“Girls!” Jen called out, clearly not finding it as soothing. “Let Lia answer the question.” She turned to Lia. “Well?”
“Sorry, but I don’t have an answer about the craft fair yet. All I can say is I’m hopeful it will reopen.”
All four added their fervent hopes, too, which confirmed how important the Ninth Street Knits booth at the craft fair had become to them. The conversation then turned to other topics, as needles clacked and rows of stitches grew, giving Lia the breather she’d wanted and needed. She admired the beautiful raspberry yarn Diana was knitting into a sweater that looked luxuriously soft and smiled at the delicate flower-decorated baby cap Maureen was working on.
When she’d caught up with the others’ lives, Lia brought up Hayley’s situation. “She’s just not giving me a good reason why she wants to leave her job. I could sympathize more if it was something I could understand.”
“What has she said?” Maureen asked. Maureen worked in the personnel office of a small business and so had a particular interest.
“Very little. Just that it’s not working for her. I don’t know if it’s the work itself or the workplace.”
“If it’s the workplace, it’ll be an easy fix,” Maureen said. “Or at least easier. She can probably find a situation that’s better for her. If she’s found she just doesn’t like the work, that’ll be trickier.”
“I know. She’ll be coming to stay with me for a few days to think. I’m really hoping she’ll open up more during that time. I can’t offer advice if I don’t know what the problem is.”
“She might not be looking for advice,” Jen said. “Just support.”
Lia sighed. “True. And I realize she’s old enough to make her own decisions. It’s hard, though, to hold back.”
“Hayley’s a smart girl,” Diana said. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. When I was twenty-three there were so many things I wanted to do. It was awful to have to pick just one.”
“That’s something she threw out,” Lia said. “That she wasn’t sure it was what she wanted to do for the rest of her life.”
“If she wants to try something different,” Maureen said, “this is the time to do it. But I wouldn’t go too far afield if I were her. Or jump ship too soon. She’s been at this first job less than a year, right? That might not look too good on her résumé.”
Lia nodded. All things she’d thought of herself and agreed with. But would Hayley?
They moved on to other topics, Tracy happy about her twins’ apparent preference for playing baseball instead of the more injury-prone football, and Diana asking for any book recommendations—and getting several. During it all, Daphne stayed contentedly by Lia’s side, ignoring occasional invitations from the others to come over for a petting.
When Lia set aside her afghan squares—which were adding up nicely—to give her fingers a rest, she lifted the large cat onto her lap. In true ragdoll mode, Daphne went almost totally limp during the move, as if to say, I’m yours. Do with me what you will. Jen had apparently taken notice over time of Daphne’s and Lia’s particular connection, because at the end of the evening, as everyone was packing up and saying good-byes, she asked Lia to stay behind for a minute. When they were alone, she sprang her surprising request.
“I have a huge favor to ask. Would you take Daphne for a while?”
“Take her? You mean take her home? Now?”
“I know, it’s last-minute and a terrible imposition. But the neighbor who was going to take her got sick. We have painters coming to do our hall, stairway, and bedrooms. Daphne needs to be away from the hassle. She’d be upset to be shut away from it all, but if she wasn’t, she’d only get herself into trouble. I wouldn’t ask except I see how comfortable Daphne is with you. And you like her, too, right? It would just be a few days. You could bring her back next week, or I could come get her when things are back to normal. How about it?”
Lia looked at the desperation in Jen’s eyes. As a former cat owner, she understood the need to keep pets safely out of the way during certain home projects. Hayley was coming the next day, but that shouldn’t be a problem. And Daphne was an awfully sweet cat.
“Sure,” she said, and soon found her car loaded with a litter box, litter bag, food and water bowls, cat cushion, and toys, along with a Daphne-loaded carrier that was buckled safely onto the back seat. Lia had come to her knitting group for a respite and was going home with a cat.
“Hang on, Daphne,” Lia said as she took a deep breath and pulled away from Jen’s house. “This will be a change for both of us. But it’ll be a temporary one. No matter what you think of it, keep that in mind. You’ll be back with Jen before you know it.”
Chapter 6
You got a cat?” Hayley, two bulging totes in hand, stood at Lia’s front door and stared at Daphne, who blinked her electric blue eyes back from her place on the sofa.
“It’s Jen Beasley’s and just for a few days,” Lia said. She was amazed at how easily Daphne had adjusted to the move. After fully inspecting her new quarters from top to bottom, the cat settled in to sample her food and water bowls in Lia’s kitchen. She’d nibbled and lapped a bit, then claimed the left cushion of Lia’s sofa as her own. The previous night she’d spent in Lia’s bed.
“She’s adorable!” Hayley squatted down before Daphne, who, after a brief sniff, licked at her hand. “Or is it a he?”
“She. Her name’s Daphne, and she’s luckily okay with being here. I don’t think I’d be able to deal with a frazzled cat, what with everything else that’s gone on.” Lia picked up the smaller of Hayley’s bags and led her up the stairs to the guest room. As Hayley unpacked, Lia updated her on the murder news.
“Since you were here I’ve learned that Darren Peebles’s murder happened hours before I showed up at the barn.”
Hayley paused midway between bag and dresser with a folded tee in hand. “And before Belinda arrived?”
“I spoke with Belinda a couple of days ago by phone. She told me that a neighbor assured police she had seen Belinda drive off from her house half an hour before I got to the barn Sunday morning, which means she probably arrived only minutes before I did. That same neighbor said she could see Belinda through sheer curtains, pacing inside her house most of the night before.”
“Nosy neighbor.” Hayley slid the tee into a drawer.
“A concerned neighbor. Also a woman who apparently was up most of the night herself with a colicky baby.”
“Well, that’s good! Not about the baby, I mean, but that clears Belinda.”
“It seems to, although someone could argue that the baby’s mother couldn’t possibly have been aware of Belinda’s movements the entire night or even be sure it was her. But it doesn’t look like they have any incriminating evidence from the crime scene, against Belinda or anyone else, since no one’s been charged.”
“That’s a good thing, right? For Belinda?” Hayley slipped a denim jacket onto a hanger and hung it in the closet.
“Short-term good. I’m not so sure about long-term,” Lia said, taking socks from Hayley’s bag to stack in another drawer. “What I mean is, not charging anyone leaves a lot of suspicion hanging out there. I’ve already overheard some foolish speculations voiced in the supermarket when I was there on Monday. That kind of thing has a way of spreading.”
“You better believe it,” Hayley agreed. “Twitter, Facebook. Gossip can make it around the world in minutes.”
“Oh, you’re right! The Crandalsburg Craft Fair has a Facebook page. I didn’t think to check it.”
Hayley grabbed her phone from the bed and started tapping. She studied her screen for several seconds. “Nothing much on that page.”
“Good.”
“But that’s not to say nobody’s talking on their own pages.”
Not good.
“Are you friends with many locals on Facebook?”
/> Lia shook her head. “I use it mostly to keep in touch with my old friends back in York.”
“Well, you might want to connect with the craft fair’s followers—you know, people who liked its Facebook page—just to keep tabs. Twitter, too.”
Lia nodded. She watched Hayley put away the last of her things and close up her bags. “Did you have any problem getting time off?”
“No, not really.” Hayley grinned sheepishly. “They kinda think you needed looking after, you know, what with coming across a dead body and all.”
“Hayley!”
“Well, I do worry about you. That sort of thing can be traumatic.”
“Do I look traumatized?”
“People show their feelings in different ways. I learned that in my psych class. Okay, so I exaggerated a little. But you have to admit that it’s frightening to have a murderer on the loose. Wouldn’t you worry about me if I were living alone?”
“I would,” Lia admitted. “But I doubt that our murderer is someone roaming the streets with a lethal handcrafted pot in hand, looking for a new victim. Darren Peebles was surely murdered by someone who had a major grudge against him. Unless I happen to threaten this person in the same way, which I can’t imagine, I’d say I’m pretty safe.”
Hayley folded up her totes and dropped them in a corner, then followed Lia out of the guest room and down the stairs. “What I’m most worried about,” Lia said over her shoulder, “is what this unsolved murder means for Belinda and the craft fair.” When they reached the bottom of the stairs she asked, “Coffee?”
Hayley shook her head. “Water. I’m trying to drink less caffeine.” She went on to the kitchen, where she filled a glass and added ice cubes. Lia considered following her daughter’s lead but instead fixed a hazelnut coffee for herself in her mini coffee maker. They carried their drinks to the living room, where Hayley carefully settled on the sofa next to Daphne. The cat lifted her head briefly before tucking it back between her paws.
“What I meant a minute ago,” Lia said, taking a chair, “is that suspicion hanging over Belinda’s head or over the craft fair’s reputation will be a bad thing for both. If Darren’s murder becomes a cold case, the Crandalsburg Craft Fair might become known for that instead of for all its fine offerings.”
“The Handcrafted-Murder Fair!”
“Yes, and it wouldn’t be a joking matter.”
“I know. And I’d hate to see Belinda go through that. She’s not the easiest person to like—” At Lia’s wince, she shrugged. “I’m sorry, but she isn’t! Yes, she has her nicer side—”
“She was very good to me,” Lia said. “You remember when Dad died, and both of us were total wrecks. Belinda stepped right up. She helped me make all the necessary arrangements when I could barely see straight, and she got us over the worst.”
“She was amazing,” Hayley agreed. “I remember her running out for ice cream at that time, when I didn’t think I could eat, and coming back with my favorite double chocolate fudge. But not everyone sees that side of her, do they? And she doesn’t hold back when someone irritates her. I’m talking about even little things like, oh, someone dawdling too long ahead of her in a checkout line or something. But that just makes it easier for people—some people—to want to think the worst of her when they’re given a chance.”
Lia had to agree that Hayley was right. “I don’t want to just sit by and let that happen, Hayley. Belinda would simply dig in, and that won’t help. I’d hate to see her world come crashing down around her because someone decided to murder her ex-husband.”
“And you plan to prevent that by . . . ?”
Lia paused, thinking. “Maybe,” she said, “by looking at the situation from a different angle than the police are. From the inside out, you might say. I’ve noticed in just about every crime show I’ve seen that people freeze up a little when they’re asked questions by the police. And they hold back things, thinking that the little tidbit they know couldn’t possibly be important enough to mention. But they might share it with someone like me, or you.”
“Me?”
“You’re good at talking to people, Hayley. You always have been. And you said you love Crandalsburg. This could give you a chance to get to know it better. As long as you’re careful, of course, and don’t let on about what you’re going after.
Hayley smiled. “And talking to craft fair vendors might give me some ideas, too. I mean career ideas.” She reached over to Daphne to stroke her soft fur.
“Oh?”
“Right. I’ve been thinking a little about what I might like to do instead of marketing. I used to love making baskets, remember?”
“Hayley, that was back in Girl Scouts.”
“I know, but I could do more with it. Or maybe make cupcakes. That’s a big thing now.”
It wasn’t exactly what Lia had in mind when suggesting Hayley could help out. She’d wanted to keep her active and not moping around the house. Cupcakes? Good heavens! But Lia said, “Talking to the vendors about their own work would be interesting, certainly, but my hope is that it would bring out something useful for clearing Belinda.”
“Sure, Mom. But might as well aim for both, right?”
“Right.” Lia drained her coffee mug and stood. “First things first. I should get a few things started for dinner.”
“Let me take you out. I never did that for Mother’s Day, you know.” When Lia hesitated, she added, “And if we’re out and about, I can start getting to know Crandalsburgers. Ha! Sounds like they come with ketchup and onions! But you know what I mean. We won’t make any progress by staying at home.”
Lia smiled. That was her goal, after all. How much they might learn while sitting in a restaurant was debatable, but with Hayley, one never knew. “Okay. Let’s try Hoffman’s,” she said, naming a family-run place that wasn’t too expensive. “With luck, they’ll have a table available.”
Lia changed from her comfortable at-home clothes to a knee-length skirt and a nice top. Hayley, though, had merely run a brush through her hair and added a touch of pink lip gloss, staying with her jeans and tee. A bit more casual than Lia thought was appropriate before quickly correcting herself. Not appropriate for herself, necessarily. But twentysomethings, she was aware, approached it differently. Clean and/or relatively new was dressing up for them. And she had to admit her daughter looked lovely as usual and relaxed, both very good things.
They walked the few blocks to the town center, where Hoffman’s was located, the number of pedestrians gradually increasing as they closed in. The mild weather and a Friday night had drawn many, like them, from their homes. Lia saw a policeman up ahead, strolling and nodding to greeters, and she noticed Hayley staring at him. As they drew closer, Hayley cried, “I don’t believe it!”
“What?” Lia asked.
Hayley darted forward. “Brady! Brady McCormick. Is that you?”
The officer turned, and Lia saw the stunned look on the officer’s face gradually replaced by a huge grin. “Hayley Geiger! What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing? Never mind that. What are you doing here? And in a police uniform!” Hayley gave the young man a hug, which, Lia noticed, brought a flush to his face that nearly matched his red hair.
Lia caught up with her daughter, who turned to her. “Mom, this is Brady McCormick. We were in drama class together at Mercer,” she said, naming their high school.
“And social studies,” Brady added. “And English.”
“That’s right! So what are you doing here in Crandalsburg?”
“I’m on the police force.”
“Well, obviously! But why here?”
“After high school, I joined the army. When I got out, I took classes at the community college, which helped get me into the police academy. When I graduated, Crandalsburg had an opening, so here I am.”
“Wow! That’s so co
ol!”
“Your parents must be very proud of you,” Lia said. She’d never met his parents, or Brady, either. But he certainly came across as pride-worthy.
Brady acknowledged Lia’s comment with a modest smile and asked Hayley, “So what are you doing here? Do you live in Crandalsburg?” Lia thought he looked hopeful.
“No, my mom does. I live in Philly, but that might change. Who knows, I might end up here! Hey, Brady, it’s so neat running into you like this. We have to keep in touch.” Hayley whipped out her cell phone, and they exchanged numbers, Brady taking great pains to get hers right.
Hayley and Lia left him to his police duties, which, as far as Lia could tell, consisted at the moment of strolling the very well-behaved beat of Crandalsburg’s town center. If she were his mother, she would hope that would be the worst he’d be called on to do.
* * *
* * *
I don’t remember you mentioning Brady before,” Lia said as she scanned the menu at Hoffman’s. “Did you know each other well?” The German-themed restaurant, she found, offered dishes like sauerbraten and bratwurst along with lighter fare.
“Hardly at all.” Hayley flipped a page in her menu.
“Then why so eager to reconnect?”
Hayley looked up, her lip pulled to one side. “Maybe a little bit of guilt?”
“Guilt?”
“I think I was a bit of a snobby brat back in high school. Brady was a nice guy, but kind of quiet, and he didn’t fit in with my group of friends, my clique.” Hayley made air quotes along with an eye roll. “I’d like to make up for that.”
Lia nodded. “The teen years tend to be self-centered ones. Not everyone gets an opportunity to make things right. So you’re not interested in Brady other than that?”
“Mom, it’s not like back in your day. Not every boy-girl thing has to be a romance. Now girls have guy friends all the time and vice versa.”
“My day wasn’t exactly in the Victorian age,” Lia said with a laugh, “but, yes, I realize that some things have changed.” Lia was pretty sure that the look she’d seen on Brady’s face when Hayley hugged him was not “guy friend,” but she let it drop. “So you’ll come to the craft fair tomorrow?”
A Wicked Yarn Page 4