Inherit the Wool

by Betty Hechtman

  “It sure worked. Everybody ran out without a look back.” Lucinda had already finished with her first ball of yarn and reached for another. She listened with rapt attention as I described finding Vanessa in the Lodge and our trip to the hospital. “What happened? Did you think the bomb thing scared her into a heart attack?”

  I shook my head and told her what Dr. Gendel had said about the air embolism. And then I added my experience tasting Vanessa’s wine. Lucinda winced. “Maybe that wasn’t the smartest thing to do.”

  “It was the quickest way to find out what was up with the wine,” I said. “What do you think those bomb squad boys would have said if I suggested they check out the wine?”

  Lucinda nodded in agreement. “None of those officers appreciate help from a nonpro sleuth. Well, except for Dane. But then I think he likes everything you do.”

  “Funny you should say that.” I recounted the effect the tainted wine had on me and who had done the cleanup job.

  “Like I said, he’s enamored with everything you do, including throwing up.” She punctuated it with a laugh. “But getting back to when Vanessa was doing the drinking. So you think the plan was that she’d be immobilized and wouldn’t be able to evacuate with the rest of us when the bomb threat came in.”

  “Exactly. And whoever it was could take their time injecting her with the air. Apparently, it takes quite a bit to do the job.” Lucinda was a whiz at rewinding the balls. She kept finishing one and taking another, while I struggled along. “There was a certain amount of choreography needed to pull it off,” I said. Someone had to drop the drug in Vanessa’s wine, place the bomb and then make the call. And they did it right in front of our eyes,” I said, shaking my head with regret. “I was so busy trying to smooth over the whole knitting business and everything else, I wasn’t paying much attention to who was where. You were right in the middle of the group. Did you see anything?”

  A look of understanding came over Lucinda’s angular face. “It didn’t register until just now what you were saying. You mean, one of your group is the one who pumped her with air? Geez, that’s sure not having team spirit.”

  “It has to be. I don’t think there is some random murderer running around Vista Del Mar who just happened to focus on Vanessa.” I let out a sigh of regret. “I feel responsible. I should have ignored Kevin St. John and not left until I saw that everyone got out. Now I have her blood on my hands.”

  “Nonsense,” Lucinda said. “You weren’t dealing with a bunch of kids. There was no reason for you to think they all wouldn’t leave on their own. And Vanessa hardly seemed the type to be knocked out by one glass of wine. Whose idea was it to have the retreat here?”

  “I see where you’re going. The only problem is that it was Vanessa who wanted me to set up a retreat for them.”

  “If whoever had killed Vanessa somewhere else, they might have gotten away with it. But with you on the case, they’re as good as caught,” my friend said.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence. Maybe I should have you talk to my mother. She’s still hung up on me getting a certificate from somewhere to prove I’m a professional.” Lucinda knew all about my mother’s standing offer to send me to cooking school in Paris or a detective academy in Los Angeles.

  “Anytime. You’re a professional at lots of things. Does she realize how popular your desserts are at the Blue Door? It used to be that people just ordered their dessert before their entrée because they were afraid we’d run out. Now they’ve even started ordering their dessert when they make a reservation. They don’t even ask what it is anymore, just that it was made by you.”

  “Spoken like a true best friend. Thank you,” I said, taking a mock bow. It was particularly interesting that Lucinda and I had become such good friends despite the fact that she was closer to my mother’s age than mine

  “And when it comes to sleuthing, isn’t the proof really in who’s been the one to find the guilty party? All I’m saying is that there’s a better chance the killer will be found out because you’re on the case.”

  I found myself blushing at all the praise and was a little bit uncomfortable. I ended the line of conversation by bringing up Zak. “We have to consider him, too.”

  “But he wasn’t even sitting with us. I don’t even remember seeing him,” Lucinda said.

  “That’s kind of the point.” I told her about my stop in the Lodge before coming there. “I saw this woman I knew. Maybe knew is the wrong word. There was no one behind the registration counter yesterday morning and she and another woman were trying to check in and Madeleine asked me to help out. I can’t believe she actually got me to climb over that big counter.” I rocked my head remembering how Kevin had blown up when he saw me there. “But I’ve gotten off what I was trying to say. She was sitting right about where Vanessa sat last night and she had a coffee drink on the end table just like Vanessa had her wine. When I touched the coffee cup, the woman didn’t even look up from her book.” I looked at Lucinda directly to see if she understood what I was getting at.

  “So, technically someone not even with us could have come up from behind and slipped something in the wine.” Lucinda appeared stricken. “I better not tell Tag. He’ll freak out and worry that someone could spike my drink or that something like that could happen at the Blue Door.”

  There was a knock at the door before it opened and Cloris pushed in a cart with the coffee and tea service for the workshop. It was hard to miss her choppy-looking multicolored hair.

  “Sorry this wasn’t set up before. Everything is a little off after last night.”

  “Then you were here for the excitement,” I said, surprised because she usually worked in the kitchen

  “They were shorthanded in the café last night and I’m always looking for extra hours,” the young woman said. “It was crazy. It’s so much easier when we have mostly groups. Last night it was all individuals wanting drinks and food.” She turned to me. “I’m sorry to say it but that woman from your group was very rude. She got very snippy when I said I couldn’t start a tab for her and bring the wine to her.” Cloris shook her head at the memory. “It’s hard enough for me to make it out into the main room to pick up glasses and dishes.” She digressed and started complaining that the pool players were the worst and there were dishes and glasses all over the floor next to the pool table.

  “Then you were out in the main room?” I asked.

  “Several times.” She moved the tin of cookies and put the coffee and hot water urns on the counter.

  “Then you must have had a chance to look around,” I said. “Did you happen to notice somebody with a colorful recycled grocery bag?”

  “There were so many bags of all sorts,” she said. “I got my foot caught at least twice in the handles of one kind of bag or another. To be honest, I didn’t really pay much attention to what kind of bags they were.” She stopped and her eyes widened. “Oh, you mean the so-called bomb was in one of them?” I nodded and she let out an exasperated sigh. “Of all the stupid things to do—a prank bomb so Vista Del Mar will get plugged in again.” She threw up her hands.

  “You probably get familiar with the guests,” I said. “There’s a guy in my group,” I began, and was about to describe Zak when she nodded.

  “Zak Stevens,” she said. “He introduced himself when I gave him his breakfast even though I kind of recognized him from WNN.”

  “Did you happen to see him in the Lodge last night?” I asked.

  She stopped to consider for a moment. “I don’t think so, but there were a couple of guys wearing baseball caps—I don’t know about you, but I think hats really disguise people. They throw shadows on their faces and cover their hair.” She shrugged. “Sorry for the long answer. All I’m saying is one of those guys could have been him.” She put out cups and the accessories for the drinks.

  “You’re right about hats,” I said and recounted how I’d checked in the women the day before who’d been wearing hats and explained seeing the Noodlem
an woman in the Lodge. “I only recognized her by her cargo pants and rope sandals.”

  Cloris was close to being finished and I realized she didn’t know about Vanessa. I told her, leaving it just that she’d had a heart attack, and Cloris looked stricken.

  “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I didn’t mean to speak ill of her.” She opened the cookie tin and saw that it was getting low. “Your group must be so upset. I’m going back to the kitchen right now and find some treats to add to your drinks.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I know your friends aren’t exactly enthused about knitting, but what did they do—have a yarn fight after I left?” Crystal said, walking into the meeting room. Lucinda and I had made a lot of progress getting the yarn wound up, but there was still a tangle in the middle of the table. My helper was already taking off her black fleece jacket, revealing her colorful outfit. With the orange shirt layered over a yellow one it was as if the sun had just come out in the dim room.

  “No yarn fight,” I said with a chuckle, imagining what that would look like, “but something did happen— ”

  “You mean the prank bomb threat?” Crystal said, pulling out one of the chairs. “I stopped for coffee at Maggie’s and heard someone talking about it.”

  “Life in a small town,” I said. “So much for Kevin St. John’s desire to make it seem like it never happened.” Crystal went to pull a ball of yarn out of the mess and I explained I’d been having an impromptu knitting event in the Lodge when we were ordered to evacuate.

  “Now I understand.” She began working with the yarn she’d pulled out and was like a speed demon when it came to untangling the skein from the mess.

  “Did whoever happen to mention anything else happening?” I said.

  “You mean there’s more?” She’d finished with the first ball and grabbed another. I told her the edited version of what happened to Vanessa and Crystal was stunned. “That’s scary. Someone our age has a heart attack and dies. That’s it, I’m becoming a vegan.” Crystal picked right up on the woes Vanessa’s death could cause Vista Del Mar, and I so wanted to tell her Madeleine seemed flummoxed by it all and might be very glad to hear there were some more Delacortes to offer support. But with Lucinda there, I couldn’t.

  Once Crystal started working on the yarn mess we really made progress, and I was just finishing with the last ball of yarn, when Lauren stuck her head in. “Am I too early?” she asked, seeing the mostly empty room. By now the large red needles were all in a row and the yarn was neatly wound and arranged in piles of plain black, black eyelash and silver. “We’re still having the workshop, aren’t we?” Her usually peppy voice sounded a little weak, and she seemed a little all in.

  “Come in, come in,” I said, doing my best to sound upbeat. “Of course we’re having the workshop.” I gestured to the empty chairs and suggested she have a seat. She pulled out the same chair she’d sat in the day before and hung her black wrap on the back of it. She had on a gray T-shirt over a long-sleeved black one and it seemed as somber as her expression. She poked at the needles and yarn. “Are we starting over?” she asked, and I explained the condition of everybody’s work.

  She took a pair of needles and a ball of each of the yarns and began to cast on her stitches. She held up the needle when she finished getting on the ten stitches. “I wasn’t sure I remembered,” she said with a smile, then her shoulders slumped. “I’m just in shock about Vanessa,” Lauren said. “Being a social worker, I’ve had to deal with all kinds of bad situations, but it’s different when it’s someone you know.” There wasn’t a trace of brightness on her cute features. “Vanessa had all the advantages, a big job, a family, probably a lot of spa days, too.” Lauren let out a heavy sigh. “She could have done so much good, but that doesn’t matter now.” She reflected for a moment. “I feel bad that I didn’t make sure she left with me. I’m embarrassed to admit that when I heard there might be a bomb, I just ran without thinking about anyone else.”

  Courtney came in next. If there was one word to describe her appearance it was sleek. Her mink-colored hair hung about her shoulders in shiny perfection without the hint of a split end. She undid her fleece jacket and uncoiled the scarf around her neck. It was always cool there, but she seemed extra bundled up and I figured she’d tried going out into the street outside Vista Del Mar to get a cell signal. By her expression, I guess it had been unsuccessful. She had a zippered folder with her and quickly put it on the floor under the table. She greeted us and then looked at the yarn and needles. “What happened to the scarves we started?”

  Before any of us could say anything, Elizabeth came in. She nodded a greeting at all of us and took off her jacket and very properly hung it on the back of the chair.

  Zak arrived a moment later. He did a mock salute as a greeting and looked at the table. “So we’re going to have to start all over?” He really had the on-the-go reporter look down. He wore a khaki jacket with a multitude of pockets over jeans and a black merino wool sweater. The brown leather ankle boots were scuffed with wear. He still hadn’t shaved and the stubble gave him the look of someone who was too caught up in an adventure to be concerned with a razor. The whole package was very appealing, but I also thought it might be contrived. He was, after all, a TV reporter and image was a factor.

  “That’s all you have to say?” Elizabeth’s expression sagged and became what I’d call a funeral face.

  “Sorry if that seemed cold,” he said. “I’m a field reporter and I get sent into all kinds of situations. There are usually problems and often disasters. My job is to report on things, not get involved.” He took his seat. “But I did do a little research, and heart attacks in people in their thirties aren’t common, but aren’t unheard of either.”

  “You did research,” Courtney said with interest. “How did you get on the Internet?”

  Zak chuckled. “No Internet. I did it the old-fashioned way. I made some phone calls to people I know.”

  Courtney seemed disgruntled. “That won’t work for me.”

  Cloris came in just as he was finishing and dropped off a tray of oatmeal cookies. Her gaze stopped on Zak and I figured by the way she kept looking at him from different angles that she was trying to picture him in a baseball cap. Finally she put up her hands and shrugged.

  I went to the head of the table now that everyone was there. “I’m afraid everything got messed up last night and we had to undo all your work.”

  “How many times do we have to start over?” Courtney said. “It’s not as if any of us really care about knitting anyway. And please don’t say we’re doing it for the Gipper, or in this case Vanessa. She cared even less about knitting than I do.”

  Crystal had joined me at the head of the table. “I can understand your point. You’re frustrated by all the false starts and you don’t see the point of it.” Crystal’s gaze moved over the whole group. “You may not understand this now, but knitting is a good thing to do when things go bad. Once you cast on again and get through a few rows, you’ll see that the rhythm and repetition will relax you. And you’ll be watching a scarf grow right before your eyes, which will give you a feeling of accomplishment.”

  She focused on Courtney. “You seem the tensest in the group, which means you’ll probably get the most benefit.” Courtney rolled her eyes in disbelief.

  “I’m telling you it works. It’s what helped me get through it when my rock god husband dumped me for a newer model, and my kids and I ended up at my mother’s house.”

  “Rock god, huh?” Zak said. “Could we have a name please?”

  “Why not,” Crystal said, putting her hands up in capitulation. “Rixx Smith, and by the way, the rock god is in his eyes only. To me he’s just a skunk with a guitar.”

  She’d won them over, and when I suggested we begin, no one objected. Lauren already had her supplies, and since she’d already cast on, started her first row of stitches. The rest of them reached for a set of needles and three skeins of yarn. Crystal did a demo
of casting on and it jogged their memories. Lucinda waited to make sure they were all doing okay and then she quickly started her own scarf and caught up with them. Working with the three strands of yarn was still a little awkward, but they all seemed to manage. Crystal shot me a glance and I grabbed a set of needles, and it gave me a little shiver to realize they were meant for Vanessa.

  For a few minutes the room was quiet except for the clicking of needles as everyone worked on the first couple of rows. Once they got a few rows done and could actually see the beginning of the scarf hanging off the needle, everything smoothed out.

  The conversation began to flow. Everyone helped themselves to the hot drinks and cookies. I was relieved to see that the mood they’d come in with had lifted.

  And then Lieutenant Borgnine showed up. Or should I say Theodore. Gone were the rumpled jacket and slacks, replaced by blue track pants with a white stripe going down the side and a plain navy blue T-shirt with a zippered sweatshirt jacket on top. You know the saying that clothes make the man. Maybe for someone else, but not for him. The casual attire didn’t soften his look at all or make it seem like his head wasn’t sitting right on his shoulders.

  “Remember I mentioned the meditation lessons?” I saw them looking at him with confusion. I almost choked as I introduced him as Theodore Borgnine with no reminder that he was a cop.

  He did his best to put on a friendly smile, which actually looked more like a snarl. “You can call me Theo.” He let his gaze move over the group as he put his hands together in a prayer posture and then bowed his head. “Namaste.” It was a common yoga greeting and something I never expected to come from his mouth. They all mumbled “Namaste” back to him, including Lucinda, who was back to biting her lip to keep from cracking up.