“I know, I know,” said Betsy, turning her chair away from the library table to face Sophie. She stroked the cat, who lifted her head to accept the caress, exhaling a pleased purr.
Godwin continued, “How did you figure it out?”
“A collection of little things. First, she was the one who had a source for arsenic. She’s an antiquer, and she uses eBay. I was amazed when I looked in the collectibles section of eBay and saw what was in some of those old bottles.
“Also, this whole thing was about the notes I made on the attributes. She stole the notes I typed but couldn’t get at the originals—and only Patricia knew about them; she saw me making them on the back of my checkbook. She visited me in the hospital after the poisoning, and there I was with the original notes and the book on Christian symbology. She must have been sick with fear that I’d figure it out.
“It was the day she came to confess to Father John that Keane was the father of her oldest child that she got hold of the tapestry.”
“Father John knew?” exclaimed Godwin.
“No, she didn’t tell him. I saw her waiting to see him, looking very miserable, which I imagine she was. I thought perhaps she was worried about me, and in a way I was right. She’d tried three times to kill me, without success. She was afraid that tapestry would turn up while she was in Phoenix and that I’d see the whole set of attributes in its correct order and figure out how they spelled out an accusation against her. Her comfortable life was going to pop like a messy bubble. But then Father John came out of his office and said the tapestry was wrapped in a sheet and laid safely away in the sacristy. So she ran ahead to remove it from its drawer and hide it in the rest room, and then say she couldn’t find it. She even encouraged me to take Jill along to help search for it, a very risky thing to do. But she had to convince me it hadn’t been there when she went to look for it.”
“Cool head.”
“Oh, yes, that’s why I really don’t think she was trying hard enough to kill me. She’s far too organized not to have gotten it right in three attempts. She really didn’t want to kill me, she wanted me to stop fooling with those attributes so she could go on being the cool and competent wife of a rising politician, the respectable mother of his three children. But her boy isn’t her husband’s, he’s the result of a passionate love affair. It’s a shame it was only true love on her part; Keane was an experienced adulterer. Not that it mattered; what was important was that the secret be kept, both so her husband wouldn’t find out and because Brent is the only remnant of that affair she could openly brag about and show off. I suspect Peter Fairland is not happy to learn his wonderful son is in fact not his. It may change the boy’s life profoundly. Patricia did all this to prevent that happening. Having to choose between Brent or Betsy—well, out goes me.”
“Bitch,” remarked Godwin.
“No, she’s not a bitch. She may be what my mother called a toom tabbard, an empty shell. She came from a very different background from the one she married into, and she had to rebuild herself from the ground up, casting off attitudes, behavior, and opinions that revealed her real self. Possibly there is no real self anymore, only that remade surface. So she was willing to go farther than most to retain that surface, which is all she has.”
“You really do feel sorry for her!”
“Yes, I do.”
“What are you, a saint?”
“No, of course not. But I can’t feel as pleased over this one as the others, Godwin. I just feel a little sick.” She stroked Sophie some more. “I hope Mandy is right, that there is some awareness in her father, that those tears he keeps shedding in that nursing home are not for himself but for his victims.”
The door made its annoying bing sound and Joe Mickels came in. He marched up to the table. “Ms. Devonshire,” he said in a clear but very quiet voice, “when this mess you are in is over, may I take you to dinner?”
Betsy, surprised, very nearly replied, “Whatever for?” but bit her tongue in time. “Why don’t you wait until this mess is over and ask me again?” she said instead.
“Very well, I will,” he declared and walked out again.
Godwin gaped after him, then at Betsy. You are going on a date with Joe Mickels?”
“I may,” replied Betsy. “Though it’s more in the way of a business meeting.”
“What kind of business are you in with Joe?”
“Well, I’m buying this building from him—”
“Strewth!” exclaimed Godwin, grasping the front of his beautiful sweater with a splayed hand. “How did you get him to agree to that?”
“Let’s just say I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.” And she would say no more, which is possibly why there was a rumor flying all over Excelsior the next day that Joe Mickels had gone out of his mind.
This counted cross stitch snowflake can be worked on any dark-colored evenweave fabric or canvas in white or metallic. The designer, Denise Williams, worked it on 14-count navy blue canvas with Balger #8 floss, for an interesting, sparkly effect. On that count, the snowflake is 3.5 inches across.
Directions: Find the center of the pattern and mark it. Find the center of the fabric and begin there, making Xs as the pattern indicates. It may be helpful to grid the pattern by drawing a line with see-through marker every five or ten squares. A corresponding line may be stitched with a single thread on the fabric. (Beginners like Betsy find this very helpful!) Then pull the marker threads out when the pattern is finished.
Needlecraft Mysteries by Monica Ferris
CREWEL WORLD
FRAMED IN LACE
A STITCH IN TIME
UNRAVELED SLEEVE
A MURDEROUS YARN
HANGING BY A THREAD
CUTWORK
CREWEL YULE
EMBROIDERED TRUTHS
SINS AND NEEDLES
KNITTING BONES
THAI DIE
Anthology
PATTERNS OF MURDER
Monica Ferris_Needlecraft Mysteries_03 Page 23
