Purls and Poison

by Anne Canadeo

  Suzanne sighed, appreciating her concern. “Me too. I really hate that.”

  “It’s got to be someone in your office. Someone who knows your movements.” Maggie looked upset, too, the little crease in her brow that only showed when she got worried or angry getting deeper the more they talked.

  “I agree, but let’s not narrow the field too quickly,” Lucy said. “It’s definitely someone who’s close to the office, but maybe not right inside. For example, the listing for the Gertwig house is in the window of Prestige Properties with Suzanne’s name on it. It doesn’t take an insider to know Suzanne would be there frequently.”

  Suzanne agreed, but was starting to feel overwhelmed. Her friends were trying hard and were usually so clever at untangling these puzzles. But could they figure this one out in time to help her?

  Maggie had just started a baby sweater. It looked like a basic garter stitch and Suzanne guessed she’d whip right through it. “Did they ask you about anything else?”

  “Don’t they have to let her know everything that they know?” Phoebe seemed affronted by the suggestion that the police might hold back.

  Dana shook her head. “They don’t. Not unless Suzanne is charged and a trial is imminent. Then they need to turn over all the evidence they have against her. At this stage, they can hold back a lot of what they may have discovered.”

  Suzanne didn’t like hearing that. “Oh . . . brother . . . I can’t go through any more of these all night questioning sessions. It’s too exhausting. Even with Helen there, after a while I start babbling. I don’t know what I’m likely to say just to get them off my back.”

  “They’re trying to wear you down. You can’t let them.” Maggie reached over and squeezed her hand. Suzanne felt Maggie was remembering her own experience of being a suspect when a rival knitting-shop owner was murdered. It had happened years ago, but the trauma of that experience had left its mark; Suzanne had no doubt.

  Phoebe turned to Suzanne with an intense expression. “Think, Suzanne. Who could have done this? Who could have fooled around with the computer files and planted the drink? Who knew that Liza had that allergy and that you were at the Botox party? Who dislikes her even more than you did?”

  “Dislikes her . . . or just has some reason to want her out of the way?” Lucy clarified. “Who stands to gain once she’s out of the picture?”

  “I’ve been asking myself that for days now. I just can’t figure it out.” Suzanne’s brash, funny mask melted. She looked around at her friends, feeling helpless.

  “Let’s pretend we’re the police,” Maggie said suddenly. “They must be sorting this out in a careful, logical way.”

  “Right, with one of those big whiteboards with photos and arrows drawn in marker all over the place.” Lucy was getting into the idea.

  “I don’t have a whiteboard, but here’s a pad.” Suzanne found a pad on the kitchen counter and pulled off her shopping list to reveal a blank page.

  Lucy snatched it up and fished a pen out of her handbag. “I’ll be in charge of writing stuff.” Suddenly all business, her gaze swept around. “Let’s round up the suspects in your office. What are their names again?”

  “Anita and Lyle are in sales. Beth is the office manager, and Janine is the receptionist. And there’s Harry, of course. Our boss,” Suzanne added.

  Lucy had recorded the names, writing them in bold, block letters across the top of the pad. Down the margin, she wrote the words: “Means,” “Motive,” “Opportunity.” Then drew lines to make a grid of boxes.

  “Nice, Lucy. This is like Clue, my favorite board game,” Phoebe said.

  “Colonel Mustard did it in the drawing room, with the candlestick,” Dana quipped.

  “If only,” Suzanne sighed.

  “Logic, ladies. Focus, please?” Maggie implored them. “Suzanne, you need to lead here. How can we fill in this grid? You know the players best.”

  Suzanne pondered the blank squares. “I’m sorry . . . but they all knew about the diet drinks we both used and about the Botox party and Liza’s allergy. I’m not sure who knows how to move files around the office network, but I don’t think it’s that complicated.”

  “What about the car vandalism? You told us someone had keyed her car really badly, earlier that day?” Maggie had taken a break from her knitting to study Lucy’s chart.

  “I wasn’t in the office but I heard later on that Liza had gone out to her car around eleven o’clock, to leave for an appointment, and found a huge, ugly scratch from one end to the other. And I think a headlight was broken, too.” Suzanne sipped her coffee, thinking. “Janine, the receptionist, told me when I got in. She said Liza was very upset, but she didn’t call the police to report it. She didn’t want Beth to report it either, even though she had offered.”

  “So the police think the vandalism is related to her murder?” Dana asked.

  “They would have really loved it if they could have blamed me for it somehow. But I was cruising down the highway, popping down streusel bites. I even kept the receipt. Personally, I think we should just put the car thing aside. We have plenty on our plate already.”

  Dana glanced at the pad and then back at her knitting. “This is a good start. But Lucy’s right. We have to be open to the possibility that it could have been someone who isn’t an employee. But just close enough to know how to manipulate the situation.”

  “How to frame me, you mean,” Suzanne clarified.

  “I didn’t want to put it that way, but yes—how to frame you.”

  “In that case, it could have been anybody. People are coming in and out of the office all day. Clients, food deliveries, the office cleaners . . .” Suzanne could have named even more traffic, but stopped herself. “The office is always cleaned on Thursday night, but last week, for some reason, the cleaners didn’t come. And I couldn’t help thinking that if they had been there, Liza would have had help and she could have survived.”

  “Interesting.” Maggie glanced at Suzanne over the edge of her reading glasses. “Why did they miss the visit?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why don’t we find out?” Lucy already had her phone out. “What’s the name of the service?”

  “Spotless Cleaning Service.” Suzanne felt encouraged by Lucy’s can-do spirit. Lucy quickly looked up the number and dialed, with her phone on speaker.

  A woman answered on the first ring. “Spotless Cleaning. How can I help you?”

  “I’m calling from Prestige Properties in Plum Harbor. The service didn’t come last week. It was very inconvenient and no one here recalls canceling.” Suzanne was impressed by Lucy’s assertive and snappy business voice. She’d never seen that side of her before.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I’d be happy to take your name and number and look into it.”

  Suzanne was alarmed at the reply, but Lucy took it in stride. “That’s okay.... I can hold. We’d like to get to the bottom of this today, if we can.”

  “All right. If you prefer. Let me see what I can find out. Please hold.”

  The call clicked over to elevator jazz. A saxophone solo intended to sound soulful came out of the phone speaker as pure screech. Everyone winced and put their hands over their ears.

  “Lower it, Lucy. Please,” Maggie begged.

  “Maybe the phone Muzak made all the cleaners call in sick,” Phoebe mumbled.

  “Maybe they quit in protest,” Suzanne offered.

  The voice on the phone returned. “Hello? Are you still there?”

  “Yes, I’m here,” Lucy replied quickly.

  “I spoke to the person who books the appointments. She’s sure that someone from your office canceled. A message was left on our machine Wednesday night.”

  “Really? That’s funny. Because I handle that sort of thing on this end, and I know I didn’t call.” Suzanne suppressed a laugh. Lucy was really getting into this, wasn’t she? “Can you just tell me one more tiny thing? Did a man call? Or was it a woman?”

 
The receptionist replied with a pained sigh, clearly irritated and losing her patience. “Hold again. I’ll ask.”

  Lucy muted the phone before the music could come on.

  “Good one, Lucy. Fast thinking,” Dana said.

  Lucy shrugged with a modest grin. “It just came to me. There are men in this mix, too.”

  “Absolutely,” Maggie agreed. “We have to cover all bases, though they do say that poison is a woman’s preferred murder method.”

  The woman at the cleaning service came back on the line. “The appointment manager doesn’t remember and the message tape has been erased.”

  “Bummer!” Suzanne blurted out. Then covered her mouth with her hand.

  “Excuse me?” the woman replied.

  “Sorry, someone just walked into my office. Thanks so much. You’ve been very helpful.”

  “No trouble. We appreciate your business. Have a good day.”

  “You have a good day, too,” Lucy said, and clicked off the call. “Well, we found out something. Someone was smart enough to cancel the cleaners.”

  “And that someone knows the cleaners come on Thursday night,” Dana noted. “Once again, points to an inside job.”

  “Yes, it does. But if Liza’s killer is smart enough to frame Suzanne this way, they could be smart enough to be outside the circle,” Lucy countered. “But somehow have privy to all the important info.”

  Suzanne’s head was spinning. She felt dispirited again. “Sure, that could be it. But now it opens the door to the entire world.”

  “There are more possibilities. But not that many more,” Dana reminded her. “Someone close, but maybe not a coworker.”

  Maggie was concentrating on her stitching. She didn’t look up but Suzanne could tell she was following the conversation closely. “What about Nick Sutton? I don’t know how he rates as far as means and opportunity. But he probably has enough motive.”

  Suzanne had thought of him, too. “Plenty of motive. And never trust a man who wears French cuffs. That’s a given.”

  Maggie smiled as she continued stitching. “I’m not sure about the cuffs, but didn’t you hear that their divorce was contentious?”

  “Contentious barely covers it. I heard it was a clash of the Titans. A battle to the death.”

  “Maybe literally?” Dana asked quietly. “I think we’re pretty sure the divorce decree was never finalized. If so, he’s entitled to part of her estate. Or even all of it.”

  “She called him her ‘ex.’ But maybe that was just wishful thinking.” Suzanne considered the possibility. “He was in the office last week, on Tuesday. I was on my way out to meet a client, but I saw him at the reception desk, sweet talking Janine. No great challenge there. She turns to mush at the sight of any attractive guy. He wanted to see Liza, but she was out. He didn’t believe that and barged past Janine to check Liza’s office for himself. He was definitely hot under the collar about something.”

  Lucy looked like a dog who had just heard a sharp whistle. “Really? What happened after that? Was he alone in her office at all?”

  “I saw Janine run after him. She couldn’t get him to leave, so she called Beth. I guess he was alone for a few minutes at the back of the office. And Liza’s cubicle is near the kitchen.”

  “What happened after that?” Lucy asked.

  “Beth came running and Lyle came to help her. I guess they got him out, eventually. I don’t know. I had to leave. I was already late for my appointment.”

  It didn’t seem important then, but Suzanne wished now she’d stuck around longer to see what had happened next. “They were married a long time. He must have known that Liza and I didn’t get along. I’m sure she complained about me plenty at the dinner table.”

  A fact that made Suzanne ashamed now and even a little sad, to think she was such a bane to someone else’s existence. But it was true.

  “I was thinking that, too,” Dana said. “And he probably knew about the allergy. The fact that there was a Botox party and you attended was a lucky bonus. He could still have framed you by leaving some vials that he used in the trash at one of your listings.”

  Maggie picked up her knitting again. She examined the stitches on a row and turned her work over. “Whether or not the divorce was final, there were certainly bad feelings left with the family. Ruth couldn’t even stand to look at him,” Maggie reminded them. “I do wonder what that was all about.”

  Suzanne had wondered about that, too. “I guess I should ask around at the office. Maybe someone knows the history. If I ever go back to the office, that is.” She tried not to sound too glum but she couldn’t help it.

  Dana looked up and met her gaze. “What do you mean by that? Harry didn’t fire you . . . did he?”

  Suzanne shook her head. “Not yet. He has a little style about these things. He’ll draw it out and make it seem like he’s doing it for my own good.” She laughed at her analysis, though her assessment was true. “He did say he thought it was best if I took a few days off. Worked from home, if I felt ‘up to it.’ He’s sure it’s a huge misunderstanding but he has to think of the company’s image. All this negative press about Liza’s death and the investigation is hurting business, and ‘there’s enough gossip about Prestige Properties already,’ he told me. I know that’s probably true,” she reluctantly agreed. “Having the police suspect one employee of murdering another really smears the place.”

  Lucy bit her lip. Suzanne could tell she wanted to say something but was holding back. “Go on, Lucy. What is it? I can take it.”

  Lucy glanced at the others, then pulled the Plum Harbor Times from her knapsack. “I guess it’s best if you hear it from us. The headline in the newspaper today . . . BETTER HOMES AND HOMICIDES?”

  Suzanne stared at the page, another picture with her coat over her head, going into the police station. She didn’t know if she was going to laugh or cry. “For once, that front page editor came up with a decent pun.” She looked back at her friends. “Maybe Harry saw the headline this morning and decided I was bad for business.”

  Her friends exchanged glances, but didn’t argue with her. “He acted all sympathetic about what I’m going through, and said he knows it’s a huge misunderstanding.” She paused, then imitated Harry’s deep, smooth voice. “ ‘You’ll be back soon, Sue. But I want something left for you to come back to, right? Ha-ha.’ He tried to make a joke out of it. That annoyed me. And I really hate when people call me Sue.”

  A small point, but one that got under her skin.

  “Anyone who really knows you would never call you that,” Lucy murmured, as she folded the paper and put it out of sight.

  “However he put it, that must have hurt,” Dana said. “This is the time when you need more support. Not less.”

  “Gosh, he’s acting like you have a contagious disease or something,” Phoebe said.

  “Yeah, it’s called prime suspect-itis. I wish I could just take a pill and make it go away.”

  “I’m sure,” Lucy was sympathetic, too. “But it’s interesting, too. I mean, if you’re not in the office, it’s harder for you to figure out who really did this. Maybe he’s keeping you away on purpose.”

  Lucy was clearly pointing a finger at Harry, but Suzanne didn’t see it. “I know we can’t rule anyone out yet. Especially my coworkers. But Harry worshipped the ground Liza walked on. I think he still harbored hopes they’d get back together someday.”

  “I was watching him at the memorial,” Dana said. “I don’t doubt what you say is true. But even the deepest passion can turn to the complete opposite. Maybe he tried to repair their romance and she rejected him again?”

  “And if he couldn’t have her, no one else ever would?” Lucy finished sketching out the scene.

  Dana nodded. “Something like that. It wouldn’t be the first time a forlorn lover ended the life of the object of his affections.”

  Maggie shrugged. “Happens in the opera all the time.”

  “Not a fan. But I’ll take your
word.” Suzanne sat with that theory a moment. “I won’t argue with you, Dana. You’re the expert in the obsession department. But aside from romance, she was his star earner. The goose that kept laying golden eggs. Harry’s heart definitely watches the bottom line. Why would he give up such a good thing? It still doesn’t make sense to me. But his hot and cold attitude toward me doesn’t make sense either. One minute, he’s offering me Liza’s listings, and the next, banning me from the office.”

  Phoebe picked up the chart. “Sounds like a split personality. He did have means and opportunity, but the jury is still out in the motive category.” She checked off two boxes in Harry’s column, and put a question mark in the last.

  “I’m not sure how I feel about your boss, Suzanne.” Maggie had come to the end of another row and seemed satisfied to put her work aside. “But we definitely need to add Nick Sutton to the chart. And I need to visit Ruth Devereaux and find out why the mere sight of the man sends her into paroxysms.”

  Chapter 8

  “I’m surprised she agreed to see us. She probably doesn’t remember that we’re friends with Suzanne.” Lucy sat beside Maggie in the Subaru on Tuesday afternoon, as Maggie drove toward Peabody and Brookside Village, where Ruth Devereaux lived.

  “I wondered about that, too. Even if she doesn’t watch the local news—and that’s a long shot—the police must be filling her in on their progress. But she didn’t mention Suzanne, and I didn’t either. At the memorial service, I asked if I could visit and she seemed pleased by the idea. When I called last night, she didn’t mind hearing a friend would come along, so . . . Oh, here we are. It’s closer than I thought.”

  Maggie saw a sign, BROOKSIDE VILLAGE—AN ASSISTED LIVING COMMUNITY, and turned into the entrance. She slowed the car as they approached a security booth. The guard asked whom they were visiting, a gate was raised, and they drove on.

  “This isn’t a bad place,” she said, glancing around.

  “Not at all. Though all the ‘brooks’ look carefully planned and constructed.”

  Maggie smiled. “That’s a given. I did expect something more stark and austere. Even with the name Brookside.”