Yarn to Go

by Betty Hechtman

  I think Tag was happy to have a reason to come back to the conference center so he could see Lucinda and make sure she was all right.

  “Let me help you with that,” Tag said. Sissy was trying to cut her own piece of pizza with the tool lying next to it, and it was clearly driving him crazy watching her struggle with it. She gave him a dirty look, no doubt reminded of her mother. Finally, Tag couldn’t take it anymore.

  “The pizza has already been cut into exactly equal-sized pieces.” He took another spatula, picked up one of the perfect little rectangles of pizza and deposited it on her plate. Lucinda came over just in time.

  “Tag, honey, thank you for bringing this feast over,” she said, giving him a hug. Everyone else added their thanks. “But don’t you want to get back to the restaurant? The waitstaff is probably setting the tables all wrong.”

  Tag’s face clouded. “Do you really think they are? You’re right. I better get back there.”

  When he left, Lucinda rolled her eyes and turned to me. “I love him, but he drives me crazy. I must have told you how he started going around with a ruler making sure all the plates were the same distance from the edge of the table. He said he saw some English butler doing it on a TV show.” Lucinda rocked her head with disbelief.

  Kevin walked in and sniffed the air, then saw the food. “Nobody cleared this with me,” he said. He pulled me to the side. “Vista Del Mar does all the food service on the premises.”

  I started to argue. The gift shop certainly didn’t get their food from the Vista Del Mar kitchen. I made their muffins. And what did it matter anyway? We’d been through a shock and missed our lunch. As soon as I said something about talking to the Delacorte sisters, he backed off and turned on his heel.

  I left the group to eat and went outside where I could get some privacy. I pulled out my cell phone and called Frank. He was probably going to freak. He hadn’t heard from me in months, and suddenly I was calling him every day.

  “Feldstein?” Frank said. “Again? What’s up now?”

  “I was hoping you could help me with a situation.”

  “Okay, Feldstein, I knew you were leaving something out when you called before. What kind of mess are you in? Need a background check on a guy you met online? Take my word for it—he’s probably married and a deadbeat besides.”

  “I love your take on people,” I said. “I don’t need a background check, and for your information, I meet guys the old-fashioned way, in person.” I brought up the retreat and told him what had happened. As soon as I said the word murder, Frank made a noise, and even though I couldn’t see him, I pictured him leaning back in his reclining office chair, shaking his head.

  “Feldstein, you’re in charge of a group and one of them is murdered the first night? How could you let that happen?”

  “It isn’t like I planned it,” I said with an edge creeping into my voice. “And now, the thing is, they kind of think I’m going to investigate and find out who did it.” I paused while I got to the uncomfortable part. “But, well, I’m not sure how to proceed.”

  Frank laughed, and I heard his chair squeak in protest and knew he must be trying to recline farther. He had this habit of leaning back to the extreme, and one of these days, he was going to push too hard and the whole thing would break. I knew it sounded ridiculous, but I always pictured that when the chair broke it would somehow catapult him into the air, which would have been quite a sight.

  “We mostly stick to getting the goods on cheating spouses, and catching insurance cheats—skiing when they’re supposed to be on crutches. But I suppose I could give you a few pointers.” He stopped for a moment. “You carrying these days?”

  “Carrying? You mean do I have a gun? Not even close. All I have is a flashlight.”

  “Ooh, that’s really going to scare someone. What are you going to do? Shine it in their eyes?” I heard the chair make more noise as Frank readjusted himself. “Here’s the deal, Feldstein. The cops aren’t going to be happy with you for interfering. They will probably think you’re trying to make them look bad, which, incidentally, you are. So, it’s best if they don’t know what you’re up to. Though you do have an advantage. If there’s some cop you can flirt with, you might be able to get some inside information.”

  “There’s something I didn’t mention, Frank. I have to solve the whole thing by this weekend.”

  “Geez, Feldstein. That’s a lot of pressure. Okay here goes.” He began to outline what I should do, beginning with finding out as much as possible about the victim. What about the murder scene? Was there a struggle, forced entry? My head was starting to swim. Frank stopped for a minute and laughed. “I hope you’re writing all this down, Feldstein.” He had a point, so I started taking notes. Whether I’d be able to read them or not later was another question.

  “Here’s a real hint, Feldstein. Go for the people closest to her, like her husband. That’s most likely who did it,” Frank said. “Kind of a lot to do, huh?”

  “Well, now that you mention it, yes,” I answered before he threw in some more things to consider. How was I going to find out her time of death or who saw her last?

  “By the way, how exactly was she offed?” he said. When I mentioned the knitting needles, I heard him make a yuck sound.

  “Stabbed with knitting needles? I thought it was just sweet little old ladies who knitted. Who knows anymore?”

  I tried to tell him about each person in the group, but he was already getting impatient.

  “Feldstein, just concentrate on the big three. Means, motive and opportunity. Who had the needles, who wanted her dead and who doesn’t have an alibi. Oh, and it’s a good idea to take notes.” Before I could say anything, he was getting off the call. “Got to go. Keep in touch. And if this yarn thing doesn’t work out, I might have a couple of weeks for you next month.” With a click he was gone.

  I tried looking over my notes and groaned. If only Frank hadn’t talked quite so fast. Words here and there stood out, but most of what I’d scribbled was illegible. Uh-oh. But he had made me think about the murder scene. I sat down on a bench at the edge of the walkway and started to write down what I remembered. The door was locked when we got there. I remembered that because the housekeeper had used her key to open it. Edie was lying on the bed, but I wondered if she’d struggled with her killer. Then I drew a blank. What had I gotten myself into? My brief experience working for Frank certainly didn’t prepare me for this, nor did reading all those Nancy Drew mysteries when I was growing up.

  Oh no, had I just gotten myself into another situation I’d flop at? The list of my career attempts floated before my eyes. I had a million reasons why I’d left each one, but other than the temp jobs that were only supposed to last a week or two, the truth was I had failed.

  I could almost hear my mother’s voice, saying, “Casey, when I was your age, I was already a successful doctor and a mother, and what is it you’re doing now? You’re handling a yarn retreat when you know nothing about yarn and now you’re going to solve a murder, too?”

  I thought of just leaving it up to the cops. It was their business, after all. But that’s what I had done with my aunt’s hit-and-run, and where had it gotten me? Lieutenant Borgnine claimed they were still looking for the driver, but I knew they really had given up on it.

  I looked through the window into the meeting room, where everyone seemed to be occupied eating and talking. I shivered thinking that one of them might be a murderer. Hadn’t Lieutenant Borgnine wanted to know who had those double-pointed needles? I wasn’t about to tell him Olivia had some or that there were some at my aunt’s. I suddenly wanted to make sure my aunt’s were still there.

  It would only take a few minutes and no one would miss me. I ran across the street and up the driveway.

  I had the key ready, but as I put it into the lock, the door pushed open. In all my rushing in and out did I forget to lock i
t? I caught the hint of my aunt’s rose-scented perfume still hanging in the air and felt a moment of deeply missing her. I walked through the house directly to the office and to her knitting basket. I noticed a ball of dark blue yarn on the floor. Had I done that when I was there last? I rustled through the works in progress in the basket, looking for the sock with the four double-pointed needles, and came up empty. Then I dumped the whole basket and frantically started rummaging through all the balls of yarn with needles stuck in them, and the projects they were connected to. I finally found the ball of forest green yarn, and the knitted tube, but the slender, sharp needles were missing.

  I had a sinking feeling as I remembered how much I’d handled those needles. My fingerprints had to be all over them.

  10

  MY MIND WAS A MISHMASH AS I WALKED BACK INTO the meeting room. There was all that Frank had told me, and then finding the double pointed needles missing from my aunt’s. I tried to keep myself calm. I would sort it all out later. For now I needed to take care of my group.

  Lucinda and Kris were clearing up the food while the rest of them hung around, seeming at loose ends.

  “We’re supposed to have a break now before the rest of our workshop time,” Olivia said, looking at the schedule. “It must be okay for us to go to our rooms by now,” she said as she gathered up her purse.

  “No,” I said a little too sharply. I’d just passed Sand and Sea as I’d come back. The yellow tape was still up and a police car there. A white van had just pulled up, and a man was pulling a gurney with a plastic bag on it out of the back. There was no marking on the van, but I was sure it was Edie’s ride to the morgue. Not what I wanted the group to see.

  “Taking a break is a great idea,” I said with as much false cheer as I could muster. “What the schedule was supposed to say was that we’d be taking a group walk. After all the sitting, moving around is a good idea.” I was making it up as I went along, but at the same time, it did seem like a good idea.

  Melissa glanced toward the window and the white sky. “It looks kind of cold out there.”

  “Are you nuts? It’s maybe in the upper fifties,” Sissy said, grabbing the opportunity to disagree with her mother. “I think a walk is a great idea.”

  “It’s not cold,” Lucinda said. “It’s brisk.” To show her support, my friend was already pulling on her Pendleton fleece jacket. Then she leaned in close and whispered, “What’s up?”

  “There’s too much to tell right now,” I said. I wanted to explain about my conversation with my old detective boss, Frank. And, of course, the break-in at my aunt’s house and the missing needles. By now I was certain I hadn’t left the door unlocked and whoever had taken the needles had broken in. But a bunch of whispering between us would seem suspicious, so I just quickly told her about the van outside the Sand and Sea building and she got it. I stepped away from her and waved to the group to follow me as I pulled open the door.

  As soon as I got everyone outside, Kris separated herself from the group. “I’ll meet you all back here,” she said.

  “Oh,” I said, surprised. “I thought the whole group would stick together.”

  She pulled me aside. “My responsibility is really only for the knitting sessions. When I’ve done this retreat before, I had meals with the group, but your aunt handled all the other activities. Under the circumstances, I’m trying to do whatever I can, but with Retreat in a Box coming out so soon, there are some things I have to take care of.” She repeated the whole idea of kiosks in yarn stores with a computer program that was supposed to replicate our experience of having a customized project and the tools and supplies to do it with. She repeated that the official name was Kris Garland’s Retreat in a Box and it was clearly her baby. She pointed to the laptop peeking out of her bag. I told her about Sand and Sea still being off-limits and the van. “I was going to the social hall anyway. Need that Wi-Fi.” She waved to the group and wished us a nice walk.

  I heard some more grumbling about the cold when I rejoined the group. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” Melissa said, pointing at Bree. “That sweater isn’t going to keep her warm.”

  “Mother, I’m sure Bree can take care of herself,” Sissy said.

  Melissa made a disgruntled sound. “Maybe, maybe not.”

  “She’s got kids of her own. I’m sure she knows to put on a sweatshirt if she needs one.”

  Thankfully Bree had been beeped by her kids and didn’t hear the conversation going on about her judgment or she probably would have had a fit that anyone had questioned her mommy skills. But Melissa’s point about her clothes was well taken. I noticed Bree shiver. I took off my fleece jacket and handed it to Bree. She protested a little, then gratefully accepted it.

  “Good work,” Lucinda said, catching up with me. I tried to hide a shiver as the damp breeze cut through my cotton turtleneck.

  “Better me than her. She has enough to be upset about without being cold on top of it.” I tried to hide another shiver, but it was a lost cause. “We’ll stop by my place. I have a whole selection of fleece jackets.” It occurred to me that if the killer really was someone from our group, I might be able to kill two birds with one stone. Maybe I could ferret out who had taken the double-pointed needles from my aunt’s. That someone was probably also Edie’s killer.

  The group trailed behind Lucinda and me as we followed the winding road through the grounds of Vista Del Mar. I had taken the long route, pretending it was about giving them the scenic tour, but really it was all about missing the whole area around the Sand and Sea building.

  We were almost to the edge of the grounds when I heard the whine of a golf cart and Kevin St. John pulled up next to us.

  “Off to somewhere?” he said. He looked at my jacketless state and made a tsk-tsk sound. I didn’t bother explaining I was going to pick up a jacket but begrudgingly told him we were going for a walk.

  “Will you be leaving the grounds?” he asked. It was really none of his business, but I was caught in an awkward spot and didn’t want to make a scene, so I just nodded. I expected some kind of admonishment but was surprised by what he said. “I’ve managed to keep the news people out of Vista Del Mar, but I can’t keep them off the street outside. If they stop you, please be discreet.”

  The black cat made another appearance. “Shoo,” the manager said in an angry voice. “If I find out someone on the kitchen staff is feeding that cat . . .” He didn’t finish the threat but glared at the fluffy animal, who had chosen to sit down in the middle of the narrow road and stare back at Kevin St. John.

  “Then it doesn’t belong to anybody?” I said.

  “I don’t think so. But it walks through the grounds like it’s Julius Caesar or something.” The manager made another attempt to get the cat to move, by driving the golf cart toward it. With a whip of its furry tail, the cat took off, and the golf cart continued down the winding road.

  I heard Scott making upset noises, and when I turned he’d put the hood up on his hoodie and pulled it so his face was lost in the shadows. “You wouldn’t know it was me, right?” he said.

  “No, you just look like you’re about to knock over a liquor store,” Olivia said.

  I led the group to a small metal gate in the fence. We left the grounds of Vista Del Mar behind and came out on the street a distance from my house. I knew everyone in the group was aware that my place was somewhere across the street, and I hoped whoever had taken the needles from my aunt’s would tip their hand by knowing exactly which house. I huddled with Lucinda quickly and told her to hang back.

  “First stop is my place to get a jacket,” I said, setting the trap. I took a slow step toward the street. Suddenly Scott plowed ahead almost in a sprint and stopped in my driveway. I was stunned, to say the least.

  We all caught up with him, and I was looking at him directly, or thought I was; with the hoodie up it was hard to tell. “So, you know
this house is mine?” I began. I was about to bring up the missing needles when it all came unraveled.

  “We all know which property is yours,” Melissa chimed in. “Edie pointed it out, bragging about how your aunt had invited her over after the last retreat.”

  “Oh,” I said, suddenly deflated. Lucinda came up next to me and gave me a supportive nudge.

  “You tried,” Lucinda said.

  “Anybody else need a jacket?” I said before going in. When I returned wrapped in a thick layer of beige fleece, I led them back to the street.

  “Do you have a destination in mind?” Lucinda asked.

  “Well, there’s the cemetery,” I said. “Oops, bad idea.” Even with the sweet deer that hung out there, the rich green grass, the quirky headstones and the view of the water, did I really want to remind everyone of death, which in turn would make them think about Edie? “Let’s go to the lighthouse.”

  The street that ran in front of my place was called Lighthouse for good reason. It led right to it. As we headed up the street we passed the last of the Vista Del Mar grounds, which from here looked like it was all trees and slopes covered in tall golden grass. On the other side of the street, the landscape was a little tamer, though not by much. The cottage-size houses had ivy ground cover instead of lawns and were surrounded by trees that had grown of their own accord. Here and there a spot of color showed in a window box of impatiens. The clouds were beginning to melt, and there was a hint of blue sky.

  The street made a little curve, and the lighthouse came into view. I did my tour guide bit and explained its history. Personally, I didn’t think it looked like any lighthouses I’d ever seen. They were always shaped like a cylinder with a light on top. The Cadbury by the Sea Lighthouse was set back from the shore and looked like someone had stuck a cylinder into the top of a house. But despite how it looked and where it was, apparently it functioned just fine and was the longest continuously operating lighthouse on the West Coast. Since 1885 it had been keeping ships from wrecking off the rocky coves at the end of the Monterey Peninsula.