Hounds of the Basket Stitch

by Anne Canadeo

  “Did you hear what the argument was about?”

  Maggie didn’t hear Rose answer. She must have shaken her head.

  “Could you guess?” the detective said next.

  “I couldn’t hear what they were saying. I asked Holly in the morning, but she said they were just talking and got a little emotional. It wasn’t anything important, and she promised it wasn’t about me, either.”

  Which sounded to Maggie like more of Holly shielding her sister. She doubted Holly would have told Rose the whole story, even if it had been important.

  “Did you ever hear or see Carl Thornton argue with Holly?”

  “No, never. Carl didn’t talk much. He worked all day and did whatever Holly said.”

  “Do you ever argue with Holly?” Detective Reyes asked in a quiet but pointed tone.

  Rose seemed surprised and even a bit defensive. “We get along fine. Most of the time,” she said. “Sometimes, I don’t want to go to appointments, or I forget to take some pills,” Rose admitted. “Once in a while, I’ll make a mess in the kitchen, and she’ll get upset.” She paused. Detective Reyes did not fill in the silence. “Or maybe the dogs get on her nerves. I know it’s not always easy for her, taking care of me.”

  Maggie could not see Rose but imagined her drawing comfort from Oreo. The dog was probably sitting beside her on the sofa, perhaps even with her head in Rose’s lap.

  “We never stay mad for long. I can always make her laugh and snap her out of it,” she added. Maggie heard the small smile in her voice.

  “Does she get upset often about the dogs?” Detective Reyes asked. “Does she ever complain about the mess or, say, the cost of taking care of them? Maybe she told you it was too much bother or she couldn’t afford to take dogs in like that anymore, and you and Holly had an argument?”

  Maggie heard Dana cut in with an objection worthy of any attorney. “Detective, those aren’t exactly questions. I think you’re trying to put words in Rose’s mouth now.”

  Before Detective Reyes could answer, Rose said, “Of course not. I love Holly . . . and she loves me. Why would I fight with her? She does everything for me.”

  Rose sounded near tears. Maggie felt a pang in her heart.

  “I think that’s enough questions for now, Detective,” Dana said. “Rose is getting tired, and we need to leave for the hospital.”

  Maggie checked her watch. They had been talking about ten minutes or so, but it felt much longer.

  Maggie knew that these sorts of interviews could last for hours in a police station setting. But this wasn’t that sort of interview, she reminded herself. Rose was not a suspect, just a witness, without memories of the actual event. Though she had supplied some useful information so far. Maggie was encouraged by that.

  “I do need to touch on a few more points, Dr. Haeger. It’s probably better for everyone if we can just get this done, don’t you think?”

  Dana didn’t answer. Instead, Maggie heard her ask Rose, “What do you think, Rose? Are more questions okay with you?”

  Maggie heard Rose sigh. “I want to help Holly.”

  “Good. You are helping, Rose,” Detective Reyes replied. “So back to Dr. Riley. Did he visit your house often?”

  “Not usually,” Rose answered slowly. “He did stop by a few times last weekend. He would talk to me awhile, ask me how I felt and all that. But he really came to see Holly. I know he likes her. He sent her flowers.”

  “The bouquet in the foyer?” Dana asked.

  Maggie had noticed the flowers, too. Not that it would be unusual to find fresh flowers in the home of someone who owned a nursery. But manicured long-stemmed roses didn’t seem like a choice she’d make for herself.

  “Holly wouldn’t tell me who they were from. But I know she didn’t buy them. She hates red roses.”

  “When did the flowers come? Do you remember?”

  “Let’s see . . . on Tuesday morning, I guess. Holly was outside with Carl, unloading a delivery of new plants. A car drove up, and a guy gave Holly the box of roses. I was behind the house, with the dogs.”

  Maggie was trying to keep a timeline in her head: Dr. Riley visited the house this past weekend, pursuing Holly. They argued on Monday night, and on Tuesday morning flowers arrived. Probably from him, but that would be easy enough to check out with local florists. And Rose saw Carl Thornton in the woods on Monday night, as well.

  Did this information give Detective Reyes anything more to work with? Maggie hoped so.

  “Tell me about Tuesday night again, Rose. Was anyone at your house besides you and Holly? Did anyone come to visit or even to deliver anything?”

  “It was just us two. And the dogs. Holly went into the village in the morning, and she brought back pizza for dinner. It’s hard to get deliveries where we live. We ate around six thirty. Holly told me Carl quit and wasn’t coming back.”

  “What did you think about that?”

  “I didn’t care, except that he helped Holly a lot. He scared me at first, but then he didn’t seem so bad. He was kind to the dogs, and they trusted him.”

  Maggie found that tidbit interesting. She’d heard of crooks who were very adept at winning over watchdogs and tossed the fur guardians hunks of steak or sticks of butter and then proceeded to easily rob a house. Did Thornton have that knack, charming even Rose’s dedicated pack?

  “What did you do after dinner?” Detective Reyes asked in a conversational tone.

  “Holly went into her office to do bookkeeping and pay bills. It always puts her in a bad mood, so I stayed in my room with the dogs and watched TV. And worked on my knitting,” Rose replied. “I let the dogs out again around ten o’clock and took my medication. Then I went to sleep on the couch in the parlor with them.”

  “Was Holly still awake at ten, do you recall?”

  “She was still in her office, and I said good night to her from the door. She was busy. She hardly looked up. It looked like she was still paying bills.”

  “Was she making out checks? Reading invoices?” the detective asked. “On the phone with anyone?”

  “She was counting money, and she doesn’t like to be interrupted when she’s doing that. There was a big pile of money on her desk.” Rose’s voice was very matter of fact.

  Detective Reyes replied quickly, “Does she usually pay money that way? With cash?”

  “Sometimes,” Rose said.

  “Did you ask who the money was for?”

  “Why would I do that? Holly runs the business. I only help with weeding and watering. Things like that. She reminded me to take my pills, and I went to bed.” Rose paused. Her voice was growing thin and a bit shaky, Maggie thought. “I fell asleep quickly. I don’t remember anything after that.”

  The room went silent.

  Then Dana said, “I think Rose is very tired, Detective. Honestly. Can we stop now?”

  Will she ask me too many questions? Maggie recalled Rose ask Dana. This was certainly a lot of questions, probably way too many for her.

  “I’m sorry, Rose. I don’t want to wear you out. Just one or two more, and we’ll be done.”

  Maggie doubted that. There were always more questions, once the police got started.

  “All right. I’m okay, I guess.” Rose’s voice trembled.

  Maggie dared a glance into the room. She saw Oreo’s head on Rose’s knee, the dog’s way of lending Rose support and calm, warm energy.

  “Did you know there was a container of gasoline at the nursery?”

  “Of course I do. Holly kept it in the potting shed for the power tools. Did the person who set the fire use it?”

  “Possibly. We know it was set with gasoline, and some further tests will show if that was the same blend. There are fingerprints on the container. We’re trying to find a match for them.”

  “Detective . . . are these details really necessary?” Dana’s tone was strong.

  The detective didn’t answer her. She kept talking to Rose. “I know you don’t remember what
happened Tuesday night, Rose. But we know that you got out of bed and went outside. We also know there was gasoline on your hands and feet and splattered on your pajamas. We need to figure out how it got there. Do you remember anything at all about that?”

  Maggie’s breath caught in her throat. She turned to see Rose’s and Dana’s reaction.

  “I don’t know how it got there . . . I don’t remember . . . I never used the gasoline. Holly didn’t let me.” Rose was upset, her voice thin and anxious.

  Maggie heard Rose’s breathing become fast and labored. She stepped out of the storeroom, unable to stay hidden any longer. Oreo had her head pressed to Rose’s lap and softly licked Rose’s hands. Dana put her arm around Rose’s shoulder.

  “This interview is over, Detective. I hope the information Rose gave you helps.” Dana’s tone was fiercely protective, and Maggie wondered if the detective would back off.

  Detective Reyes took a deep breath, her mouth pressed in a tight line. Maggie knew she could be tough, but there seemed no chance now of Rose answering any more questions. Her head was bowed, and she trembled as Dana softly rubbed her back.

  “I’m sorry to upset you, Rose. I have to ask these questions in order to understand what happened Tuesday night. We need all the information we can gather in order to find out who hurt your sister,” Detective Reyes explained in a patient tone. She looked at Dana. “Can we speak outside a moment?”

  No one had noticed her in the back of the room. Maggie saw her opportunity and stepped forward quickly. “I can sit with Rose while you talk.”

  Detective Reyes glanced over at her. Maggie had the feeling the detective knew very well that she’d been listening, but couldn’t do anything about it now.

  “Is that all right with you, Rose? I won’t be long,” Dana said.

  The young woman nodded, her gaze troubled and unfocused as she stroked her dog. Oreo was sitting up and gently licked Rose’s face.

  Dana stood up and followed the detective to the door. As Maggie took a seat beside Rose, she saw the two women standing across the street, near Detective Reyes’s car. Detective Reyes was doing most of the talking, and Dana was listening, her arms crossed over her chest in a defensive pose.

  “Detective Reyes thinks I hurt Holly . . . doesn’t she?” Rose asked quietly.

  The last few questions had veered in that direction, like an out-of-control car skidding off the road. But Maggie was reluctant to be the one to validate Rose’s conclusion.

  “I know her questions upset you, but Detective Reyes has to consider a lot of possibilities. Some that are very unlikely or even unthinkable.”

  “I’d never hurt Holly in a million years . . . or do anything like that. Pour gasoline all over the place and set a fire.”

  She was agitated again, trembling and short of breath. Maggie hoped Dana would return quickly.

  “I know, Rose. We all know that. It will get sorted out. Take some deep breaths, dear, and try to relax.”

  Rose nodded and closed her eyes. Was she going to black out? Maggie hoped not. Rose squeezed her hand and followed her instructions, drawing in several slow breaths, which started to calm her. Oreo’s comforting attention helped, as well, Maggie noticed.

  Rose and Maggie sat side by side, holding hands, for a few quiet moments. Oreo had somehow draped herself across both laps, and Maggie had ended up with the softly wagging tail end. The dog’s fur tickled her nose, but she didn’t mind nearly as much she thought she would.

  “How are you doing?” Maggie asked quietly after a few minutes had passed.

  “Better, I think.” Rose opened her eyes and met Maggie’s gaze. “But what if I really did those horrible things . . . and I just don’t remember?”

  Her wide blue eyes filled with tears and panic again. Maggie wasn’t sure what to say or do. She leaned over and took Rose in her arms.

  Logically, Maggie knew there was some chance that Rose’s very worst fear—everyone’s worst fear—was true. But Maggie pushed aside her doubts. It wasn’t true. She just knew it, deep in her heart. Rose Piper did not harm her sister or set that fire. Some diabolical individual, who was still out there, did all of it and may have even intended to make Rose the easy target for the blame.

  “I’m sure you didn’t do it, Rose. I promise, I’ll do everything I can to help find out who really did.”

  Before Rose could answer, Oreo jumped up and stood with her front paws on the back of the sofa. She stared out the window and barked wildly.

  Lucy had arrived and was tying her dogs to the porch rail. Or trying to. They had caught sight and scent of the canine visitor inside and were barking like crazy now, too.

  Maggie pressed her hands to her ears. “Oh my . . . sounds like a barking contest.”

  “I’ll bring Oreo outside. They’ll calm down once they’re properly introduced.”

  Rose was just the person to accomplish that, too, Maggie thought. “Would you, Rose? That would be a big help.”

  Dana and the detective had not finished their conversation. The sight made Maggie uneasy. She doubted Rose could overhear them up on the shop’s porch, especially with the dogs going wild, and the conversation had to be done soon.

  As Rose slipped out, Lucy walked in. “I saw Detective Reyes outside with Dana. I assume the coast is clear?”

  “Almost,” Maggie replied. “It’s been a long morning, and it’s only”—she glanced at her watch—“eight forty-five? Can that possibly be?”

  Plenty of time to clear the mini dog pack from the porch before customers arrived.

  Outside, not only had the three dogs quieted down, but they also sat in a circle around Rose, staring up at her alertly. A small but remarkable feat, Maggie thought. She really did speak their language.

  Lucy had walked back to the storeroom and returned with a mug of coffee. She sat on the sofa and took a sip. “How did the interview go?”

  “Fine, at first. I think Rose was very helpful to Detective Reyes. She answered a lot of questions about Tuesday and the days prior—about things that were going on at the nursery. But it took a troubling turn toward the end.”

  Lucy sat up and set the mug down. “How so?”

  “The police have determined that Rose had gasoline on her hands and feet and on her clothing. And they’ve pulled fingerprints from the gas container. They haven’t matched the prints yet, but Detective Reyes seems to think it’s a valid lead.”

  “Such as . . . Rose set the fire?”

  Maggie nodded solemnly.

  “That’s outrageous!”

  “That’s what I think, too. Let’s face it, anyone with Rose’s condition is vulnerable to accusations. Even the most outrageous. If she can’t remember the events of the evening and present her own version of what happened that night—what she heard, what she saw—the police can put the pieces together in any number of ways. And she can be accused of most anything.”

  Dana walked in. They both turned to look at her.

  “What did Detective Reyes need to tell you in private?” Maggie had a feeling it wasn’t anything good.

  “She wants Rose to make a formal statement at the police station. And give fingerprints.”

  “That’s ridiculous. It wouldn’t prove a thing,” Maggie insisted. “There are a million reasons why her fingerprints would be all over the place, including on the gas container.”

  Maggie did recall Rose saying that Holly didn’t allow her to handle the power tools or the gas. But still, it wasn’t evidence that would hold up in court.

  “There’s another reason.” Dana drew a sharp breath. “A shovel was found in the woods, with Holly’s blood and strands of hair. There are prints on the handle, as well, and probably they’ve tried to collect some DNA. That takes a long time to process,” Dana explained. “But it’s still a consideration. Reyes claims they just need to rule Rose out. But this whole line of questioning worries me.”

  Maggie felt her stomach drop. She knew it was a corny cliché, but the phrase Sure, that�
�s what they all say quickly sprang to mind. This was serious.

  Lucy looked worried, too. “What did you say?”

  “I told Detective Reyes that she’ll hear from Rose’s lawyer by the end of the day. And I just called Jack and got him working on it.”

  “Good move. That’s exactly what you need to do now,” Lucy said.

  “Rose is hardly the only possible suspect. There’s still Thornton. Or someone we don’t even know about yet. Holly and I are close, but I can see now that there are things going on in her life I have no idea about. Which is only natural.” Dana flipped her beige shawl around her shoulders. She seemed upset, and Maggie’s heart went out to her.

  “Did you ask Detective Reyes if they’ve made any progress tracking down Thornton?”

  “So far, it’s all dead ends,” Dana said. “The cell phone was a cheap throwaway kind. The address in Rowley exists, but the landlord had no record of anyone like him renting a room there.”

  “That’s too bad. But they still might find him,” Lucy said.

  “If they keep looking.” Dana hooked her handbag over her shoulder and sighed. “They might stop looking if they get focused on making a case against Rose.”

  Maggie knew that was true, but didn’t want to encourage a negative outlook. “Jack will find Rose a good lawyer, who will pressure the police to keep looking.”

  “Maybe Helen Forbes will take Rose as a client,” Lucy suggested. “She saved Suzanne’s bacon when things looked grim.”

  “She did,” Maggie agreed. “But please don’t ever phrase it that way in front of Suzanne. You know how sensitive she is about her . . . bacon.”

  Dana responded with a small smile. “I was thinking the same thing. I mean about Helen. She’s smart and tough and thrives on complications.”

  “No lack of them here.” Maggie smoothed some dog hairs from the sofa cushion. She didn’t have time to get out the hand vacuum and hoped that none of her customers today were allergic.

  “Backing up the police with a good attorney is one thing,” Lucy said. “But it doesn’t solve the problem of their focus on Rose. Are they looking at anyone besides this mysterious Thornton character?”

  Dana sighed. “Dr. Riley’s name came up. He was visiting Holly for some reason over the weekend. Rose overheard an argument but couldn’t hear what they were talking about.”