Knit to Kill

by Anne Canadeo

  “I can’t argue with that. How will we know if you’re holding the group?”

  “I’ll post some flyers in the mansion. Word will get around.”

  “I’ll keep a look out.” Lucy said goodnight and headed on her way.

  She was almost certain her friends wouldn’t be interested in taking part in Lewis’s support circle, even if knitting was involved. But she was curious. Curious to see who would turn up.

  * * *

  Once upstairs, Lucy searched the dark, crowded scene. She quickly spotted Suzanne in the middle of the dance floor, showing off her moves. Dana may have been dancing with her. It was hard to tell if Dana wanted to own up to the connection.

  Amy and Rob danced nearby, too, in a much more sedate style, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves. Maggie and Phoebe stood off in a corner, near the bar. Lucy walked up to them.

  “I won’t dance, don’t ask me,” Maggie greeted her.

  “I wasn’t going to. Isn’t that an old song?” Lucy nearly had to shout to be heard over the music.

  “It is. Even outdates my era,” Maggie remarked.

  “I’ll dance with you,” Phoebe shouted eagerly.

  “What about your poison ivy?” Lucy asked, fishing for an excuse.

  “I hardly notice it now. I took an antihistamine.”

  “Oh . . . great.” Lucy tried to sound happy about that news, but she had hoped to avoid dancing.

  Her friend saw right through her. “Come on, Lucy. Tonight’s the night. You know what Suzanne said,” Phoebe reminded her.

  “I remember. It doesn’t bear repeating.”

  “‘Non, je ne regrette rien’,” Maggie replied in a lilting tone. “That’s an old one too. Édith Piaf?”

  “I know it well, Mag.”

  The DJ had switched to a pop tune from a few summers back, one Lucy did know—“All the Single Ladies.”

  “Okay, Phoebe. Sounds like they’re playing our song. Let’s just do it.”

  Pleased by the invitation, Phoebe grabbed Lucy’s hand and tugged her out to the middle of the floor, her flouncy skirt swaying to the rhythm.

  Maggie toasted them from the sideline. “Dance out the toxins, Lucy, as Suzanne says. You have less than a week before Matt ‘puts a ring on it.’ ”

  * * *

  Contrary to her prediction—or was just a naïve hope?—Lucy’s friends insisted on staying at the dance club for more than just a few songs. After a while, she enjoyed the dancing, too, and with Phoebe and Suzanne egging her on, they even sent a selfie to Matt. They all looked sweaty and looped. Lucy especially, though she hadn’t taken a sip of alcohol all night. She hoped he’d get a laugh out of it.

  Amy and Rob left a little before midnight. But not before Amy insisted that they come to her house for brunch the next day. Lucy and her friends happily accepted. Lucy hoped her group would soon follow the Cutlers, but Suzanne had to be dragged off the dance floor closer to 2:00 AM, insisting that she dance out a medley of ABBA’s greatest hits.

  Lucy and Maggie, the most sober in the group, herded the others down to the exit and into Suzanne’s SUV. Lucy strapped herself into the driver’s seat.

  She’d never driven a truck, but the Sequoia was close enough. She shook off a bit of drowsiness from the late hour and turned to her friends. “Here we go, headed home everyone. I’m going to take it slow, but make sure you’re wearing seat belts.”

  Suzanne was already asleep, lightly snoring, her head leaning on the window. Phoebe reached over and checked her belt.

  Maggie sat at the other window and Phoebe, in the middle. They both looked as if they would drift off as soon as the Sequoia got rolling. Dana sat in the passenger seat, looking a bit more awake and alert than the others. Lucy was thankful for that. She knew the directions—it was almost a straight shot from the village to Osprey Shores—but it was nice to have someone to chat with. So I can stay awake, too, she thought.

  As Lucy expected, her friends in the backseat were all fast asleep before they’d even driven through the village. Dana did stay awake for a while, but once they came to the long, dark stretch of road that led to the land bridge, Dana’s head tilted toward the window, and soon her eyes closed, too.

  Lucy turned onto the land bridge, steering carefully down the narrow, two-lane road and feeling even more grateful that she had skipped the cocktails all night. There was a guardrail, but it wasn’t very reassuring. Lucy guessed it was high tide by the waves crashing against the huge rocks on either side of the bridge. The moon was almost full and cast a silver light over the rippling waves—a lovely sight, but distracting, Lucy thought. Finally, she reached the other side of the bridge.

  It was a short ride from the land bridge to Osprey Shores, and Lucy felt relieved as she turned the big vehicle into the gate. She thought for sure that talking to the security guard would wake her friends, but they slept soundly as she gave her name and the address of the cottage.

  The pretty, curving lanes were silent and empty. Lucy drove slowly, looking for the street that led to their cottage. Somehow, she took a wrong turn and ended up on a street called Hurricane Hill. Once she realized she was in the wrong place, she pulled into the first driveway to turn around.

  Lucy was surprised to see a man at the front door of the cottage on the property. He didn’t seem to notice the SUV in the driveway, maybe because he was too busy knocking very loudly, almost pounding, on the door.

  Lights came on in the house. Lucy was already backing the Sequoia out onto the street, but the vehicle was big and the driveway narrow. There was a mailbox on a post at the curb and she didn’t want to mow it down.

  She didn’t know what was going on at this cottage, but it seemed an emergency. As she slowly backed the vehicle toward the street, the man turned to look at them.

  Lucy saw his face clearly. It was Sam Briggs. He stared at the vehicle a moment. She wondered if he would recognize her and her friends.

  The front door flew open. Tanya Morton stood in the doorway wearing a pale pink robe and a very angry expression. She peered out at the driveway for a moment, then opened the door wide enough for Sam to go inside. The door quickly slammed shut.

  Lucy finally reached the end of the driveway and turned the vehicle around on the street. She was still not sure of the way back to the cottage and decided to head in the direction of the gatehouse and look for the turn again. As she rounded the next corner, she noticed a white pickup truck parked on the otherwise empty street. Lucy recognized the mermaid symbol on the truck’s door as she drove by. It was Sam Briggs’s truck, she guessed, parked a discreet distance from Tanya Morton’s cottage to avoid gossip.

  She wondered what she’d just witnessed. Why would Sam Briggs be banging on Tanya Morton’s door in the very small hours of the morning? Were they having an affair? It certainly seemed possible, though there could be some other reason for the nocturnal visit.

  Maybe tomorrow, when her friends were awake and alert again, she would tell them about this strange sight and they could spin out some theories.

  Chapter 5

  Lucy was the first one up the next morning. She took her mug of coffee out to the front porch and gazed at the clear blue sky and softly rolling whitecaps. The sun still hugged the horizon, and it seemed perfect weather for a bike ride.

  Just as she was deciding, Dana came outside with a mug of tea, still in her pajamas, too. “Beautiful day. I’m so glad there’s no fog this morning.”

  “There was a little last night, when we were on the way back from the club. The rest of you were too sleepy to notice.”

  “Sorry. One minute we were talking, and the next thing I knew we were at the cottage, and you were waking me up.” Dana sipped from her mug. “By the way, it was nice of you to be the designated driver. Especially since this is supposed to be your wild weekend.”

  Lucy shrugged. “I didn’t mind. I don’t need all the extra calories in those fancy club drinks right now.”

  “Very true,” Dana nodded.
>
  Lucy considered telling Dana about the wrong turn, and how she’d ended up in front of Dr. Morton’s cottage and seen Sam Briggs visiting Tanya at two in the morning, or maybe even later.

  But before she could mention it, Dana said, “I was thinking of exploring the cliff walk. Want to join me?”

  “I was thinking of the same thing. But on my bike. What time are we due at Amy’s? Do you know?”

  “Not until eleven-thirty. We have plenty of time. Mind if I join you?”

  “That would be fun . . . but you didn’t bring your bike.”

  “I spotted a few loaners outside the fitness center. It looks like anyone can use them. They probably weigh a ton and have no gears left, but I’ll try my best to keep up with you,” Dana offered with an appealing grin.

  For a long time, Dana was the rider with the sleek, imported cycle, and Lucy had been pedaling around on a yard-sale clunker, enduring Dana’s teasing. Last summer, Matt had given her a sleek, state-of-the-art bike for her birthday. Along with an engagement ring, hidden in a state-of-the-art water bottle.

  “That’s okay. I don’t mind a slower pace today. After clubbing with you guys, I hope my legs can push the pedals.”

  “I actually had a leg cramp last night from all that dancing,” Dana confided with a laugh. “Don’t tell anyone. It made me feel old.”

  “No worries. I definitely used some muscles that have not seen action in a while. Bananas are the cure,” Lucy promised. “And some yogurt. Let’s have a quick bite and head out.”

  * * *

  A short time later, Lucy and Dana were pedaling on the cliff path. Though she preferred biking on pavement, the tires on her fitness-style cycle handled the rough gravel easily. Dana’s borrowed bike had thick mountain bike tires, which gripped the gravel, but slowed her down even more.

  They kept to the middle and the right side of the path, though Lucy knew that wasn’t the correct lane to ride in. The view off the cliff, to the left and just beyond the fence rail, made them both nervous and even gave Lucy a touch of vertigo.

  The path opened up at one point, with a viewing spot. Lucy peeked over the edge where the ocean crashed on a rocky shoreline, and sea birds were circling, fighting each other for bits of a fish that one had caught and held clamped in its beak.

  “We’re up so high, the birds are flying below us. Did you notice that?” Lucy asked.

  “I did. I think it’s more than a hundred and fifty feet down to the beach from here. Wait.... Let me take a photo for Phoebe. She’d like to see this.”

  Lucy stepped back from the edge and even grabbed the back of Dana’s nylon biking shirt as Dana tried to catch a good shot of the circling sea birds.

  “It’s nice of you to think of Phoebe. But let’s not get carried away. Or blown away.”

  Dana laughed and stepped back. “Thanks, pal. I nearly lost track of my footing. Maybe the same thing happened to Morton. Maybe he just got carried away, taking a selfie.”

  “I doubt it, but I can see the headline if that turns out to be what really happened—SELFIE OF DEATH.” Dana laughed as Lucy took a sip from her water bottle. “I wonder if he heard a mermaid singing in the fog, and she cast a spell on him. You know, like Ezra Cooperage, the tycoon who built Mermaid Manor?”

  “ ‘I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think they will sing to me,’ ” Dana replied.

  “T.S. Eliot. One of my favorite poems.” Lucy turned and looked out at the view again. “Aside from those far-fetched theories, I can easily see how someone who wanted Morton out of the way could cause a tumble from this spot.”

  “Me, too.” Dana got back on her bike. “It doesn’t take too much imagination, either.”

  They rode on for a while, until the walk curved around a bench and a clump of shrubbery. Then the path was blocked by yellow crime scene tape. Lucy and Dana hopped off their bikes and looked over the area within the tape.

  Lucy pointed at the path. “Look at those greyish-white bits. That’s not gravel. It looks like plaster. I bet the investigators took a few shoe impressions. Those tracks look large, like they were made by a man’s shoe.”

  Dana peered at the spaces where the plaster casts had been made. “Either that, or a woman with exceptionally large feet.” She glanced at Lucy. “You’re tall. What size shoe do you take?”

  “Oh, usually a nine. Or a nine and a half. Depends on the shoe . . . sometimes a ten,” she admitted.

  “Don’t be embarrassed, Lucy. You can’t help your shoe size. You’re pretty tall. You might tip over if your feet were any smaller.”

  “Good point. I never thought of that,” Lucy said drily. “What else do you think they found?”

  “There were probably some bloodstains on the rocks. I bet they were looking for clues all along the cliffside, trying to determine the path of Morton’s fall. That’s why they had people in hazmat suits suspended from the cliff yesterday.”

  “I bet they were looking for anything,” Lucy agreed. “The brush just behind the fence looks smashed down, too. I wonder if the police did that, searching the area. Or if this was the place where Morton fell. Maybe the killer had to give an extra push to get him over the edge.”

  “Or drag the body, if he was hit on the head with a stone, as Amy said.” Dana’s expression was grim as she stared at the spot Lucy had noticed. The image gave Lucy chills. “Whoever killed Morton must have known his habits and waited for him.”

  “Probably. We’d better be careful around here. Don’t step off the path. It’s loaded with poison ivy.” Lucy had learned to spot the pesky weed quickly—the distinctive formation of three green leaves and red stems—which grew in abundance on either side of the path.

  “Goodness. Look at that.” Dana stood very still for a moment. “I can catch it just by looking at it.”

  “Me, too. Let’s get out of here.”

  They carefully walked their bikes around the shrubbery and viewing bench, and the circle of crime scene tape. Then they got back on the path and began riding again.

  “There must have been some clear physical evidence at the scene for the police to suspect foul play,” Lucy said after a while.

  “There must have been something in addition to the blow to Morton’s head. It sounds like they have no eyewitnesses and no security cameras along the walk. There’s Phoebe’s shadow photo, but I don’t think that will amount to much.”

  Lucy agreed, despite all the fancy face-recognition technology out there. “There doesn’t seem much evidence for them to go on at all.”

  “Except for a long list of people who despised the man,” Dana replied. “I’m sure they’ll start with that.”

  They pedaled along in silence a few moments, then Lucy said, “When I was driving last night, and you were all asleep, I saw something very interesting.”

  Dana turned to her. “Really? What was that?”

  “I made a wrong turn after I came into the development and ended up in front of Dr. Morton’s cottage. I saw Sam Briggs at Tanya Morton’s front door, knocking really hard with his fist. Like he was very angry. Or maybe he had been knocking a long time and she hadn’t heard him.”

  “Really? Did she open the door?”

  “Yes, she did. She looked annoyed, as if she’d been sleeping, but she let him in.”

  “That is interesting.”

  “When I finally found my way out of the cul-de-sac, I spotted his truck parked a street or two away. I guess he didn’t want to park in front of her cottage for some reason.”

  “I can think of a few.”

  “I was thinking about it and remembered that he was the one who brought her down to the cliff walk and the police needed her to identify Dr. Morton’s body.”

  “Come to think of it, I recall her coming in a white pickup truck, too. I thought it was just a neighbor or friend driving her over because she was shaken up.”

  “No, it was him. He got out of the truck and waited a while, until the police drove her away in that dune
buggy.”

  “I didn’t notice that either,” Dana said. “But in light of what you saw last night, it would be interesting to know why Sam ended up driving her. He must have been with her when she got the news. Usually, the police will visit personally, and then bring the next of kin to identify a body. But maybe Tayna heard it from a neighbor, and Sam was with her.”

  “Yes, that’s what I thought, too.” They hit a hill and Lucy shifted gears, bearing down on the pedals. “Maybe they’re having an affair. We know she wanted a divorce from Morton.”

  Dana was behind her, her bike taking the hill at a slower pace. “That’s the first thing that comes to mind, but it would be tricky in this community to dally with the local handyman. I wonder if Amy has heard any gossip. We should ask her.”

  “Good idea,” Lucy agreed. “I’m sure Dr. Morton will come up in the conversation at brunch sooner or later.”

  “No doubt,” Dana said between huffing breaths. Finally, they reached the top of the hill and stopped for a moment. Lucy took a swig from her water bottle. It had been worth it to push up the hill. The view was stunning.

  “I know it doesn’t seem like much. But I think you should tell the police what you saw, Lucy.”

  “Do you really?” Maybe Dana was right. But Lucy was on vacation and didn’t want to get involved. “Can’t the police solve this without my gossipy tidbit?”

  “Maybe . . . maybe not. They probably already have Tanya on their list of suspects, due to the divorce and money issues. Spouses are often the culprits in cases like this one. What you saw would give them more to go on, in that direction.”

  “I guess so, but . . . ugh. I hope I don’t have to give a statement or testify in court or anything like that. I’m on vacation. My last fling. I really don’t want to get involved.”

  “I’m sure you don’t. Just think about it,” Dana suggested. “I know you’ll do the right thing.”

  “Thanks . . . that makes me feel guilty already.”

  Dana laughed. “I didn’t mean it that way.”