While My Pretty One Knits (20 page)

The woman at the register in the drug mart was old. Lucy felt sorry for her. She looked like she came to work every day in an ambulette. She scanned Lucy’s purchases with care and curiosity as if she’d never seen the stuff before, which, of course, was impossible, Lucy realized. She hummed to herself. It sounded like “That Old Black Magic.”

When she came to the pack of condoms she stared at it, turned it over in her hand a few times, and waved it over the scanner without success. Then, to Lucy’s horror, she picked up a microphone. Her slow reedy voice blasted through the empty aisles.

“Price check, register five…Strider extra-durable condoms…economy pack?”

Lucy cringed and stoically faced forward, hearing snickers in the long line behind her.

Being a grown-up was not easy.

Nobody said it would be.

That afternoon, as a mint julep purifying clay face mask set her features into rigor mortis, Lucy found an e-mail from her nieces:

Lucy suspected that last nudge had to be Regina’s idea. She had inherited Ellen’s snide edge. With one thing and another going on this week, Lucy hardly noticed the Earth about to shift on its axis. A minor detail, all things considered.

But she had made headway with the sock monkey hats, progress during the long night of Maggie’s incarceration and more last night at the knitting meeting.

In fact, she’d noticed the hats were just about finished. All she had to do now was add the monkey faces and sew on long strands on each side that tied under the chin. She decided to make the chin straps look like braids, secured with red bows. The girls would love that.

If she stole a few minutes from beautifying, she could finish and send them off to Concord this afternoon at the post office, when she got to town.

She sent back a brief note:

Lucy washed the green paste off her face, which had now hardened to the consistency of wall spackle. A few more minutes and she could have easily screwed a picture hook into her forehead.

Pampering and polishing herself was hard. Knitting was easy.

She pulled out the hats and merrily set out braiding the tie strings, then attached them to the ear flaps. The monkey’s face—sewed on stitches for eyes, red nostrils, and a smile—was going to be a bit harder, especially since she didn’t seem to have the right color and weight of red wool in her knitting bag…or in any of the plastic containers under her bed and in various closets that held her stash.

She could pick some up later at the Black Sheep. But that meant she couldn’t finish the hats until tomorrow. Then she practically tripped over the answer to her problems.

The box of dog sweaters. It still sat in the middle of her office. There had to be some red wool in there that she could snitch for monkey noses.

Lucy pulled open the flaps and dove in. She needed to sort out the contents anyway. Take a few out for Tink before she passed it on to the animal hospital.

It was the only box from the Knitting Nest that had not been taken away in the raid on Maggie’s shop, she realized, as she picked through it. Lucy wondered if she should tell the police she’d taken it from the shop before their raid and wondered if Maggie had mentioned it the night she was questioned. She couldn’t really see how it would matter. They had the hat block with Amanda’s blood on it, which seemed to be the real prize.

The box contained a canine boutique. The designs were amazing, created with craft, humor, and style. Turtlenecks, simple wraps, capes, styled and sized for different breeds. She chose a dark blue poncho for Tink, trimmed in bright green with a stand-up collar and snap closure neck. She also chose a yellow wraparound coat that looked like it had been felted and was probably water repellant.

Tink was already nosing around, curious at what Lucy was doing, or maybe she smelled some former dog pals from the Nest on the carton. She stood very calmly as Lucy tried on her new outerwear but did try to chew on the fringe that trimmed the poncho.

Lucy knew Amanda had sold pet coats like this in her store but wondered if she planned on marketing them on a wider scale. She really could have made a fortune with this stuff. Maybe she had plans in the works but hadn’t gotten things rolling before she’d been killed.

Lucy searched the sweaters for the red wool she needed without much success. At the very bottom of the box, she found a larger cape, a patchwork pattern made out of knitted squares. It was definitely not one of the best items. She decided she wouldn’t feel too many qualms about pulling it apart to get some of the red yarn.

Lucy stretched out the piece on her lap and started to pick at a seam with a crochet hook. She felt something solid in one of the squares at a corner of the piece. Had Amanda put something inside the swatches to weigh the cape down, so it would stay in place?

Lucy was curious and looked closer at that square. It was made of purple wool, double sided, unlike the others, which were a single layer. She stretched apart the stitches and saw what looked like a piece of clear plastic, a case of some kind with something inside. She didn’t realize what it was at first, then got it. A CD in a case had been sewed inside of the knitted square.

That didn’t seem like a typical method someone would use to weigh down the corner of knitwear.

It did seem like a method someone would use to hide something.

Something important, that someone—like Amanda—didn’t want anyone to find?

L
ucy ran over to her knitting bag, clutching the dog poncho. She dove into the assorted mess and came up with a small pair of scissors. She neatly snipped a seam on the purple square and slipped out the CD case.

She flipped open the cover. The disk had no label or writing on it. She wondered what it could be. What was so confidential Amanda needed to hide it in a dog sweater? Her diary, with all her private thoughts and yearnings about her secret love affair?

A list of grudges and revenge fantasies?

Confidential information she didn’t want Peter to find during their divorce? Perhaps about her finances?

Lucy sat a moment with the disk in her hand. Reading it felt like a violation of Amanda’s privacy, even though she was dead. Maybe
because
she was dead. But Lucy couldn’t help herself and her curiosity finally overwhelmed her ethics. She returned to her office, stuck the CD in the computer tower, then clicked the icon.

Various folders appeared, named by numbered chapters. It looked like a manuscript. She’d seen enough of those to recognize the format. She remembered Peter saying Amanda was always tapping away on her computer and rarely let it out of her sight. She must have been trying to write a book. Maybe she even had a publisher interested.

Maybe that’s why she was nicer to Maggie when she stopped at the Black Sheep the night before her murder. Their rivalry didn’t seem as important to her anymore. She was on to a new arena. She was acting like the cat who ate the canary because she expected to finally trump Maggie with this victory.

Amanda’s behavior the night before her death, when she’d surprised everyone at the Black Sheep, was starting to make some sense.

Lucy clicked on a file and a page of text appeared on the screen.

She quickly scanned the page and then the next.

The words were stunningly familiar. She’d read this all before. Skimmed it, at least.

It was the manuscript of Cara’s book,
Felting Fever
. But why was a copy of that file tucked away in one of Amanda’s dog sweaters?

Lucy pulled up the file property information and checked the date the file was created. A little over a year ago, just the right time frame for book production. She considered the implications. Why would Amanda have a copy of Cara’s book, in manuscript form, on her computer?

She could have been hired by the publishing house as an advisor, to review the material. Lucy had worked on lots of nonfiction titles. Editors, even the most savvy and chockful of miscellaneous knowledge, couldn’t be expected to be an authority on every project they acquired. They sometimes hired expert readers to check information beyond what a regular copy editor could do.

Amanda could have been hired to review Cara’s book. That was certainly possible.

But if that was the case, why did Amanda keep her connection to Cara and that sideline job—which had some status for her—such a big secret? From what Lucy knew of Amanda, she’d expect her to brag about it. Why did she act so eager to attend Cara’s demonstration, as if she’d never met the woman before? Why didn’t she mention her connection to the book and Cara to Maggie? That would have been more Amanda’s style, trying to show up Maggie since she was even closer to Cara’s success.

Finding the CD seemed to raise more questions than it answered. Lucy stared at the page on her screen for a while, then closed the file.

Tink nosed her elbow, nearly flipping Lucy’s hand off the keyboard, her sign that she needed a backyard break.

Lucy checked the time.

Cripes…it was already past 3:00.

She still had to shower and dress before her hair appointment. Matt’s office was open late tonight and it seemed easiest for them to meet in town at 8:00. Lucy dashed into the bathroom and jumped in the shower. She hadn’t used even half of her beauty products, she noticed. She wasn’t sure if that was a good sign, or a bad one.

Rubbing her skin raw with a new loofah and apricot-aloe dermabrasion grains, Lucy tried to focus on making “every part of her kissably soft and smooth.” But she was more intent on sorting out her puzzling discovery.

Maybe this manuscript file explained why Amanda was making frequent trips to the city and how Amanda had enough money to cut back her hours at the Knitting Nest and afford a complete beauty makeover.

But expert readers didn’t receive that large a fee, Lucy knew. Not even the really good ones. Unless Amanda was doing more for the publisher than just checking information. Supplying designs, perhaps? Maybe writing some sections with instructions? Cara had openly admitted that didn’t come easily for her. Lucy hurriedly finished her shower, skipping a few more helpful products.

Dripping wet and wrapped in a big towel, she ran back to the computer and brought up the book file again. In a separate folder, she found the projects Cara showed off in her presentation. The cute little handbags decorated with felted flowers. The big tote bag and a scarf. Even the sweater coat Cara had been wearing.

She also noticed a folder that was just called “New.” The start of a new book? She clicked and found patterns, novelty projects, including some of the dog sweaters in the box.

Goose bumps popped up on her bare skin.

Jumping to the Internet, Lucy Googled Amanda’s name again. The same postings came up that she’d found in her first search.

She hit the first link and took a closer look at the information about Amanda’s second-place prize in a design contest at a knitting conference, over two years ago.

The conference had taken place in Boston and was sponsored by
Stitchery
magazine, not Cara’s magazine,
Knitting Now!
No obvious connection there. Lucy checked the information on Amanda’s entry, “Felted tote bags with flowers.”

Part of her wanted to jump up and shout, “Bingo!” Another part was sitting there saying, “Wha—?”

She still didn’t understand what this all meant, or if it had anything to do with Amanda’s murder. She did know that Amanda had definitely been way ahead of the curve on the felting trend. No wonder she didn’t win first place. The judges didn’t know what to make of her project.

She sat back from the computer, the towel slipping perilously low. Cara was the one who could explain what this all meant. But for some reason, the idea of approaching her with the discovery didn’t sit well with Lucy.

Should she just bring the CD to the police and tell them where she found it? Maybe bring the entire box of dog sweaters?

That didn’t strike her as the best option, either. The box had come from the Black Sheep and the last thing Lucy wanted to do was turn Detective Walsh’s attention back to Maggie.

No, going to the police with this right now was not a good idea.

Lucy had no idea what she should do and didn’t have any more time right now to try to figure it all out.

A quick glance at the clock in the corner of the computer screen made her jump out of her chair and run to the bedroom. She’d planned on wearing a pair of good black pants instead of jeans, but they needed ironing.

Damn. She didn’t have time for that unless she skipped the haircut. Which was not an option now, since she hadn’t bothered to wash her hair in the shower.

She pulled on jeans and a black tank top, and over that, a comfortable standby, a black, gray, and white sweater she’d made herself and was inordinately proud of…even though the sleeves had come out uneven lengths and she had to push them up a bit to hide the flaw.

Maybe it wasn’t her most alluring piece of clothing, Lucy realized, as she slipped on some silver bangle bracelets. But it definitely made a statement—threw a gauntlet even?—at a prospective suitor.

What could you do? All the cleansing grains and waxing strips in the world wouldn’t change that about her.

Lucy made it to the hair salon just in time. Friday afternoon was possibly the worst time of the week to schedule a haircut, like being the last patient to go under the knife at the end of the surgeon’s long, hard week. Lucy had enough anxiety about anyone putting a sharp instrument to her hair as it was. And adding to that, now there was this latest bombshell discovery about Amanda.

But she had to go through with the cut. Figuring out who killed Amanda Goran was important…but so was her social life, right?

Besides, Lucy realized, she could mull over the meaning of the mysterious CD while she sat in the salon chair.

An assistant brought her back and introduced her to the stylist, Gary, who had been highly recommended by Suzanne. He greeted her with a smile of large white teeth that looked like Chiclets.

“So, let’s see what’s going on here, Lucy.” Gary popped Lucy’s hair clip with a flourish and thick, dark blonde hair poured out in all directions. “Nice. Some of my clients would die for this hair,” he managed between yanks. “So, what are we doing today? Have something in mind, hon?”

“You mean, like a style?”

He stared at her in the mirror. Lucy could see he thought she might be joking. Then he realized she was not. “You have a picture or something?”

“Just a trim, please. Can you take off the split ends?”

He nodded, looking relieved. “Will do. How about a little angle over here, pick it up a little. Frame your face?”

“That would be fine. As long as it’s not too short to clip back.”

“No problem. You have a nice wave. I could put a few highlights in the front, bump up your color?”

Highlights? Wasn’t that going over to the Dark Side?

“I do it real natural-looking, believe me.” Gary’s sincere expression reflected in the mirror. “It’s a nice pick-me-up for the spring and it won’t take more than an hour, promise.”

She sighed and looked at her watch. This extra touch would be cutting it close. “Okay, what the heck.” Living large now. Taking no prisoners. “Let’s go for it…not too much, though.”

“Don’t worry. I’m the best.” He leaned closer. “I could have my own shop, I just don’t want the headaches. Know what I mean?”

Lucy nodded. “I do.”

Two hours and nearly two hundred bucks later, Lucy staggered out of the salon, light-headed from the full hair styling experience and from inhaling various aerosols, anxious about the time it took.

It was nearly 6:30 and she had slightly over an hour to get home, feed and walk Tink, and put on some makeup before meeting Matt. But as she drove past the Black Sheep, Lucy couldn’t help but notice that her friends had congregated inside. She saw Dana’s car, Suzanne’s, and Phoebe’s. Had something happened to Maggie?

She pulled over and parked behind Suzanne’s car. She could spare a few minutes. When she got inside, it was positively a party atmosphere.

Maggie greeted her with a wide relaxed smile. “Lucy, we called your cell. You didn’t pick up.”

“I was having my hair done. Guess I didn’t hear the phone.”

Maggie drew closer and gazed up at her in a wondering way. “It looks terrific.”

“I got highlights…just a few,” she clarified quickly. “It doesn’t look too, you know—”

“Not at all,” Dana cut in quickly. “I didn’t even notice. I mean, I noticed it looks really nice, but it’s just right. Where did you go?”

“Gary. At Cut Above, right?” Suzanne answered for Lucy. She looked very satisfied that her recommendation was garnering rave reviews. “The guy is an artist.”

“He did a good job,” Lucy agreed.

Phoebe was the only one who didn’t shower her with compliments. She looked Lucy’s hair over, her eyes getting squinty, perhaps thinking a streak of magenta would have been a better improvement.

“Guess what. Breaking news,” Phoebe told her. “Peter Goran has finally been charged with Amanda’s murder. They found his wife’s computer in his truck. The one he kept saying was stolen by those random burglars? And he was definitely identified near Seabold’s just before the alarm went off,” Phoebe added. “Sweet, right?”

Lucy stared around at her friends. This was breaking news.

“Wow…how did you find out?”

“Christine Forbes heard about it. She called me just a few minutes ago,” Maggie replied.

“Jack heard, too. Seems the police got a warrant to search Goran’s house today. That’s how they found the computer.”

“Another anonymous tip?” Lucy asked.

“I think so.” Dana shrugged. “It turns out there was someone in the garage at the auto repair shop after it closed and they recognized Peter, cutting through the back of the property. He finally did admit to breaking the window at Seabold’s. He says he just wanted to get the police to call Amanda’s case a robbery and give up, so he could get on with his life. Sounds a little unbalanced, right? And he still claims he had nothing to do with her death.”

“I’m sure he does. His arrest is going to put a kink in his plans. I wonder what he’ll come up with now,” Suzanne said in a singsong voice.

“Right. And now he’s muddied the water and undercut his own argument, hasn’t he?” Lucy agreed.

“The police might have something more than the computer. Something that hasn’t gotten out yet. Maybe they tied him to the hat block,” Dana suggested.

“I’m surprised it’s took them this long.” Suzanne let out a long breath. “And the way that Detective Walsh harassed poor Maggie. I think you could sue for that.”

“I’d rather just get past it now, thank you. Anyone interested in taking this conversation over to the wine bar? I have a break before the class tonight. I’m buying,” Maggie suggested.

“Sorry, I’ve got to get home.” Lucy glanced at her watch. She really did have to run.

“Date night. Lucy has to finish primping,” Phoebe said.

She glanced at Phoebe but didn’t argue with her.

Lucy hated to ruin the festive mood, but she needed to tell them about the CD. “Before you all head out, I want to tell you something. I came across the strangest thing today when I was looking through that box of dog sweaters from the Knitting Nest.”