The Lover's Knot

by Clare O'Donohue

  “Hi,” I said. Carrie spun around and went white.

  “What are you doing here?”

  I laughed. “I think I’m supposed to ask you that.”

  Carrie grabbed my arm and pulled me into the apartment, slamming the door behind me. “Please don’t tell anyone you saw me here.”

  “You lied to me.”

  “I know.” She sat on Marc’s unmade bed. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately.”

  “You were having an affair with Marc.”

  She looked confused for a moment, then lowered her eyes to the floor. “No, I wasn’t. I actually wasn’t.”

  “Then why do you have his key? And what are you looking for in his apartment?”

  “I left an earring here.”

  I walked over close to her. It felt like she might bolt at any minute and I wanted the whole story. “You left an earring in his apartment, but you weren’t having an affair with him?”

  “I know how that sounds, but it’s true. I just didn’t want to say anything before because I don’t want my husband misunderstanding what happened.”

  I sat next to her on the bed. “You weren’t having an affair, but you wanted to have one.”

  “No.” She teared up. “I love my husband. He works twenty-hour days and I feel like a single mom, but I love my husband. I didn’t want to have an affair with Marc.” She shuddered. “The guy was a little sleazy, don’t you think?”

  That was a bit of a slam, intended or not. “I’m not the person who left an earring here.”

  Carrie nodded. “Do you think it might be here?”

  “Carrie, focus. You want me to believe that you came to a man’s apartment and left your earring behind, but you weren’t romantically involved. So, how exactly did you leave your earring?”

  “I gave it to him.” She got up and started looking around the room.

  “What did it look like?”

  “Diamond, a half carat.”

  “Jesse was here the other day. He took things like that as evidence, ” I lied.

  She sat down again, defeated. “I wanted to open my own business. My husband thinks I’m overwhelmed with the kids and shouldn’t take on anything else. I didn’t want to get into another argument about what a waste of money it was, so I figured I’d just go through with it and tell him later. Your grandmother once said to me that sometimes it’s better to apologize than get permission.”

  “It sounds like something she’d say.”

  Carrie smiled a little. “I wanted to take over the diner, turn it into a coffee shop, but you got there first.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s fine. But there was this place for lease down the street. Marc said he’d help me fix it up, he said he’d make it look like the kind of coffee shop I used to hang out in in Greenwich Village.” She laughed. “In another life.”

  “How does the earring figure in?”

  “I didn’t want to dip into our savings to put down a deposit, so Marc said I could sell some jewelry. It’s stuff I bought myself years ago. Marc said he knew where I could get good money for it, very quietly. I wanted to go into the city myself and sell it, but when would I have the time?”

  “So you gave Marc one earring? How much would that have been worth?”

  “Maybe a thousand, fifteen hundred. I just wanted him to get me a price. Then I was going to give him the other and a bracelet I had. I was trying to figure out if I should go through with it.”

  “So you’re here to get it back?”

  She nodded and took a deep breath. “I changed my mind. Maybe I don’t have what it takes to be in business anymore. I don’t know. I knew I didn’t want to start a business by lying to my husband. I went to Someday Quilts the day he was killed and asked Marc for the jewelry back. He told me he was keeping it as his fee. I saw his keys on the checkout counter, so I took them. I was going to run down here and get the earring, and then I ran into you and got all freaked out, and then . . . Did Marc tell you about our arrangement?”

  “Why would he?”

  “You were getting . . . close,” she stammered. “Maybe you were just as fooled as I was.”

  Another slam, unintentional or not, but this time I hit back. “You didn’t go back to the shop later, maybe when you couldn’t find the earring, and kill Marc?”

  “If I’d already searched his place, why would I be here now?”

  She had a point. I got up, knowing that Jesse would kill me for this, and walked over to the box of jewelry on his bookcase. I handed it to Carrie, who riffled through the mostly cheap earrings. In the middle was a beautiful diamond.

  “I don’t think he really knew where to sell it,” she said. “I don’t think Marc was that worldly. He was just really good at fooling people.”

  “We should go,” I said, and we headed for the door. Just as we locked Marc’s apartment behind us, I heard steps coming up the stairs.

  “I got a report that someone was breaking into Marc’s apartment. ” I turned to see Jesse on the bottom stair.

  “I can explain,” I said.

  “I’m almost certain you can.”

  Carrie and I sat in Jesse’s office for nearly an hour. For ten minutes we explained why we were there, and for fifty we listened to Jesse tell us why we were in big trouble.

  “I could charge you with half a dozen things,” he said to Carrie.

  “What if Marc gave her the key?” I asked. “Then she would have had his permission to be in his apartment. It’s not a crime scene. You don’t have police tape across it, do you?” Jesse just glared at me. “The earring belongs to her, so really what crime could you charge her with?”

  “Tampering with a police investigation, for starters. I could charge you with the same thing.” He sighed heavily. “Carrie, go home. I’m keeping your earring for now. I’ll get it back to you when we’re done with the investigation.”

  Carrie squeezed my hand. “Thanks,” she said meekly and left.

  I got up. “Don’t move,” Jesse said. “I like you, Nell. And I realize that this is my fault. I guess I liked having you around. And I’m the first to admit that you have been helpful. But this is the end of the line, do you understand? You are not a police officer.”

  “I wasn’t being a police officer . . .”

  “You followed a potential murder suspect into the apartment of a victim and then aided her in recovering property that could be evidence of her guilt.”

  “I don’t think Carrie killed him.”

  “You did before.”

  “I don’t now.”

  “Well, then. You tell me who did, Sherlock, and I can take the rest of the afternoon off.”

  “I don’t like your tone,” I said, my voice quivering just a little.

  “I don’t care what you think of my tone. I’m not going to be responsible for something happening to you, or this murder investigation, because you’ve gotten a little caught up in playing detective.”

  “Am I charged with anything?” I asked with as much iciness as I could muster. He was right, and that made me feel all the more angry and defensive.

  “No. I’m just going to ask you to stay out of it. Maybe you should be spending your time figuring out why you’re planning to marry a man you think could have committed murder. A guy who uses you for an alibi and tells me that you didn’t mean anything to him.”

  “I realize he isn’t likely to be the perfect, faultless husband you were.” I surprised myself with my sarcasm. “I guess I’m just choosing from what’s out there.”

  “Get out of my office,” he said without looking at me.

  “My pleasure.” I got up and walked out as quickly as I could.

  CHAPTER 54

  Irushed out of the police station so fast I nearly walked straight into oncoming traffic. It took the sound of brakes screeching and someone yelling “Nell” before I paid attention. I looked around and someone yelling “Nell“ before I paid attention. I looked around and saw Natalie comi
ng out of the post office with little Jeremy.

  “Are you okay?” she shouted.

  I nodded. “I’m fine. Just mad.”

  “You want to get some coffee and tell me about it?”

  We headed over to the bakery, where I got coffee, a chocolate-covered doughnut, and an éclair.

  “You are upset.” Natalie sat at the bakery’s one small table. “Who are you mad at?” she asked as I swallowed the donut. “Sure hope it’s not me.”

  “Jesse.”

  She blinked slowly. “What did he do?”

  “Put me in my place, that’s what he did. I understand that he’s the cop. And I was wrong. I’m willing to admit that.”

  “You made a mistake and you told him you were wrong and he got mad at you?”

  “I didn’t tell him I was wrong. I would have, but he was so busy telling me all the ways I’ve screwed up that I just couldn’t.”

  “What exactly happened?”

  “I’ve been helping him. He’s wanted my help. Now, all of the sudden, he’s telling me to stay out of it. And he just said the meanest thing to me about Ryan.”

  “He has that way about him sometimes,” she agreed.

  “Everybody has to be perfect like him,” I said, still exasperated.

  Natalie sipped at her coffee and dusted some nonexistent dirt off Jeremy’s bib. “He’s not perfect.”

  “I know about you and his wife.”

  “Who told you?”

  “Eleanor.”

  She nodded and looked away. “Then you don’t know, not really.”

  Out the window I could see Jesse walk out of the police station and stand talking to another officer. “What don’t I know?” I asked Natalie.

  “When Lizzie, his wife, was really sick, I used to come by and visit. A lot of times, though, she would fall asleep and I would stay to keep Jesse company. It was hard for him, trying to look after his daughter. She was just a baby. I didn’t realize at the time how hard that could be.” She swallowed. “One night we sat outside, Jesse and me, and talked. He was so scared. So lonely. I don’t think he’d admitted that to anyone before.”

  I could see that Jesse was slowly walking up the street toward the bakery. “Did something happen?” I asked, watching Jesse with one eye.

  “It was stupid. One night we were having some wine and talking. Me about my bad marriage, him about his dying wife. I guess we both felt a little sorry for ourselves. He leaned over and kissed me,” she said, blushing. “I let him because I was a little shocked, a little sorry for him. It wasn’t a big deal, and that’s all that happened, but to Jesse it was a huge betrayal. Whenever he saw me, he was ice-cold. He doesn’t allow himself much in the way of failure.”

  “That’s why he’s mad at you—because you represent his failure to be a perfect husband.”

  “I guess.” She leaned back. “He had also made me promise it wouldn’t change my friendship with Liz, but it did. I felt uncomfortable, and I just stopped visiting her.”

  “And then he felt you had abandoned his wife.”

  “I guess, and if it made him feel better to be mad at me, then I was okay with it. Maybe I could have handled it better, for Lizzie’s sake. But I didn’t, and enough is enough. He’s human too. He makes mistakes. And I’d tell him that if I saw him. I really would.”

  “You may have your chance, because he’s walking up to the store right now.”

  Natalie’s head spun around, just as Jesse reached the window. But he didn’t stop. He just kept walking as if he didn’t know we were there. Maybe he didn’t. Or maybe I’d gotten on his bad side, just like Natalie, and now I was going to be ignored.

  The whole way back to my grandmother’s I replayed our conversation. I wanted to be angry at Jesse, but I just felt sorry for him. Not dead wife sorry, but sorry that he was so hard on himself, and by extension everyone else. Namely me. And that thought made me mad at him again. By the time I reached the front door, I was completely confused about everything, except that I was definitely not staying out of the investigation.

  “Nell,” Eleanor called out as I walked in the door. “Nell, is that you?”

  I wanted to go upstairs, but I knew I couldn’t. “Yes, I’m home.”

  “Come into the kitchen.”

  She was sitting at the kitchen table, rubbing the cast on her leg. “I can’t wait to get this thing off,” she said. She looked at me. “What’s wrong?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing.”

  “I know what it is,” she said quietly. “Ryan called here. He’s frantic. He said he called you half a dozen times today and you’re not picking up your phone.”

  Ryan. I had forgotten about him. “I’ll call him back right now.” I took out my cell phone. There were five missed calls from Ryan and three from Amanda. Poor Amanda—he was enlisting her to bug me.

  “Nell,” my grandmother said softly. “This isn’t any of my business, but if you’re having doubts . . .”

  “Are you telling me that no one has ever had doubts before they walked down the aisle?”

  I sat next to her. She laid her hand on mine. “No.”

  “Did you have doubts when you married Grandpa?”

  She smiled a little. “No. But it was a different time. He was heading to Korea. We wanted to have sex.”

  “Grandma!”

  She shrugged. “So tell me about the help you’ve been giving Jesse.”

  “I don’t want to talk about that.”

  “You think Ryan might have killed Marc, and you’re trying to prove that he didn’t.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know what I’m trying to prove anymore. I really don’t. I just have to know the answer.”

  “Do you love Ryan?”

  I looked into her gray-blue eyes. “Why are you asking me that?”

  “You’ve been leaving your wedding invitations all over the place and following Jesse around.”

  “I left them one place, in Jesse’s office. And I haven’t been following Jesse around. I’ve been helping him.”

  “He doesn’t seem to think so, at the moment, anyway.”

  “I admit we had a fight.” I stopped and looked at her. “How do you know about that, anyway?” She smiled. I knew I was turning a little red. “Can I get anything past you?”

  “I have spies,” she laughed, waking up Barney, who had been sleeping in the corner.

  “Barney?” I asked, only half kidding. I wasn’t sure how she knew the things she knew anymore.

  “Heavens, no. He’s dumb as a post, poor handsome thing.”

  Upstairs I pushed my quilt off the bed and lay under a dark blue blanket. My cell phone rang. It was Ryan again. This time I picked up.

  “Finally.” His voice seemed far away. “Where have you been all day?”

  “Why did you come up here the day Marc was killed?”

  “What?”

  “Just tell me?”

  “I thought we should talk.”

  “You didn’t come up here to get back together, then get spooked when you saw Marc? Because that’s what I thought happened.”

  There was silence for a minute. “I meant what I said that day by the river. I realized what a stupid mistake I was making by letting you go.”

  “You told someone that at Moran’s Pub.”

  “No, I didn’t. What are you talking about?”

  “You were on the phone at Moran’s Pub the day of the murder. Who were you talking to?”

  “How do you know that?” His voice was getting angry. I heard him take a breath. “I was talking to Amanda.”

  “What did she tell you?”

  “She told me that I needed to decide what I wanted. And that once I knew I should go for it. So I decided to fight for you.” He stopped. “Not like that. Not like that.”

  I stared at the ceiling, my mind blank. “You told Jesse that you went into the shop when I was there. That isn’t true.”

  “I panicked. I knew it would look bad.”

  “Di
dn’t you think Jesse would ask me the same question?”

  “I knew you would back me up.” I smiled a little at that. He was so sure of me. “It’s not a big deal.”

  I sat up. “Why were you in the shop?”

  “To talk to him. He kicked me out. I hit him,” he said. “What does it matter? You need to put this behind you. We have to put the past behind us and just move on. You hear me?”

  “Yes,” I said, but my voice had gone dull.

  “You love me, Nell.”

  “Can I call you tomorrow?”

  “Jesus. Yeah, I guess. What’s going on?”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  I clicked the end button on my cell phone and closed my eyes. Was he right? Should I just put the past behind me? And if I did, how much of the past should I let go of?

  CHAPTER 55

  The next morning I walked down to the river and sat on a rock near the spot where Ryan had reproposed to me. I looked out at the icy water. It was only early October, but the air was biting. My cheeks were numb and my eyes were starting to tear, but I couldn’t leave that spot. I didn’t spend fifty years with Ryan. I didn’t have his children or watch his hair turn gray. And yet sitting here, I felt the loss of all of it. It had been hard when I felt he’d taken it away from me. Choosing to leave, which should have been easier, left me feeling sick.

  I took my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed Ryan’s number.

  “Hey,” came the voice on the other end. “What’s wrong? Have you been crying?”

  “I was thinking we should talk.”

  “About what? Us or the murder?” His voice had a hardness to it.

  “Us.”

  “I’ll get on the next train. I’ll meet you at your grandmother’s house,” he said.

  “You don’t have to come up. I can come to the city. Amanda wants to get together for lunch, anyway.”

  “You can see her another time,” he said softly. “I want to be alone with you.”

  It made me uncomfortable to hear the tenderness in his voice. As the morning wore on, my nerves got the better of me. I didn’t think sitting around my grandmother’s kitchen table would make the conversation any easier, so I decided to meet him at the station.