Yarn to Go

by Betty Hechtman

  I turned on a smile and said that in general murders were committed by people who knew the victim, so most of the guests didn’t seem concerned. I started to walk away, but she walked with me.

  “I understand some double-pointed knitting needles are a key clue to the case. Do you have anything to say about that?”

  “No comment,” I said, moving away. She tried to follow me and ask me more questions, but as I entered the driveway and the Vista Del Mar grounds, it was as if she’d hit an invisible door and stopped.

  As I kept walking, I replayed my conversion with Dane from earlier in the morning and realized much of the information was like an arrow pointing right at Olivia. There was no forced entry, because Olivia could have walked right into the room with Edie. And no struggle because Olivia could have just waited until Edie passed out to do her work with the pillow. The fact that Olivia was missing sleeping pills looked even more suspicious.

  As I reached the center of Vista Del Mar, I passed a group following a man in a khaki camp shirt. From the tidbit of his spiel I heard, I figured it was some kind of nature walk. Another group, all in yellow T-shirts that said Alpine Esoteric Society, headed up the path toward a meeting room. Two kids carrying pails ran ahead of their parents in search of the boardwalk that led to the beach.

  To all of them, this was a normal Saturday morning, and murder wasn’t on their minds. I must admit, Kevin St. John had done a good job of handling things about Edie discreetly. I was sure there were probably some guests who knew someone had died, but no one seemed concerned, let alone panicky. Well, except for my group.

  “There you are,” Lucinda said as I walked to the group’s table in the dining hall just as they were finishing breakfast. “I tried your cell phone, the landline and sent you an email.” She got up and hugged me. “I’m so glad to see you. When I couldn’t reach you, I was afraid . . .” She didn’t have to say the rest. I got what she meant. She thought I’d been victim number two.

  I hugged her back and apologized. “I’ll explain in a minute,” I said, noting that she was perfectly coordinated as usual. The black slacks and loose teal blue silk top were elegantly casual. I felt my lips to see if I’d remembered to put some lip balm on as I noted her subtle but complete makeup job. Not a surprise—in my haste I’d forgotten.

  I’d turned my phone to silent when I was sitting next to Bree as she was falling asleep. I hadn’t been home to answer the landline and had been in too much of a hurry to check emails.

  Bree was out of her chair a moment later. She hugged me like a long-lost friend. “Thank you for sitting with me last night.”

  Melissa’s head shot up. “What is she talking about? Is it something about Edie?” I wondered if I should say anything. Would Bree be embarrassed? Apparently not, because she stepped in and told the group about what I’d done. Kris put down her coffee cup and looked at me with an approving smile.

  “And you were worried about being in charge,” Lucinda said, stepping close and dropping her voice.

  “What a nice thing to do,” Sissy said from across the table. I had a feeling it had been her idea to sit across the table from her mother. The moment was interrupted as Bree dropped her cell phone on the table with a thud.

  “Hanging on to it and staring isn’t going to make it ring,” Olivia said, pushing the phone toward Bree.

  Olivia had a plate of untouched food in front of her. After the phone episode, she went back to eavesdropping on a family sitting at the next table. Olivia was leaning so far back in her chair, I was afraid she might go over backward. Whatever was going on didn’t seem to be pleasing Olivia. Her mouth was pursed, which made her brows furrow. The odd part was, the family seemed to be having a good time.

  And even though Scott was sitting at another table, he actually lifted his hand in a greeting to me. Maybe he was making progress. Though I doubted his table companions would have guessed that the man in the lime green polo shirt had a bunch of knitting stuff in the briefcase at his feet. I looked around for the elusive Michael so I could point him out to Melissa and Lucinda, but he wasn’t there.

  I wanted to tell Lucinda about my breakfast with Dane, but not in front of the others. Instead I grabbed the thermal pot and poured myself a cup of coffee before taking one of the empty chairs.

  “There’s something we need to talk about,” Melissa said. Her tone of voice made it sound like some kind of problem, and I felt myself girding for it. “Because of Edie’s . . .” Melissa started, but she caught herself before she said death. “Because of everything with her, we missed out on the morning workshop and none of us were really functioning that well for the afternoon one. I know I shouldn’t be thinking about things like our workshop when she’s lying on a slab somewhere, but still.” She let it hang in the air.

  It hadn’t occurred to me that the missed time would be a problem. But now that she mentioned it, I saw how it was. Between going with us to find Edie and then being questioned by the police, Kris had been gone for just about the whole session. And she was the workshop. The whole point was that she was supposed to be there to help them.

  “I’m sorry,” Kris said with a shrug. “It wasn’t by choice. I would have much preferred to be with you in the meeting room.” It seemed like her attitude was that it was over with and, given the circumstances, the group should just accept they’d lost that time with her.

  Melissa didn’t say anything, but her expression did. She wasn’t happy with what Kris had said.

  “There must be something I can do to make it up,” I said. I was thinking off the top of my head. “What if I talk to Kevin St. John and see if instead of having our last workshop Sunday morning, we can have the room for Sunday afternoon as well?” I looked toward Kris. At first I didn’t think she liked the idea. The way things stood now, she would be finished after the morning workshop and could head home to Santa Cruz while the group was having their last lunch. Maybe it was the pressure of having everyone staring at her with hopeful expressions, but she finally smiled and nodded.

  “Certainly, if you can get the room, I’ll stay,” she said.

  Someone pointed out that Kevin St. John had just come into the dining room. “And look who he’s with,” Olivia said with a groan.

  Kevin St. John was standing just inside of the door of the dining hall with Lieutenant Borgnine and the rumpled-looking man I’d seen the night before. All three of them were staring at me, and then they turned and went outside. As always, the manager was wearing an impeccable dark suit, and the almost no-neck police lieutenant had the same jacket I’d seen him in before.

  I was pretty sure the rumpled man was Edie’s husband. I rushed after the trio, caught up with them outside and heard the tail end of their conversation.

  “I realize this is very hard for you,” Kevin St. John said in a solicitous manner. “As I told you last night when you arrived, we’ll do anything we can to make this time easier for you. I’m so sorry about the room. I thought it had been taken care of.” The three men all turned toward me as I stopped next to them. I was going to introduce myself, but Kevin St. John beat me to it.

  “This is Casey Feldstein,” Kevin St. John said to the rumpled man. “She’s the one in charge of your late wife’s retreat now.” Let’s just say that the manager’s tone was full of reproach.

  I put out my hands and took one of his in both of mine. “I’m so sorry for your loss. Edie was a special woman.” I was close enough to get a good look at him. He was on the tall side and had longish black hair. I’d call his looks ordinary, the kind of guy you would have a hard time picking out of a crowd. The clothes didn’t help. He wore a plaid shirt over black cotton pants and a beige bomber-style jacket that looked like he’d sat on it.

  The man seemed a little surprised by my gesture. “Lou Spaghazzi,” he said in a gravelly voice. “So you’re the one in charge. How could you have let something happen to my Edie?” Behind h
im I could see Kevin nodding his head and giving me a disparaging look.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “We’re trying to find out what happened and who is responsible,” I said. Kevin’s eyes bugged out at my comment, and he gave me a disparaging shake of his head this time.

  “Don’t worry, the investigation isn’t up to some amateur sleuth,” Lieutenant Borgnine interjected. “The Cadbury police are on top of the situation, and I am sure we will have the guilty party identified before the weekend’s end.”

  “That’s tomorrow,” Lou said with a disbelieving tone. He looked at me. “I know Edie loved these knitting things, but I think there was something more. Maybe you know something. Did you see her with a man?” he asked.

  What was I going to say? I had seen her talking to a man who I was pretty sure was Michael. He’d claimed they had some kind of vague acquaintanceship. He might or might not have been Edie’s dinner companion at the Blue Door, and he may or may not have been the man Melissa had seen her talking to. Personally, I thought what Michael had said about their relationship was bogus and that he’d been the man with Edie on all those occasions, but I wasn’t sure. And why upset Lou Spaghazzi any further?

  Finally, I said that as far as I knew all she came to Cadbury for was the knitting. Lieutenant Borgnine seemed to be listening to my comment, then he turned to Edie’s husband.

  “If you can think of anything else, let me know.” The two men shook hands, and the lieutenant left us. Kevin St. John said Lou was going to pack up Edie’s things.

  “I’m going to accompany him. A man shouldn’t have to do something like that alone.” There was more reproach in Kevin St. John’s voice aimed toward me. “Someone truly in charge knows things like that and handles them accordingly.” I got it. Not only was he making it sound like it was my fault Edie was dead, but I was handling everything poorly.

  Thank heavens it was already Saturday. Just one more day of dealing with him. I paused, thinking of the business about asking for the meeting room for the afternoon. It didn’t seem the best time to bring it up.

  I could practically hear my aunt’s voice telling me to step in and help Lou with the packing up. “It’s so nice of you to have handled this so far,” I said to Kevin St. John in such a sickeningly sweet voice it was making me nauseous. “But I will take over from here.”

  No surprise, the hotel manager wasn’t happy with my comment and reluctantly backed away.

  I didn’t think Lou cared if anyone accompanied him, and we walked in silence to the Sand and Sea building. As we went inside, I said we should have gotten a key.

  He held up the key in his hand. “Mr. St. John gave me Edie’s key.” He started to walk ahead of me. “I can handle this myself.”

  “I’m sure you can, but it will be easier if you’re not alone. Do you know what happened to the other key?” I said, remembering the point she’d made when she registered that she wanted two keys.

  Lou turned back to look at me. “He just gave me one.”

  I dreaded seeing the room again, remembering my first view the day before and, well, the smell, which by now I figured would have only gotten worse. He opened the door and walked in ahead of me. The first thing I noticed was that it now smelled like bleach and cleaner. The bed had been stripped, and the pillow was gone. Evidence, maybe. A cleaning crew must have come in once the cops released it, because there wasn’t even a hint of the red puddle that had been on the floor. Frankly, I was relieved.

  I tried to make conversation as he went through the room picking up Edie’s things. But he was acting almost as if I weren’t there. He seemed to be looking for something as he ruffled through the items on the dresser. I tried not to be too obvious that I was watching him. Finally, he picked up her cell phone but made some disparaging sound as he tried to turn it on. It looked to me like it had been stepped on. He threw it in the suitcase with the rest of her things.

  “I guess that’s it,” he said, looking around the room. I walked him back outside through the grounds to a small parking lot near the Lodge. He put the suitcase in the trunk.

  He looked down at the ground. “Thank you for coming with me,” he said. “Having someone there did make it easier.” I felt for the man. He seemed to be struggling. Or was it just an act?

  I asked him if he was driving back to L.A., but he shook his head. “I’m not leaving until Edie’s killer is caught,” he said. He got into his blue Ford Focus and pulled out of the parking spot in a hurry. He was already down the driveway before I’d walked away. I noticed a card on the ground that must have fallen out when he got in. When I examined it, I realized it was one of those folders hotels use to hold plastic key cards. It was empty, but when I turned it over I saw the logo of the Lighthouse Inn.

  Why wasn’t he staying at Vista Del Mar?

  18

  I STOPPED IN THE LODGE BEFORE I WENT TO MEET up with the group. Kevin St. John was holding court with some guests, telling them the history of the place and how it was truly a step back into a more peaceful time. He didn’t appear happy to see me, but that seemed to have become a given. I waited until the group headed outside before approaching him.

  I had two things to ask him and didn’t think he’d want to answer either of them, but there was no choice.

  “Everything went fine with Lou Spaghazzi,” I began, trying to smooth the way.

  Kevin St. John nodded and repeated that he could have handled it. “The only reason we brought him in the dining hall was that he wanted to meet the person his wife had talked so much about.” The manager flicked a bit of lint off his sleeve. “I didn’t realize until too late that he meant your aunt.”

  Now it was a time for my questions. I couldn’t stall, because he’d merely walk away. “I noticed that you gave Lou only one key, but didn’t Edie have two?”

  Kevin St. John looked perturbed. “Not that it is any of your business, but I gave Mr. Spaghazzi the key the cops found in her room and gave back to me.”

  I sputtered and said I was sure that Edie had asked for two.

  “Really?” Kevin St. John said. “In the interest of settling this quickly . . .” He waved for me to follow him behind the counter. He motioned to the hooks that went with the rooms in Sand and Sea and pointed to 103, which had been Edie’s room. A key was hanging from the hook. “Mr. Spaghazzi has the other one for the rest of the weekend since the room is paid for.”

  What? I knew I wasn’t crazy. I’d heard Edie ask for two keys. Well, I now knew how the murderer could have gotten into her room. They must have lifted one of her keys—not a problem since I saw her put it in her sweater pocket and she tended to drape it over the back of the chair in the dining hall. Then whoever had done so just brought it back here. And who had the easiest access but the man glaring at me? I realized it was useless information on its own. No one would believe me, anyway.

  “Was there something else, Casey?” Kevin St. John said when I didn’t walk away. I brought up extending the retreat through Sunday afternoon and explained why.

  He took his time thinking about it. Then he surprised me by saying yes. He picked up on my surprise. “I’m doing it for the reputation of retreats at Vista Del Mar,” he said curtly, then turned his back, making it clear our moment was over.

  I’d already missed the beginning of the workshop, but at least I was bringing good news.

  They all looked up when I came in, and I told them right away about the extra workshop. They surprised me by giving me a mini round of applause.

  I was glad to see that they were all working on their projects. I’d decided the correct title for Kris was workshop leader. A pair of knitting needles and something royal blue was on the table in front of her. When she wasn’t helping anyone with their project, she spent the time on her own project. She’d explained at the beginning of the weekend that she was making a cardigan sweater for her daughter.

  She had bar
ely talked about her family at all, or her personal life. Just a passing remark about being a single parent with two teenagers. I couldn’t imagine what that was like. I found it hard enough to just take care of me.

  Kris pointed to my seat and urged me to get going, reminding me that there was no workshop in the afternoon. When I looked puzzled, her face lit up in a perky smile. “You didn’t forget the yarn tasting, did you?” They all laughed when they saw my stricken response.

  “Don’t worry, your aunt made all the arrangements, down to the van driving us into town,” Kris said.

  I picked up the tiny bit of scarf I’d made so far. It looked pathetic when compared to the progress the rest of them had made. I felt even worse when I saw the stack of finished squares everyone had turned in. Mine was a lost cause. There was no way I would have it finished in time to give it to Kris. I would stick with the scarf. I began to work my needles.

  Melissa was standing next to Kris, and they were poring over the black-and-white scarf Melissa was making. It was pretty impressive to see the houndstooth pattern come out of the combination of the two yarns, though apparently there was a mistake somewhere.

  “Did you make that?” Melissa said, touching the heathery gray sweater Kris had on over a pair of tan cargo pants. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised when Kris nodded. Melissa watched as Kris expertly unknitted until she reached the problem. As Melissa took back her project, she asked for the pattern of the shawl the workshop leader had worn the first night, saying it looked like just the thing to work on when she was watching television. I looked at my strip of scarf again and thought about how out of their league I was.

  Scott was the only one of the group who didn’t seem to need any help, but then his mountain to climb had nothing to do with cables or two-color knitting, but was just about outing himself. I envied the bliss on his face as his needles clicked away.