Knit One Murder Two

by Reagan Davis

  “We also think the needle may have been used as a garrote. Do you know what a garrote is?” he whispers.

  I look at him and nod. I feel my stomach sink, and I swallow hard.

  I know a garrote is a weapon used to help strangle someone. The police suspect the killer might have used the knitting needle as a tool to tighten the yarn around Paul’s neck. I also know its sudden appearance in my bag means I’ve probably exchanged my status as unlikely suspect for the status of most likely suspect.

  “Will you be able to keep this knitting needle a secret, Megan? It would really help the investigation if we could keep it under wraps. I know you’re close with April and Connie. Will you be able to keep this from them? The killer probably wants you to find it, and touch it, and I’d rather not give this creep what they want.” Eric winks at me. An attempt to be reassuring.

  I’m not reassured, I’m terrified. My fingerprints are on that needle, I touched it to pull it out of my bag. The killer probably took it with them after they killed Paul, wiped it clean of their own fingerprints, then planted it in my purse so I could leave my fingerprints on it. This needle directly links me to Paul’s murder.

  “Of course, I’ll keep it a secret.” I tell him firmly.

  In silence and with trembling hands, I knit while Eric paces back and forth between the officers in the dining room and me in the family room.

  Adam comes home with my new phone, hands me the box and I take it into the kitchen to plug it in while he and Eric speak in the family room. The other two officers finish collecting and cataloguing the evidence and pack up their things.

  I text Hannah with my new number. I’m waiting for her to text back an acknowledgement and thinking about the knitting needle.

  I touched a weapon that was used to murder someone. It was in my bag, and I didn’t even realize it was there.

  A knitting needle of all things. I love knitting. It has brought me comfort during some of the hardest times of my life, like when my mother passed away. Knitting helped me make friends when we first moved to Harmony Lake, and now knitting might frame me for a murder I didn't commit. I feel gross and dirty and can’t wait for the police to leave, so I can lock myself in my room and have a shower.

  I’ve been standing under the stream of hot water for a long time and the tips of my fingers are wrinkled and pruney.

  Does Eric really believe I’m innocent? Does everyone else believe I’m innocent? Why did the killer want me to find the murder weapon, instead of someone else?

  This means the murderer was at Paul’s celebration of life, walking around, acting normal, and doing it well enough that they didn’t stand out.

  The water starts to run cold and I shiver. I turn off the water and step out of the shower, into the steam-filled washroom to dry off.

  I put on my favourite flannel pyjamas with cats and yarn on them, a pair of thick, hand-knit, wool socks, and go to the kitchen to make a mug of chamomile tea.

  Adam is at the kitchen table with his laptop open.

  “Did you text your new number to Hannah?” he asks without looking up from the screen.

  “Yes, it’s all good. Thank you for replacing my phone.”

  I feel a lump in my throat and force myself to swallow.

  “Do you think I killed Paul?” I blurt out.

  Tears well up in my eyes, and I can’t stop them from streaming down my face.

  Adam gets up from his seat at the table, walks over to the kitchen counter, and picks up a tissue box. He pulls out a couple of tissues, hands them to me, and puts the box on the counter next to me.

  “I know you didn’t kill anybody. No one who has ever met you could think that you’re capable of murder. The real killer must feel cornered and desperate to redirect the investigation,” he says, rubbing my back reassuringly.

  “Eric seems really thorough, good at his job. I’m sure he’s seen this type of thing before, knows you didn’t do it, and will find the monster who did.”

  He puts his arms around me, and I let him. I cry there for a while. At least if I’m charged, I’ll have a good lawyer.

  After I pull myself together, I make my tea, and say goodnight to Adam.

  “Eric spoke to you about keeping the knitting needle a secret, right? It’s really important, Meg. If we tell anyone, it could jeopardize the investigation.”

  He’s speaking to me gently now, like he would speak to an upset child.

  “I understand. I won’t say anything. I can keep a secret you know. I’ve kept our separation a secret for months.”

  As soon as I say it, I realize I sound bitter, which isn’t my intention.

  “He also told me that you’ve been eliminated as a suspect, and he said he was going to tell you tonight,” I tell him.

  “He told me, and I know you can keep a secret, but I also know that you confide in your friends, but you can’t confide in them about this. Tell them the same story about your phone that you told Hannah. It’ll be easier to keep track of the lies if we keep them consistent,” he says, smiling at me. “Goodnight.”

  He sits down at the kitchen table and resumes working on his laptop.

  I’ve become a person who has enough lies that she has to keep track of them. I need to solve this murder so I don’t have to lie anymore.

  This isn’t who I am.

  Chapter 22

  Thursday, September 19th

  I didn’t sleep well. During the short time I did sleep, I dreamt I was in prison with the cast of Orange Is The New Black.

  After tossing and turning for the rest of the night, I’m wide awake so I may as well get up, get dressed, and go to Knitorious, ship the online orders that have come in since the last time I shipped online orders, and maybe work on the fall window display.

  Realizing that my keys were one of the items confiscated with my tote bag last night, I retrieve the spare set of keys from the hook on the wall in the laundry room and drive to the store.

  I park in the back and quietly let myself in through the back door. I don’t want to use the front door because the bell might wake up Connie, and no one should have to be up this early if they don’t have to be.

  Harlow runs downstairs and purrs while he wraps himself around my ankles. I pick him up, scratch under his chin, tell him how charming he is, and carry him into the store. I sit on one of the sofas and he jumps onto my lap. I stroke him, he purrs, and we enjoy the quiet time together until he purrs himself to sleep.

  I pick up the cowl I’m working on to knit for a while before I print the online orders. The clicking of the needles and Harlow’s purring are the only sounds in the otherwise silent store. For the first time in over a week I feel anxiety loosening its grip on me, and I’m grateful for the break, even if it’s only for a few minutes.

  Harlow wakes up, licks himself, and leaps off my lap. He’s meowing and looking back and forth between me and the kitchenette.

  “Are you hungry, handsome?” I ask him.

  I stand up and he runs toward the kitchenette. While doling out his pungent food, I hear footsteps behind me on the stairs to Connie’s apartment.

  “Good morning, sleepy head!” I say to Connie, without turning around.

  I put Harlow’s dish down on the floor and turned to look at Connie.

  “Oh!” I gasp, “Where’s Connie?”

  “Good morning, Megan! Connie will be down in a minute. We didn’t think you were coming in this morning,” Archie replies.

  This is awkward for both of us. I had no idea Connie and Archie were more than friends, or that they have sleepovers. I wonder if this has anything to do with the mystery appointments she’s been having lately.

  I try to act like it’s totally normal for Archie to do a walk of shame out of Connie’s apartment on a Thursday morning.

  “How are you doing, Archie? How’s that sore hip been treating you?”

  I hold up a coffee mug to offer him a cup of coffee.

  “It’s stiff, but as long as I keep using it, it
’s OK. It’s when I stop using it that it seizes up, so I try to keep it moving” he replies, shaking his head and waving away my offer of a cup of coffee. “Listen, Megan, I was talking with Connie, and she mentioned that Ryan might have misinformed you about where he was the night Paul died.”

  “I was wondering about that,” I say, turning the coffee machine on.

  “Well, it’s true that we watched the game together that night, but before that, he wasn’t with his friend Jay, he was with me. He was caught off guard, you see, and he didn’t know what to say. He was protecting me as much as he was protecting himself.”

  “Just tell her, Archie!” Connie is coming down the stairs now, and I sense this morning-after scene isn’t about to get less awkward.

  “Good morning, my dear.” Connie and I hug, and she kisses my cheek.

  “Stop beating around the bush, Archie, and tell her where you were,” she says, taking his hand.

  Archie takes a deep breath.

  “Ryan and I were at an AA meeting at a church in Harmony Hills. He got his three-year chip that night.”

  “Archie, I had no idea! Good for him. Tell Ryan I’m proud of him. Sobriety isn’t easy. And please tell him that his secret is safe with me. I won’t tell a soul,” I reassure him.

  “Us,” Archie corrects me. “We were both at the meeting, Megan. I’ve been sober for 23 years.”

  He smiles at me and then at Connie.

  “Like father, like son,” Archie says, “I’m afraid my rugged good looks and seductive charm aren’t the only things I’ve passed down to my son.”

  Connie laughs and puts her spare hand on his shoulder.

  “Ryan was taken aback when you asked him where he was, and he didn’t want to out my sobriety. That’s why he lied to you. He feels awful for lying. He was with me the entire night, I swear.”

  “I’m proud of both of you.” I hug him. “And I couldn’t be happier for you and Connie. Actually, I feel better knowing that you’re staying here while there’s a killer roaming around Harmony Lake.”

  I finish making my coffee, say goodbye to Archie and go into the shop to print the online orders. Connie and Archie say their goodbyes at the back door, then she joins me in the shop.

  Connie looks happy. There’s no denying that she has a glow and a spring in her step that I haven’t seen since her husband passed almost five years ago. Archie obviously makes her happy, and that’s enough to make me happy for them.

  “I mean it, you know,'' I say. “I really am happy for you and Archie. But why the secrecy?”

  “It’s not a secret. We just didn’t announce it. We decided to live our life and let people figure it out for themselves. Making a big deal out of it at our age sounds exhausting, to be honest, and as soon as the right people figure it out, it will be common knowledge anyway.” She shrugs, smiles, and starts tidying up skeins of yarn on the shelves behind the sofa.

  While processing the online orders, I think about what Connie said about her relationship with Archie becoming common knowledge. Until last week, I thought that nothing could stay secret for long in Harmony Lake, but this past week, I’ve realized that no matter how small the town and how tight knit the community, there are secrets lurking in everyone’s lives. Even our family has a secret, and if we can keep a separation secret for months, anyone can do it. I feel like I don’t know anybody as well as I thought I did.

  Connie and I both look up at the door when we hear the familiar jingle of the bell. April walks in with a deep frown

  “There you are!” she shouts at me. “I’ve been texting you all day. I was worried, so I texted Adam to make sure you were OK. He said you have a new phone number and that I’d probably find you here. What happened to your phone, and why are you here on your day off?”

  “What’s this about a new number, my dear?”

  Now, Connie has a concerned look on her face.

  “I’m sorry! I meant to text you both with my new number, but I don’t actually know your phone numbers. I’m so dependent on technology now, that I don’t have anyone’s contact information written down anywhere.”

  I make a mental note to get one of those old-timey phone books and write down important numbers, in case I ever have another phone confiscated by the police or actually do ruin it by getting it wet.

  “The phone is no big deal, I dropped it in water last night after the celebration of life and it didn’t recover. I was worried Hannah wouldn’t be able to reach me, so Adam went out and replaced it.”

  I smile and look back and forth from April to Connie, hoping they believe me and hating that I just lied to them. Not telling them something would be bad enough, but this is an outright lie.

  “As for coming in on my day off, there are online orders that need to go out, the fall window isn’t finished, and honestly, being home is awkward right now with my soon-to-be-ex-husband there all the time, you know?”

  The last part isn’t a lie, it is awkward with Adam being at home so much. We seem to always be in each other’s space.

  Connie walks over to the counter with her right hand extended, palm-up. Wiggling her fingers, she says, “Give me your phone and I’ll text myself, so we have each other’s numbers. I agree with April, I would’ve panicked if I tried to reach you and couldn’t. We still have a killer roaming around, remember?”

  I unlock my new phone and hand it to Connie who, despite claiming not to understand anything technological, is able to find the text app, text herself, then hand the phone back to me. I hold the phone out to April who takes it and adds her and Tamara’s numbers.

  “Why were the police at your house last night?” April asks. “Phillip said there were two patrol cars, and they were there for a while.”

  Uh-oh, Adam and I didn’t come up with a lie to explain why the police were at the house. I wonder if Phillip saw the evidence bags that they took to their cars.

  “Eric walked me home after the celebration of life and his colleagues came to pick him up.”

  It’s not an outright lie. I know I’m lying by omission, but it feels less awful than saying something that’s completely untrue.

  “Phillip said there were two cars,” April says, holding up two fingers, “Eric needs two cars to drive him around?”

  April raises her eyebrows, tilts her head, and crosses her arms in front of her chest. She obviously isn’t buying it. Connie stands next to her in some kind of show of solidarity, crossing her arms in front of her chest, too.

  “Ok, Eric really did need a ride back to the station, that’s true. He also spoke to Adam to let him know that he’s been eliminated as a suspect...and... he called a couple of officers to come in and pick up…. some…. evidence...that may have appeared suddenly yesterday.”

  “Keep talking, my dear,” Connie says, moving her hand in a rolling motion in front of her.

  “I really want to tell you, but I can’t. Eric said the entire investigation could be compromised. Please stop asking because I want to tell you, but I can’t. And, please don’t mention this to anyone.”

  I bring my palms together, in a pleading motion in front of my face.

  “Of course, we won’t say anything! We know you’d tell us if you could. Let’s just hope whatever it is, it breaks the case wide open and gets this murderer off our streets.”

  “Your secrets are always safe with us, my dear.” Connie says as she wraps her arms around both of us and gives us a big squeeze.

  “Now that we’ve sorted that out,” April says, “Latte Da’s fall menu starts today and I’m craving a spiced caramel apple latte. Come with me, and we can see what other fall yummies they’ve added to their menu this year.”

  April is rubbing her tummy in a circular motion. As much as I love coffee, April loves it more. Her commitment to it is admirable. Coffee is kind of her hobby.

  “Give me five minutes to finish packing this order, so I can drop these off at the post office on our way.”

  I start placing the packaged orders into a
large reusable laundry bag with a pink and brown tartan pattern.

  “That laundry bag is almost as big as your purse!” April says, pointing at the large bag, laughing, and looking at Connie who’s covering her mouth with her hand to hide her laughter.

  “Ha! Ha!” I say, “Everyone likes to make fun of my bag until they need me to carry something for them, don’t they, April?”

  I look up at April without lifting my head from the order I was packing. April only carries a wristlet, which is a combination of her phone case and wallet, so whenever we go anywhere together, she puts whatever didn’t fit in her wristlet—which is basically everything—in my tote. At any given time, up to half of the things in my bag actually belong to her.

  My cell phone dings:

  Adam: Can you meet me at 845 Mountain Road at 1pm? I want to show you something

  Me: Yes! C u there!

  I’m so excited, I almost add a smiley emoji to the end of my text reply to him.

  “I don’t want to jinx it, but I think Adam found an apartment,” I say. “I heard him on the phone the other day and it sounded like he was setting up a viewing. He just texted me asking if I would meet him at 845 Mountain Road at 1 p.m.”

  I’m grinning so wide my cheeks hurt, and I do a little happy dance behind the counter.

  “Mountain Road...those are mostly older houses, right? Some have been converted to duplexes and triplexes, I think? And a few have been renovated to be businesses? A bit off the beaten path, but nice and close to the highway.” April nods.

  “That reminds me.” Connie snaps her fingers and interjects, “I have an appointment tomorrow, late morning. Will you be OK here by yourself for a couple of hours?”

  “Of course,” I tell her. “Is everything OK, Connie? You’ve had several appointments over the last few weeks, should we be worried?”

  Scared the answer might be yes, I brace myself. Connie is like a mother to me, and I can’t imagine anything happening to her. Also, I can see she’s starting to slow down a bit.

  “Nothing to worry about, my dear.” She waves her hand dismissively. “At my age a few extra appointments are to be expected,’’ she adds with a wink at me.