  Natalie blinked at me several times, clearly trying to take it in. I wasn’t sure for a moment whether she was going to throw me out, but instead she started to tear up. “So why do you think Marc wanted to see Dr. Parnell?” Natalie stuttered.

  “He was trying to find out if he fathered your son,” I said matter-of-factly. I took a breath. “Did he?”

  Natalie’s eyes nar
rowed, and it was clear she didn’t appreciate my directness. “No, he did not.” Then her gaze waned. She swallowed and looked away. “I don’t think so.”

  “You’re not sure?” I asked.

  “Look, things were difficult enough then. Larry and I were on and off the whole time I was pregnant.” She sat quietly for a moment, looking small and tired. When she spoke again, the defensive-nesshad left her voice. “Marc and I had a brief affair. You obviously know how charming he can be. How he can make you feel wanted at exactly the time when you feel completely unwanted. It wasn’t right, though, so I broke things off and a few weeks later Larry and I started to reconcile. When my son was born, he was early, and Marc was absolutely convinced I’d lied about the date of conception.”

  “Did Marc threaten you?” I asked quietly.

  “Not threaten, exactly. He wanted to see my son. He wanted to visit with him. If Larry found out, that would have ended everything. ” Natalie suddenly realized what she had said. “But I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you think. And that’s obviously what you think. I just want to protect my son.”

  As if on cue, a loud cry came from the baby in another room. Natalie jumped up and went to him.

  Natalie came back in the room with baby Jeremy in her arms. She set him down on the floor in front of me and he smiled and handed me a small teddy bear, then gestured to have it back. When I gave it back he giggled with delight and handed it to me again. He was a handsome little boy with a chubby face and sweet soft brown eyes. For the first time I really looked at the little boy, who smiled back at me.

  “Marc wasn’t the father,” I said suddenly.

  “Excuse me?” Natalie said.

  “He has brown eyes. You have blue eyes. Marc had blue eyes. Two people with blue eyes can only have a child with blue eyes. It’s genetics 101.”

  Natalie grabbed her son and stared at him. Then she started to cry. “I can’t believe it’s that simple.” She smiled. “I knew he wasn’t the father. In my heart. But he was so sure.”

  “But he studied biology in college, didn’t he?” I asked.

  “I think so,” she said. “He went to school in New York for a while.”

  “Did he ever see Jeremy?” I asked.

  “Once. A few months ago he came to the house with a stuffed toy. He wanted his son to have it,” she said, a touch of anger in her voice. “He made a big point of saying that. Jeremy and I were on our way to the park, and Marc took him out of my arms. He wouldn’t give him back for, like, ten minutes. It was really terrifying.”

  “He had a good look at Jeremy,” I confirmed.

  “So he would have known that Jeremy wasn’t his son. He would have seen the brown eyes. Is that what you’re saying?” Natalie looked at me, a little surprised.

  “Yeah, I think he knew. I think he was just torturing you,” I said. “Did he ask you for money to keep his mouth shut?”

  “I don’t have any money. We’re just getting by as it is. Marc knew that. He had to have known that. Besides, I wouldn’t have stood for having that hanging over my head the rest of my life.” As the words came out of her mouth, she turned pale.

  The baby handed me his teddy bear and we handed it back and forth. To give Natalie some time to compose herself I played with her son. After a few minutes, I patted the child on his head and got up to leave. “Do you know where Marc would have gotten a lot of money?” I asked.

  “He gambled at an off-track betting place about twenty miles south of here. Charley’s, I think it was called. I don’t think he won all that often, but that’s the only place I can think of where he could have gotten money.”

  “Not his father?”

  She shook her head. “His dad paid his rent sometimes, I know that. But he would never just give Marc a check. In fact, Marc once broke into his dad’s house looking for cash.” Natalie scooped up the baby and walked toward the front door. “I have to get his lunch.”

  I followed her. “I may take you up on teaching me to quilt,” I said.

  “I wish you would,” she said. “It would take your mind off your broken engagement.”

  “Actually,” I smiled slightly, “I think Ryan and I are getting back together.”

  “Really,” she laughed. “Why didn’t you tell me this morning?” I shrugged. Why didn’t I tell her?

  “Too busy butting in where I don’t belong, I guess.” She smiled, but her lips were tight and tense. “Eleanor will want you to start making some baby quilts.” I rolled my eyes, which made Natalie’s face relax. “I want to hear everything,” she said, “if you want to talk about it.”

  I nodded. Natalie kissed her smiling son and held his small hand up to wave good-bye to me.

  CHAPTER 40

  Information listed one place named Charley’s on the main road leading south. I pulled up outside a run-down frame building with a small sign that read OTB. The neighborhood looked a little shaky, just two boarded-up buildings, an empty lot and a closed tire store. I was completely out of my element and I realized I had no idea who to talk to or what to ask.

  “I live in New York,” I said to myself. “That has to count for something.” I took a deep breath and headed in.

  Inside I wasn’t so sure of my street cred. The place was about half full, mostly with tired, blank-looking men, their eyes glued to small television sets bolted to shelves. It had a dark, dirty, stale feeling to it that made me cough as I walked in. I was just about to turn around and leave when I saw a familiar face. Jesse was standing just a few feet ahead of me, talking with an older man. Before Jesse could see me, I darted behind him and pretended to study a discarded newspaper.

  “It’s a sad thing about poor Marc, such a young guy,” the man was saying to Jesse. He was either in his late sixties and had lived well, or in his early fifties and had thrown away every chance at health. He was smoking right below the NO SMOKING sign, but no one seemed to care.

  “When’s the last time you saw Marc?”

  The man lowered his eyes. “Tuesday, I think. Yes. Tuesday. He came in here with a wad of money. I’d say close to seven thousand dollars. And he kept betting.” He laughed. “Man, he was on a streak. He won over and over. Must have walked out of here with close to fifteen grand. He even gave me a C-note. Said I should treat the missus to a nice dinner.” He looked at Jesse. “Lost it on the next race, or I would have.”

  “So he had fifteen thousand dollars?” Jesse asked.

  “Something like that. Why? Does that have something to do with his dying?”

  “I don’t know,” Jesse said. “It answers one question, but it doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

  At just that moment, Jesse turned and bumped right into me. I tried, ridiculously, to ignore him, but he grabbed my arm.

  “Nell, what are you doing here?”

  “Nell?” The man Jesse had been questioning smiled at me. “You aren’t Eleanor’s granddaughter, are you?”

  “Yes,” I said, stunned. I studied the man to see if I knew him, but he didn’t look familiar.

  “Well, my wife says the nicest things about you. The nicest things.” He smiled and his eyes focused in on me. There was a twinkle that made it immediately clear he was, or had been, quite charming.

  “Your wife?”

  “Nancy. She works for your grandmother.”

  “Oh, hi, Mr. Vanderberg. It’s really nice to meet you.” I could feel Jesse’s eyes boring into me, but I decided to pretend otherwise.

  “Are you a quilter too?” Mr. Vanderberg asked.

  “No, though Nancy and the others keep mistaking me for one,” I said and smiled a little at him.

  “Well, you take it up. It has given Nancy years of joy. And she deserves it too,” he sighed. Behind the ashen face and deep wrinkles was a kindness that I quite liked. “Better her hobby than mine.”

  “Speaking of hobbies,” Jesse interrupted. “Nell has one that keeps getting her into trouble.” He led me out the door.

  When we walked out, the streng
th of the sunlight hit me and it took a moment just to readjust.

  “Okay, Nancy Drew, I thought we had a deal.”

  “I was just . . .” I started to say that I was just here to make a bet, but I knew that wouldn’t fly.

  “Get in the car and drive back to your grandmother’s house and stay there.”

  “You’re not actually allowed to tell me where I can spend my time.”

  He almost smiled. “I am allowed to arrest you.”

  “Not here, we’re not in Archers Rest.”

  Jesse opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and headed toward a blue sedan parked up the street. I followed him.

  “So we know where he got the money he was going to pay the doctor,” I called after him.

  “No we don’t. We know he walked into the place with seven grand. We don’t know where he got that.”

  “Blackmail?”

  Jesse shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “But not Natalie.”

  Jesse stopped and turned toward me. “Why not Natalie?”

  I told him about my visit with Natalie and though he was clearly upset with me for going to her apartment, he listened.

  “So Marc knew he wasn’t the father” was all he said when I finished.

  “I think so.” I was excited now to have someone to talk to about the case. “One thing bothers me, though. He had nearly three times the amount he offered the doctor.”

  “Why does that bother you?” Jesse asked. “He was keeping the rest for himself.”

  “Yeah, but this was so important to him. You would think he would have put everything he had in the pot. He was a gambler, after all. It’s not like he was putting money toward his retirement. What do you think?”

  Jesse unlocked his car. “Go home, Nell.”

  “Did you find the rest of the money?” I asked as Jesse got in his car.

  “Go home, Nell,” he said. “This isn’t the kind of neighborhood you want be in.”

  Jesse closed his door and started the car, but he didn’t go anywhere. I realized he was waiting for me, so I got back in my grandmother’s car and pulled out of the spot. He pulled out after me and followed me the entire way back to Archers Rest.