Knot Guilty

by Betty Hechtman

  I knew the drill. They always wanted to keep witnesses separate until they got a statement from them.

  I looked down the hall as my friends came out into the hallway. They were talking among themselves and went in the opposite direction without noticing what was going on at the end of the hall. Adele was leading the way, and I realized they were heading down to the marketplace for the opening of the show. The only one who hung back was Dinah. She looked up and down the hallway and then she saw me.

  She began walking toward me, just as the uniform stepped in front of me, blocking my view. “I need to talk to my friend,” I said, attempting to see around him and pointing toward Dinah.

  “Not now,” he said in a voice full of authority. “We need a statement from you first.”

  Dinah got close enough to see the yellow tape. Despite what the cop said, I waved at her and told her to go downstairs and that I’d be there soon. She reluctantly left after giving me a wave.

  The hall got quiet again, and it began to sink in that no one had left the big suite. The paramedics hadn’t rushed out, pushing K.D. on a gurney. For the first time, I began to think about K.D.’s condition. I asked my cop about her.

  “I don’t have that information,” he said in a businesslike tone. I didn’t know if he was telling the truth, but the more I thought about it, the less likely it seemed that K.D. was okay. There was another alternative for them not rushing her to the hospital. I didn’t want to think about it.

  My cop had a metal clipboard with some sheets attached and began to get my personal information. I was relieved that he didn’t seem to recognize my name. Let’s just say that it wasn’t the first time I’d been questioned at a crime scene, nor the second time, either. I’d been taken to the police station a few times, as well, though never really arrested.

  “Can I go now?” I said after giving all my information and the basics of what had happened. I explained my relationship to K.D., which was pretty slim, and how I’d happened to find her in the bathtub. The cop didn’t seem to be in any hurry to let me go and called over a middle-aged cop who came out of the suite and seemed to be in charge.

  “I really have to get downstairs. The yarn show is just opening, and the place where I work has a booth there. It was very expensive, and I have to make sure it succeeds or my boss is going to be upset.” I looked the middle-aged cop in the eye. “I’ll be downstairs all evening, all day tomorrow and Saturday and Sunday. You can ask me anything you want anytime during that, but I really need to go.”

  I think Delvin was saying something similar to his cop. There was a bunch of discussing among the cops, and finally they let us both go.

  By the time we got downstairs, it was completely dark outside. Floodlights lit up the grounds along the glass corridor that ran across the front of the event building. A crowd of mostly women was gathering near the doors, waiting for the opening of the show

  I threaded through the crowd with Delvin. “K.D. would want the show to go on no matter what,” he said solemnly as we reached the entrance to the marketplace. As soon as we got inside, we parted company, and I went to my booth.

  “You’re here,” Dinah said, hugging me and sounding relieved. “I didn’t know what to think when I saw you with the cops.” I didn’t see any point in telling the others. With the exception of Adele, they didn’t know K.D., and why ruin the moment for them? I did pull Dinah aside.

  “How awful,” my friend said when I told her about finding K.D. in the tub and the black cord plugged into the wall. “What do you think happened?”

  “I’m guessing there was a hair dryer on the other end of the cord, and I don’t think it got in the tub by accident.” I took a deep breath. “I think somebody threw it in there.” Then Dinah asked the obvious question: Was K.D. dead?

  “Nobody has confirmed it, but I have to believe that if she’d survived, they would have rushed her off for emergency care,” I said.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “There’s nothing for me to do. I gave my statement to the cops.” Dinah gave me a knowing look.

  “You’re not going to try to find out what happened?” Before I could answer, she spoke again. “You know I’m always available to be your Watson.”

  “For right now we’d better just concentrate on making our booth a success.”

  Sheila, Rhoda and Elise were in chairs behind the long table. Adele was just finishing adding a second banner that said “Free Crochet Lessons.” Eduardo had found a bench and put it in front of the booth and was sitting on it with a supply of yarn and hooks.

  “I hope you don’t mind if I offer lessons here,” he said, gesturing at the setup. “This should be fun.”

  I tried to pull myself together and pick up on the excitement of the show opening. I reminded them of the pin making enterprise and began taking out the supplies and putting them on the end of the table. I noticed that half of Bob’s Oatmeal Power Squares were gone already.

  “All the vendors wanted to try them,” Sheila said.

  Adele got down from hanging the banner and zeroed in on the dress form with the knitted vest. “Pink, I can’t believe you let that woman leave it here. It threatens the whole crochet concept.”

  “Don’t worry, it’s going.” I looked up to see the woman with the short hair and knitted headband picking up the dress form almost in front of me. Rhoda admired the jacket on the dress form and the long gray vest the woman was wearing and inquired about the patterns. I struggled to remember her name.

  “Sand doesn’t sell yarn and patterns. She has the items already made up,” I said.

  The woman gave me an odd look. “My name is Rain,” she said.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I knew it had something to do with water, and then for some reason I thought about the beach.” In the background, Adele was muttering something about people with weird names.

  Rain shrugged it off and said she had to get back to her spot. She did a double take as she passed a man approaching our booth.

  “We’re not open yet,” Adele said as the man walked right in.

  “Adele, don’t you recognize Logan?” Elise said. I looked at the man again, and the only part of him that seemed familiar was the hair. Logan had a funny hairline that always made him look like he was wearing a hat. As for the rest of him—I should have known. With Elise’s obsession with the crocheting vampire it made perfect sense that she’d make her husband dress up as Anthony to hang out in the booth. Mr. Royal had left a prominent display of all the Anthony books. Luckily, he hadn’t brought the cardboard cutout that we had in the store. Even though it was supposed to be the character in the books, the artist had based it on the movie version of Anthony, Hugh Jackman.

  Logan was a shorter and a much less sexy Anthony than Hugh Jackman. Elise had covered his face in pale makeup and glitter. He was dressed all in black with a red handkerchief stuck in his jacket pocket. Would she really have made him wear fangs? He greeted me with a smile, and I saw that she had. So we had a cover model pirate and an overdone vampire in our booth. Was there any chance our booth wouldn’t get attention?

  I stepped out of the booth and checked out the far end of the huge ballroom. A stage had been set up with a walkway that led out into the open space. Delvin was adjusting a microphone and testing that it worked. A large board next to the stage had a schedule of the evening’s events. After the opening ceremonies, there were to be several fashion shows and some knitting demos. Lacey Kirby came in and headed for the stage. I wondered if anyone had contacted her about her mother.

  From a distance she had the same build and way of moving as K.D., but without the silvery white hair. Hers was a very dark red. She and Delvin conferred, and after a moment she seemed to slump, and he put his arm on her back in a supportive way. Then she straightened and left the stage.

  I tried to follow her with my eye, but she got los
t in the crowd of people flooding in through the open doors. I went back to our booth and got ready for the onslaught.

  Above the din of conversation, I heard Delvin over the microphone. He welcomed everyone to the show and introduced himself, explaining that there’d been an accident and he was taking over temporarily for K.D. Kirby. The opening ceremonies were basically him talking about this being the tenth annual show. He told the attendees how lucky they were to have the opportunity to take some of the fabulous knitting classes that were being offered and to rub shoulders with so many of the knitterati from all over the country. He reminded the group of the auctions and the banquet.

  I could hear Adele grumbling behind me about all the knitting references, and when he announced the beginning of the first fashion show, she said she and her heart-covered vest should really be up there.

  I ignored it all and focused my attention on our temporary store. Thanks to the location and the flashing lights on Adele’s crochet logo and Eduardo and Logan, we instantly had a big crowd. Yarn and books started moving, the Hookers gave some lessons, and Dinah handled the granny square pin making.

  “Where exactly is your yarn store?” a woman said as she approached me.

  “We’re actually a bookstore and more,” I explained as I started to reel off that the “more” included a yarn department and we hosted crochet parties.

  “Crochet parties, hmm,” she said as she glanced at the front table and saw Adele’s flashing logo. “But not knitting parties.” She held up her flowered tote bag and showed off the yarn and knitting needles inside.

  I gave her a crochet pitch, saying that was easier and faster than knitting and because you worked with one stitch at a time instead of a whole roll, there were lots of possibilities.

  “Excuse me, Molly, when you have a minute I need to speak to you.” The male voice startled me both because there were mostly women milling around and because I recognized it.

  I handed the woman a book on crochet, taking an extra moment before turning to face the voice’s owner. It had been months since Detective Barry Greenberg had walked out of my life. I had figured that I’d have to tell my tale to a detective after being the one to find K.D. I just hadn’t expected it to be him. This was awkward with a capital A.

  When I finally turned to face him, I felt a familiar rush. No matter our difficulties, there had always been an automatic reaction when I saw him. It was some kind of force that drew me to him in the first place. I wondered if he felt something similar. Not that I could tell by looking at him. He had his cop face on, and it made his handsome features seem stoic. Even his dark eyes didn’t flare with a hint of emotion.

  The last time I’d seen him was when he’d come by to tell me that he was stepping away, that I deserved more than he could give, that I ought to go with Mason.

  Even with the cop face, his tiredness showed. There was a worn look around his eyes, and I wondered if he’d been up all night. But, I reminded myself it was none of my business anymore. He was dressed in his work uniform of a conservative suit, white shirt and striped tie.

  “I suppose you’re here about K.D. Kirby,” I said, avoiding looking at his face. I didn’t have a cop face to hide behind, and I didn’t want him to see my reaction to his presence.

  “We need to talk.” He had the cop voice going, too. It was all business.

  I felt a hint of guilt for not trying to do something to help K.D., but as soon as I saw the cord going into the water, I was afraid all I would do was electrocute myself.

  Detective Heather came up behind him and leaned in close to say something to him. When she stepped back, she looked at me directly. “Molly. So you’re involved in this case.”

  I should explain that I was the only one who called her Detective Heather. And it wasn’t out loud, either. I only called her that in my head. To everyone else she was Detective Gilmore. If there’d been a homicide detective Barbie, it would have resembled her. Heather wasn’t all just good looks, either. She was smart and reputed to be a great shot at the gun range. She’d always had her eye on Barry, and now I guessed he was finally hers.

  “So, you guys are partners now?” I said, trying to keep the snarky tone out of my voice.

  Was it my imagination, or was there a little triumph in the way Heather nodded in answer before suggesting that maybe she should handle the interview with me and he could talk to Delvin Whittingham.

  “I’ve got it covered,” Barry said to her, and after a moment she walked away. He turned back to me. “Yes, we’re partners, Molly.” There was a slight lapse in his cop face. “At work only. I’m doing the single thing now. Just concentrating on work and dealing with a teenage son.” He blew out his breath. “I don’t seem to be very good at relationships.”

  His comment hung in the air for only a second before he became all business again.

  “I understand you were the one to find K.D. Kirby.” His cop face broke again. “You can’t seem to stay out of trouble, can you?” he chided before resuming his professional demeanor. “How about you tell me what happened.”

  Before I could even begin to answer, we were jostled by shoppers coming into the booth. A woman touched my arm. “Could you tell me about the crochet parties you put on?”

  Barry gave the woman an arresting stare and said she’d have to wait. When he flashed his badge at her, the woman’s eyes widened and she began to back away, mumbling something about how she’d heard I was some kind of sleuth and she didn’t want to interfere.

  “Did you have to do that?” I said with a touch of annoyance. “She might have wanted to set up a party at the bookstore.” I broke away and snagged the woman, pressing a card on her and urging her to call me.

  “This isn’t going to work,” Barry said with a sigh. Not only were we being jostled, but the din of noise made it hard to hear. “I could take you down to the station for the interview.”

  “No way,” I said, shaking my head vehemently for emphasis. Not only did I not want to be away from the booth for a long time, but I’d seen the rooms they used. They were claustrophobic with locked doors. “We have a hotel room for the weekend. We could go there,” I offered.

  “A quiet hotel room is just what we need,” he said. I glanced up at him to see if there was some double meaning in his phrase, but he was all detective.

  Dinah had been watching the whole thing while helping a woman start a granny square pin. She gave me a funny look when I said we were going up to the room, but she agreed to handle the sales in my absence.

  The noise level dropped abruptly when we went out of the marketplace and into the windowed corridor. I suggested we talk there and pointed to a corner. The words were no sooner said than a woman stopped next to me, read my badge and asked for directions.

  “Let’s stick to the plan,” he said, leading me toward the elevator. We rode up in silence, both of us looking at the floor.

  I unlocked the door to the room and he followed me in. I stopped abruptly to feel for the light switch and he walked into me. There was an awkward moment as we made contact. He apologized profusely and stepped to the side.

  The room had signs of a lot of people being there. There were coats strewn on the bed and a number of empty coffee cups. We took the two chairs in front of the window. This room didn’t have the floor-to-ceiling ones that K.D.’s suite had, but there was still a view. The lights of the Valley twinkled below like jewels on velvet.

  He had his notebook out. The cops were still old school, using paper and pen. He was keeping up his cop demeanor, but now that we were alone I was having a hard time playing the part of the impersonal witness. While it was true that I hadn’t seen Barry for months, I had seen his son Jeffrey.

  It was a complicated story—one of the dogs living at my house was supposedly theirs. Jeffrey came by once a week to deliver dog food and play fetch with Cosmo in my backyard. He never spoke about his father
and I didn’t ask.

  “Jeffrey seems to be doing well,” I said, and Barry looked discombobulated.

  “Molly, this is official business. Let’s start at the beginning—what were you doing in Ms. Kirby’s suite?”

  I know I should have probably just answered his questions and gotten the interview over with, but I couldn’t help myself. “The fact that you’re questioning me means she’s dead, doesn’t it?” I said. I was pretty sure of the answer, but I wanted to hear it from him. He didn’t respond. “And this isn’t just a death investigation, is it? You suspect foul play. Was the thing in the tub with her a hair dryer?”

  Barry sat straighter and put up his hand. “We’re not doing this. You are not going to answer my question with a bunch of your questions.” He was doing his best to sound like a tough cop, but he sounded more frustrated than angry. “I’m here to get information from you, not give it. I’m not even going to remind you that interfering in this case could get you arrested and charged. No more sharing of information.” He leaned toward me. “Now just tell me what happened.”

  “At least tell me if she’s dead?” I said. Barry groaned in frustration and finally nodded his head before I continued. “You know that Delvin Whittingham said she had an accident and he was taking over temporarily.”

  Barry tried to maintain his calm and spoke in a terse tone. “Maybe he did that as sort of a cat’s on the roof thing. Then, when it comes out that Ms. Kirby is deceased, it won’t be such a shock. Now if we could get to what you were doing in the victim’s suite.”

  “I knew it. You called her ‘the victim.’ You do think it’s foul play, though to be honest I can’t imagine how a hair dryer in a bathtub could be an accident. It was a hair dryer, wasn’t it?”