Knit to Kill

by Anne Canadeo

  “Sounds to me like you think it was a person,” Suzanne persisted. “Not the fog or an optical illusion.”

  Before Phoebe could reply, Dana cut in. “Suzanne, please. Let’s not interrogate poor Phoebe. She’s already answered enough questions for one day. Let the investigators figure out if it’s more than a shadow. That’s what those fancy crime labs are for.”

  Phoebe cast Dana a grateful look. Then she made a face and gently scratched her poison ivy through her socks. “Good idea, Dana. I’m sorry I told you guys anything. Some people get carried away.”

  Suzanne tilted her head to one side, with an apologetic look. “I didn’t mean to interrogate you, but one of your photos could break this case wide open. You may have taken a picture of the killer, and it could be the lead Detective Dunbar is looking for. Smile, you’re on Phoebe’s bird camera.”

  Amy looked alarmed. She put her knitting down and sipped her tea. “It was so foggy this morning. And Phoebe said the shadow was in the distance. I doubt they could make out details that clearly.”

  “I disagree. Don’t you watch those crime lab shows?” Betty put her knitting aside and stood up. She stretched a moment, her hands at the small of her back. “They have all kinds of computer programs that put a face together from the tiniest bits of information. My kids had a puzzle where you made different faces, switching the eyes, nose, and mouth. It’s like that, only computerized.”

  “I’ve seen those shows. And I remember those puzzles,” Maggie said. “Once they come up with a possible face, they run it through computer programs to find a match. It’s not just people who have been arrested and have a record; they have a huge database to draw from. It’s quite amazing,” Maggie added. “We’ll just have to wait and see if there was anything significant on your camera, Phoebe. I guess the police will tell you when they return it.”

  “Maybe,” Betty agreed. “But we’ve got a very active grapevine here in Osprey Shores. I have no doubt we’ll be up to date with any progress the police make. Right, Amy?”

  Amy was knitting again, her fingers working quickly, her gaze fixed on her clicking needles. “Yes, we do. Though you can’t always believe what you hear. There will be plenty of plain old gossip and wild rumors flying around.”

  “Very true. Some of us call this place Hearsay Shores.” Betty laughed quietly at her joke, then slipped her tote bag over her arm and adjusted her sunglasses. “Nice to chat and knit with you, ladies. Enjoy your stay.”

  “Nice to see you, too, Betty,” Maggie said politely. “I’m sure we’ll see you again before we go.”

  “I hope so.” Betty smiled at everyone, and then headed out from the umbrella shade into the bold sunlight.

  “I’m going for a swim. Anyone want to cool off with me?” Dana slipped her cover-up over her head. She wore a turquoise blue one-piece with a T-style back, designed for serious swimming.

  “I’ll take a dip with you.” Lucy stood and pinned her hair up with a large clip.

  “You two go ahead. I’ll be in soon. I’m sure you want to do laps. I’m more of a floater.” Suzanne’s phone sounded, and she quickly answered. Lucy could tell from her suddenly serious expression and tone that the call was important.

  The conversation was a quick one and obviously positive news. Suzanne said good-bye, dropped the phone, and jumped up from her seat, fists pumping in the air.

  “Yes! The offer was accepted! They’re going to contract on Monday. I never thought that old barn would go, but it just goes to show, there’s a buyer out there for anything.”

  “Congratulations, Suzanne. It’s amazing how you just sit here, sip iced tea, and make money.” Maggie sounded envious.

  “I’m sure it wasn’t that easy.” Lucy knew how hard Suzanne worked, driving her clients around endlessly, and working with property sellers, lawyers, and bankers. There were all the “lookers” who never bought, and all the people who almost bought, but then backed out at the last minute. Suzanne earned her money, that was for sure. She just made it look easy.

  “Not exactly, Maggie. But it is a sweet moment when your chickens come home to roost. Or whatever the expression is.” Suzanne sat back on her chair and put her feet up. “By the way, tonight’s dinner is on me. Let’s pick out a fun spot. With good food and a water view.”

  “Suzanne, that’s too generous. You don’t need to treat us,” Maggie said.

  “I want to. It’s also in honor of Lucy’s big last-fling weekend. Let’s find a place with music and dancing.”

  Music and dancing? Lucy suddenly pictured a big disco ball with a lot of sunburned bodies squirming and writhing beneath it. She was just looking forward to a cup of chowder and a fisherman’s platter, broiled, with salad on the side. Okay, maybe fries. But that was as far out of her comfort zone as her imagination wandered.

  In fact, a rustic, homey eatery with window service and wooden picnic tables would have been fine, too. She didn’t need a fancy restaurant with a hot night spot. She’d never been a fan of that sort of place, even when she’d been single. It was sort of intimidating.

  “That sounds perfect and fun.” Dana seconded the motion before Lucy could raise an objection. “Let’s check the guidebook and look online for possibilities.”

  Amy looked up from her knitting. “I know a place you might like. It’s in town, on a dock, with a great water view. Very stylish and popular, and the food is good, too. It’s called The Warehouse. I think there’s a DJ and dancing on the weekends.”

  Suzanne waved her hands, as if directing traffic. “Stop right there. That’s perfect. Are you and Rob free? Can you join us?”

  Amy didn’t reply for a moment. “It’s sweet of you to include us. But maybe you and your friends want to spend the night together on your own. I won’t be insulted.”

  Lucy found Amy’s response quite considerate. But their circle was hardly that exclusive. “Please come, Amy. We’d love for you to join us, and we’d love to meet Rob. This group definitely spends enough time alone together,” she added with a laugh.

  “More than enough,” Maggie said, staring down at her knitting. “I mean that in a good way.”

  “In that case, we’d be happy to come.” Amy rose and carefully gathered up her belongings. “I have to run. Send a text when you know what time to meet and all that.”

  “I will,” Suzanne promised. “This is going to be fun. Dig out your dancing shoes, everyone. And psyche yourself up for some tequila shots.”

  “Oh dear. I can’t meet either of those prerequisites, but I’ll come anyway.” Maggie glanced at Lucy and winked.

  Dana laughed but Phoebe looked uneasy with the plan. She met Lucy’s gaze with an eye roll.

  Lucy smiled. “You told me to do something wild and crazy this weekend, Phoebe. Don’t dancing and tequila shots count?”

  “Not quite what I had in mind,” Phoebe said quietly.

  Phoebe was the youngest in their circle by far, and Lucy wondered if she dreaded being embarrassed by the sight of her older friends dancing and letting it all hang out. Like the way Lucy had felt when she was younger, watching her parents on the dance floor at a wedding doing the twist and the swim.

  “Don’t worry, we won’t embarrass you,” Lucy whispered. “If Suzanne goes off the rails, I’ll rein her in.”

  “Good luck with that. You may as well stand in front of a speeding train,” Phoebe whispered back. “It’s cool. You guys do what you have to do. I know how to call a taxi if I need to slink away early.”

  “Good plan. I might join you.”

  * * *

  Lucy had brought one long patio dress with a flower pattern and one pair of good earrings. The combination seemed to suit their evening plans, and the dress would hide most sins while dancing, she decided. She added a few touches of makeup, twisted her long hair into a big, low knot at the back of her head, then went downstairs to meet her friends.

  As she walked out to the porch, she heard Maggie talking, relating the story Betty Rutledge had told th
em at the pool, about her brother and Julian Morton.

  The horrid tale had lingered in Lucy’s thoughts. The more she considered it, the more it seemed a good motive for murder. Betty Rutledge did not seem the type to push someone off a cliff; she didn’t even seem physically capable of the feat. Lucy wondered what her friends thought.

  “What about the brother? Is he still alive?” Suzanne asked Maggie as Lucy walked out onto the porch.

  “Yes, he lives nearby in a town called Moody Beach. Betty said he works in insurance and raised a family. But he’s never been quite the same.”

  Lucy took a seat on the porch swing next to Phoebe. “Even though it’s decades later, it’s the ‘never been quite the same’ that makes you wonder if he’s still simmering with anger and would have taken revenge.”

  Everyone was sipping white wine and Suzanne had made them crostini—goat cheese mixed with basil and a touch of garlic, spread on lightly toasted rounds of French bread. Lucy picked one up and took a bite.

  “Anything is possible. Maybe some incident in his current life made the past more acute and pushed him to finally act,” Dana said. “It can happen like that. Even decades later. It is a shocking tale, and interesting that Betty would be so forthcoming. It’s not the sort of personal story most people would disclose to strangers. And we really are strangers to her.”

  “I thought about that, too,” Lucy managed around a mouthful of crostini. “Betty said she’d just told the police the whole story and expected it would get around the development quickly. Maybe she wants to convince everyone that Morton was a cruel man and doesn’t deserve any pity.”

  “Maybe.” Maggie took a sip of her wine.

  “She may also think that by being so forthcoming about this bad history, she won’t look like a possible suspect.” Lucy had finished the appetizer and was considering another. Their dinner reservation was for nine o’clock, much later than she and Matt ate dinner. Her stomach was grumbling.

  “I thought of that, too.” Suzanne nodded. “Hiding in plain sight. Though she would have to be hiding some muscles under that muumuu. She doesn’t look capable of swinging a cat off of a cliff, never mind a six-foot man who was in fairly good shape for his age.”

  “Do you really have to use that analogy?” Phoebe complained. “Poor cat . . .”

  Suzanne rolled her big eyes. “Sorry . . . you know what I mean.”

  “I do,” Maggie replied. “She would have needed help. Which brings us back to her brother, I suppose. Though there seems no lack of neighbors who may have teamed up with her.”

  Before anyone could speculate who those candidates might be, Maggie glanced at her watch. “I think we should leave this puzzle to the police and head to the restaurant. We don’t want to miss our reservation.”

  Dana set her wineglass down, too. “Good point. They barely fit us in. It must be the local hot spot.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping.” Suzanne placed the glasses on a tray along with the leftover appetizers. “I’ll just dump this stuff in the kitchen, and we’ll head out.”

  * * *

  The nearby village of Eaton’s Landing was small, but charming, filled with shops, galleries, coffeehouses, and restaurants.

  “This place is adorable.” Dana was watching out her window as they cruised down Main Street. “We’ll have to come back and go shopping.”

  Suzanne nodded. “Agreed. Maybe tomorrow? Amy said the waterfront is at the end of Main Street. She said to look for signs for the Old Dock. I think we’re headed straight for it.”

  Suzanne’s calculations were correct. Main Street ended in another lively area, with more restaurants, bars, and even a theater, all set along a large waterfront park. They followed the signs and soon found their destination.

  The eatery still looked like a warehouse, except for a large black and gold sign and a scarlet awning above the entrance. Valets in scarlet windbreakers jumped forward to open the vehicle’s doors. As Lucy’s group emerged, Suzanne tossed a young man her keys.

  “Having dinner, ma’am?” the valet asked.

  “We’ll be here for a while. Park it wherever you like, fellas.”

  Lucy glanced at Dana, who was biting back a smile. “I’ve never gone out partying with Suzanne before. She’s very . . . committed,” Dana whispered.

  Lucy thought that was a diplomatic way of putting it. “I think we need a designated driver,” she whispered back.

  The restaurant was on the first floor, below the dance club. The dining room was cavernous and lively. Not exactly Lucy’s favorite sort of place, but fun for a night out with the girls. Exposed brick, worn wooden beams and pipes, and industrial chic touches created an edgy mix. Steel and wood tables were offset with plush leather seats in the bold scarlet signature color. A huge glass wall framed a view of the harbor and twinkling lights along the waterfront.

  “Our table isn’t ready,” Suzanne announced after chatting with a hostess. “Let’s wait at the bar. I don’t think Amy and Rob are here yet, either.”

  The bar area was also stylish and edgy looking, and very crowded. The friends huddled together, waiting to order drinks.

  A bartender stood nearby, pouring from different bottles into a blender, her hands moving as swiftly as a juggler’s. Lucy tried to catch her eye, but she was clearly concentrating on her recipe.

  Lucy suddenly recognized her. It was Meredith Quinn, the yoga teacher, though she looked much different tonight in a tailored scarlet blouse and sleek black pants, her hair pulled back in a tight ballerina bun. Her appearance seemed surprising and totally out of sync with her surroundings.

  Maybe because she identified Meredith with Amy’s knitting group and the yoga studio? This place was a different planet from those worlds.

  Meredith was somewhat older than most of the staff, but there probably wasn’t much money in yoga instruction, even at the Osprey Shores Fitness Center, and a bartender at The Warehouse would definitely earn good tips.

  Lucy had often heard it was hard to make a living in a resort town, and people who lived there year-round had to string together two, or even three jobs to make ends meet. That was the downside of living in such beautiful surroundings.

  After Meredith had poured and served the blender drink, she walked over to Lucy’s group, greeting them with a smile.

  “Nice to see you, ladies. Here for dinner, or just drinks and dancing?”

  “We’ll start with dinner and see how that goes,” Lucy replied. “It’s wild in here.”

  “Just the usual Friday night. And it isn’t even the height of the season. Are you out on the town?”

  “We’re kickin’ up our heels a bit,” Suzanne replied. “Is the music good? What time does it start?”

  “Around ten. It’s definitely loud. I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.” Meredith winced with a playful grin as she wiped the bar with a fresh towel. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

  Everyone gave their orders, mostly white wine, though Suzanne read the special cocktail menu with care and eventually ordered something called a Bikini-tini. Lucy asked for sparkling water with lime. She’d never driven Suzanne’s truck-like SUV, but this could be the night. Somebody had to stay sober, she decided.

  Amy and Rob found them in the crowd, and Amy introduced her husband. He shook hands all around, looking genuinely pleased to meet Amy’s friends.

  He wasn’t a tall man, probably about her own height, Lucy guessed, five foot nine or ten, but he looked very fit and had an air of success about him. Dressed in a navy linen blazer and grey pants with a stark white shirt that contrasted with his tanned face and dark hair, he seemed quiet and serious, listening thoughtfully to their chatter. Maybe he was a little shy or self-conscious, the only man among the gaggle of women. He did have a bright, warm smile.

  Lucy couldn’t picture him as a fisherman. Maybe because all the die-hard fishermen she knew back in Plum Harbor were a bit grubby looking. Rob Cutler looked too neat and clean shaven, often smoothing back his
dark hair with his hand, too particular to handle squirming bait or fish guts. He seemed more like a golfing type.

  He looked amused as Suzanne taste tested her drink. “What exactly is in a Bikini-tini?”

  Suzanne shrugged. “I’m not sure. It’s sort of a martini mixed with pineapple juice. I’ve always wanted to wear a teeny bikini. At least I can drink one.” She lifted her glass and toasted her companions as they laughed.

  Lucy was the last to be served. “Here you go. I didn’t forget you.” Meredith set down a tall, fizzling glass on a cocktail napkin.

  Lucy thanked her and took a sip. “Don’t mind Suzanne. She’s acting out a little tonight. I’m sure you’ve had an unsettling day. I mean, after hearing about Dr. Morton.” Your ex-husband, who was pushed off a cliff. The words ran through Lucy’s head, but, of course, she didn’t say them aloud.

  Meredith’s expression turned grim, and she rubbed a spot on the bar with extra vigor, but Lucy couldn’t tell if she was sad or angry.

  “I won’t be a hypocrite and say I’ll mourn the man’s passing, but I didn’t wish him ill. Heaven knows I’d have every right. It may sound coldhearted, but I honestly don’t feel anything. Despite all the years we were married, he was always a stranger.”

  She looked up at Lucy, seeming surprised at her own admission. Lucy didn’t know what to say.

  Meredith returned to tidying the bar. She straightened a pile of napkins and filled a glass of stirrers. “I was young when we married. Twenty-two. Julian was almost twenty years older, accomplished, successful. He’d published books and taught a class or two at the college I attended. That’s how we met, in a coffeehouse on campus. I couldn’t believe he was attracted to me. I felt honored. He dazzled me. Swept me off my feet. He had a forceful personality and could be charming when he wanted something. Or someone.”

  She seemed wistful and lost in her memories. Then she looked back at Lucy. “I didn’t know that what I felt wasn’t love, not real love. I know now, thank goodness, what it means to feel that another person can see your true self and love you completely. No false flattery or emotional manipulation. With Julian, I was always on my toes, afraid of his judgment and rejection. And his anger. Real love is a great gift, Lucy. If you ever find it, hang on with both hands.”