Purls and Poison

by Anne Canadeo

  Maggie already looked pleased. “I was wondering what was in that cake holder, but I didn’t want to peek. When did you manage to bake that, on top of everything else going on?”

  “I’m not really sure. In the middle of my cleaning frenzy. It’s all a blur.”

  Maggie offered a sympathetic look as Suzanne set plates and napkins at each place on the long table. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here this morning when you dropped off Ruth’s donation. Did you really speak to Kira?”

  “It wasn’t a long conversation. But we exchanged a few meaningful words. She knew about the note.”

  “What did she think? Did she know that someone was threatening her sister?”

  “She didn’t put much stock in it. She said, ‘Your friends cooked that note up, but it’s not going to save you.’ ”

  Maggie frowned. “That is harsh, but she’s in a great deal of pain.”

  “I know that.” Suzanne nodded. “I have lost hope about that note. I don’t think it’s going to save me,” Suzanne admitted. “I did ask her what was in the safe deposit box and actually got an answer.”

  Maggie was filling small white bowls with soy sauce. “You did? Brave girl. What did she say?”

  “She told me it was just some copies of bank statements, from Prestige Properties. She had no idea why Liza was holding on to them and frankly, neither do I.”

  Maggie looked puzzled, too, Suzanne noticed. Then she smiled and patted Suzanne’s shoulder. “Let’s wait until the others come. Maybe together we can sort this out.”

  A short time later, the rest of her friends had gathered around the table, sharing the huge tray of sushi and various appetizers Maggie had ordered. She’d even warmed some saki, though Suzanne still preferred good old Chardonnay.

  “A cold dinner was a good idea. Keeps the wits sharp.” Lucy guided a piece of flying tiger roll toward her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “I was so annoyed to hear they let Sutton go. Did they rule him out for good?”

  Suzanne dipped a slice of spicy tuna roll in soy sauce, careful not to drop it. “Annoying is not the word. Here’s the thing . . . Helen said the forensics lab figured out that the drink was only potent enough to kill Liza for about twenty-four hours after it was mixed. Beyond that, the chemicals would have broken down and would not be strong enough to cause such a deadly reaction.”

  “So whoever killed her must have mixed and planted the drink by say . . . Wednesday night?” Lucy calculated.

  Suzanne’s mouth was full and she could only nod. “Uh-huh.”

  “But Sutton came to your office Tuesday. And that was too early,” Dana worked out. “If he didn’t have help, I mean.”

  “That’s right. Unfortunately, his alibi for Wednesday and Wednesday night is solid. He had an early business meeting from his unhappy personal bankers and was in the hospital, overnight, after that.”

  “I guess that leaves out the car and the note on Thursday morning,” Suzanne said. “Unless he limped over to do the damage?”

  It sounded far-fetched, even to her own ears.

  Maggie frowned, her spoon poised above a bowl of miso soup. “Let’s not go round in circles. Let’s forget about the car for now. And the drink. What about the computer files? The same person has to be responsible for both.”

  Dana reached over for more sushi, then sat back. “Maggie’s right. If we can figure that out, we should know who’s behind the rest. Who’s in charge of the network?”

  Suzanne wasn’t sure this would get them anywhere, but she was willing to try. “It was installed by a professional computer company. But Beth Birney oversees it. She’s the one we complain to if anything goes wrong. But I’m not sure how much she knows about it. All she does is call up the IT company.”

  “She has all the passwords?” Lucy asked, clearly more savvy about these things than Suzanne was.

  “She must,” Suzanne replied. “I guess Harry has them, too.”

  Dana seemed to perk up at the mention of the realty broker. “Of course he does. Or at least, would know where to find them. What about Liza? Did she know how to navigate the network?”

  “I’m not sure.” Suzanne had never really thought about it. “It’s possible. She was smart that way. Do you think she killed herself and framed me? Just to get the last shot in? As much as Liza disliked me, getting me fired would have been probably enough for her.”

  Her friends were trying not to laugh at her dark humor, but mostly, gave in. “Suzanne, come on. We’re being serious here,” Maggie scolded.

  “So am I.” Suzanne eyed the sushi slices collected on her plate, but had suddenly lost her appetite.

  Lucy abruptly picked up her phone and started scrolling through the photos. “Look at this . . . What do you think she had on her desk the night she died? It looks like printouts from a computer to me.”

  She handed the phone to Suzanne. All she saw was the picture of a strand of yarn, stretched out on a desk. “Liza was a pretty lame photographer,” she murmured. “One thing she wasn’t perfect at.”

  Suddenly she realized the yarn was not the subject of the photo. It was the background, the printout.

  “Okay . . . I get it. She was sending her mother a picture of these printouts. For safekeeping or something?”

  “That’s what I think,” Lucy said. “Can you read what they say? Can you figure out why she’d want to save them?”

  Before she could answer, Phoebe handed over her laptop. “E-mail them to me, Lucy. I’ll blow them up on the computer.”

  “Brilliant.” Suzanne was pleased by that idea.

  “Okay, here we go. Here’s the first photo, Suzanne. I enlarged it as much as I could.”

  Phoebe turned the screen around so Suzanne could read it. It looked like a spreadsheet, the kind accountants and bookkeepers create to calculate profit and loss. She knew enough to recognize that much.

  “Looks like monthly accounts,” Suzanne said. “I recognize the companies we do business with—utilities, the water cooler guy, the cleaners . . . nothing strange here. Sorry.”

  She sensed the disappointment of her friends, though no one said a word.

  She paused and took a closer look. Then felt goose bumps break out on her skin. “Wait. Maybe there is something off. Let me see the other photos.”

  Phoebe quickly brought them up. Suzanne studied the other spreadsheets, each covering a different period of time. “There’s something off here. There are lots of names on these sheets I’ve never heard of.” She looked up at her friends. “Today, when I asked Kira about the safety deposit box, she told me Liza had socked away statements from the corporate bank account.” She glanced around at her friends. “Get it? Liza figured out that someone is skimming the accounts. That’s why she was working so late Thursday night. She was looking for proof.”

  “And that’s why she was warned to keep her mouth shut,” Lucy added.

  “But someone decided to shut it for her,” Suzanne cut in. “And figured out how to blame me.”

  She sat back, the truth sinking it. “I can’t believe it. It’s like I’ve been looking at one of those optical illusion drawings and only seeing the pretty girl’s profile.”

  “And now you see the creepy old lady?” Phoebe asked.

  “I do . . . And she’s not that creepy looking, actually . . . because she can afford to go to Hair Spa every single day. Online dating, my foot, okay?”

  Suzanne felt incredibly angry. And completely elated at the same time. And as if the top of her head might blow off.

  She suddenly realized her friends were staring at her, totally confused.

  “Who is it? What are you ranting about?” Maggie asked in a small, cautious voice.

  “Beth Birney. Mild-mannered, ever helpful Beth. Our ‘Office Mom.’ It’s got to be. She’s the only one who could have pulled this all off so easily. Stealing my bottle of diet shake and putting in the Botox, dumping those files in my computer. She must have known Liza was on her trail, so she messed up the Mercedes and le
ft that note.”

  Lucy sat back, her eyes wide. “Of course. That’s it. Why didn’t we see it sooner?”

  Dana looked surprised, too. “Why didn’t Harry Prentiss see that he was being robbed is the question. Why didn’t he notice someone was stealing from him?”

  “That one is easy.” Suzanne waved her chopsticks, feeling practically weightless with relief. “Harry loves the limelight, but despises sweating the details. Monthly accounts and payroll and figuring out what he’s spending on paper towels is all grunt work to him. He’s very lazy that way and he trusts Beth implicitly. She does seem so honest and trustworthy. So loyal to the company.”

  “Liza had an MBA and did all the bookkeeping for her husband’s restaurant, before they broke up. Her mother told us that,” Maggie recalled. “She probably knew her way around a spreadsheet better than Beth does. She must have noticed something amiss.”

  Suzanne nodded. “So she dug around a little. I guess she didn’t want to tell Harry until she had proof.”

  “Do you think that’s why she wanted to talk to him after the staff meeting?” Lucy asked. “Not to convince him to have you fired?”

  “Maybe.” Suzanne had not considered that. “But Beth’s scheme got her first.” The realization made Suzanne sad.

  “You need to call Helen. Right away.” Dana’s tone was so insistent, Suzanne froze. A piece of sushi that was halfway to her mouth dangled from her chopsticks. “Lucy can send her the photos, and if Kira didn’t give the police the bank statements she found, they’ll soon catch up with them.”

  “Just call Helen,” Maggie echoed. “This whole ordeal can be over in a few hours.”

  “Not soon enough for me.” Suzanne picked up her phone and headed for the front of the shop, so she could speak with her attorney without distraction. She was smiling so widely, her cheeks hurt.

  She returned to the soothing sound of needles clicking. After talking to Helen, she called Kevin and quickly told him the good news. He was so excited, she was sure his whoop of glee had been heard in the next room. But when she joined her friends again, she could see their peace had not been broken. Everyone stopped stitching at the same moment and looked up at her.

  “How did it go?” Dana asked.

  “She wouldn’t really say one way or the other. But I could tell from her questions, she agrees that all the pieces fit.” Suzanne didn’t want to count her chickens too soon again, but couldn’t help the bright note in her voice.

  “Will she bring this to the police tonight, or wait until tomorrow?” Lucy sounded worried. “If Beth is smart enough to skim the accounts and frame you for murder, she must know someone will figure her out. She may try to get away.”

  “Helen thought of that. She’s going to speak to Charles and Detective Oliver right away.”

  “I bet that Beth has about ten bank accounts and five fake passports . . . and a shelf full of wigs in her closet,” Phoebe said.

  “I bet you’re right. Let’s hope she doesn’t get to use any of them.” Suzanne was too happy to entertain the possibility of Beth escaping apprehension.

  “The police will call in forensics accountants to check the books at your office, Suzanne. I’m not sure how long that will take,” Dana said.

  Suzanne didn’t like hearing that. “Not too long, I hope. Maybe they can verify enough from what we gave them to bring her in for questioning.”

  “I think it’s enough.” Dana’s reply made her feel better. Suzanne hoped she wasn’t just saying that to placate her.

  “There’s such a thing as forensic accountants?” Phoebe made a face, as if she didn’t believe her.

  “Oh yes,” Maggie replied quickly. “Charles told me all about their role. You’d be surprised how many cases they work on. And they are called to testify in court, too.”

  Phoebe considered the idea. “Sounds sort of geeky . . . but cool. So, what do we do now? Just wait?”

  “And knit.” Lucy picked up her needles.

  “And eat chocolate cake.” Suzanne headed to the shop’s kitchen, where she had stored the treat. “I whipped up a beauty with coconut icing that’s impossible to resist. I made it to console myself about Sutton going free. Little did I realize, we’d be celebrating.”

  “As well we should be,” Maggie commended.

  Suzanne’s friends smiled at her, and at each other, and Suzanne trotted off to fetch the cake. She felt her world, so shaken and shattered the past week, falling back into place.

  * * *

  By noon on Friday, Suzanne wondered if she’d celebrated too soon. Beth Birney had not been picked up by the police and she couldn’t stand the suspense as she waited for some word. And there was nothing left in her house to clean.

  Barkly caught her eye, as he snoozed on his huge dog bed in the kitchen. Suzanne approached quietly and gave him a pat. He yawned and wagged his tail, offering a doggy smile and his big stomach for a scratch. Clearly, the big, sweet mutt had no idea that she’d decided it was bath time.

  It would be a challenge; he was eighty-five pounds and not partial to water. But the job would be distracting enough.

  “Here, boy. Look! I have biscuits,” she cooed, trailing the treats up the stairs, toward the bathroom.

  Just as they reached the top of the steps, Suzanne heard her phone ring. Maggie’s name was on the screen and she quickly answered.

  “Turn on channel five. The police brought Beth in for questioning.”

  “Amen. I’ve been waiting all day.” Suzanne ran to the nearest TV, in the guest room, and quickly turned it on just in time to see a video of Beth, flanked by two uniformed officers as she was escorted into the station.

  Instead of the elation she expected, Suzanne felt only sympathy. The sight of Beth’s bowed head and public drama brought back fresh memories of her own walk on that path just a few days ago. She knew firsthand the humiliation and fear Beth was experiencing.

  “There she goes,” Maggie said on the other side of the phone. “I think this was taped earlier. The police must know everything by now.”

  “If she confessed quickly,” Suzanne replied.

  “I don’t think it will take long. She might deny diverting funds from Prestige Properties, but her trail must be obvious if even you could see it.”

  “Uh . . . thanks, pal. I think.”

  “You know what I mean. And she must have stashed the money she stole somewhere. They can look up financial information like that very easily. The murder will be harder to prove,” Maggie mused. “But if Liza had discovered Beth’s scheme, Beth’s motive was strong. Stronger than the one the police tried to assign to you.”

  Maggie had to go. A customer needed attention. Suzanne ended the call, feeling calmed by her friend’s words. Beth was in custody. The ordeal was not officially over. But it will be. Very soon, she promised herself.

  Another call came in and she expected to see Lucy or Dana’s name on the screen. But it was a client. A closing date had finally been set on a waterfront property, located on Beach Road. The meeting would be Tuesday; Suzanne needed to gather some paperwork at the office and check the property, which was vacant, before the buyer’s walk-through on Monday. Tasks she was happy to carry out, and promptly. She’d been waiting for this closing to come through. It was the only house she’d sold in weeks but would yield a large commission.

  She lifted her chin and practically skipped across the guest room. The dog had followed her and now stared up with a curious expression. “Sorry, we have to reschedule your bubble bath,” she told Barkly. “I guess you lucked out today, too, pal.”

  She tossed the dog another biscuit and headed to her bedroom, to change out of her house clothes. She considered the choices in her closet with care. She wanted to look sleek and stylish, but as if she hadn’t tried that hard. And she definitely didn’t want to look as if she’d been hiding out, cleaning her house all week.

  She smiled into the bathroom mirror and fluffed her hair. “Watch out world . . . I am back!”


  Chapter 11

  Suzanne had a few minutes to spare when she arrived in town and cruised by Maggie’s shop. She saw Lucy’s car out front and couldn’t resist stopping by. She had some news to share about Beth Birney and knew her friends would be eager to hear it.

  Lucy sat in the big, blue wing chair, knitting. She looked up, surprised to see her. “Nice power outfit. It’s working for you.”

  “I have to show face at the office. I made some extra effort, since I’ve been in sweats all week.” The black leather blazer, pencil pants, and short black boots had been a good choice. A gray satin blouse and a string of pearls, in Liza’s honor, was the finishing touch.

  “She’s roaring back. That’s the spirit.” Maggie stood behind the counter, sorting through button cards with a customer.

  “What can I say? I clean up well.” Suzanne offered a casual shrug.

  “I saw Beth Birney on the news,” Lucy said. “Have you heard anything more from Helen?”

  “She called on my way into town. Beth has confessed to skimming the accounts, and even vandalizing Liza’s car. She wouldn’t own up to the note, but the police found her fingerprints all over it. And just as you guessed, Lucy, they were able to determine it had been on the car, stuck under the windshield.”

  “So that nails the threat. One tiny step to the actual deed,” Lucy pointed out.

  “So far, she claims she didn’t do it.” Suzanne’s tone was not quite as cheerful.

  “Give it time. The police have a lot to charge her with. She’s not going anywhere.” Lucy turned her knitting over and began another row. The baby jacket was almost done. Suzanne was impressed.

  “Maybe the DA will bargain with her, to get her to admit to the murder.” Her customer had left and Maggie came over and sat next to Lucy. She carried the carton of knitted baby items from Ruth.

  “I hope they persuade her to confess. Bargains or not,” Suzanne said.

  “Everyone in your office must be upset. Another front page story. Right on top of Liza’s murder last week.” Lucy shook her head. “Probably not very good for business.”