Purls and Poison

by Anne Canadeo

  “People say, any publicity is good publicity. But I’m not so sure about that. I guess I’ll find out when I go over there. Everyone liked Beth. Everyone trusted her.”

  “Especially Harry. Obviously,” Maggie said.

  “He was so played.” Suzanne shook her head. “At least he’ll get back most of the money. Helen said she had about seven bank accounts.”

  “I guessed ten. But that was pretty close,” Phoebe said. “What about the passports? Any wigs?”

  “Helen didn’t go into detail. But I’ll check for you,” Suzanne promised.

  The pile of baby clothes on the low table was building. “Are those the items Ruth sent?” Lucy asked.

  “Yes, they are. I wanted to sort them out and count them. I haven’t had a minute.” Suzanne watched Maggie take out each of the hand-knitted baby items—hats, sweaters, sets of booties, and leggings.

  “Nice work.” Maggie spread a white sweater with a detailed border along the hem and button line.

  “It is,” Suzanne agreed. “I was wondering why the note said, ‘Think about Emma.’ Isn’t that odd?”

  Lucy shrugged. “Just trying to push Liza’s buttons. She lived with her niece. She was very close to her. You can tell from the pictures we saw in her bedroom. Beth was playing on Liza’s loyalty to her family.”

  “I guess.” Suzanne considered the explanation as she watched Maggie unpack more sweaters.

  “My, my. They were a productive duo. I think the donation will cover half of our goal,” Maggie remarked.

  “Liza learned to knit in Maine. I guess there isn’t much to do up there,” Suzanne said. “I saw Kira again on my way over. Just the car. What are the chances? Gives me the chills every time I see her behind the wheel. I get a Liza flashback.” She pulled her leather-bound notebook from her work tote and wrote in block letters, then turned the page toward her friends. “Now that we know who killed Liza, what the heck do you think this means? Please tell me, somebody, and I’ll be able to sleep tonight. A-M-E-Y-M-O-X-I.”

  She held up the pad where she’d written the letters from the personal license plates.

  Maggie stared at the page. “I have no idea. Sounds like medicine. Something the doctor would prescribe for stomach trouble?”

  “More like cat medicine,” Phoebe chimed in. She flopped on the love seat next to Lucy. “But you’d have to call it ‘Meow-ski.’ ”

  Lucy and Maggie laughed.

  “I’m serious. It’s the letters of Liza’s license plate. It drives me crazy every time I see it.”

  Lucy looked back at her knitting. “Let’s see . . . OX might mean kisses, or love? But most people write in the other order, XO.”

  “I didn’t even think of that. I was trying to make out a word.”

  “I don’t think it’s a word. I think it’s an abbreviation of some sort. If the XO is backward, maybe the rest is, too.” Lucy put her knitting aside, took the pad, and wrote the letters in reverse. “Let’s see . . . IXOMYEMA.”

  It still didn’t mean anything to Suzanne. “That looks even more confusing.”

  Lucy was concentrating. She didn’t seem to hear her. “How about this? I XO MY EMA?”

  Suzanne stared down at the page for a moment. A lightbulb went off in her brain. “Or, I love my Emma.”

  “By George, I think she’s got it.” Lucy put on her very bad English accent.

  Suzanne sat up even straighter. “I’ve got something better than that. When I was with Kira the other day, Emma kept calling her ‘K-k.’ Not ‘Mommy’ or ‘Mama.’ ” She paused, her mouth growing dry. “I know she’s very young, but most babies do manage to say ‘Mama’ or just ‘Ma.’ But Kira is not Emma’s mother. Liza was. And that’s why Liza went to Maine. To have a baby . . . And that’s why she came back.”

  “Because Harry Prentiss is the father?” Lucy finished for her. She glanced at Maggie, whose eyes had grown wide. Maggie pushed the piles of baby clothes aside.

  “Exactly. Who else could it be?” Suzanne replied.

  “Heavy stuff,” Phoebe said quietly. “I think you nailed it, Suzanne.”

  Lucy leaned forward, looked at Maggie. “All the child care books in Liza’s bedroom, remember? And the stuffed bears on her bed. They seemed so out of place with the decor, but Emma seemed so familiar with them. And the room looked so stark. But it wasn’t minimalist decorating. It was child proofed.”

  “Even that photo,” Maggie said. “I assumed it was Kira and Emma at the beach. But it could have been Liza. It must have been, if she had it sitting on her desk in a special frame. And hid her secret belongings there.”

  “The way a mother does,” Suzanne concluded. This was a real game changer. Heavy stuff, indeed.

  “Do you think it has an impact on our theory about the murder?” Maggie asked.

  “Not really,” Lucy said. “I still think Beth killed Liza because she’d uncovered her larceny. But maybe Beth figured out that Liza was Emma’s mother, too. Hence the threat having real impact.”

  “Beth was good at math. Just count the months that Liza lived in Maine and compare that to Emma’s age.” Suzanne shook her head. “I don’t know why I didn’t see that before.”

  “Because the sisters sold the story of Kira being a single mother so well and even Ruth believes it, too. At least, she seems to believe, Kira is Emma’s mother. You had no reason to suspect it,” Maggie replied.

  “I guess not.” Suzanne shrugged and picked a tiny thread off her black slacks. “The truth is, I never saw Liza as the motherly type, playing on her bed with her little girl. That sort of thing.” She felt an unexpected wave of sadness. “Poor Emma. She’s lost her mother so young.”

  “That is true.” Maggie’s voice was somber. “At least she has Kira. She seems very responsible and loving.”

  “Liza must have left Emma all her money. In trust or something?” Lucy said.

  “Ruth told us that, according to Kira, the estate is protected, and Kira wasn’t worried about Sutton’s legal claims,” Maggie recalled. “That must be why.”

  “I’m not surprised. She was smart that way.” Suzanne’s head was spinning. “I wonder if Harry knows. He must, right?”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure, Suzanne. Are you going to be the one to tell him?” Lucy asked.

  “Me? I’d never do something like that.”

  Phoebe started laughing. She had the nerve to slap her knee. “Good one.”

  Suzanne glared at her. “Besides, we’re just speculating. Though it is a pretty good guess.”

  “If Harry is the father, it would be interesting to know if he’s aware of that. Did you know that he and his wife lost a child?” Maggie had begun putting the baby clothes back in the box, handling them carefully.

  Suzanne thought she must be mistaken. “Harry and Claire? Are you sure? Who told you that?”

  “I saw Claire at the cemetery yesterday morning. I was planting some mums at Bill’s grave. And she was putting flowers near a statue. When I passed in my car, I took a look. It was a memorial statue for a child, Chelsea Jane Prentiss. I read the dates. Barely two years old when she died.”

  “Wow, that’s so sad,” Phoebe said.

  “It is. The ultimate loss.” Suzanne was silent a moment. She didn’t dare imagine it. “No wonder she’s devoted her life to teaching toddlers.”

  Lucy continued knitting, her expression thoughtful. “It must help her feel she’s doing worthwhile work that’s somehow connected to the child she lost. I hear the reputation of her school is growing. There was an article about it in the Boston Globe. They say her teaching theories are groundbreaking.”

  “She’s a real brainiac. I don’t know how she and Harry ever got together. Another mystery, ladies. I’m going to save that one for a rainy day.” Suzanne stood up and smoothed down her blazer. “Got to run. It was enlightening.”

  “As always.” Maggie met her gaze and smiled. “Keep us posted if you hear anything more about Beth Birney.”

  “Don’
t worry, I will.” Suzanne blew kisses to her pals, grabbed her big bag, and headed out to her car.

  It was a short drive to her office and Suzanne found a parking space in front. It threw her off a little when she realized it was the same space she’d parked in the night she’d found Liza.

  Sweeping anxieties aside, she lifted her chin and sailed through the glass door. Life isn’t for sissies, Suzanne. Buck up and put your game face on.

  As usual, Janine sat at the reception desk. She was talking on the phone but quickly ended the call as Suzanne approached. Her pretty face lit up with a smile. “Suzanne . . . you’re back. You look great. How’s it going?”

  “Can’t complain.” Especially since the police took Beth in for questioning. “I have a closing Tuesday. The Neubauer house on Beach Road. I needed to pick up some keys to check the property.”

  “I’ll get them for you. You heard about Beth, right? It was all over the news today.”

  “Oh yes. I definitely did.” If Janine had any idea that Suzanne and her friends had been instrumental in unmasking the office manager, she didn’t show it.

  “Isn’t that wild? I can’t believe it. I said there must be some mistake. It can’t be our Beth Birney. It must be someone else. Weren’t you shocked?”

  “I was surprised at first,” Suzanne said honestly.

  “She was always so nice to everyone. So helpful. Like if I needed a long lunch, or had to leave early, she never minded covering the desk. ‘Take your time,’ she’d say. And she’d bake everyone a cake on their birthday, remember?”

  “Right. Those cakes, decorated with your hobby.” Suzanne had forgotten about that.

  Last spring Beth had presented Suzanne with one that had a ball of yarn made out of blue icing, and knitting needles made out of chopsticks. Everyone had oohed and ahhed, though it was easily the ugliest cake Suzanne had ever seen. But Suzanne had been impressed by the time and effort, and touched by the thoughtfulness. Now, those thoughtful gestures seemed tainted, probably all a big act.

  “She told me her dream was to win a baking contest on TV. I guess that will never happen.” Janine’s tone was wistful, as if Beth had passed on. In a way she had, Suzanne realized. The Nice Beth they’d known and worked alongside for years was gone.

  “How’s Harry? He must be shocked. Again.” Suzanne gazed down the corridor, toward his office. The door was closed.

  “He’s pretty shaken. Not himself. The police were here for hours. They carried out half the office. They just left a few minutes ago. Anita told him to go home but he wanted to stay.”

  Suzanne guessed the police had been looking through financial records and searching Beth’s office, among other places. She saw yellow crime scene tape across the doorway of the room where records were kept and also across Beth’s office door, right next to Harry’s.

  “Anita and Lyle left hours ago. But Harry didn’t want to close early.” She rolled her eyes. A phone line lit up and she reached for the receiver. “I better get this. Harry wants us to act like it’s business as usual.”

  “He would have done well as the captain of the Titanic.”

  Janine smiled and nodded as she greeted the caller, but Suzanne could tell she hadn’t heard the joke. It was for the best. Janine covered the phone with her hand a moment. “If I’m gone, I’ll leave the keys out here for you.”

  Suzanne thanked her and headed for her cubicle. She quickly found the file she needed, then walked down to Harry’s office and knocked on the door.

  “Yes? Who is it?”

  Suzanne opened the door a crack and poked her head in. “Harry? It’s me.”

  “Suzanne. Come in. Come in . . .” He waved his hand, beckoning her forward.

  Suzanne took a few steps into the office but didn’t sit down. Harry sat behind his large wooden desk. He looked pale and tired, his expensive, pink, oxford cloth shirt as rumpled as if he’d slept in it, and his hair stuck out in all directions, as if he’d tugged at it in distraction. Suzanne wondered if he’d been drinking. She wasn’t close enough to smell liquor, but his greeting had sounded thick and slurred.

  Could you blame the man? First he loses the woman he loves and now he finds out his office manager has been stealing him blind.

  “Good to see you. Why did you come in? Curious about Beth, I bet.”

  “A little,” she admitted. Though she did not admit she probably knew as much as he did at this point. Maybe more. “You must have been devastated. She seemed so loyal.”

  “Devastated doesn’t come close. I trusted that woman with . . . everything. I should have seen what was going on, right under my nose. I’m a big fool. I deserved it.”

  He sounded angry and embarrassed. A bad combination.

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. She fooled all of us. Maybe she had a split personality?”

  “Maybe,” he mumbled. “Those stupid cakes she made? The last one she gave me was hideous. It was supposed to be a golf club but it looked like a turkey drumstick. I didn’t know what to say.”

  Suzanne fought to hold back her laughter. She could see he was totally serious.

  He sighed and leaned back in the big leather chair. “She didn’t fool Liza. Liza was the only one who saw through Beth’s act. And Beth killed her to keep her quiet. That’s what the police think now.”

  Suzanne felt relieved to hear him say it. “Yes, I know.”

  “I’ll be honest with you, Suzanne. Nothing can really shock me or hurt me after losing Liza. I’m just . . . numb.” He met her gaze. “Do you know what I mean?”

  Suzanne nodded. She didn’t know what to say. Liza had meant that much to him. That’s what he was trying to tell her.

  “Some people are like that,” she said finally.

  “Once in a lifetime. If you’re lucky.” He covered his eyes with his hand. She thought he might be crying. Finally, he looked at her again. His voice was hoarse. “At least there’s little Emma. That’s something.”

  Suzanne’s heart skipped a beat. “That’s a lot. Because Emma is your daughter.”

  She didn’t ask a question, just stated the fact and watched his reaction. His eyes opened wide for a moment. Then he quickly gained control of his expression. “She is. She’s my little girl. Mine and Liza’s. How did you know?”

  “I put it together.” With a little help from my friends. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. I guess you and Liza had your reasons for keeping it a secret.”

  “I wanted the three of us to be together. I was trying to work it out.” He replied as if Suzanne had been arguing with him. “Liza wasn’t ready. She didn’t trust me. She wouldn’t forgive me for the time I disappointed her. But I thought she’d come around. Sooner or later. She didn’t want Emma to grow up without knowing her father.”

  “So Kira is her only guardian now? You have no claim?”

  “Yes, officially. I could go to court, I guess, and straighten it out. I hope it won’t come to that. I want to see my daughter grow up. I want to help her, provide for her.” Harry squeezed his eyes closed and Suzanne saw tears fall down his cheeks. “I miss Liza so much. If only she were still here. I don’t know what to do. Sometimes I think I can’t go on. Then I think of Emma. Liza would have wanted me to be here for our girl.”

  Suzanne thought of another little girl, Chelsea Jane. Harry’s daughter with Claire. At least he had another chance.

  “What about Claire? Does she know?” Suzanne’s voice was almost a whisper. Did he think she’d gone too far asking that question?

  “I could never tell Claire. It would be too much. She’s a fragile person. She’s done remarkably well, considering her challenges,” he insisted. “I’m very proud of her.”

  “Of course you are. She’s very accomplished.”

  Harry wiped his hand over his eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t talk anymore. It’s been a long day. Very long,” he murmured.

  “Sure, Harry. I understand. The Neubauer house on Beach Road is closing Tuesday,” she said as she heade
d to the door. “I’m going there now to make sure everything’s in order for the walk-through.”

  “Good work, Suzanne. You’re always so responsible.”

  “I try.” She glanced back as she left the office and closed the door. “So long, Harry. Take care.”

  “You too, dear. And, Suzanne?” His tone stopped her in her tracks. “I’m glad everything worked out for you. Personally, I thought it was all a big mistake. I told the police that, too.”

  She wasn’t sure if she believed that, but decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

  “Thank you. I appreciate that. Good night, Harry.”

  She closed his door and headed back to the reception area. Janine had left for the day but the keys for the Neubauer house were on her desk, as she’d promised. Suzanne picked them up and dropped the ring in her purse.

  She checked in at home with a quick phone call, to make sure things were under control. Alexis did not report any major calamities but reminded Suzanne that she had to be back at school by six for a basketball game.

  Suzanne calculated she had just enough time to check the Neubauer house and pick up a few pizzas. If she hustled. She drove on with focus, not speeding but coming as close as she dared.

  All the while, her strange conversation with Harry played back in her head. He mourned Liza deeply and hardly seemed to care that Beth had robbed a fortune from him.

  Then again, Harry was an actor. A master manipulator. Was that all a performance for her sake? And if so, why?

  Did he kill Liza and try to frame me? she wondered suddenly. Beth had confessed to embezzlement but claimed she didn’t murder Liza. Maybe she’s telling the truth. Maybe it’s Harry.

  But why? He claimed he loved her. A once in a lifetime relationship, he’d said. But he’d also said she didn’t want to be with him, and maybe he couldn’t stand the idea of that?

  Was it Emma? Did he want the child all to himself? Maybe Liza was not allowing him to have a relationship with their daughter, as Harry claimed.

  She had left the village and was whizzing past Lucy’s neighborhood, the Marshes. An eclectic mix of quaint cottages and starter houses, for young couples. Or what she called, “end game” properties, for downsizing seniors. Though she never used that term in front of them.