Knot Guilty

by Betty Hechtman

  “He’s sending me another hook.” She sounded as if the main issue was that she didn’t have her hook, not that it had been found at a murder scene.

  I decided it was probably better not to enlighten her and let her know that Barry had decided that she was K.D.’s killer and was practically warming up a cell for her. She was already off the subject of the hook anyway.

  “You should thank me,” she said with a little proud jiggle of her head. “If it wasn’t for me talking to Delvin, there wouldn’t be any crochet demos.” She tilted her head as if to hear better as Delvin announced that a demonstration of Tunisian crochet was about to begin near the stage. “That’s me.” Then she was gone. Adele was definitely a force of nature.

  I would have liked to watch her demonstration, but there was too much going on in our booth. The number of pin makers had increased, and they were so enthralled with it, they wanted to buy supplies to make more of them. I’d brought in some orbs of the crochet thread in a number of colors and some beads, but I hadn’t expected such a turnout.

  “More bad planning,” I said to Dinah. “We could run out of everything—the packets, the extra supplies, the whole thing—by lunchtime.”

  “Can you call Mr. Royal and have him bring over some supplies from the bookstore?” Dinah asked, and I shook my head.

  “I took everything we had,” I said. Dinah had a whole slew of pin makers working. I looked around, hoping an answer would drop in my lap, and for once it did.

  “Hey,” Paxton Cline said in greeting. He was carrying drinks in a cardboard carrier from the snack bar as he passed our booth.

  “Wait,” I commanded, stepping out into the aisle. It might have been a little loud and a little frantic. He froze and I grabbed his arm, pulling him close. “I need more supplies.” I was trying to be calm about it, but I think it came across like I was a junkie who needed a fix.

  “Yeah, sure. I’ll bring over an order form. You can fill it out and I’ll get you what you need on Monday.”

  “It’s not for the store. I need thread and beads. And I need them now.”

  He shook his head. “There’s nobody there to fill the order today. When I went there yesterday, I just picked up the order.” I saw him looking in the direction of his grandmother. “I’m not so sure she’d let me leave, anyway.”

  “When I said I would only deal with you, your grandmother took you off gofer duty and made you a salesman,” I said. I didn’t say it, but I implied he might owe me some extra consideration.

  He looked at the drinks he was carrying, and his face clouded over. “You’re right. I’m a sales representative. I don’t do drinks.” He paused and then added, “Except for this time.”

  I watched as he stood up straight and suddenly grew an inch or two. Nodding to himself, he said, “I’ll just tell her I am taking care of one of our customers. A good sales representative takes care of their customers, right?” I nodded in agreement. “I’ll just go up to the warehouse and grab some thread myself.” His voice sounded a little shaky on the last part.

  “Why don’t I go with you?” I said. It wasn’t that I exactly lacked confidence in his ability to find what we needed, but I thought it would be better if I were there.

  Paxton appeared uncertain. “I’m not sure Gran would like it.”

  “And I’m sure she wouldn’t like it if you brought the wrong kind of thread for a customer.”

  “You’re right.” His eyes grew troubled. “Gran’s got a memory like an elephant. If she found out I’d made a mistake I’d never hear the end of it.” He still seemed a little uncertain.

  “Maybe the best option is not to even tell her,” I suggested.

  “Right, that’s a good idea,” he said, brightening. I quickly added that I wanted to bring Dinah along since she was the one running the pin making and would know best about the thread we needed. “Since Gran isn’t going to know, I guess it’s okay.”

  We agreed on a time and I let him go to deliver the drinks.

  With that settled, I couldn’t resist. I had to see Adele in action.

  I stepped to the end of the aisle where I could keep an eye on the booth and see all the way to the stage and catwalk at the end of the room. Eric and his mother were in the small crowd that had gathered as Delvin introduced Adele. First she did a few minutes on crochet in general, saying it was the best yarn craft, et cetera. Then she explained that Tunisian crochet was done on a long hook, and unlike regular crochet, where you worked one stitch at a time, in Tunisian crochet you worked a whole row of stitches. Then she reminded the audience of her class that afternoon, saying she heard there was just one spot open. That was Adele the salesperson. She surveyed the crowd and smiled when she saw several people rush over to the administration table, presumably to sign up.

  I hadn’t realized how big a bag she’d picked up from the booth until now. “I’ll need two chairs,” she said to Delvin. I don’t think he liked being treated like a stagehand, but he obliged. She plunked the huge bag on one and sat on the other. What had she brought? I was almost afraid to watch. A moment later she extracted a very big Tunisian crochet hook. It must have been an inch in diameter and a foot long. The yarn she took out was as thick as a sausage, and the roll of it was an armload. “I decided to go big so you could all see what I was doing,” Adele said.

  I don’t know if it was the ridiculously large size of the tools or curiosity about Tunisian crochet, but she’d gotten everyone’s attention. They must have been as fascinated as I was to see what she was going to do.

  I had to hand it to Adele. She’d figured out a way to win the audience over. At least most of them. I could only see Eric and his mother from the back, but her body language was a giveaway. She looked like she had one foot out the door.

  I waited until Adele finished her act and came back to the booth, then I announced I was leaving. You’d think I was abandoning her on a chunk of ice floating in the Arctic. She looked panicked and seemed to have suddenly remembered that she was a suspect in K.D.’s death.

  “Nobody is going to bother you,” I said, leaving out why I was so sure. Adele became even more upset when I said Dinah was coming with me. We were out of supplies, so there couldn’t be any pin making anyway, and since it sounded like we were going to have to find what we needed ourselves, I wanted Dinah’s help.

  Luckily, as we left, Adele forgot her panic and stepped into the role of proprietor. I heard her ordering Elise around, and Sheila had just shown up.

  Dinah and I passed the Cline Yarn International booth. Paxton was helping a customer, and I gestured that we’d be waiting by the door. I couldn’t help but notice that Ruby Cline was off in a corner of their oversize space talking to a man in a suit. I really wished I could hear the conversation. I nudged Dinah. “He’s either a cop or a lawyer.”

  Dinah looked closer. “I’m voting for a lawyer. The suit looks a little pricey for a cop.”

  Paxton caught up with us, and I asked him about his grandmother’s company. He glanced back at their booth and shrugged. “She kept me out of it. I think maybe he’s some guy she met online. You know, at one of those dating sites. I heard her talking on the phone about some boyfriend.” He rolled his eyes, and Dinah and I both tried to get a better look at him.

  “So she likes younger men,” Dinah said. “Though I’d be careful if I were her. Maybe get a background check,” Dinah said to Paxton. I figured the chance of his passing the advice on to his grandmother was about zero.

  We’d decided to go before lunchtime while the classes were still in session and the crowd in the vendor area was lighter. I don’t know what Paxton actually told his grandmother, but he seemed kind of nervous. He said he’d drive and took the van with “Cline Yarn International, Inc.” on the side.

  The business was located in a business park in Chatsworth, and since it was Saturday, the whole area was deserted. He pulled right in f
ront of the single-story, plain-looking white building. It was dead inside, and the extreme quiet seemed a little eerie. We walked into a reception area, and I did a double take, thinking there were people lurking in the shadows.

  “They’re just mannequins,” I said with a nervous laugh when I looked a little closer and noted their eyes didn’t move. Paxton explained they were all wearing samples of things made out of Cline Yarn. Then he added it had been his idea. The wall had an artful display of framed items. Paxton was hurrying us along, but I looked at them long enough to see that they were ads for Cline Yarn from magazines. He shepherded us behind the reception counter and back into the warehouse. He flipped on the lights, and it was like we’d just found ourselves in yarn heaven. Everywhere I looked there were wire bins of yarn in glorious colors.

  Paxton looked around as if he had no idea where to start. “We don’t usually carry beads, but I think Gran got some samples the other day.” He turned to the left and opened a door to an office. We waited for him to turn on the lights and then followed him inside. The office had the look of someone who really worked in it rather than had it just for show. The white desk and computer were the only things without color in the room. Wire bins of yarn were scattered about the room. Swatches were stuck to a corkboard on the wall. I noticed a basket with some balls of yarn and the beginnings of something pale yellow with the knitting needles stuck into the yarn. Some large pots of plants got their light from a tall window that looked out on a patch of grass next to the parking lot. Paxton took a small box off the table in the corner and showed us the contents. They were small pearls, and I said they would do fine.

  “They’re just some samples we got. We’re not going to carry them, and Gran told me to get rid of them, so you can just have them, no charge. I’ll go look for the thread,” he said, trying to give the image of being in charge. We offered to help, but he said we better stay there. Something about insurance rules dictating who could be in the warehouse.

  When he left, Dinah started ogling all the yarn. I took a closer look at the desk and noticed a stack of old photographs on it. Nosy should be my middle name, because I started looking through them. The black-and-white prints seemed fine, but the color ones had faded and turned odd shades. I was going to comment on what a relic film and prints had become, but one of the pictures caught my eye.

  The picture featured a group of women as if they were in a club or organization. As I examined the faces, I stopped on one with a start. It was clear by the clothes and hairstyles that the photo had been taken decades ago. How could Lacey Kirby possibly be in it? I looked again and this time imagined the dark hair white and a face with a little more character, and I realized it was a young K.D. I examined it more closely and saw they were gathered on the lawn of a big house that had some Greek letters on the front. Of course, a sorority. I was beginning to wonder why Ruby Cline would have a picture of K.D. Kirby as a young woman when I noticed the woman on the end. I was going to ask Dinah what she thought, but Paxton came in and saw the figure on the end I was pointing at.

  “That’s Gran,” Paxton said, looking over my shoulder. He seemed puzzled that I was looking at the pictures, and I said something about being fascinated with photography. I used it as an excuse to look through the rest of the pile before it could register that I was snooping. I stopped on another photo from about the same time, but of a man and a young Ruby. The way the man had both of his arms wrapped around Ruby made it clear that he was her boyfriend. With Paxton hanging over me, I moved even faster through the rest of the pictures. I couldn’t help myself from stopping on one of the prints. Even though there was no white dress or veil, I could tell it was a wedding shot. Maybe it was their expressions, and maybe it was the little bouquet of carnations the woman held as they stood in front of the Van Nuys courthouse. They looked young and starry-eyed, and I got the feeling they’d eloped.

  “I don’t know why Gran keeps that picture. She gets mad every time she looks at it even though it was a long time ago. I told you she has a memory like an elephant. We better get going,” Paxton said, reaching to take the photos from me. I took a last close look at the wedding shot. The bride was K.D. and the groom was the man from the picture of Ruby and her apparent boyfriend. A thought stirred in my mind. Hadn’t CeeCee said something about a rumor that K.D. had stolen one of her sorority sisters’ boyfriends and married him? Paxton suddenly snatched the handful of photos and put them back.

  “I shouldn’t have left you in here,” he said with a nervous edge to his voice. “We have to go.” Dinah insisted on inspecting the contents of the bin he’d brought in. Paxton was clearly impatient and flipped the lid off to give her only a quick glimpse before he dropped the box of beads in with the different colored orbs of crochet thread. She asked about other colors. “This is the only thread we have. Do you want it or not?” Dinah nodded, and he herded us out of there and quickly snapped off the lights and shut the door.

  Dinah and I traded glances as we got back into the van. Something was definitely up with Paxton. The whole reason we’d come along was to make sure what they had would do for the pins and pick the colors. It had to be the photos.

  “Your grandmother and K.D. were friends.” I said it as somewhere between a statement and a question. Paxton responded by putting the van in gear and stepping on the gas so hard, both Dinah and I had to hold on to our seats.

  Paxton kept the speed up as he turned out onto Plummer Street and headed east. I could just see the side of his face, but he appeared uncomfortable. When we stopped at a red light, he turned to me. “I know you’re into that amateur detective thing, but don’t start reading anything into anything.”

  “So then you know that your grandmother knew K.D.,” I said and he winced.

  “If I tell you everything I know will you promise not to bother Gran?”

  “It’s not me you should be worried about. Do the cops know your grandmother and K.D. go way back and, it’s just a guess, but it looks like K.D. ended up with your grandmother’s boyfriend?”

  “Okay, I knew Gran knew K.D. I don’t know why, but they seemed to have been talking to each other a lot lately. But Gran had nothing to do with her death,” he said. “I’m sure of that.”

  I wasn’t sure if he had some kind of real proof or it was just him commenting on her character. “Do you know where your grandmother was Thursday afternoon when everything quieted down?”

  “I know what you’re asking me,” he said, taking a corner a little too fast.

  Dinah suggested he pull over and let her drive. He was reluctant but did as she suggested. Though when they went to change seats, I thought he was going to take off, but he finally climbed into the jump seat in the back.

  He put his head down when I turned around in my seat to face him. “Why don’t you just tell me what you know,” I said, borrowing one of Barry’s interrogation lines.

  Paxton blew out his breath and took a couple of deep ones before he finally answered.

  “I’m not supposed to know, but she went up to K.D.’s suite.”

  “Are you going to talk to Ruby Cline?” Dinah asked. As soon as we’d gotten back to the event center, Paxton had rushed on ahead of us and was already back in their booth helping a customer by the time Dinah and I were passing it. I came to a full stop and glanced into the Cline Yarn International booth.

  “I’d really like to ask her some questions,” I said. A look of panic came over Paxton’s bland face as he saw us standing there. His eyes darted toward his grandmother, who was talking to a customer and oblivious to his concern. Paxton waved his hand in the universal gesture that meant go away, and the rapid way he did it meant he wanted us to do it quickly.

  “But I think Paxton would tackle me if I tried to speak to his grandmother. Besides, we need to tend to our own business right now anyway,” I said. We were carrying bags of the crochet thread and beads Paxton had given us and continued on to our
own booth. Even with the pin making sign down, there were several women lounging around the front asking Adele about making them. “It’s about time,” Adele said, looking up at us with relief. “I did what I could, but everybody wants to make those pins.” There was a line before we even put the sign back up.

  “I’m not making packets anymore. We’ll just cut the thread as we go,” I said, taking off a length of rosy pink crochet thread and rolling it around my fingers. As soon as I pulled it across the hidden cutting edge of the pendant, I handed the coil of thread to one of the women. Dinah doled out some tiny pearls. I was glad when Adele picked up the orbs of thread and said she would help. I let Dinah and her handle the enterprise.

  For a moment I watched the passing crowd. This definitely seemed to be the prime time for the show. I could barely see the Knit Style yarn booth across the way. There was a break in the crowd, and I saw Lacey Kirby walking slowly with her head down. Her eyes were locked on the screen of her smartphone, and she was busy tapping away. No doubt a tweet about the show.

  It occurred to me that she would probably know something about her mother’s relationship with Ruby Cline. I called out her name and she looked up. I had never been officially introduced to her, so I began with that and then offered my sympathies about her mother. I could tell she had already dealt with a lot of condolence offerings because she seemed to have an automatic response.

  “Thank you very much for your concern. My mother was quite a woman.” Lacey started to move on, but I put my hand on her arm to stop her. It would have seemed a little odd if I went right into asking about the relationship between Ruby Cline and her mother, so I asked something Adele would have appreciated.

  “I’m just curious,” I began. “Your mother added crochet to the show, but it still seemed like she was trying to ignore it. Do you have any idea why?”

  The question caught Lacey off guard. It wasn’t something she could give an automatic answer to. She shrugged and seemed mystified. “I have no idea. But then she did a lot of things I didn’t understand.” It seemed like she was looking in the direction of the stage and catwalk where Delvin was droning on.