Inherit the Wool

by Betty Hechtman

  All this meet-and-greet stuff was taking up my baking time. I tried to nicely show them all the door, but it didn’t go smoothly. Sammy said he really needed to talk to me. Dane said he’d act as my sous chef during his break and Zak had to arrange for an Uber. I promised to meet Sammy the next day at the venue and told Dane I could manage on my own. They weren’t about to leave Zak there, and at Dane’s suggestion, Sammy offered him a ride back to Vista Del Mar.

  With them all gone, I finished up mixing the carrot cakes and put them in the oven. I was just setting out the ingredients for the muffins, when I heard someone jiggling the handle on the kitchen door, and too late I realized that with all the company I’d forgotten to lock it.

  I grabbed for the frying pan and raised my hand, ready to strike as the door opened and someone came in.

  I paused just a moment too long and a hand grabbed mine. “I could arrest you for that,” Lieutenant Borgnine said. “Assaulting a police officer.”

  I was too stunned to speak. Lieutenant Borgnine, dressed in his traditional rumpled sport jacket, was standing in front of me. “You certainly have a lot of company. I don’t know how you have time to bake anything.” I noticed him sniffing the air and checking out the counter for the muffin ingredients.

  I found my voice and asked him what he was doing there. “I thought it would be the best time to catch you alone.” He laughed at the thought. “This meditation idea isn’t working at all. All I got out of Courtney was that her personal life was in shambles, like I was some kind of advice columnist.”

  I asked for details and he rocked his head. “I don’t remember. Well, actually I stopped listening when I heard the words ‘my husband didn’t understand.’” He watched as I started measuring baking powder. “And the other one. Elizabeth.” His eyes went skyward. “She wouldn’t stop talking. Something about waiting for things to come to her, but now she was taking control of her life.”

  “What about Vanessa’s husband?” I asked.

  “At least he didn’t start complaining about his life,” Borgnine said. “But I don’t think you’ll be happy with what he talked about.” I wondered if I was going to have to convince the lieutenant to tell me what the subject of their conversation was, but he spilled it all on his own. “Mr. Ryerson was all about who was negligent and talking to his lawyer.”

  “I kind of knew that already,” I said, thinking back to when I’d first seen Michael with Kevin St. John.

  “I’m not sure about this whole plan,” he said. “I barely got a chance to look around the victim’s room.” My ears perked up and I wanted to ask him if he thought it was strange that Vanessa’s things were packed in her suitcase or that it was odd that her purse was in the room, but I couldn’t admit that I’d been in there.

  The lieutenant cleared his throat a few times like he was having trouble with what he was going to say before he finally got it out. “I know I told you no investigating on your own, but you never listen. Have you found out anything I should know?”

  What he’d said was an opening and for a moment I considered mentioning what I’d seen in the room, but I quickly decided against it. No matter what he’d just said, I was sure admitting that I’d gone into her room would come back to bite me. As for anything else—these were my friends, well, acquaintances and I felt a certain loyalty to them. I knew that one was undeserving of my protection and that I would gladly turn them over—once I figured out who it was.

  Lieutenant Borgnine read my silence correctly and tried to get past my nonanswer by asking questions about Zak. “What’s going on between you two? Is he some old boyfriend?”

  “No,” I said finally. I gave him a quick rundown on Zak’s profession.

  “There was something between you,” he said. “I saw how you looked at him. There’s some unfinished business between you two, right?”

  “Wrong,” I said, trying to remember how I had looked at Zak and what I’d been thinking. “If you have to know there was one romantic walk in the rain and we might have kissed. That’s all.”

  He glanced up and his gruff face softened. “That’s a lot. All the thoughts of what might have been, maybe still could be. A reporter, traveling the world in search of a story. He’s just the kind that you ladies fall for. Irresponsible charm, resisting any ties and most of all a lot of blanks for you to fill in with your imagination.”

  I looked at the stocky cop with new appreciation. He had more insight than I’d imagined. “It was never that way with me,” I protested. “I always saw him for what he is. A romantic moment, not a future.”

  “Just as well, you have enough men you’re stringing along.” He sniffed the air again. “What’s in the oven?” I knew he had a weakness for sweets and his wife was on him, trying to get him to eat a healthier diet.

  “Carrot cakes for the restaurant,” I answered, thinking about how to react to his first comment. Somehow I thought I’d handled things so nobody really noticed my relationships. It was unsettling to realize that he knew what was going on.

  I saw him looking at the bowl on the counter. “What kind of muffins are you making?” He was able to bypass the desserts at the Blue Door, but I knew my muffins were a regular temptation when he picked up a coffee at one of the spots in town. I considered what to call them. I had a running problem with the Cadbury powers that be. They were so into being authentic that they reacted to any sort of what they called cutesy names. They’d won out and vanilla muffins were called just that, not Plain Janes as I’d named them. I thought of tonight’s creation as Kernels of Truth muffins, but if I was going to have to keep the peace, I’d have to call them simply corn muffins.

  “What’s taking so long? It seems like a pretty straightforward question,” he said, peering at me.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’m not trying to withhold any information.” I smiled, trying to lighten the moment. “They’re going to be corn muffins, but that title doesn’t do them justice. I include whole corn and a few other touches that make them stand above your regular corn muffins.”

  “Really? I suppose they could be considered kind of healthy with the corn and all.” Then he caught himself. “But that’s not what I’m here to say. I think I’m going to have to talk to the rest of your group, the regular way, as a cop wanting to know what they know.” I had begun putting the dry ingredients in the large bowl.

  I panicked. “You can’t do that. When they realize the meditation thing was a ruse, they’ll go nuts. Courtney’s a lawyer and she might accuse you of trying to set her up. Lauren will organize a protest against some sort of police misbehavior. Elizabeth will throw a fit, saying you weren’t playing by the rules. And Zak will figure that’s his big story and go pitch small-town police corruption to WNN.”

  He shook his head with regret. “I should have never listened to you to start with. It seems like we have a lose-lose thing going here. Whatever I do is going to come out wrong.”

  “Maybe not,” I said. I thought of what my mother had said and told him. “You could ask them about health issues and find out if anybody is giving themselves shots.” I finished spooning the muffin batter into the paper-lined tins and loaded them all in the oven.

  “Too bad we didn’t think of that before I started.” He hesitated and seemed to be fussing with himself. “Don’t take this as free rein to go off on your own, but do you suppose you could find out if Courtney or Elizabeth is doing something that would make them knowledgeable about needles and syringes?” I agreed and he grumbled with himself, wondering if he was making a mistake.

  “My wife is the only one thrilled about this meditation nonsense.” He glanced at me and his expression lightened. “Though I have to admit I’m pretty good at faking it. This meditation business seems like a big nothing to me. What’s the big fuss? You just sit and look at the ocean and keep saying om over and over again.”

  “You’re actually doing that? Saying om in your head and not thinking about any of your cop stuff?”

  He shrugged. “Ye
ah. Though I gotta say your people don’t seem to do as well. There’s a lot of squirming around going on next to me.” He shook his head regretfully. “Okay, I’ll stick with it until I talk to all of them. But after that I go back to old-fashioned interrogation.” He sniffed the air. “How long until they’re done?”

  “Not that long. Do you want to wait?” He nodded and I rolled my eyes.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I awoke to the sound of someone banging on my kitchen door. Julius went flying off the bed when I ripped back the covers and rushed to the door expecting some kind of disaster. Instead it was a very fit-looking Dane in his jogging shorts and a gray T-shirt.

  “I forgot to get the cookie bars last night and I was looking forward to having them for breakfast,” he said.

  It took a moment for it to compute and then I stumbled toward the counter where I’d left the bag. I didn’t for a minute think that was the real reason he was there. Dane was not a cookie-bar-for-breakfast sort. I started to hand him the bag but he was already on his way in the door.

  “If ever I saw someone who needed coffee,” he said, nodding toward me. “I’ll do the honors.” As an afterthought he glanced over my attire and smiled. “Nice choice of lingerie.”

  I’d been so all in when I’d gotten home that I’d fallen asleep in my clothes. I reached up and touched my hair and could feel that it was sticking up. He urged me to sit and joined me a few minutes later with two cups of steaming coffee.

  “How about a Kernels of Truth muffin instead of the cookie bars?” I said, offering him one of the runts I’d brought home.

  He took a bite and complimented me on another success and then got down to why he really had stopped by and casually brought up my company at the Blue Door. I distracted him by telling him about who’d come after they all left.

  “Let me get his straight now,” he said, appearing incredulous when I finished. “Lieutenant Borgnine stayed until you were done baking and then he personally escorted you around town to make your deliveries?” I answered with a nod.

  “It’s not such a big deal,” I said. “I gave him his own special supply of muffins and I suppose in gratitude he insisted on giving me the police escort.”

  Dane shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe that you’ve won him over.”

  “You know what they say about the best way to a man’s heart. It wasn’t me that won him over—it was all the corn muffins. He’s sure his wife won’t have a problem with him eating them since they have vegetables in them,” I said with a chuckle.

  “I’m not so sure I like it,” Dane said. “If you’re not at odds with him, you won’t need me anymore.” He made a disappointed face then smiled. “But then, I never liked it that I was just a source of information to you.” I knew he was teasing, but I reacted anyway and assured him he was more to me than that.

  Then he turned the conversation to what he really wanted to know. “So, who is Zak exactly?” He got up to get the coffeepot and topped off both of our cups. Julius was hanging by the refrigerator, looking hopeful.

  I explained that Zak had been in the boys’ class who got to see the Baller-rinas in action and afterward had become a friend with the group. I threw in Zak’s desire to be a journalist and finished by saying he was a correspondent for WNN.

  “That’s all good and well, but what’s he doing being the rooster in the henhouse?”

  “It’s sort of a mystery,” I said and then gave him the lowdown on Zak’s invitation to the retreat. “Though he thinks it was Vanessa who invited him.”

  “So maybe there was something going on with them.” Dane seemed momentarily at ease, but then he appeared wary. “But that doesn’t explain why he showed up at the Blue Door.”

  I simply told him the truth, that Zak couldn’t believe I was as dull as I’d made myself out to be and had followed me. There was no reason to mention our moment in the past.

  “Or so he said. He’s a suspect along with the rest of them. You didn’t tell him the truth about Vanessa’s death or that you were investigating, did you?” Dane said in a concerned tone.

  “No, I didn’t tell him anything. Everybody but you, me, Lucinda and Lieutenant Borgnine think her death is being treated as if it was from natural causes.”

  “I still think you ought to avoid being alone with him.” Dane seemed to be speaking as a cop, but I still thought part of him was acting as my sort-of boyfriend. “You really should take me up on my offer of karate lessons.” He looked over at Julius still hanging by the refrigerator and took pity on the cat. He took out the stink fish and went through all the unwrapping to give the cat some. Purring loudly, Julius rubbed against his ankle in appreciation.

  “Thanks, but no thanks. No way do I want to start hanging out in your garage with a bunch of teenagers.”

  “I’m sure we could arrange some private lessons,” he said. All the seriousness was gone and he was back to being playful.

  “I’ll keep it in mind,” I said, draining my coffee cup. “But for now I still have a retreat to run and a killer to catch.” I handed him the package of cookie bars. He put both of our mugs in the sink, stole a kiss and went out the door.

  What was wrong with me? He really had it all—surface and substance. He was adorable and had character to spare. But even so I still couldn’t commit.

  I peeled off the clothes from the day before and quickly showered. I grabbed a pair of black jeans and a taupe turtleneck. It needed a little something, so I added a knitted vest I’d found among my aunt’s creations. It was made with a nubby brown wool with specks of white. I always liked to wear something handmade during my retreats and this had the added advantage of adding a little warmth. Julius followed me to the door and I gave him a few strokes and urged him to stay out of trouble.

  The brisk morning air refreshed me as it always did as I walked across the street. I was still tired from the late-night baking and all the company that had dropped by, but it was satisfying to know that Cadburians had their muffins and the Blue Door had fresh cake.

  I could smell breakfast as I passed the Lodge and my stomach gurgled in response. The bell had already rung and most of the people were already inside. I waved at my group and then went directly to the cafeteria line. Cloris was behind the counter and made a mini buffet up for me and handed me the tray.

  I was on the way to the table when I crossed paths with a slender woman with shoulder-length brown hair. I started to walk past her but she stopped. “Casey,” she said in an excited voice. “It’s me, Blair Hansen.” She reached to hug me, trying not to jostle my tray.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” I said, using my free hand to reciprocate the hug. “The group’s over here.” I led the way and asked her when she’d arrived.

  “I don’t even know what time it was other than it was late.” I asked her about her trip and she sighed. “It was long, but I’m here now.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to greet you.” She assured me that it was fine. “Then you found your room and everything?” I asked and she shrugged it off.

  “It’s not the Ritz, but who cares.” She glanced down at her outfit of skinny jeans and fitted white turtleneck. “I wasn’t sure how to dress.”

  I pointed out my own outfit. My jeans weren’t as fitted as hers, but the idea was the same. “I think you nailed it.”

  “Tell me all about yourself,” she said and then she sighed before I said a word. “It’s so tragic about Vanessa. I’m still reeling from the news. Courtney said you saw her after her collapse and went to the hospital with her. What happened?”

  I thought about telling Blair the truth about the air bubbles and all, but it seemed like it was best to keep the story the same for everyone. I mentioned the prank bomb threat and then finding Vanessa on the floor and riding with her to the hospital.

  “Poor you,” she said. “It must have been terrible.” She glanced toward the table. “What can I do? Her family’s been notified, right? Do we have to make any arrange
ments for her, uh, body?”

  I assured her that Vanessa’s husband and family were responsible for that and Blair let out a heavy sigh. “It’s situations like this that make you reevaluate your priorities. I just told my staff to put everything on hold, that I had to go and be with my girls. Now I’m sorry I didn’t do that to start with instead of letting work keep me in Hillston.”

  When we got to the table, everyone started to get up, but Blair urged them to sit and instead she worked her way to each of them. If I were to pick a word to describe Blair it would be vivacious. With her natural charisma she was perfect for politics. She had just the right mixture of authority and warmth. She’d easily been elected president of our college’s student body after a term as treasurer.

  “It’s great that you’re here,” Elizabeth said. “We’re doing the routine tonight for the talent show. Practice is after breakfast.” She pulled the bag of balls from under the table to illustrate. Blair’s smile faded and she seemed less than enthused.

  “You always were so serious about the balls, weren’t you.” She gave Elizabeth’s shoulder a squeeze and glanced around the table as if she was looking for someone.

  “Zak’s not here. He told me he was going to sleep in,” Courtney said. I must have given Courtney a funny look because after that she explained. “He pushed a note under my door. He said he had a late night and he didn’t want the rest of you to worry.”

  Blair greeted Lauren and then seemed confused when her gaze moved to Lucinda. I quickly stepped in to introduce her, but left out that I’d given her Blair’s room. I didn’t want Lucinda to feel uncomfortable.

  “I’m starved,” Blair said when she’d finished greeting everyone. Lucinda pointed her toward the back of the room and she went off to get her food.