by Laura Childs
CHAPTER 21
SUZANNE was straightening up the Knitting Nest when Petra came in to join her. Petra pulled off her apron, kicked off her Crocs, and flopped down in one of their springy-sprongy wingback chairs. “Thank goodness for this place,” she said, exhaling slowly. “It’s my refuge in a world gone mad.”
Suzanne smiled. Since the Knitting Nest was chockablock full of yarns and fabrics, it did offer a warm and cozy vibe. All that was missing was a fireplace.
“Did you see my new display of shawl pins and closures?” Petra asked.
“I was just drooling over them. Some of the pins look positively vintage,” Suzanne said. Petra had also hung some more sweaters, shawls, afghans, and hats on the walls. Examples of what she’d knitted, with many of them for sale.
Suzanne picked up a pair of smooth wooden knitting needles. “These feel so incredibly smooth. Almost like ivory.”
“That’s because they’re handcrafted out of beechwood,” Petra said.
“So what project did you dream up for your class next week?” Petra loved her knitting and quilting classes and was threatening to hold an appliqué class this spring.
Petra tossed a quilted tote bag to Suzanne. “That’s the sample for next week’s Bag Lady class,” she said. “A lot of people want to learn how to quilt but don’t think they have time to make a full-sized coverlet. So I start ’em out easy by sneaking in a smaller project.”
“A tote bag,” Suzanne said, holding it up and turning it so she could study both sides. “This is very cool. Stylish, too.” The tote bag was completely quilted, using small squares of purple and red velvet. Some of the squares were solid colors; others were shot through with gold thread.
“If you’re stitching by machine, you can practically make it in one night.” Petra grabbed a skein of yarn and handed it to Suzanne. “Here, take a look at this.”
Suzanne took the yarn and studied it. The fibers were a rich cocoa brown and very lustrous. “Beautiful. What is it?”
“You know Claire Nelson who lives over in Jessup?”
“Sure.”
“She has a pair of Belgian Tervuren dogs.”
“Are you telling me this was literally spun from their fur?” Suzanne asked.
Petra grinned. “Pretty cool, huh?”
“Absolutely.” Suzanne handed the skein back to Petra and said, “Are you looking forward to your wine and cheese party tomorrow afternoon?”
Petra shrugged. “I guess so.”
“If you don’t feel up to honchoing it, I can take over. It’s no problem.” Suzanne and Toni had already agreed to help out. For Suzanne, a little extra work wasn’t a problem.
“Ah, I just need a good night’s rest. With my tough Nordic constitution I snap back pretty fast.”
They heard the door open in the café and then a man’s voice called out, “Anybody home?”
“Now what?” Petra asked. She seemed reluctant to hoist herself out of her chair.
Suzanne jumped up and peered out into the café. “It’s Junior.”
Petra flipped a hand up. “Meh.”
Suzanne went out to greet Junior, wondering what was on his mind. Something to do with Toni?
“Howdy do,” Junior said with a friendly wave. He was dressed in camo pants, a matching jacket, and a faded T-shirt that said Army.
“What’s up, Junior? Preparing for an invasion?”
“You can’t be too careful, Suzanne.” Junior glanced around the café. “You know, this place is pretty well situated. It’d make a good FOB.”
“What’s that?”
“Forward operating base, like the military sets up. A kind of command post.”
“And what war or disaster would you be anticipating?”
Junior ticked off his list. “Could be anything. North Korea, global pandemic, extraterrestrials, a zombie . . .”
Suzanne held up an index finger. “Don’t.” Suzanne didn’t like zombies and couldn’t understand TV’s current preoccupation with them. The last thing she needed was Junior talking about a zombie outbreak.
Toni came out of the kitchen. “What are you doing here?” she asked Junior.
Junior dug into a limp khaki bag that was slung over his shoulder. “I brought some toys for your toy drive.” He pulled out two small teddy bears and handed them to Suzanne.
“They’re cute,” Suzanne said. “Thank you.” Now she felt bad for jumping down his throat. Well, a little bit bad.
“You purchased these bears?” Toni asked.
“Well, yeah,” Junior hedged.
“Where?” Toni asked.
“At the dollar store,” Junior said.
“You can’t contribute to buying groceries, but you can go out and buy toys?” Toni asked.
“There’s a difference. These toys are for charity,” Junior said. “Besides, who needs groceries when you never cook? Your oven is jammed full of stuff like shoes and makeup, and you practically live on Diet Coke and microwave popcorn.”
“That oven is occupado because I have a slight storage problem,” Toni said. “Not the least of which is you taking up space—”
“Anyhoo,” Junior said, clearly trying to change the subject. “On a cheerier note, I stopped by to see if you ladies would like to accompany me to happy hour tonight. Schmitt’s Bar is having a two-for-one on Fearless Rednecks.”
“That’s an actual drink?” Suzanne asked.
“Bourbon mixed with some kind of neon red energy drink,” Junior said. “Makes you buzzed out of your skull, but you never get sleepy.”
“I’ll pass,” Suzanne said.
“Okay, then.” Junior blew a kiss to Toni. “Later, babe. I gotta go see a man about a tank.”
“Whaaaat?” Toni said.
“Guy over near Cornucopia. He’s got a World War II vintage tank parked behind his barn. I thought maybe we could tinker with the motor and get it moving again.”
“Good luck,” Toni said. “Try not to invade any countries or blow anything up.” After Junior had left, Toni turned to Suzanne and said, “You know what we should do tonight, don’t you?”
“I haven’t the foggiest idea, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“We should go to that cross-country ski thing. The Cocoa Loco Loppet that the youth group is sponsoring.”
“Skiing? Really?”
“Sure. It’ll help burn off all that nervous energy you’ve been building up.”
“You’re the one with all the nervous energy,” Suzanne said. “Besides, I didn’t think skiing was in your wheelhouse. You’re more indoorsy than outdoorsy. I see you as a Netflix and Junior Mints kind of gal.”
“I have been a trifle sedentary of late, I’ll admit that,” Toni said. “But since my hips seem to be expanding as fast as the national debt, I thought I’d try widening my horizons, too.”
“With cross-country skiing.”
“Hey, it’s what I got.”
“And skiing will get you out of the house tonight because Junior is driving you nuts,” Suzanne said.
Toni dropped her head. “Junior is driving me to distraction. When I got home last night and told him about Teddy Hardwick, all he did was ask creepy questions. What color was his face? Did his skin look all pasty and dead? Honestly, Junior’s macabre questions gave me nightmares.”
“Now we get down to the real reason for your sudden interest in cross-country skiing,” Suzanne said.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. But on the other hand, think how much fun we’ll have. All the calories we’ll burn.”
“You make a good point,” Suzanne said. “One of these days I have to start shopping for a wedding dress.”
“I love that Sam is still going to marry you. Even after last night.”
“I know,” Suzanne said. “What a pest. I can’t seem to shake him.”
“So we’ll do the ski loppet? Or did you have plans with your amour du jour?”
“Actually, Sam will be working in the hospital ER all weekend long.”
“You see?” Toni said. “It’s kismet. Or karma. Or maybe a kilogram.” She shrugged. “Whatever, we should go.”
“You talked me into it,” Suzanne said. “Harangued me, actually.”
With the floors mopped and the tables all set for tomorrow, Suzanne was ready to turn out the lights. Until a soft knock sounded on the front door.
Uh-oh.
She pushed back a ruffled café curtain and peered out the window. Two figures, women, were huddled on the front step of the Cackleberry Club.
Pulling open the door, Suzanne thought, This can’t be good.
And it wasn’t.
Missy Langston and Amber Payson stared in at her, both looking cold and jittery, snowflakes hanging off the tips of their eyelashes. Finally, Missy said, “Can we come in?”
“Yes, of course,” Suzanne said. She opened the door wider and the two women trooped in. “I’m afraid I can’t offer you any—”
“No problem,” Missy said. “We really just need . . . um . . . to talk to you.”
They settled at a nearby table and Suzanne said, “So what exactly . . . ?” They were all three of them fumbling for words.
Missy glanced at Amber, who said, “Actually, I came here to ask for help.” She swallowed hard. “Again.”
“I’m not sure . . .” Suzanne really didn’t know what to say since Amber had thwarted her efforts several times already. But she decided to be open-minded and listen to the girl.
“Sheriff Doogie is on my case again,” Amber said. “Big-time. Now he thinks I killed Teddy Hardwick.”
“She wouldn’t, she couldn’t, do an awful thing like that,” Missy sputtered.
Suzanne held up a hand. “I’m going to be absolutely blunt about this.” She looked directly at Amber. “Where were you last night?”
“At home,” Amber said. “Alone.”
Suzanne knew that wasn’t much of an alibi. In fact, it was a terrible alibi. “You didn’t go out at all?”
“No, I didn’t. Wait a minute . . .” Amber looked shocked, or at least pretended to look shocked. “Not you, too. Do you think I killed Teddy Hardwick?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think,” Suzanne said. “Sheriff Doogie is the one you have to convince.”
“He’s not buying any of her answers,” Missy said.
“Why not?” Suzanne asked.
“Because he’s a jerk,” Missy said.
“You really think that’s the reason?” Suzanne asked.
Amber hunched her shoulders forward in a defensive posture and said, “Maybe because I dated Teddy Hardwick at one time?”
Suzanne wanted to grit her teeth. So there had been a previous relationship with Hardwick. Could Doogie be onto something after all? Was Amber really the killer?
“I thought your old boyfriend was somebody named Curt,” Suzanne said.
“That was before,” Amber said.
“So you told Doogie a bold-faced lie,” Suzanne said. “Why would you do that?”
Amber ducked her head. “Why do you think? Because I was afraid. The sheriff’s a scary old guy.”
“Tell me exactly when you dated Hardwick,” Suzanne said.
“I don’t know, maybe a year ago?” Amber said.
“For how long?”
“A few months.”
“And you broke it off . . . why?” Suzanne asked.
“We just weren’t interested in each other,” Amber said.
“Their relationship ended not with a bang but a whimper,” Missy explained. “They were okay together, but nothing really sparked big-time. So now you can understand why Amber needs your help.”
“I wish Amber would have been more forthcoming about this earlier,” Suzanne said. “To me and to Sheriff Doogie.”
Melissa blew right past Suzanne’s statement. “Yes . . . well, Sheriff Doogie has undoubtedly convinced himself that Amber and Hardwick had a horrendously bad, emotional breakup, when they didn’t at all. And that she’s been plotting to destroy him.”
“If I had told Sheriff Doogie the truth, he’d for sure think that Teddy rejected me and that I killed him because of it,” Amber said in a pleading tone. “I mean, do you see how bad this looks?”
Suzanne leaned back in her chair. “I know you ladies came here seeking help, but I just don’t have the right answers.” In fact, I don’t have any answers.
Missy and Amber gazed at her, unhappiness written all over their faces.
“So now what?” Amber asked.
“I can give you some solid advice. Which is the same advice I’ve been giving you all along,” Suzanne said.
“What’s that?” Amber asked as Missy leaned forward anxiously.
“Get a lawyer.”
Amber just dropped her head in her hands and groaned.
CHAPTER 22
TONI was completely befuddled. They’d arrived at the ski loppet, signed in, and rented their cross-country skis and ski poles. Now Toni was trying to figure out if there was a left ski and a right ski.
“I think it’s like socks,” Suzanne said. “They’re interchangeable.”
“You think so?”
“Just give it a shot,” Suzanne said. She stepped into her skis, clicked the bindings closed, and grabbed her ski poles. “Along the way we can always make a few . . . adjustments.”
They were both dressed like ski bunnies, Suzanne in a white nylon ski jacket with a furry collar and Toni in a shiny black ski jacket that had a trendy moto feel. Petra had given them each a knit cap with a pom-pom on top and a strap that went under the chin to keep them extra warm. And they were layered up in long underwear, slacks, and knitted socks (again thanks to Petra) that went up to their knees.
“This is kind of a big deal, isn’t it?” Toni said.
Suzanne looked around. The young sponsors were there in full force, all of them dressed in fleece hoodies that said Journey’s End Youth Group. A dozen light stanchions, borrowed from the City Works Department, had been set up in the starting area. A food truck sold coffee, donuts, and hot dogs, there was a ski rental area, and at least twenty skiers were milling about, all geared up and ready to head out onto the trail.
Suzanne also noticed that Reverend Ethan Jakes was there. Right now he was deep in conversation with Mayor Mobley. The mayor wasn’t suited up for skiing but was bundled up in a dark green parka and an ugly plaid knit cap. As Mobley conversed with Jakes, he looked around, posturing importantly. Every once in a while, he glanced over in Suzanne’s direction. Not making eye contact, but letting her know that he was there watching.
“You ready to go?” Toni asked Suzanne.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Suzanne said. She drew a deep breath of fresh cold air and tried to clear her head. She didn’t want thoughts of Jakes or Mobley crashing in to distract her, ruining their moonlight ski trip.
Toni patted a fringed suede bag that hung down below her jacket. “You might have noticed, I brought along my trusty goatskin wine bag. Just in case.”
“And I’m guessing it’s filled to the brim?”
“With my favorite five-buck Chardonnay. And I got a bag of trail mix, too, in case we get hungry.”
“You realize that trail mix sounds like a healthy food, but it’s really just a sneaky way to eat M&M’S,” Suzanne said.
“Well, yeah. I knew that.”
They skied (badly) up to the starting gate, which was marked by two bamboo poles with blue flags fluttering on top.
“This is your group?” the starter asked them. “Just the two of you?”
“What you see is what you get,” Toni said. She’d already taken a generous hit of wine.
/> “Okay,” the starter said. “We’ve been starting a different group every five minutes so skiers don’t get all bunched up on the trail. That means you guys can go in”—he checked his watch—“about two minutes.”
“Great,” Suzanne said. Now that she was out here, she was looking forward to skiing. Yes, it was dark and a little bit cold, but once she got moving she figured she’d warm up considerably. She’d read somewhere that cross-country skiing burned at least five hundred calories an hour.
“Just so you know,” the starter said. “The trail is clearly marked and there are a couple of stops for hot cocoa and cider along the way. Plus, there’s a nice warming house at the halfway point in case you need a break.” He looked at his watch and lifted an arm. “You can start . . .” His arm came down. “Now.”
Suzanne and Toni both shoved off, excitement coursing through them, happy to be on the trail.
“This is great,” Toni cried as she whooshed along. She was skiing out ahead of Suzanne, staying carefully in the ski tracks the youth group had cut into the snow.
“Watch the trail,” Suzanne cautioned. “We don’t want to make any wrong turns.”
“No problem,” Toni called back to her. “It’s really well marked and I’ve got eagle eyes.”
“How are you doing otherwise?” As Suzanne watched, Toni seemed to be flailing a bit. She’d glide a few feet, then wave her arms as she negotiated a kind of stutter step.
“I’m a little tangled up on the actual technique,” Toni said. “Do I coordinate my right arm with my left leg or is it the other way around? And when I get so focused on kicking and poling, I forget to glide.”
“You’re doing just fine,” Suzanne said as she watched her up ahead. “Your arms and legs should move in opposition. That’s called the diagonal stride. Think of it as running on your skis and adding a little glide.”
“I think I can do that. Yeah, I know I can.”
They skied across an open space where long brown prairie grasses poked up through soft snow. Then they wove their way through a stand of blue-green pine trees that offered shelter from the wind and, finally, skis whispering in the snow, back out into open country again.