Knit One Murder Two

by Reagan Davis

  I double down and tell him about my conversation with Jay. Still no reaction.

  When I finish talking, he gazes into the distance like he’s thinking about something. Then he looks at me.

  “I’m not from Harmony Lake,” he states. “This is a small community and the residents are...protective…of each other and of information. They don’t trust outsiders, and I’m an outsider, so they’re hesitant to open up to me.”

  He’s choosing his words carefully. I’m a resident of this small, protective community, and he doesn’t want to offend me, a nice change from last night.

  He’s right, it takes a long time for us to warm up to new people and accept them as one of us. We cater to tourists who are only here for a few days or weeks of the year. Some of them want the local experience while they’re here, and we’ve learned to make them feel welcome and included while still protecting the heart of our community and keeping it just for us.

  “I appreciate you sharing what you’ve found out with me,” he says, “but it’s not a good idea for you to investigate on your own and question witnesses. Asking the wrong questions to the wrong people could put your safety at risk. But if people seek you out and share information with you, I’d really appreciate you passing that information along to me.”

  I’m choosing to interpret this as a verbal disclaimer, like an ‘Enter At Your Own Risk’ sign at a construction site. It doesn’t mean you can’t enter the site; it just means if you do, you might get hurt, and it’ll be your own fault because you ignored the sign warning you it’s risky. Am I interpreting him incorrectly? Maybe, but he didn’t say no, he said it’s not a good idea, and that isn’t the same as no.

  While it would be easier and less work for both of us if he would just say what he means, I’m learning that Eric speaks in subtext. He answers questions without actually answering them, and now it seems he gives permission without actually giving permission. It must be a cop thing.

  It’s getting late and it’s been a long day. I try to fight it, but a yawn escapes me, and I ask Eric if we’re done with questions for the night. I turn off the lights, we both say goodnight to Harlow, and he follows us to the back door and then slinks up the stairs to Connie’s apartment. Eric and I leave through the back door. We wish each other a good weekend, which makes me hopeful that he’s not planning to question me again until at least Monday.

  Chapter 15

  Friday, September 13th

  I’m on my own at the store because Connie has yet another mystery appointment this morning. She’s had a few appointments lately, but doesn’t tell me where she’s going, only when she’s going, which is unusual for her. I hope everything is OK and have to trust her to tell me if it isn’t.

  Friday and Saturday are our busiest days, so business is steady today. Harlow, planting his cuteness in a warm ray of sun in the front window for his morning nap, attracts a few passersby who come into the store to see him, making us appear even busier.

  Paul’s murder is still the number one conversation topic for people who stop to chat, and people are starting to ask when the crime scene tape will be removed from Hairway To Heaven.

  I take advantage of the short intervals between serving customers to update the inventory on the website and finish Hannah’s hat; I bind it off just before noon.

  When Connie returns from her appointment, she brings me a sandwich from Deliclassy. It must be tuna because Harlow is up on the counter in a flash, seriously interested in the bag.

  “How was book club? It was pretty late when I left, but you still weren’t back.”

  “It was fun! There was some confusion about what our September book is, so half of us showed up having read one book and half of us read another book. We solved it by breaking into two smaller groups, one for each book, and next month we’ll switch!”

  “I’m glad it worked out. Did you happen to get a chance to ask Archie about Ryan’s whereabouts on Tuesday evening?”

  “Yes, I did. Archie insists Ryan was with him. They watched the baseball game on TV and barbecued steaks. He says Ryan was with him from late afternoon until the next morning.”

  “I guess Ryan mixed up his Tuesdays, then. He must have been in Harmony Hills the previous Tuesday,” I shrug.

  “I’ve known Archie a long time, my dear. He wouldn’t lie. I believe him.”

  “So do I,” I say.

  At least I think I do. I want to. Would Archie lie to give his son an alibi? I think a lot of parents would be surprised at the lengths they’d go to protect their children.

  Harlow and I eat my sandwich in the kitchenette, and the rest of the afternoon passes quickly.

  We close the store and tidy up in preparation for tomorrow. Then I go home to have an awkward dinner with Adam. Since our meals together usually include Hannah, I can’t remember the last time we had a meal where it was just the two of us. We struggle to find something to talk about that isn’t either Paul’s murder, or Hannah.

  As much as I enjoy a good small town murder mystery or true crime documentary, both feel a bit too close to home right now. After dinner, I watch a stand-up comedy special, cast on the matching cowl for Hannah’s hat, and knit until my eyelids feel heavy and I’m ready for bed.

  Saturday, September 14th

  Connie and I both work on Saturdays because it’s the busiest day of the week, and today is no exception. We’re getting into our busy season. Knitters are starting to embrace fall and plan ahead for holiday knitting. As soon as the snow starts to fall, we’ll also be busy with tourists staying at the ski resorts in Harmony Hills. Saturdays are only going to get busier from now until after ski season.

  After lunch, Connie’s phone chimes. She reads the message then hands me her phone, so I can read it. There are customers milling around the store, and she doesn’t want to read it out loud.

  It’s a message in the WSBA group chat:

  Lizzie: Paul’s body has been released to his family. His funeral is scheduled for Wednesday. It will be a private service for family only followed by a public celebration of life at The Irish Embassy. More details to come.

  Lizzie is the owner of Latte Da, and The Irish Embassy is our local pub. The Embassy, as it’s called by the locals, is owned by the O’Brien family. Sheamus manages the pub, and his parents, who are mostly retired, divide their time between Harmony Lake and Dublin, Ireland.

  I hand Connie’s phone back to her, and literally seconds later, a symphony of cell phone notifications can be heard throughout the store. Customers begin talking about the news that Paul’s body has been released and his funeral arrangements are being made. It’s incredible how fast news travels though Harmony Lake.

  Tonight is trivia night at The Embassy. The knitting group that meets at the store each week has formed a team called Knitty By Nature. The winning team gets a free meal (lunch only) at the pub. Tamara meets us at the store after it closes and we head over to The Embassy to win that free lunch! Tamara is a trivia buff and an occasional knitter, so we recruited her for our team. She’s alone tonight because April is taking their fifteen-year-old son, Zach, to hockey practice. We don’t win the free lunch, but thanks to Tamara, we come in a close second.

  Everyone in the pub is speculating about Paul’s murder, and asking Sheamus for details about Paul’s funeral arrangements, but Sheamus isn’t talking. He doesn’t confirm or deny anything, and says he’ll tell us more when details are confirmed.

  Sunday, September 15th

  This is the third Sunday since Hannah’s left home, and so far, Sundays are when I miss her the most. It’s the one day when we were usually both home and would do something fun together. On Sunday evenings we would have dinner as a family when Adam came home.

  Since we can’t be together as a family in person, we do the next best thing. Adam and I FaceTime Hannah together and have a virtual visit with her. She tells us about her classes, her new friends, and the fun, touristy things she’s doing in Toronto.

  We’re careful not to
mention Paul’s murder, blackmail schemes, or being questioned by the police. When Hannah mentions Paul, she asks how Kelly is doing, and I tell her that Kelly has been staying with her sister in Harmony Hills, then Adam and I quickly change the subject.

  Several times each day, I have the urge to text Kelly to see how she is and let her know everyone is thinking about her, but I don’t want to impose. She has so much going on, and as far as I know, she hasn’t been back to Harmony Lake since Paul died. If she’s not ready to deal with us yet, I don’t want to force us on her.

  I spend the rest of Sunday missing Hannah, cleaning the house around Adam while he works on his laptop, and giving the lawn and garden some much-needed maintenance.

  Chapter 16

  Monday, September 16th

  Knitorious is closed on Mondays, so that’s when I usually drive to Harmony Hills to grocery shop and run whatever other errands I can’t do in Harmony Lake.

  I pull into a parking spot in the Shop’n’Save parking lot, turn the car off, pull out my phone, and send a text to April:

  Me: I’m in HH today, do you need anything?

  Whenever one of us comes to Harmony Hills, we text the other to see if they need anything while we’re here. It’s become a habit.

  I push the button that opens the trunk and get out of the car to retrieve my reusable shopping bags. I close the trunk and feel my phone vibrate in my pocket.

  April: So am I! I was about to text you. I just got to Shop’n’Save. About to go in.

  Me: I’m in the parking lot, where are you?

  April: Meet me at the door by the pharmacy.

  I put my phone back in my pocket and head toward the pharmacy entrance where I find and hug my friend.

  “Why are you here on a Monday? You know I shop on Mondays. I would’ve picked up whatever you need,” I say.

  “I know, it’s weird to be here on a Monday, but we have this...situation...called Zach. He’s fifteen and eats CONSTANTLY, so I’m having to shop three times a week just to keep him fed. Also, they’re having a ridiculous sale on butter this week, and T wants me to buy as many bricks as I can carry. She’s afraid they’ll run out before the sale ends.”

  “If there’s a limit on how many you can buy, I’ll buy up to the limit, too, so T won’t have butter anxiety,” I offer.

  We each get a cart and decide to start in the butter section, just in case.

  April puts the maximum amount of butter each shopper is allowed to purchase at the sale price into her cart and so do I.

  Our carts stacked with literally enough butter to supply a bakery, we meander up and down the aisles, picking up items and checking them off our lists as we go. We talk about our weekends, update each other on Hannah and Rachel, and strategize to get Tamara on Jeopardy, so she can win all the money, and she and April can retire.

  We turn into the freezer aisle and April is telling me she doesn’t think Tamara would retire even if she won on Jeopardy because she loves working at the bakery too much to give it up, when I’m sure I see Kelly Sinclair walk past the end of the aisle pushing a cart, accompanied by a woman I don’t recognize.

  I tighten my grip on the handle of my butter-heavy cart and speed walk to the end of the aisle trying to catch up to her. April speed walks after me.

  “Where are we going? I need to get frozen pizza in this aisle.”

  “I’m sure I just saw Kelly walk by,” I say.

  I make a sharp left, speed walk past a display of peanut butter, then toilet paper, and look up the next aisle. No Kelly. I keep going toward the next aisle, past a display of tomato sauce, then baby food. April breaks into a jog, and in a few strides, she and her butter-filled cart are walking beside me.

  “Kelly Sinclair?” she asks.

  “Yes. With a woman. They have a cart.”

  I look up the next aisle, no Kelly. April uses her impossibly long legs to outpace me and gets to the next aisle. She looks up the aisle, then looks back at me.

  “Found them!”

  She smiles and turns her cart into the household cleaning aisle. My cart and I follow her up the aisle, and I think about how this would never happen in Harmony Lake; the stores are too small for a foot chase. There are clearly benefits to small stores with short aisles.

  Kelly is at the other end of the aisle. Her hair is pulled into a messy bun, and she’s wearing grey sweatpants, a matching grey sweatshirt, and white running shoes. She looks so different from the polished, glamourous Kelly I’m used to seeing in Harmony Lake that I’m surprised I recognized her. She’s facing a shelf, and seems to be comparing two items, with one in each hand.

  Her friend and I make eye contact. I don’t recognize her. She’s definitely not from Harmony Lake. She says something to Kelly, then turns and walks away from her, disappearing as she turns at the end of the aisle.

  When we’re about halfway up the aisle where Kelly is comparing what appears to be disinfectant wipes, April calls her name.

  Kelly turns toward us and her face lights up with recognition. April pulls her cart over to the side of the aisle, walks over to Kelly and gives her a hug. She says something in Kelly’s ear, and I can see Kelly’s red, swollen eyes become redder and fill with moisture.

  I reach into my tote bag and grab my portable tissue holder. When April lets go of Kelly and steps back, it’s my turn, and I give Kelly a long, tight squeeze. When we pull apart, I hold out the portable tissue holder for her to take, but she reaches into her purse on the top-level of her cart and pulls out her own.

  “I came prepared!” She attempts a laugh and dabs at her heavy, tired-looking eyes.

  “Megan, I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. I’ve been meaning to call and thank you for helping me the other night. Everything’s been so busy since… I just haven’t had time to call anyone.”

  “Please don’t worry about it, Kelly. You’re going through so much right now. No one expects you to call or do anything other than take care of yourself. Nothing else matters.”

  “Everyone in Harmony Lake is thinking of you and hopes you’re doing OK. Do you need anything? You only have to ask if you do,” April says, choking up at the end of her sentence.

  Now we’re all crying. It was only a matter of time.

  “I’m fine. My sister”—she gestures to her left, where her friend, who I now assume is actually her sister, was standing before she walked away—“and brother-in-law have been amazing. They’re really fussing over me, and they’ve both missed work to help me out. My sister is here with me, but she popped over to the pharmacy to fill a prescription.”

  “This past week has been so hard…”

  Kelly chokes up before she can finish her thought and April and I are both rubbing one of her arms and fighting to keep our own tears from streaming.

  I look around and the three of us are alone in the aisle, and I’m aware of what a strange scene this would be to someone else who might come up this aisle. Two emotional women with a bizarre amount of butter are comforting a third, crying woman whose cart is...absolutely full of cleaning supplies? I try not to look shocked when I notice the contents of Kelly’s cart.

  “Why so many cleaning supplies, Kelly?” I speak softly, trying not to sound critical or judgmental.

  If purchasing excessive cleaning supplies is what Kelly needs to do right now to get through this tragedy, then she should do that, and we will support her.

  “The police finally released the salon and the apartment, so I’m going over there when we’re finished here and plan to spend the rest of today and tomorrow deep cleaning.”

  She reaches for a box of rubber gloves on the shelf beside her and places them in her cart next to the box of rubber gloves already there.

  “There’s dust everywhere from fingerprinting and footprints from boots. Everything needs a really thorough scrubbing.”

  “Do you need any help? I can be a pretty thorough cleaner when I put my mind to it, and Knitorious is closed on Mondays, so I’m free.”

&nbs
p; “And after I deliver all this butter to the bakery, I can help scrub as long as you need. The three of us could probably get it done pretty quickly,” April adds.

  “No, thank you, guys. I really want to do this on my own. I’m hoping it’ll be cathartic. I plan to go back there on Wednesday after Paul’s service and open the salon on Thursday.”

  “Well, you have my number if you change your mind.”

  I hope I don’t sound relieved. I’m not prepared to go back there today, I’m just not ready. The last place I want to be is at the salon or the apartment above it where I found Paul’s body, but I imagine it will be much worse for Kelly. She needs all the support she can get, so I’ll suck it up if I have to.

  Kelly insists that April and I attend Paul’s celebration of life on Wednesday. We ask if we can bring anything or do anything to help, but she says everything is being taken care of, and she wants people to focus on remembering Paul.

  “He was such an amazing man. Everyone loved Paul. My voicemail is full of people telling me how much they’ll miss him and how generous and kind he was.” She tears up and takes a moment to collect herself.

  “Harmony Lake definitely won’t be the same without him,” I say.

  It’s not a lie. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see April glaring at me.

  “He really was one of a kind,” April adds.

  It’s my turn to glare at April.

  “I should head to the pharmacy and find my sister.” Kelly puts both hands on the handle of her cart in preparation of moving along.

  “Before you go…” I reach out and gently place a hand on her cart. “If the police have released the building, does that mean they know who did it? Are they going to arrest someone?”

  “They haven’t said that, but they don’t really tell me anything about the investigation. This Sloane guy likes to ask questions, but he doesn’t like to answer them.”