Yarn to Go

by Betty Hechtman

  But a voice in my head, probably my aunt Joan, told me to pull myself together and deal with the situation. I just couldn’t get the picture of Edie out of my mind. I’d been the first one to go into the room, while Kris and Lucinda hung behind me and the housekeeper took off.

  Edie was lying in her bed on her back. Her eyes were closed and she almost looked like she was sleeping, but for the red ooze on her face, and on the bed. It barely registered that she was still in the print top and pants from the night before, because my eyes went right to the light glinting off the double-pointed steel knitting needles sticking in her chest. I heard someone letting out a shriek and then realized it was me.

  Kris already had her cell phone out and was calling 911. Lucinda stepped forward, saying she knew CPR, but then winced at the idea of doing it under the circumstances. Despite having two doctors as parents, the limit of my abilities was to check Edie for a pulse, but her neck felt cold and still.

  The cops and paramedics had arrived almost simultaneously. It was all a fog to me now, and I just recalled that Kevin St. John had led them down the hall toward us and then hustled the three of us back while the paramedics went ahead, carrying in some kind of rescue equipment.

  “Good luck on that one,” I said under my breath, hoping I was somehow wrong. I felt a strong arm take mine and steer me down the hall. It didn’t register who’d grabbed me until I heard the voice. It was the same one I heard whenever the red truck drove by my house and the guy who lived down the street called something out the window. It was my neighbor, Mr. Party Guy Police Officer.

  He didn’t let go or stop until we reached the living room area. “You’d better sit down,” he said, pointing me toward one of the overstuffed chairs. I started to object but realized he was right. I ought to sit down, before I fell down. I felt like my bones had dissolved and there was nothing holding me up. “Take a deep breath,” he ordered.

  I had never thought about it before, but part of a cop’s job was dealing with people in my position. He seemed very good at it, but then I suppose all those parties he gave sharpened his people skills. I followed his command and felt some of my strength return.

  “Thank you—” I peered up at his badge, trying to make out his name. My aunt had probably told me what it was, but I didn’t remember. “Officer Mangano,” I said, reading the blue letters.

  “You can call me Dane,” he said. He was still standing and was holding a clipboard with some papers on it.

  “Dane?” I said. “Like in Great Dane?”

  His serious face cracked a smile and he nodded. “I’ve gotten that one more than a few times. What can I say? It’s obviously appropriate.”

  “I’m glad to see you’re modest,” I said. Was I really thinking about his name and his cocky attitude just after encountering the body of someone in my group? Maybe it was an effort to distract myself from the situation.

  “So, it’s Casey Feldstein,” he said, taking out a pen and beginning to write.

  “You know my name?” I said, surprised.

  “And a whole lot more,” he said, making eye contact. “This is a small town, and I’m a cop. Besides, I like to know who lives around me. I know you bake the desserts for the Blue Door and supply muffins for a number of coffee spots.” When I seemed surprised, he chuckled.

  “It was kind of an accident how I found out. I had the late shift one night last fall and noticed lights on and someone moving around in the Blue Door long after closing. It looked pretty suspicious.” He cocked his eyebrow. “Luckily I checked with Tag Thornkill before I called out the SWAT team.” He glanced down at the clipboard. “Everybody thinks cops like donuts. Me, I’ll take a good muffin anytime, and yours are outstanding.”

  I had a feeling that this little interlude was just an effort to make things seem more friendly before he got down to business.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?” he said.

  “I don’t know what happened.” I explained that when Edie hadn’t shown up, the three of us had gone to see what was wrong. “Where are they, anyway?” I said, looking around the empty room for Kris and Lucinda.

  “We like to get the facts from people individually. They’re being questioned by some of my associates in other locations.” He was acting all official now and encouraged me to go on about Edie.

  “What do you think happened to her? She couldn’t have gotten that way on her own,” I said. Dane didn’t seem that happy with my answer.

  “That’s not for me to say. Lieutenant Borgnine does the investigating, and the medical examiner will determine how she died.”

  “But you must have some kind of gut feeling,” I said. “From your experience.”

  “Actually, we don’t get many suspicious deaths in Cadbury,” he said.

  “Aha, so you think it’s suspicious.” I waited while he blew out his breath and shook his head at my persistence.

  “I’m supposed to be getting information from you,” he began. “But it’s pretty hard not to think it’s suspicious with those rods sticking out of her chest,” he said. “How about we get back to you talking. Could you give me the basics? The victim’s name. Your connection. I’m just after the facts. Lieutenant Borgnine will want to talk to you later.” He tapped the pen on the clipboard. “One thing, though. Lieutenant Borgnine won’t be happy with your answering a question by asking one.”

  I shrugged off his comment. “They’re not rods,” I said. “The things sticking out of Edie are knitting needles.”

  “At last, you gave me something I can write down,” he said with mock annoyance. “So now that you’ve started . . .” He waved his fingers for me to keep rolling.

  I think he got more than he bargained for. Once I’d answered his questions about Edie, I kind of babbled on. I told him about the weekend and my aunt’s business and how I’d just wanted to get through the weekend and shut it down forever. He nodded a lot, but after the information about Edie, he didn’t write anything down or maybe even listen.

  I know it was the chicken’s way out, but I was relieved when he said Lieutenant Borgnine would notify Edie’s husband. Dane examined my face. “Good, your color is coming back.” He gestured that he was done and held out his arm to steady me as I stood up.

  “Remember, my door is always open if you need a cup of sugar or want to join the party,” he said with a wink.

  I just bet it was.

  I’d lost track of time and was surprised to hear the bell clang announcing lunch. I didn’t know what had happened to Lucinda and Kris, and I thought about the rest of the group we’d left in our meeting room. I hoped they’d had the sense to go to the dining hall.

  I walked around to the front of the building and started down the slope. Ahead I saw Kevin St. John standing next to his golf cart. He didn’t look happy.

  He waited until I was next to him to speak. “The whole Sand and Sea building has been put off-limits for the present. Your people won’t be allowed back in their rooms until—” He faltered. “Until they finish investigating and remove the body.”

  I looked behind me and saw that yellow tape was being wound around the perimeter of the building in a discreet manner. “It shouldn’t matter to our many guests who are staying in the other residential building. I’m just telling anyone who asks that the yellow tape is caution tape closing off the area while we take care of some broken steps.” He mentioned that the cruisers and the ambulance had all entered the grounds with no lights or sirens and had parked out of sight around the back of the building.

  His mouth twisted in distaste. “In all the years I’ve worked here, we’ve never had a suspicious death on the grounds. I’ve alerted the Delacorte sisters and they are very disturbed. We all agree there needs to be someone with a steady manner and experience handling your group.” He didn’t say it, but it was obvious he thought I lacked both qualities. “The sisters suggested that I st
ep in and take over your duties.”

  The Delacorte sisters were the owners of Vista Del Mar. They were the last surviving members of the family who’d owned just about everything in Cadbury by the Sea. There had been a fleet of fishing boats, a cannery to handle their catch and lots of land. They’d sold off the fishing boats, and the cannery had long since closed and been turned into a shopping mall. The land had been subdivided and turned into plots of houses. Neither woman had married or had any children. Unless something happened to change things, all their holdings would be left to a charity in town.

  My aunt Joan had gotten to know them. Apparently, they’d been impressed to meet the former Tidy Soft toilet paper lady; they had sparked on her idea to put on yarn craft retreats, encouraged her to use their conference center and offered her a very reduced rate. I’d met Madeleine and Cora Delacorte only in passing and then again at my aunt’s funeral.

  He was offering me an out, and I should have jumped at the chance, but instead I said, “No,” and folded my arms. “If the Delacorte sisters are so set on me giving up, let them call and tell me themselves.”

  Kevin made a tsk-tsk sound. “Do you even realize what you have to do now? You have to save the weekend for your retreaters. Manage to make it a success when one of their own died on the first night. I thought you’d be relieved to be able to walk away.” The manager looked down and shook his head as he tried to shoo something away. The black cat I’d seen before sauntered across the path.

  “Well, I’m not relieved by your offer nor do I want to walk away. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to find my people.” I walked away in a huff, as if his suggestion was totally ridiculous. Thank heavens he wasn’t a mind reader or he would have known how uncertain I was.

  When I got to the dining hall, I found Bree, Olivia, Melissa and Sissy huddled around one side of a round table. None of them had their food, and they were staring at me as I approached the table.

  I felt a pang of guilt that I had even considered abandoning them.

  “What’s going on?” Olivia said, for once seeming to be in focus. “Mr. St. John came to our meeting room and told us we couldn’t go back to our rooms before lunch.”

  “And I thought I saw a police car,” Bree said with a worried look. “Where are Kris and Lucinda?”

  I stepped close to them and took a deep breath. “I’m very sorry to announce that Edie has died.”

  “How?” Melissa asked with a gasp.

  “I’m not sure, but the cops are calling it suspicious.” I tried to sound reassuring, but it didn’t work.

  “You mean, she was murdered?” Melissa said with another gasp.

  Kris and Lucinda came across the large room slightly apart but caught up to each other before they got to the table. Kris sank into a chair with a heavy sigh, and Lucinda grabbed the seat next to Bree.

  “I told them about Edie,” I said. “Or at least the basics.” I shared what I knew, which it turned out was more than either of them.

  Kris appeared all in. “The last thing I expected this weekend was to get questioned by the police.”

  Lucinda had managed to freshen her lipstick and comb her hair and seemed the least discombobulated of the three of us. “Poor Edie.” She shook her head sadly. “She was so excited about being here.” She pulled out her cell phone. “I better call Tag and tell him I’m okay.”

  Bree shrieked and then took out her phone, saying she ought to do the same. “It’ll probably be all over the news and my family will be worried.”

  “Are you going to give us any details?” Melissa said, sounding upset and worried. She’d pulled her abundance of curly hair into a ponytail to get it off her face.

  “Mother, can’t you see they’ve all had a shock,” Sissy said, her voice full of reproach.

  “Melissa is right; we need to tell you what happened,” I said. I waited until Bree finished her call and then explained how we’d found Edie. They all cringed when I mentioned the double-point knitting needles.

  “Who would want to kill Edie?” Bree said.

  “Let’s see,” Lucinda said, “by my account, though I don’t think she realized it, she managed to insult just about everybody.”

  “I think she meant well, but she did have a way of sticking her foot in her mouth. She even upset the manager of Vista Del Mar,” I said before explaining how uncomfortable he’d looked when she brought up his social life.

  Bree started to push her chair back. “Well, I suppose that’s the end of the retreat.” She sounded relieved. “It’s fine by me. I didn’t sleep a wink last night. There were all these creaks and groans in the building all night long and the bed was lumpy. Did I mention that I’ve never stayed in a hotel room by myself before? Frankly, I don’t think I’ve missed much. My boys will be glad to see me coming home. I can just imagine what I’ll be coming home to.”

  Kris put out her arm to stop her. “No plans have been changed yet.”

  Olivia shrugged. “Even if the retreat ends, I’m staying. There would be nothing but trouble if I came back early.” I waited for her to add to her statement with some kind of explanation, but Olivia just stopped talking. I wondered if we’d ever know what was bothering her so. She was pleasant looking when she let go of the upset expression, and gave off a vibe of someone solid and dependable.

  “I suppose Sissy and I could move into one of those cute bed-and-breakfasts in Carmel and finish our mother-daughter weekend there.” Melissa had taken a cup of coffee and started to push it away as if she was getting ready to depart.

  “Thanks for consulting me,” Sissy said in an annoyed tone. “Didn’t you hear what Kris said? There aren’t any plans to end the retreat yet.” The mother-daughter argument was all too familiar. Is that what my mother and I sounded like? I vowed right then never to argue with her again, at least not in public.

  “I was just trying to handle the situation,” Sissy’s mother said before pulling the cup back in front of her and refilling it. “What about Scott?” We all checked the room and Sissy pointed to a faraway table.

  I went over to tell him the news. He saw me coming, and as soon as I got close to the table, he jumped up from his seat and drew me by a tall window. His brow immediately went into furrow mode as soon as he heard, and for a few moments he didn’t speak. Then he said, “I suppose the media will be here. These days everything goes national. You have to keep me out of sight.” He slumped in distress. “My wife thinks I’m in San Francisco. And my boss can’t hear me being listed as part of a knitting retreat.” He went outside, shaking his head. Did he even care about Edie?

  When I got back to the table, Tag Thornkill had just arrived. He must have jumped in his car as soon as Lucinda called. As always, he was dressed in neat perfection. But then everything about him was neat perfection. Lucinda looked upset, and Tag stood in front of me.

  “Lucinda really needs to come home. Everything is off at the restaurant without her there.” He looked down in a dejected manner. “The staff just won’t listen to me.” A moment later, he’d raised his head and leaned toward the table to straighten the place setting next to me before rearranging the salt and pepper on the lazy Susan in the middle of the round table. “And now with this terrible incident . . .”

  “Do you want to leave?” I said to Lucinda.

  “No,” Lucinda said a little forcefully, then it seemed to register that she was in public. She turned toward Tag. “Honey, you go on back to the restaurant. I’m sure everything will be fine without me. Besides, Casey needs me right now, don’t you?” she said, turning toward me with pleading eyes.

  “Yes, of course. I need Lucinda here now more than ever,” I said. Tag appeared disgruntled but finally left. As soon as he neared the door, Lucinda undid the place setting he straightened and took the salt and pepper shaker off the lazy Susan, and when the saltshaker spilled some of its contents, she left it there.

&nbs
p; I felt like rolling my eyes. Poor Edie was dead in her bed and all anyone could think about was their own personal troubles. Well, maybe I was guilty of that, too.

  I thought of what Scott had said about the media. Would the story make its way all the way to Chicago and my parents? I had considered not mentioning the retreat when they’d done their weekly call to try to convince me to move back to Chicago and the sort of life they thought I should be leading. But I’d caved and told them about it.

  “I don’t know why you have to tie up the loose ends of her business,” my mother had said before going into her usual reminder that when she was my age, she had a profession and a family and, oh, I had neither. And now there’d been a murder in the middle of the weekend. I pictured her seeing the story online. What would the headline be? Knitter Needled to Death.

  8

  LUNCH ENDED AND NO ONE HAD EVEN GOTTEN their food. I managed to get everyone to go directly to our meeting room without passing the Sand and Sea building. I didn’t want them to see the yellow tape around it or realize they couldn’t go to their rooms.

  “C’mon everyone,” Kris said, standing at the end of the long table. “Pick up those needles and focus on your work.” She was trying to sound cheery, but I could hear the effort in her voice. Kris and I had agreed that the best thing to do was to keep things going according to schedule. The problem was everyone was staring at Edie’s spot and her tote bag.

  “Edie was so excited about working with two circular needles,” Bree said. “And now she’ll never get to make two socks at the same time.”