Hounds of the Basket Stitch

by Anne Canadeo

  “He did. It’s hard to remember how many years it’s been since he visited Plum Harbor. Probably about ten. I hate to sound harsh, but I find it very odd that he’s suddenly surfaced.”

  “Crawled out of the woodwork,” Maggie would have said, but she didn’t want to be too hard on the guy. She’d barely met him. “It sounds like he plans to stay awhile.”

  “Doesn’t it? Ostensibly, to take care of Rose, who neither needs him nor wants him here. He wouldn’t know the first thing about taking care of her, either,” Dana replied, the annoyance in her tone rising with every word.

  “She doesn’t seem to like him much,” Maggie agreed. “But I guess you have no choice. He is family, and it’s his house, too.”

  “I’d never tell him he was unwelcome here. For one thing, it’s not my place. But the house and everything in it was left to Holly and Rose, along with the business. George Piper left Toby a very generous cash gift, which he quickly burned through. Come to think of it, the only time Toby has ever come back was a few years after George died, to press Holly for a loan, which he never repaid.”

  “Oh . . . I see.” The Piper family history—misdeeds and grievances—was becoming clear. “Toby feels cheated? Shortchanged?”

  “I’m sure he does. I felt sorry for him, in a way. Ava was always running interference between her son and her husband. George tried to help him. He really did. Paid for all sorts of schools and gave him loans for business schemes. It always ended with debt and even lawsuits. No one was surprised when George didn’t leave him a share of the business. Except for Toby.”

  “What are his rights in regard to Rose? I mean, if anything happens to Holly . . . heaven forbid,” Maggie said.

  Dana’s expression clouded with worry. “I’m really not sure. He is related by blood . . . and I’m not. Holly and I talked about her wishes for Rose if she was ever unable to take care of her sister, but we never drew up a formal agreement. I have to ask Jack. He handles all Holly’s legal matters. If Toby makes any claim, Jack will know what to do.” She glanced at her phone and sighed. “He’s probably running even later than we thought. Stuck in a meeting. But I’ll ask him when he gets here tonight.”

  “Good plan. But I’m sure Holly will be home soon.”

  “Yes, she will.” Dana looked too upset to say more than that. “Thanks for spending the day with me. I’m not sure I would have gotten through half of it without you.”

  “Of course you would have. But I was happy to help,” Maggie said sincerely. She heard a buzz from her own phone and glanced at a text from Charles. “And it looks like I’ll be staying for dinner. Charles has a meeting at the historical society, and he won’t be here until at least nine o’clock.”

  Dana looked cheered by the news. “I’ll let the chef know there’s an extra guest. If he’s so able in the kitchen, it shouldn’t throw him at all.”

  She rolled her eyes, a gesture very unlike her. But Maggie could see that Toby Nash definitely tested her limits.

  * * *

  True to his word, Toby was clever with working with what he could find in the kitchen and soon announced that dinner was served. He had found a large container of chili in the freezer that Holly had set aside, and had defrosted it in the microwave. The rice he’d made from scratch was seriously undercooked. Maggie pushed it to one side of her dish but ate with a grateful smile.

  “It wasn’t a bad start. I bumped it up with plenty of spices,” he explained, taking ownership of the dish. “Makes all the difference.”

  “I noticed that.” Maggie took a few sips of cold water. The chili had a slow burn effect, the spices were seeping into her tongue and creeping down her throat. She’d be searching for the antacids tonight.

  Rose pushed her dish aside. “I’m not as hungry as I thought. I’ll just have an apple. In my room.”

  Toby’s eyes narrowed. “I thought we were going to have a nice family dinner and catch up.”

  Dana gave him a warning look. “That’s all right, honey. You must be tired. Don’t forget to take your medication.”

  Rose left the table, grabbed an apple from a bowl on the counter, then slipped into the mudroom, where her three comfort dogs were leashed. She walked them on leads through the kitchen and then toward the front of the house.

  When the kitchen door closed behind her, Toby said, “So, Rose has taken over the best room in the house for stray dogs. That would change real fast if I lived here. Does she sleep in there, too?”

  Dana dabbed her mouth with her napkin and took a sip of water. Maggie could tell she was taking her time to keep her temper under control.

  “Most of the time, though all her clothes and belongings are still up in her bedroom,” Dana replied. “Jack and I will be in Holly’s room. The bed in the guest room is made up, if you’d like to stay there.”

  “What happened to my old room in the attic?”

  “I think Holly uses that spot for storage now.”

  “Figures. It didn’t take long to forget I ever existed, did it?”

  “Only ten years,” Maggie wanted to reply. But of course, she didn’t.

  “I’ll stay in the guest room, as long as those dogs don’t bother me. Maybe Rose should leave them in the backyard at night. I saw a pen back there.”

  Maggie knew Rose would never leave her dogs outside all night. It would be unthinkable to her.

  “I’ll tell Rose to keep the dogs with her. They’re very well trained.”

  “You could have fooled me.” Toby helped himself to another plate of chili. He had found a beer somewhere. Or perhaps had brought it with him? He drank from the opened bottle, then smothered a belch with his hand. “Excuse me,” he mumbled.

  Toby cleaned his dish with gusto, clearly enjoying the meal he’d served. Dana did not eat meat and had carefully picked out some beans and set them on her dish. The rest of her plate was filled with green salad, which she’d quickly tossed together before they had sat down.

  Dana’s phone rang, and she pulled it from a pocket. “Sorry . . . I have to take this.”

  She rose from the table and wandered into the mudroom. Maggie couldn’t tell who she was speaking to. She looked distressed, and Maggie hoped it wasn’t bad news about Holly.

  A few moments later Dana joined them again at the table. “That was Detective Reyes. She heard that Rose is home, and wants to speak to her.”

  A bit of food stuck in Maggie’s throat, and she swallowed it quickly. “Tonight?”

  “She did want to come by tonight, but I put her off. She’s going to meet up with us tomorrow at the center. She’ll be there in the morning to interview Dr. Riley and Dr. Curtis.”

  “What do they have to do with this?” Toby asked.

  Dana shrugged. “I don’t know. She said they needed to speak to everyone Holly and Rose deal with day to day. I guess she’s covering all the bases.”

  Toby was forking up the last few bites on his plate. “I thought you said Rose doesn’t remember anything.”

  “The detective needs to see for herself, I guess. Maybe she’ll ask Rose a question that will trigger a memory. Or maybe something Rose says will help the investigation. Right now, it’s pretty much at a dead end.”

  “Except for Carl Thornton,” Maggie added. “Have they caught up with him yet?”

  “She didn’t mention him. I guess she would have told me if they’d found him.”

  “Who’s Carl Thornton?” Toby pushed back from the table and picked up his beer.

  “An old man who worked here a few days. A drifter, I guess you’d call him.” Dana picked up her plate and carried it to the sink. She’d hardly eaten a bite. Was it nerves or Toby’s cooking? A combination, Maggie guessed. “He was a rough-looking character, but Holly said he worked hard. He quit Tuesday morning, very abruptly, and Holly was attacked that night.”

  Toby threw up his hands. “What are the police waiting for? That’s got to be the guy. Track him down. Lock him up. Game over. He must have come back to rob the plac
e, and Holly tried to stop him.”

  “That’s what we think,” Dana agreed. “But the police aren’t big on the robbery part. The house was not disturbed, and nothing appears to be missing.”

  At least, not yet, Maggie thought. She recalled now that Dana had mentioned there was some jewelry in the house and she assumed Dana would look for it later. But how would Carl Thornton, or any random intruder for that matter, know where to find hidden jewelry in such a big, rambling house? The robbery motive seemed unlikely to Maggie. But obviously not so to Toby.

  “She must have caught him before he could grab anything. He got scared and ran off . . .” Toby declared, “ and then he tried to burn down the greenhouse to cover up the crime. So Holly wouldn’t be around to accuse him. I bet that bum didn’t even give Holly his real name.” He shook his head, looking disgusted. “I know you two are going to give me grief for saying this, but women are too soft and trusting to run a business like this. You can’t believe every seedy old guy with a hard-luck story. If you do, this is what you get.”

  Maggie bristled at the slight to her gender. “I run a business. A successful one, too. I wouldn’t call myself naive. Or call Holly naive, either, for that matter.”

  “No offense.” He raised his hands in a mock sign of surrender. “Most women, I mean.” When that didn’t seem to satisfy her, he added, “Okay, some women.”

  “And some men,” Dana noted.

  “All I’m trying to say is, What’s the mystery? It doesn’t matter if Rose remembers a darn thing. They’ll catch up to this lowlife in a day or two. It won’t take long.”

  “I hope so,” Dana replied.

  Maggie wanted to believe that was true, too. Though her intuition balked at the simple solution. You do have a tendency to complicate things. To turn a knit one, purl two into a zigzagging argyle, she reminded herself. Sometimes the obvious answer is the right one. Who else could have done this but Thornton?

  “Thanks for making dinner.” Dana rinsed a dish and set it in the dishwasher. “Don’t worry about the kitchen. I’ll clean up tomorrow.”

  Maggie stood up and cleared her place. “Thank you for making such a nice meal for us,” she said politely, though he hadn’t actually made it. Just heated it up. “Let’s see what Rose is up to,” she said to Dana. “I thought we could do some knitting while I wait for Charles.”

  “Good idea. I have my project in the car.” Dana seemed pleased for the excuse to leave the kitchen.

  Toby had finished his beer and left the empty bottle on the counter, along with two other empties. He must have downed those beers while cooking dinner, Maggie thought. He pulled open the fridge and took out another. “Guess I’ll head upstairs. There’s used to be a good TV in the guest room. I’ll probably have to wrestle some dog for the remote,” he muttered.

  Maggie was glad she had her back turned. It was easier to hide her laughter.

  Maggie was much more comfortable in the dog parlor than she had expected, once Rose pulled a sheet off the couch and cleared a space for her. Most of the dogs were dozing. Some were curled up together on another couch, and a few had claimed their own armchairs or had stretched out on the patterned area rug. There were even a few in dog beds, she noticed. It was relaxing to see them sleeping or chewing on rawhide toys.

  Two of the favorites rested at her feet, the largest and smallest, Wolf and Queenie. Oreo, the black-and-white border collie, was curled next to Rose on a love seat, with her soft head in Rose’s lap. An arrangement that didn’t seem to impede Rose’s knitting in the least.

  Rose was making dog collars with the finger-knitting technique, a project that suited her, Maggie thought. The rows were only two stitches in width, and it didn’t take long to stitch up the length. She had already finished one for Wolf and was working on a second, for Oreo.

  “Nice work, Rose. Lovely, even stitches. Well done,” Maggie said, examining the finished project. “I have buckles in my shop, to complete the ends. I’ll bring some next time and show you how to attach them.”

  “That would be great. Maybe you can teach me how to make dog sweaters, too. Some of the little ones get cold.”

  “I’d be happy to.” Maggie was pleased that Rose had taken to knitting so quickly. It did seem to calm her, just as Dana had hoped.

  Never mind Rose. You feel calmer, too, and so does Dana, she thought, glancing over at her friend, who had claimed an armchair.

  Dana was working on a shawl, knit in very soft yarn with a lovely purple hue. Maggie guessed it was gift. She knew her sedate friend rarely wore such bold colors. Dana glanced at Rose over her reading glasses.

  “Detective Reyes called. She’d like to talk to you tomorrow. She’s going to meet us at the center. We’ll go there after we visit Holly.”

  Rose put her knitting down and stroked Oreo’s head. The dog sighed, her eyes half closed. “Will she ask me too many questions?”

  Dana sat back and gave Rose her full attention. “I’ll be with you the whole time. I’ll make sure it’s not too many.”

  Rose nodded. Maggie could sense her gathering her courage. “I want to help Holly. I just don’t think I can.” She seemed sad and disappointed with herself, as if she had already failed.

  Dana leaned over and squeezed her hand. “Sweetheart . . . it’s all right. Just do your best. Everyone understands that it’s hard for you to remember what happened.”

  Rose sighed, sounding frustrated. “All right. Maybe I will remember something.” She picked up her knitting again and, after a few stitches, said, “That dinner was awful. I need a peanut butter sandwich.”

  Dana laughed. “Good idea. My stomach is grumbling, too.”

  “I’ll pass on the sandwich, but I’d love a cup of tea,” Maggie said.

  By the time Charles arrived, Maggie had packed her knitting and slipped her jacket on. She’d wanted to show him the puppies, but it seemed silly now. It was late. They had to get home, and she needed to get ready for a workday tomorrow.

  She said good night to Dana, then gave Rose a hug at the door. Even though she’d known the young woman only a short time, she felt close to her. Rose’s expression was so sweet, and her eyes were so clear and trusting, Maggie had no choice but to offer some hopeful words.

  “I know this is a difficult time, Rose, but everything will be all right. You’ll see.”

  As Rose returned her hug, Maggie had to wonder. Was it fair or even honest to offer such a blanket reassurance? But it seemed the kind thing to do. As Rousseau said, “What wisdom can you find that is greater than kindness?” Maggie believed it, too.

  She walked out with Charles to the car and stared up at the clear night sky and a sliver of silver moon. Away from the village, the stars and the moon glowed with a brilliant light, she noticed, but they didn’t offer any answers.

  * * *

  Dana stood in the doorway and watched Charles’s SUV disappear down the drive and turn onto the main road. She shut the door and rubbed her arms for warmth. Or was it from a feeling of dread that seemed to creep into the house, along with the chilly night air?

  But she had to put forward a calm, optimistic face for Rose. The fire, as well as Holly’s injury, had shaken everyone to the core, and now Toby had appeared out of the blue, disrupting things even more.

  Dana peeked into the parlor. The TV was on, tuned to a nature show, as usual. Dana wasn’t sure who liked the channel more, Rose or the dogs. Many of them did seem to be watching the flickering images on the screen.

  Rose sat in her favorite spot, in the middle of a long sofa, bookended by snoozing hounds. She had put her knitting aside and seemed to be dozing off, as well. Dana walked past quietly and took a few steps up the stairs, to the first landing.

  All the lights were off on the second floor, except for a thin beam that glowed under the guest-room door. She heard the TV on in there, as well, the raucous cheers and buzzers of a basketball game. And beyond that, someone snoring.

  The sound of Toby fast asleep gave her co
urage a boost. She crept down the stairs again and turned at the bottom, heading for Holly’s office.

  Detective Reyes had asked her to report if any valuables were missing, and she knew George Piper had installed a safe in the house a long time ago. Dana was fairly certain it was in the office, which had been George Piper’s before Holly took over the business.

  It was certainly possibly that someone, like Carl Thornton, or maybe someone else who had worked there at some point, knew about the safe, and that the whole situation was a robbery gone haywire.

  With Toby in the house, there was even more reason to keep an eye on the valuables. She hated even to think of it, but she had to face the facts. She had known Toby since he was a boy, and wouldn’t trust him as far as she could throw a pot of that nasty chili he’d cooked tonight.

  It would not surprise her one bit if he started snooping around the house, looking for jewelry or even the good silverware, and found some way to rationalize that some, or even all it, should end up in his pockets.

  The hinges creaked as she pushed the door open, and she winced. Toby won’t hear. Not until the beer wears off.

  But I need to be fast.

  She switched on a small brass banker’s lamp that sat on the desk, and glanced around the room. The big old desk stretched from wall to wall and was covered with piles of papers, folders, and envelopes. Either Holly was a very messy businesswoman or she was simply overwhelmed.

  Dana quickly looked through the pages, trying to determine if any would yield a clue. It all seemed very ordinary, orders and receipts for supplies and plants, and utility bills.

  If only Holly had kept a diary. But she had never been the type, even when she was at an age when most girls passed through that stage, Dana reflected.

  She looked around, wondering where to search next. There was a bay window behind the desk, an old armchair in front of it, and floor-to-ceiling bookcases on the other three walls.