Knitted and Knifed

by Tracey Drew

  Then there was the ransacked storeroom and the little bag of pills hidden inside a cheap cat ornament. Pills that I guessed would sell for a small fortune on the streets. Not exactly overwhelming evidence in favor of Sean’s innocence.

  I tried to convince myself that the police had this all under control. But thanks to my granddad, I knew that police were as human as the rest of us. And if they decided Sean was a person of interest, I couldn’t allow my brother to be hauled through a system where suspects were often considered guilty until proven innocent.

  However, what could I do? A former high school counselor who’d dealt with kids from all walks of life, with their family issues, peer issues, and self-esteem issues, I wasn’t Sherlock in a skirt. I didn’t have Miss Fisher’s wiles or Poirot’s steel-trap-like mind.

  But…

  I did know how to listen, not just to what someone was saying, but also to how they said it and what they didn’t say. For whatever reason, people seemed to find me a convenient sounding board. I could use what skills I did have to poke around a bit, maybe see if I could unearth a few more suspects Detective Mana could sink his teeth into.

  I tugged the drapes closed and crawled back into bed, the cats once again settling on me. It would be a while before I succumbed to the weariness making my eyelids droop, but I calmed myself by stroking Pearl’s sleek fur in the meantime.

  What harm could come of asking my neighbors a few innocent questions?

  Five

  The logical person to practice my interrogation skills on was the man I’d seen arguing with Lucas Kerr two days ago. After breakfast, I told Harry I needed to duck out to pick up a few groceries. Since Unraveled didn’t open for another hour, I figured I had plenty of time to do some snooping.

  I figured wrong.

  What I hadn’t factored in was every local in town descending on Hanburys to exchange gossip. The place was packed, with even Ed Hanbury working a checkout to cope with the rush. Bet he was rubbing his hands together over this influx of sales. I, however, had no intention of making it easy for the busybodies to extract gory details from the person who’d stumbled over a corpse yesterday morning. Turned out my fifteen minutes of fame wasn’t as glamorous as I’d once envisaged.

  Plan B, then.

  Instead of going into the store, I walked around to the delivery entrance and the corner office next to it, where Ed’s wife, Donna, worked. Spotting me, she waved me inside. I’d always liked Donna but often wondered how she’d managed to stay married for so long. Especially since they worked together all day, and he was, well, Ed.

  “Hello, love. How’re you doing?” Donna greeted me at her door and ushered me into the staff break room next to her office. “I’ll put the kettle on, shall I?”

  “Oh, you’re probably too busy to stop with so many people shopping today.”

  “Rubbish. Ed won’t deny me a coffee break; besides, he’s in his element out there in the chaos. The man’s a worse gossip than my old Aunt Cecilia—and that’s saying something. Coffee or tea?”

  I eyed the huge tin of coffee on the break room’s counter. “Coffee for me, please. I’d mainline the stuff in the morning if I could.”

  Donna grinned. “I knew there was a reason I liked you. I’m a coffee addict too.”

  While she prepared our drinks, I made small talk, asking about their daughter and first grandchild. Another skill of mine was names and faces. Helpful when you work in a school of six hundred students and want to remember their names to help gain their trust.

  Donna passed over a steaming mug and sat opposite me at the staff dining table. “Now, seriously. Did you sleep okay last night?” she asked.

  “Not really. Knowing there’s a murderer somewhere in town meant I kept hearing noises and thought they might be skulking outside.” Not exactly why I couldn’t switch off my brain, but close enough. “What about you?”

  “I’ve worn earplugs for the past twenty-five years, so I didn’t hear a thing.” Donna nodded sagely. “I have to because if it’s not Ed snoring, he’s coming to bed late and crashing around the room. I sleep like the dead with them in.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oops. Didn’t think.”

  I gave her a smile to reassure her I wasn’t offended.

  Her nose crinkled. “Ed’s a night owl; I’m a morning person. He stays up late, while I struggle to stay awake past ten. But I’m up by five thirty most mornings.”

  “Yes, I’m a morning person too, although I sometimes can’t resist the siren call of one more chapter when I’m reading at night.” I sipped my coffee. “Is Ed a late-night reader?”

  “Ed? Read a book?” She gave a soft snort. “Not hardly. He watches sport until late then takes Winnie out for a walk to do her business.”

  “Likes his routine, huh?”

  “That he does. Gets a little cranky if the weather doesn’t cooperate, and he can’t go for his nightly stroll.”

  My mind leapfrogged back to Thursday evening and the flurry of umbrellas popping out of purses after the Crafting for Calmness class finished. “He must’ve been disappointed with the weather two nights ago.”

  “It was our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary on Thursday.” She chuckled, a tinge of color rising in her cheeks. “I don’t think he was too disappointed with the way the evening turned out.”

  “Oh, congratulations. Twenty-five years is amazing.”

  Hmm. And how had the evening turned out once Donna popped in her earplugs? Had Ed braved the intermittent showers to pay his arch business rival a visit? Had he spied a woman drinking wine with him through the store’s back window, waited until she’d left, then attacked Lucas from behind?

  “Did you do anything special to celebrate?” I asked.

  “We went to The Royal Garden Thai that’s just opened in Napier. Have you heard of it? It’s apparently very hard to get a table—oh! Ed.” Donna clapped a hand to her heart. “You gave me such a fright.”

  My gaze shot sideways. Ed lurked in the doorway, his confused frown rapidly turning into a scowl.

  Donna wagged a chiding finger. “Wipe that look off your face. I’m just taking my coffee break a bit early and having a nice chat with Tessa.”

  “Is that so?” His hawkish stare shifted to me. “Sounded like she was trying to find out if I had an alibi for the night of Lucas Kerr’s murder.”

  “Don’t be silly, love,” Donna said.

  “Don’t be naïve, love,” Ed replied. “Ms. Wakefield saw me arguing with him the other day, and she’s wondering if that argument led to me offing him. It’s no secret I disliked the man.”

  I didn’t know Ed well, but you don’t get to be vice-chairman of DOPE through sheer popularity. He was smart enough to see through my ruse, and I felt a little ashamed for subtly pumping Donna for information. However, not ashamed enough to not make the most of this opportunity, as I most likely wouldn’t get another.

  With men like Ed, who was a whisker away from being a schoolyard bully, if you could get them to boast and bluster a bit…

  “Have the police interviewed you?” I asked. Bluntly.

  Ed’s chest visibly swelled as he folded his arms. “I’ve given them a statement, yes.”

  Wrinkling my nose in what I hoped came across as bored disdain, I picked up my mug. No need to look in his direction to know he was watching and waiting for a desperately interested reaction. He didn’t get one. Instead, I blew on my coffee and took a sip.

  He harrumphed after a few beats of strained silence. “I spoke to Detective Mana, who’s in charge of this case. He’s a straight-up bloke and doesn’t beat around the bush.”

  “Oh?” I lifted one maybe I’m interested in what you have to say eyebrow. “Only an underling took my statement.”

  Ed couldn’t keep the smirk from his mouth. “I immediately realized some might entertain the idea that I could be a suspect, so I nipped that in the bud by volunteering my alibi.”

  Another awkward pause while he waited for me to inquire what that a
libi might be. Ask any teenager what they’d done when they snuck out of their room the night before, and I can pretty much guarantee you’ll get a reply along the lines of ‘nothing.’

  I took another sip of coffee—which tasted surprisingly good for instant.

  “Not that it’s any of your business…” Ed began.

  A-ha. Bingo!

  “But we didn’t arrive home from dinner until late, and after I took Winnie for a walk, I joined my wife in bed.”

  He jutted out his jaw as if daring me to make a risqué joke. But I had no interest in quizzing him about his anniversary shenanigans; I didn’t want those unwelcome images seared into my brain. So I kept my mouth zipped. What time did Ed consider late? And how long was he out walking Winnie, an elderly and placid Labrador who’d happily snooze tied to a fencepost while her owner snuck into the old butcher shop?

  As if reading my mind, Ed continued, “As I told Detective Mana, I was home by ten forty-five at the latest.”

  I slid Donna a side-eye and noticed a faint fan of wrinkles appear then disappear on her forehead. “Yes, it must’ve been around then. I dozed off, waiting for Ed and Winnie to get back.” She addressed this statement in my direction. “But he woke me when he got home.” Donna gave me a reassuring smile. “I guess because you had the unfortunate luck of finding poor Mr. Kerr, you’re invested in finding out who would commit such a hideous crime?”

  “Something like that.” I wasn’t prepared to admit my fears about my brother. “He was friendly toward me the few times I interacted with him.”

  Ed let out a derision-filled snort. “He was far too friendly with the town’s ladies if you ask me. And he wasn’t too fussy about whether that lady had a ring on her finger or not.”

  Huh. That put an interesting spin on the lipstick-smeared cup. “Lucas flirted with married women?” I asked.

  “He didn’t flirt with me,” Donna said before Ed could answer.

  Her husband didn’t seem to pick up on the wistfully insulted note in her voice.

  Ed nodded solemnly. “I was having a drink with Brian Werth and a few others at the Stone’s Throw about a week ago.”

  “Brian Werth?”

  “The dentist,” Donna said helpfully. “He and his wife, Jennifer, moved into town about three years ago. They go to Saint Barnabas with us; they’re a lovely couple—”

  “Yes, yes. As I was saying,” Ed continued, “Lucas walked in, and Brian gave him a filthy look. Nothing was said, at least not at the time. But I was the first to leave that evening, and Brian stayed on.” He angled his head to look at me. “Talk to Oliver Novak. He was tending bar that night. If anything happened after I left, he’d know about it.”

  He gave a pointed glance at his wristwatch and sent a dismissive look my way before returning his attention to his wife. “Break’s over, dearest. I need you to take over for Sharon out front for a bit.”

  I thanked Donna for the coffee, reassured her I was fine, and remembering I still needed to pick up a few groceries, followed her into the store. She accompanied me as I snatched up a loaf of bread and some milk, providing a buffer from the curious stares that tracked me around the store. As I left his wife at the checkout, Ed’s gaze burned into me. The prickle of it raised goosebumps down my spine.

  While it seemed unlikely he’d commit homicide and then return home to his wife as if nothing had happened, I still couldn’t scratch him off my mental list of suspects.

  Turning my back on him made me irrationally nervous.

  When I got back, Harry was preparing to open the store. Earlier, he’d told me that I needed to take a couple of days off since I’d had a ‘nasty fright,’ and I hadn’t argued. Reengaging with the store and the customers who stopped by to exchange gossip and, hopefully, buy yarn would do my granddad a world of good.

  I put away the few grocery items I’d picked up, made him a cup of strong black tea, the way he liked it, and took it downstairs. Harry sat behind the service counter, wearing today’s choice of beanie—black-and-white striped for the local rugby team. When I appeared with his tea, he shook out the newspaper he’d been reading and folded it.

  “Wonderful.” He gazed expectantly at the bulge in my shirt pocket.

  With a grin, I pulled out two gingernut biscuits. “I didn’t forget, but don’t break your teeth.”

  Harry grinned back at me, proudly exposing his aged but well-maintained teeth. “You always were my favorite girl.”

  As if worried I might change my mind, he snatched the biscuits from my hand and dropped them into his own shirt pocket. “Speaking of favorite girls, I called a mate of mine from the Napier station. She couldn’t tell me much about Lucas, only that he probably died somewhere between eleven and midnight. There was alcohol in his system, but they’re waiting for the coroner’s full report, including toxicology.”

  I swallowed hard. “Did your friend say how he died?”

  Harry dipped his head to peer at me over the top of his reading glasses. “Multiple skull fractures, apparently.”

  “Do they know what was used?”

  “She couldn’t say officially, but her guess is a heavy glass object because there were a couple of tiny fragments in the wounds. You said you smelled wine in one of those cups you found?”

  I nodded.

  “There you go, then. Death by wine bottle. She also said the chef’s knife ended up in him postmortem.”

  “He was already dead when someone stabbed him?”

  “That’s what it looks like.”

  “And the pills?” Over dinner last night, I’d told Harry about Pearl’s discovery.

  “Party pills. She mentioned there were other illegal substances found, but she wouldn’t go into detail.” He waved his hand. “Enough of this morbid talk. What are your plans today?”

  If I told Harry what I intended to do—what I’d already done by talking to Donna and Ed—I’d likely get a stern lecture on letting the professionals do their jobs. So I fudged the truth a little. “Thought I’ll treat myself to lunch and maybe some shopping to support the local economy.”

  “About time you did something nice for yourself instead of running around looking after everyone else—me included.”

  I bent and kissed his grizzled cheek. “Someone has to keep you in line, old man.”

  “Who’re you calling old?” He chuckled and waved me off. “Go on, then. I don’t want to see hide nor hair of you until this afternoon.”

  I left via the back door, tiptoeing past Kit and Pearl, who were stretched out sunning themselves on the warm concrete path. The last thing I wanted was two cats trailing after me and getting into mischief.

  The Stone’s Throw sat on the corner of Crab—the cross street Unraveled was on—and the other main thoroughfare to the waterfront: Beach Street. Across from the pub, which was popular with locals but a little too local for most tourists, stood Saint Barnabas Church. Colloquially, it was referred to as Saint Barney’s, a nickname that wouldn’t go away, no matter how hard each resident vicar tried. The current vicar, Peter Salmon, kept his beady eye on the comings and goings from ‘that sinful place across the way.’

  I wasn’t a fan of rough-around-the-edges pubs, so it’d been a long time since I’d set foot inside the Stone’s Throw. Harry, not so much. He and Nana Dee-Dee used to be Friday night regulars, staying loyal to the place even when the new owner, Oliver Novak, took over last autumn. In fact, I’m sure it was Harry who’d got Sean a job there, and he’d taken it personally when it hadn’t worked out. But unlike Mum, he blamed Sean, not Oliver, who he considered a ‘decent enough bloke.’

  Although the Stone’s Throw didn’t open until mid-afternoon, I hoped this Oliver guy might be on the premises anyway. The battered SUV parked in the service lane behind the pub in a ‘Staff Only’ parking spot seemed a good sign. I decided to chance knocking on the service door instead of being ignored as a pesky early customer at the front.

  As I approached the solid door, currently propped open with a
brick, loud eighties rock music pumped from within. Unless I produced a handy sledgehammer, nobody would hear me politely knocking.

  I peered into the dim interior: a hallway lined with stacked boxes of booze. I had a moment’s concern that Sean’s comment about his former boss keeping a baseball bat behind the bar in case of trouble wasn’t a joke. Respect for the bat made me rap on the door before I stepped inside. No response.

  “Hello?” My voice was swallowed up by a guitar solo.

  I followed the music through another propped-open door and into the pub itself, where I stuttered to a halt, my jaw almost hitting the scuffed-up hardwood floor. The standing tables and stools had been pushed to one side for mopping to take place, and the mopper—who’d taken center stage with his, well…mop—was performing an air guitar solo. Now, while I appreciate a good air guitar as much as the next fan of mullet-headed eighties rockers, it was the man himself that caused my salivary glands to perk up.

  Tall, with the physique of an athlete that trained hard but not blown up to the ridiculous proportions of a bodybuilder, he filled his snug T-shirt and faded blue jeans to perfection. No wonder Nana Dee-Dee had always returned from the Stone’s Throw in a good mood if this guy was one of the staff. “I may be old,” she’d say when I caught her grinning at the Bachelorette’s suitors, “but I’ve still got my eyesight and a pulse.”

  This unexpected memory of my nana reminded me of why I was here. For my family.

  I cupped my hands around my mouth and hollered, “Excuse me.”

  At the exact same instant as the song ended.

  The man dropped his mop and spun around so fast I let out a noise somewhere between a goat scream and a giant hiccup. I stumbled back a step, tripped on my flip-flop, and was only saved the humiliation of falling by flinging out a hand to grab the bar edge. In doing so, I knocked over an open box of potato chips. Packets of salt ’n’ vinegar—my number one favorite flavor—cascaded to the floor.