A Wicked Yarn

by Emmie Caldwell

  “I’d love to talk to Eva,” Lia said. “Is there some way you could arrange it?”

  Belinda thought about that. “Let me think about it. I’ll see what I can do.”

  Lia left to get back to her booth, satisfied that Belinda would be fine—at least for the day.

  Chapter 24

  Joan still hadn’t shown up, but Lia saw that Annie was at her pottery booth. She was mulling over the best way to approach her when her phone rang. It was Hayley.

  “Hi, Mom. Got a minute?”

  “Yes, and I’m glad to hear from you.”

  “Yeah, sorry I couldn’t talk last night. But you saw the Facebook and Twitter posts, right?”

  Lia sighed. “Along with the rest of the world.”

  “How did Belinda take it?”

  “She didn’t know about them until I told her this morning.” Lia told Hayley about Belinda’s strange invitation to meet up with Joan, only to be left stranded.

  “That’s weird. But so is Joan,” Hayley said. “Mom, you need to drown those posts out.”

  “Drown them out?”

  “Yes! Hardly anybody responded, contradicted, or just plain changed the subject. You and all the craft fair vendors need to flood the craft fair page with positive comments. Twitter, too, and Instagram, and everywhere you can. You all have let Joan have the last word. Get busy and turn that around.”

  Lia slapped her head. “Of course! Why didn’t we think of that? Maybe we were too stunned. And we’re not clever marketers like you, Hayley. I’ll spread the word.”

  “It’ll make a difference, I guarantee. I’ve already started, and I’ll respond to and retweet anything positive I see.”

  Lia rang off and immediately got busy putting up her own posts. Then she urged Olivia to do the same. Leaving her booth under her dependable neighbor’s watch once more, Lia went over to Bob Langston’s suncatcher booth and told him about Hayley’s suggestion. He lit up like one of his craft pieces and pulled out his phone. She then moved on to speak to Carolyn Hanson, whose cakes and pies had been selling steadily, she’d noticed, but definitely not as well as on other Sundays. Lia waited until Carolyn was between customers, then explained what she was getting started.

  “Great idea!” Carolyn waved toward her daughter, who was helping her that day. “We’ll both pitch in.” Her round face darkened. “Joan shouldn’t get away with that kind of meanness. We should all be pulling together, not jumping ship.”

  Encouraged, Lia thanked her. The next booth was Annie’s. Lia had wanted to talk to her, and this gave her a great opening. But Annie was dealing with a shopper at the moment, so Lia passed by to spread the word to Mark Simmons and other vendors until she saw that Annie was free and doubled back.

  “Hi, Annie,” she greeted the potter and launched into the plan to muffle Joan’s negative posts.

  “Worth a try,” Annie conceded, realigning the handmade mugs that her last shopper had been examining. “But that won’t stop Joan, you know. She’s on a tear.”

  “Why, though?” Lia asked. “If she decided to pull out of the craft fair, why not just go?’

  “Probably because she’s the kind of person who has to destroy whatever she leaves behind so it can’t succeed without her. And because she’s a miserable human being altogether. I, for one, will be glad—make that delirious—not to hear her voice all day long, every weekend, ever again.” Annie emphasized her last words with an emphatic pound of a mug against the countertop. Fortunately it was sturdy enough to handle the stress.

  “I can imagine that being an ordeal,” Lia said. “You seemed to have reached your breaking point yesterday. I wondered at the time what had tipped it.”

  Annie flushed and shook her head. “Nothing I care to talk about. I just want to put it, and that woman, out of my head forever.”

  “Excuse me,” an older woman who’d stopped at Joan’s booth called out. “Do you know how I can buy one of these watercolors?”

  “No!” Annie barked, causing the woman to flinch.

  Lia quickly took over. “The artist isn’t in today,” she explained in a more soothing tone. “Perhaps I could take your contact information for Joan to get in touch with you?”

  Apparently happy with that idea, the woman scrounged through her purse for pen and paper. She scribbled several lines down and handed the note to Lia, who anchored it at a noticeable spot inside Joan’s booth. By that time, Annie had gone to the back of her booth, where she stood fiddling with her stock, her back firmly turned. Receiving the message, Lia moved on.

  * * *

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, Lia checked her phone for any new social media posts by Joan and was delighted to find none. Those from the previous night had been pushed out of sight by the flood of crafters’ more positive posts. Thank goodness, Lia thought with a sigh of relief, and she settled fairly contentedly in her chair to knit.

  She’d barely finished a row when she heard, “Is that my alpaca sweater?” Paulette headed over, her expression eager.

  Lia stood and held her work up by the needles. “I’ve finished the pattern at the lower edge of the body, as you see, and am working my way up with the solid color.”

  “It’s beautiful!” Paulette’s eyes shone. “The colors are gorgeous, just like in the picture. Can I touch it?”

  “Absolutely. It’s yours, after all.” Lia laid the work carefully on her counter and watched as Paulette fingered the silky-soft stitches.

  “It’s so light!”

  “You’ll be surprised how warm it will keep you without the bulk. I’m really enjoying working on this,” she said.

  Paulette was still murmuring over her burgeoning sweater-to-be when Belinda appeared at the side of the booth and waved Lia over.

  “I’m stumped. I can’t think of a way for you to talk to Eva Mathis without including Adam. We were never really friends. In fact, I’m sure she dislikes me, so inviting her to lunch or something isn’t going to work.”

  “Eva Mathis?” Paulette asked, overhearing.

  “Do you know her?” Lia asked.

  “I do.” Paulette looked like she could say more but stopped there.

  “I’d love to speak with her. Any idea how I could manage that?”

  “Actually, I do,” Paulette said. “I happen to know she walks her dog in the park every morning at nine like clockwork. I go that way often on my morning jog. If you want, we could, ah, run into her.” Paulette grinned at her little joke. “Then I could introduce you.”

  “Would you? That’d be great. Are you free tomorrow?”

  Paulette smiled. “I am now. After our lunch the other day, Todd and I talked more about Darren’s murder, and I’ve thought about it a lot.” She looked toward Belinda. “I’m really sorry about all the problems it must be causing you. I think too many people have jumped to wrong conclusions, and I’d like to help change that. In fact,” she said, holding up a bag, “I made a special effort to do some shopping here at the fair, and I’ve been urging my patients to do the same.”

  “Oh! Th . . . thank you,” Belinda stammered, clearly stunned and touched.

  “And,” Paulette said to Lia, “I’m happy to do what I can to help find who really murdered Darren.”

  “That’s wonderful, Paulette,” Lia said.

  “Shall we meet tomorrow at the park entrance?” Paulette asked Lia. “A little before nine?”

  “I’ll be there,” Lia assured her and patted Belinda’s hand encouragingly as her friend stared, apparently, and uncharacteristically, still at a loss for words.

  Chapter 25

  Lia waited at the entrance of Gunther Park, not far from the historical marker where Martin Brewer had harangued another man about the Schumacher barn. She’d arrived early. A cool breeze played with her hair, and she was glad she’d worn a light jacket on that overcast morning. A
few dog walkers came and went, but none fit the description of Eva Mathis that Belinda had given her. She hoped this wouldn’t be the day Eva decided to explore another route.

  “Not going to happen,” Paulette had assured her when Lia brought up the possibility the previous day. “Eva’s a woman who sticks to her routines fanatically. Plus, she’s told me how her little dog loves the park. She fusses over the creature endlessly and wouldn’t dream of upsetting it.”

  That had reassured Lia at the time, but as she brushed hair from her face and saw no sign of a blond woman with a small dog, she began to wonder. She brightened as she spotted Paulette crossing the street toward her, dressed in jogging shorts, a short-sleeved tee, and running shoes. The sight of those bare arms and legs made Lia shiver, but Paulette’s flushed cheeks showed she’d worked up enough heat on her run to be comfortable.

  “Morning!” Paulette greeted her and nodded at the thermos in Lia’s hand. “Got any to spare?”

  “Absolutely.” She held up her small tote. “And cinnamon buns.”

  “You’re an angel.” Paulette waved toward an empty bench just inside the park.

  As she doled out her treats, Lia asked, “So what do you suggest as the best approach to use with Eva?”

  “Through her dog, definitely. Eva has limited interests, and the dog is a consuming one. Make friends with it, and you make friends with her.”

  “No problem.” Lia sipped at her coffee. “I genuinely love animals.”

  “Well, this one is . . . Oh! Here she comes.”

  Lia looked toward the entrance. A slim woman with amazing long blond hair had turned into the park, holding a small dog on a pink leash. Lia went from admiring Eva’s designer hoodie and leggings to puzzlement over the dog. It seemed to be wearing a baby’s onesie, and as it drew closer, pulling hard on the leash, she saw it apparently was bald!

  Paulette pulled Lia up from the bench and called out, “Eva! What a nice surprise.”

  The blond woman looked over, a tentative smile on her face before recognition kicked in. “Paulette. Hi!” She stopped, then bent down to pat the dog as though apologizing for the pause in its routine.

  Paulette hurried over with Lia. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “And you, too,” Eva said. “My shoulder’s so much better,” she added, rolling it.

  Lia realized Eva must have been a patient of Paulette’s, who she recalled was a physical therapist.

  “Glad to hear it,” Paulette said. “Eva, this is Lia Geiger. She’s fairly new to Crandalsburg. I’m showing her the park.”

  As Eva smiled politely, Lia said, “Your dog looks so sweet. What kind is it?”

  Eva picked up the little creature, who made Lia’s ragdoll cat seem like a huge, puffy marshmallow in comparison, and hugged it. “This is Eloise. She’s a hairless terrier. I’m terribly allergic to dog hair, so she’s the only kind I can have.”

  The dog stretched its nose toward Lia in a friendly manner. “May I pet her?”

  “Of course. She loves people. Don’t you, Eloise?” When speaking to the dog, Eva’s voice took on the kind of high-pitched baby talk that tended to grate on Lia, but she smiled and stroked the dog’s head, startled at how soft the skin was, and how pleasantly warm. Eloise licked at her hand. She really was a sweet dog.

  “Does she need to be kept covered?” Paulette asked, indicating the flannel onesie.

  “She gets chilled so easily,” Eva said. “I always put something on her on cooler days. This one is kind of loose. It’s not easy to find a perfect fit.”

  “Lia, I’ll bet you could knit something that would work,” Paulette said. “Lia’s an expert knitter,” she explained.

  Taking her cue, Lia agreed she absolutely could knit something to size. “I take special orders for my Ninth Street Knitters group all the time.”

  “You do? That might be perfect!”

  “Why don’t we walk along with you,” Paulette suggested, “and you two can discuss it.”

  “Yes, Eloise needs to get her walk.” Eva set the dog down, and they strolled behind it, talking about knitted dog sweaters and pausing when Eloise paused, which was often.

  After the subject of all possible knitted dog items, including booties and hats, was thoroughly explored, Paulette introduced the one Lia was there for. “That was terrible what happened to your husband’s partner, Darren Peebles.”

  Lia watched Eva’s reaction, but she seemed more upset over Eloise chewing on a dirty stick than Darren’s murder. “Eloise, no!” Eva cried, quickly pulling it from the dog’s mouth. When she straightened up, there was no discernable flush to her cheeks or noticeable tear in her eye. “Adam was very upset about it,” she said, nodding.

  “Was he the first to be called by police?” Lia asked. “I understood Darren had no next of kin.”

  “They did call the house pretty soon,” Eva said. “I took the call.” The first sign of emotion, a faint pinkness in her cheeks, appeared. “Adam was out of town. He sometimes turns his phone off, so it took a little while to reach him.”

  “That must have been—” Lia jumped as Eloise let out a high-pitched yelp. Lia had inadvertently stepped on its hairless tail. Eloise then nipped at Lia’s ankle, causing her to yelp.

  “Eloise!” Eva scooped up her pet. “Are you all right?” She scowled at Lia as she cuddled the dog.

  “I’m so sorry,” Lia said, rubbing at her ankle. “I didn’t see that she’d stopped.”

  “You have to be careful! She’s very delicate!”

  Eloise’s teeth hadn’t felt that delicate, but at least they hadn’t broken through the skin. Lia apologized once again, fearing she’d antagonized Eva and willing to suffer a little unacknowledged pain for the greater good. She tried to make amends with a friendly scratch of Eloise’s head. Fortunately, the dog licked her hand, and Eva seemed to relax. They continued their walk, Eva carrying her dog.

  “Do you know what your husband intends to do about the Schumacher barn?” Lia asked after they’d gone a short ways. “I ask because I’m part of the Crandalsburg Craft Fair, which is in it. Darren intended to tear it down.”

  Eva shook her head. “That was a very bad idea, and I told him so.”

  “You told Darren?”

  “His planets were not in alignment. That plan wouldn’t have worked well.”

  “Ah, he must have been a Gemini.”

  Eva looked at Lia in surprise. “He was! Because of that, of course, he tended to rush his decisions.”

  Lia nodded, happy to have remembered Darren’s birth date from a celebration Belinda had once arranged years ago that happened to coincide with Tom’s birthday. “Geminis just can’t help it, can they?” That she had no real knowledge of, but it seemed to be the point Eva had been making.

  Eva set Eloise down, apparently no longer worried Lia would crush her. “I tried to explain it all to Darren, and I even gave him a book to study. He seemed to want to learn, but his impulsiveness reigned. It drove Adam crazy sometimes. Adam’s a Leo.”

  “Ah.” Lia assumed a look of understanding and avoided looking at Paulette, who happily had dropped back a bit. “So Adam might not go through with the sale?”

  “I have no idea. What with all that’s happened—about Darren, I mean—Adam’s been awfully busy. He hasn’t had time to discuss his own chart with me.”

  “I can understand that, though he really should take the time, shouldn’t he?”

  Eva sighed. “Not all of us understand the importance.”

  Lia wanted to bring the conversation back to Adam’s out-of-town trip at the time of Darren’s murder, but Eva preferred to get back to dog sweaters. They ended up with Lia giving Eva her address and phone number to arrange a time to look over catalogues of patterns and yarn colors for Eloise’s sweater.

  As they parted ways, Lia wondered how quickly she could lear
n enough astrology in case she was called on for future discussion of the subject. She also wondered, as she reached for her sore ankle, what Eva would think about a knitted muzzle for Eloise. Worth a try, she thought as she rubbed.

  * * *

  * * *

  Paulette jogged off toward her home, and Lia pulled out an address Belinda had written down for her. It was Joan’s. She had her phone number, too, but Lia wanted to speak to the artist face-to-face to try to convince her to undo the damage her posts had done. Or at the very least, learn what was going through the woman’s head. Joan’s street wasn’t far from the park, so it seemed like a good time to go.

  Still learning her way around Crandalsburg, Lia used the map on her phone to guide her. A reappearance of the sun and calming of the breeze had warmed the morning enough that she unzipped her jacket and pushed the sleeves up as she walked.

  “Good morning!” a woman whom Lia recognized as living on her own street called as they neared each other, and Lia responded in kind, glad that the neighbor continued on instead of stopping to say more. Though not pressed for time, Lia was still forming her thoughts on exactly what to say to Joan. She checked her map and turned right at the next corner to continue straight ahead. After two blocks, she read the house numbers and walked until she found Joan’s pretty redbrick home, glad to spot a light shining in a downstairs window.

  Lia climbed the three steps up to the porch and rang the doorbell. There was no sound of footsteps from within. She rang again, then knocked several times. Still no response. Lia might have given up at that point except for the fact that Joan’s red Honda was parked at the curb, the SUV Lia had seen Joan climb out of several times in the craft fair parking lot. That, plus the light inside the house, persuaded her Joan must be home. Lia pulled out her phone.

  She could hear the rings from her call faintly through the door—not a landline number, but a cell phone’s, which convinced her Joan was inside. Was she simply avoiding Lia? Possibly, but that would have been very unlike the artist. Joan wasn’t a person who avoided confrontation. She courted it. The back of Lia’s neck began to tingle. Something was wrong.