Knit to Kill

by Anne Canadeo

  Lucy smiled, feeling suddenly shy. “I will. I mean, I am. I’m getting married next weekend,” she confided. “I do know what you mean.”

  Meredith gave Lucy a wide, warm smile. “Good for you. I wish you every happiness.” She drew out two tall tap beers and placed them before her customers without spilling a drop of foam. “Do you have any children?”

  Lucy shook her head. “My fiancé has a daughter from his first marriage. She’s sweetheart.”

  “That’s great. But don’t deny yourself the wonder of having a child. My son Cory was the best thing to come out of my marriage, by far. I’d do it all over again, to know I’d have him.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Twenty-five. Julian gave me a lot of grief, but I stayed in the marriage until Cory was ready for college. So I guess we were divorced about seven or eight years ago. Cory didn’t inherit his father’s scientific talents, but he has a good mind for business. He’s in grad school, in Boston, finishing an MBA.”

  “How did he take the news? Is he okay?” Lucy wondered if she was getting too personal, but Meredith had been so open about her feelings and her past.

  “He was shocked, especially when he heard the way it happened. But Julian was an awful father. They were never close, even though I know Cory wished it could have been different. But a person can’t give what they don’t have. I always told my son that, though I don’t know if it made him feel any better.” Meredith had been mixing a drink in a shaker with chopped ice, and shook it forcefully. “I have a feeling he still held out hope that someday the relationship would change. And now it’s too late.”

  She poured the pale pink liquid through a strainer into three martini glasses, then garnished the edges with juicy slices of orange and sprigs of mint. “Cory is on his way up to Maine now. Last I heard, Julian didn’t leave him anything in his will. Even though Cory is his only child, that didn’t mean much to Julian.”

  It sounded to Lucy as if Meredith and her ex-husband had discussed Cory and Julian’s will recently. But she felt it would sound too nosey to ask.

  “Julian probably left it all to some strange scientific foundation,” Meredith added. “He once told me that when he died, he planned to have his head frozen at some weird laboratory, so someday, he could come back from the dead. When they figured out how to clone him a new body, I mean.”

  It was a ghastly thought, though Lucy had read about that theoretical technology somewhere. “I think I’ve heard of that. Cryonics?”

  “That’s it. Must have cost him a fortune to sign up.” Meredith set the martini glasses on a tray at the end of the bar, and a waitress whisked them away. Then Meredith began to laugh so hard that she started to cough. She covered her mouth with a wad of napkins and turned away from Lucy.

  “Excuse me.” She finally caught her breath and shook her head. “It just strikes me as funny. Julian was one of the most despised people I’ve ever known. Who would want him to get a do-over?”

  Lucy offered a small smile at the dark humor. The manner in which Julian had died, bouncing down a rocky cliff, probably nixed the head-freezing plan. No danger of a do-over now.

  Even though she claimed not to feel anything about his death one way or the other, Meredith had spoken some harsh words against her ex-husband. She clearly did feel something. And it wasn’t sorrow.

  A hostess came to the bar and called Suzanne’s name. “Here we are!” Suzanne waved to her, and then herded the group, drink in hand. “Come along, everyone. Our table is ready. Finally.”

  Lucy said goodnight to Meredith and followed her friends through the softly lit dining room. They were led to a large table by the window. Outside, the harbor looked dark and smooth, and the curving coastline was dotted with golden lights. Out on a rocky peninsula, a lighthouse blinked against the inky blue sky.

  “Isn’t this lovely,” Dana said as everyone found a seat. “Thanks for steering us here, Amy. It has such a great atmosphere.”

  “And the food is good. I’ll vouch for that.” Rob smiled and patted his stomach, which was perfectly flat. He looked like the type of guy who watched his waistline and was careful about his appearance. Not vain, exactly, but someone who liked to stay young and fit looking.

  Lucy found herself seated next to him with Amy on his other side. She slipped her napkin on her lap and opened her menu. “What do you recommend, Rob?” she asked, browsing the selections.

  “Everything’s good. The catch of the day is always very fresh and tasty,” he added.

  “We should be eating more ‘catch of the day,’ but Rob never seems to catch anything when he goes out fishing.” Amy’s face was half-hidden by her menu as she delivered the remark.

  Rob’s cheeks flushed, and his mouth got tight. Lucy could see the reaction even in the low light. Perhaps the time he spent out on the beach, surf casting, was a sore point for them.

  “Not for lack of trying, honey. As I often tell you, those striped bass are too smart for me. I’ll bring home a nice dinner for us one of these days.”

  “I think it must be hard to fish with a rod and reel. Most fishermen use radar to find fish these days,” Suzanne said. “Which doesn’t seem fair to me at all.”

  “My husband is all for giving the fish a fighting chance.” Amy reached over and patted his hand. “As long as he enjoys it. That’s what counts.”

  “That I do.” Rob looked back at his menu.

  “How long have you been surf casting?” Maggie asked.

  “I took it up this past spring, but it takes a while to get the knack. I might invest in a lesson or two.”

  “Have you lived in Osprey Shores long?” Lucy asked.

  “Almost two years,” Amy replied. “We raised our girls in California. Rob had a job at a biotech firm lab there. But once our daughters left for college, we decided to come back to New England.”

  “I also had a small side business in medical technology. I still do some consulting.”

  Dana closed her menu and placed it on the table. “Amy says you’re a famous inventor, Rob. She said you have a few patents and have invented some amazing gadgets. One for cardiac patients?”

  Rob looked embarrassed again, but this time, not in an angry way. Pleased by the attention, he seemed a modest man. “Amy brags about me too much, but, yes, I’ve come up with some gadgets. I’ve been very lucky. We’re comfortable, and we’ve been able to retire earlier than most people.” He smiled at Amy and put his arm around the back of her chair.

  “It think that’s so cool. So impressive, I mean,” Suzanne said. “What sort of things have you invented?”

  “Let’s see . . . my most recent idea was a microchip that’s inserted in the heart muscle of patients with chronic heart failure. The chip transmits their vital signs—pulse, blood pressure, and blood flow through the major arteries—through the internet. Right now many of these patients need to hook themselves up at night to devices that record and transmit the information overnight, but the chip streamlines that process, and the information output is ongoing. They just wave a reader over their chest, press a button, and the report goes directly to their doctor, who can even read it on a smartphone.”

  “That’s amazing. And so helpful,” Lucy said.

  “It’s much more accurate and up-to-date info as well. A doctor can respond immediately and adjust medication or let the patient know they need to come into the hospital.”

  “It’s very . . . futuristic,” Dana said. “Like the scanner that Bones used on Star Trek.”

  “It reminds me of putting a chip in your cat or dog,” Phoebe said, “so if they get lost, you can find them.”

  Rob laughed. “It’s not quite same technology. But in the ball park.”

  “His most amazing invention is a teeny, tiny camera used in heart surgery, for doing a bypass or valve replacement,” Amy said. “Rob figured out how to shape the lens so that it could take in views from all different angles. Sort of like . . . well, a disco ball.” She laughed and shrugged.
“Unfortunately, he didn’t get much credit for that breakthrough.”

  Rob gave her a look. Lucy wondered if he was annoyed at the analogy, or her admission of him missing out.

  “That was very early in my career. We all have to pay our dues.”

  He shrugged. “Though I would describe the device more like the eye structure of a fly. That’s where I got my idea. They can see what’s coming from all directions.”

  “That must be why they’re so hard to swat. I thought I just had bad reflexes. They always outsmart me.” Phoebe seemed pleased to learn this fun fact.

  “Flies aren’t smart, Phoebe. They just have amazing eyesight. ‘Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better.’ Albert Einstein said that. I look to nature for models of engineering and technology. The simplicity and beauty of natural forms and organisms seem to hold the secret to so many questions we ask in the lab.”

  Amy smiled and gazed around the table, proud of her husband’s thoughtful reply. Robert Cutler was an intelligent and deep-thinking person, there was no doubt. And a bit more poetic than Lucy expected.

  A waitress arrived and took their order. Sorting through the many complicated-sounding gourmet offerings, Lucy finally settled on a dish called GRILLED BOUNTY FROM THE SEA—a fancy name for a fisherman’s platter, she decided. Suzanne had teased her mercilessly, egging her on to order the most expensive dish, ASIAN FUSION LOBSTER TAILS WITH GINGER-MANGO CHUTNEY.

  “I’m not big on foods that are . . . fused,” Lucy replied simply. “To each her own.”

  “Here, here,” Maggie raised her glass and nodded at Lucy. “You order the lobster if you like, Suzanne. It’s your party.”

  “I think I will. Another Teeny Bikini . . . I mean Bikini-tini would be nice, too,” Suzanne told their waitress.

  “I’ll have another sparkling water, please,” Lucy added. She was definitely driving that SUV tonight. Now there was no question.

  The appetizer course soon arrived, and the rest of the meal passed with pleasant conversation about local sights to visit and knitting projects. As dessert and coffee were served, Lucy heard pounding music coming from the floor above. It seemed to be shaking the light fixtures.

  “Sounds like the dance club is open. I’m not sure I have enough energy for that segment of the evening,” Maggie said. “It’s been quite a day.”

  “First the fog, and then the news about Dr. Morton,” Suzanne said. “That was a downer. No pun intended. That’s why I think we need a little lift. We need to shake out the toxins.”

  Rob laughed. “Interesting theory. In the olden days, people did try to dance out toxins, especially bites from poisonous insects,” he said. “The Italian Tarantella for instance.”

  “I know it well. Though it’s not danced much at Italian weddings anymore,” Maggie remarked.

  “I love a circle dance at a wedding. Or a conga line. It really gets the party going. Are you jotting this down, Lucy?” Suzanne glanced across the table. She was smiling, but Lucy wasn’t sure if she was serious or not.

  “Even though we didn’t know Dr. Morton, it was upsetting to hear about his death. Did you you know him?” Dana asked the Cutlers.

  Amy shook her head, spooning up a last bite of crème brûlée. Rob stirred a sugar cube into his cappuccino and set the cup aside. He answered for both of them. “Only from a distance. We may have exchanged a few words, but he wasn’t the friendliest guy around.”

  “I understand that Dr. Morton also invented medical devices. In fact, he worked in the same area as you. Cardiology,” Maggie said. She didn’t usually order dessert, but Lucy knew that she could never resist Key lime pie. Lucy watched her turn her dish to regard the slice from a different angle of attack.

  “Who told you that?” Rob sounded curious.

  “Betty Rutledge,” Lucy replied. “She seems to know a lot about Dr. Morton. She knew him when he was a boy.” Lucy decided to stop there, unsure if Betty’s story was hers to tell.

  “Morton and I were in the same area of research, but it’s a big field. I’ve probably read a study he published or attended the same conference. It’s hard to say. But I didn’t know him professionally.” Rob blew on the foamy top of his coffee and took a sip.

  Maggie seemed to be enjoying her pie, but did pause to reply. “The police definitely suspect foul play. They took Phoebe’s camera. They wanted to look at the photographs she took this morning on the cliff walk and beach while she was out bird watching.”

  “They did?” Rob set his coffee down and glanced at Amy. Lucy could tell that Amy had not told him about Phoebe’s camera. “What were they looking for exactly?”

  Phoebe shrugged. “I hardly saw a soul out there. Just the birds and a few fishermen on the beach. Maybe some people out walking who stopped to see the body. I didn’t see Dr. Morton when I was on the cliff walk, but I did find a shadow in the background of one shot. It was in the shrubbery near the spot where he fell. I couldn’t tell if it was a person or not.”

  Rob nodded. “Interesting.”

  “It is all very interesting,” Amy said, setting the empty dessert ramekin aside. “But I think we should get upstairs to the music. Before we lose the inspiration.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” Suzanne signaled for the check and despite everyone’s protest, wouldn’t let her friends contribute. “It’s my party. For Lucy,” she added. “Now go upstairs and shake that little booty, girlfriend,” she ordered Lucy. “It will be good practice for your wedding. You are going to dance then, aren’t you?”

  Lucy felt embarrassed with everyone laughing and staring at her. “Of course I am. But for goodness sakes, Suzanne . . . get a grip.”

  Suzanne looked suddenly contrite. “I’m sorry. You know my intentions are good. It is time to break out of your little Lucy shell. We don’t want you to have any regrets when you look back on your last-fling weekend.”

  Why did everyone keep calling it that? As if she had a terminal disease?

  “All right. Let’s dance. On one condition, Party-Hardy Sue. You give me the car keys.”

  Suzanne laughed. Her lobster-tail dinner and molten fudge cake had absorbed most of the Bikini-tini effect, but Lucy didn’t want to take any chances. The night was young, and the bar was still open.

  “Deal. Love the nickname. I might put it on my business cards. Or maybe get a personalized license plate.”

  Dana rose from her seat and placed her dinner napkin on the table. “Onward and upward.”

  “Indeed.” Maggie stood up and grabbed her purse. She did not look very happy about the plan but didn’t want to ruin anyone else’s fun, Lucy suspected. “I need the ladies’ room. I’ll meet you upstairs.”

  “I’ll come with you, Mag.” Lucy quickly followed, buying time before her dance floor debut. She would wait until the floor was so crowded, no one would notice her out there. And after a few earsplitting songs, they could surely persuade Suzanne that it was time to go.

  Maggie set off for the restroom at a brisk pace, dodging waiters and waitresses. Lucy couldn’t keep up. She recalled seeing a sign near the bar and found her way.

  As she walked past the long row of stools, Meredith waved. Lucy noticed her speaking to a man who sat at the end of the bar, but Meredith left him when another customer summoned her.

  Lucy only saw him from the back. He wore a tweed sports coat and tailored shirt. Something about him seemed vaguely familiar. When he turned, her guess was confirmed. It was Lewis Fielding from Amy’s knitting group.

  He greeted her with a smile. “Hi Lucy. Here with your friends?”

  “We just had dinner. We’re going upstairs for the music . . . if you can call it that.”

  “I wouldn’t myself. More like a heavy, amplified back beat. It does bring in the crowds on the weekends.”

  “I can see that.” She wondered what had brought him to The Warehouse on a Saturday night. He didn’t seem the type for a heavy, amplified beat. More the type for baroque harmonies. He was also ol
der than most of the customers. But, perhaps, Lewis was out hoping to meet someone. He did seem the picture of a lonely, single guy, eating his dinner alone at the bar.

  “Enjoying your stay so far?”

  “Mostly. We were lucky the weather cleared up today. We spent the afternoon at the pool. Though the bad news about Dr. Morton did cast a shadow.”

  Lewis nodded with an empathetic expression. “It’s shaken the whole community. How did you hear about it?”

  “Dana and I were in Meredith’s yoga studio. So many police cars were flying by, Meredith decided to cancel class. We went out and followed the crowd, and soon heard Morton had fallen—or been pushed—off the cliff.”

  “I was just getting back from the hospital. One of my patients had a late-night emergency. I had no idea what was going on, but I heard pretty quickly. Not many secrets around here,” he added.

  There were some secrets, Lucy wanted to say. Like who pushed Dr. Morton. But she didn’t want to contradict him.

  “I visited Tanya this afternoon, to offer my condolences and support,” he added. “I don’t know if she’ll hold a memorial service. She doesn’t think her husband would have wanted one. I was thinking of organizing a support circle at the mansion. Maybe tomorrow night. People may want to share their feelings.”

  “That sounds . . . helpful,” Lucy replied carefully. From what Lucy had heard, the predominant feeling about Morton’s passing seemed to be relief and good riddance.

  Lewis laughed. He had a nice smile and warm, dark eyes. An attractive man for his age, she thought.

  “I know what you’re thinking. Most people disliked the man. That’s true. But it can be even harder to find closure when a mourner is left with anger and negative feelings.”

  “In that case, from what I’ve heard today, I’m sure the support circle would be very helpful. And popular.”

  “Maybe I should combine the gathering with some knitting. Knitting is great relaxation therapy. As effective as meditation. Gets the good brain chemicals going.”