Till Death Do Us Purl

by Anne Canadeo

  “I’d like to go. I think it could be fun. All those rich people, giving away money,” Suzanne laughed. “It is amazingly generous. I wish I could do that,” she added on a more serious note. “That’s where Jeremy must have learned to give back to the community.”

  “It wasn’t from his father. I think we can be pretty certain about that,” Maggie said drily.

  “What’s going on with the investigation into At-Las Technologies?” Lucy looked up from knitting. “Has anyone seen more in the paper?”

  “Not a word,” Dana said. “But that could mean anything. The other shoe hasn’t dropped yet in that situation, either.”

  “We might hear more about that at the hospital event, too,” Maggie suggested. “When is it, Dana? I didn’t notice.”

  “Sunday afternoon, three to five,” Dana read off the sheet. She looked up at her friends. “I’m clear. Jack will be out playing golf all weekend. He’s ecstatic about the spring weather.”

  “I have two open houses. But I can sneak over for a little while,” Suzanne said.

  “Phoebe will be away this weekend,” Maggie told the others. “But I can go. How about you, Lucy?”

  “Oh, Sunday should be fine . . . I just have to check with Matt.”

  She’d practically mumbled that last part. But they’d all noticed.

  Suzanne actually laughed. “She has to check with Matt. Isn’t that cute? I don’t think I ever heard her say that before.”

  “Suzanne . . . stop,” Dana warned her. But she was smiling, too, Maggie noticed. “Just ignore her, Lucy.”

  “I usually do.” Lucy sounded a little miffed and made a silly face at Suzanne.

  “Oh, my. Look at her.” Suzanne laughed. “Hey, just for that . . . no flan for you.”

  “Wait . . . I was just kidding. You know that. What are you, the Flan Nazi, now?” Lucy sounded genuinely upset and suitably contrite. But Suzanne’s flan was worth groveling for. Maggie would have done the same.

  “I know . . . I just wanted to rattle your cage,” Suzanne confessed. “I’ll give you a piece of flan to take home for Matt. I’m sure he’s home missing you right now. Does that make up for teasing too much?”

  Lucy seemed pleased with the peace offering. Maggie was relieved. This was not a time for her good friends to rub one another the wrong way. They had to stick together, suit up in their finery and high heels, and get out there to help Rebecca.

  “Mrs. Messina . . . how nice to see you again.” Maggie had been lingering on the edges of the cocktail party, scanning the crowd for her friends, when a familiar voice made her turn.

  Lewis Atkins. Looking his usual dapper self, in a navy blue pinstriped suit with a pale yellow vest and red bow tie. She was surprised to see him there. Then realized that any foe of Philip Lassiter’s would be an ally of his ex-wife Patricia’s.

  Their divorce had been especially acrimonious, Maggie had heard from Nora. And so had Lewis’s parting from Philip. Nothing like a common enemy to draw people together.

  Lewis had always maintained a good relationship with Jeremy and was wealthy enough to support the cause, so his inclusion on the guest list did make sense from that angle, as well.

  “Hello, Lewis. You were going to call me Maggie, remember?”

  He smiled and nodded. He enjoyed their verbal sparring, no question. “I do remember, now that you mention it.”

  He took in her appearance and she felt he approved. Instead of the predictable black dress and pearls again, Maggie had opted for a slim-fitting navy blue dress with a V-neck, and her real gold earrings and a bangle to match. The only problem had been, when she pulled on the dress at the last minute, the neckline was a bit lower than she recalled. Or had it somehow stretched out at the dry cleaner? But it had been too late to do anything about it.

  For damage control, she’d grabbed a charcoal gray wrap with a touch of angora she’d knitted for herself. It was a perfect décolletage camouflage and a tasteful look for a fund-raiser, she thought.

  “May I get you a drink?” he said politely.

  “I’m fine for now. Thank you. Just waiting for my friends.”

  “Nora and Rebecca Bailey, you mean?” he asked in that same polite tone.

  “Uh . . . no. Some other friends.” She left it at that, feeling she didn’t have to explain herself to him.

  She happened to know that Rebecca and Nora had been invited, but were not coming.

  Rebecca felt too self-conscious about all the gossip swirling around her now. She’d told Maggie the attention from the police investigation was making her life very difficult. Miserable, actually. Parents were calling the school, demanding that she be fired. Or, at least, sent on a leave of absence until the situation was resolved. But the school administrators were sticking by her—especially the principal—and she had the teacher’s union on her side, too. Maggie was glad she did not cave in to the pressure.

  But it was so cruel, Maggie thought. Rebecca was such a wonderful teacher and really loved her work and the children. All she had left now was her job. Would that be taken from her, too?

  Maggie did not disclose any of this information to Lewis Atkins. She didn’t even consider it.

  “How are you doing, Lewis? Any progress in the lab?”

  “Progress?” He looked confused for a moment. Then narrowed his eyes and smiled. “On the formula, you mean?”

  “You told me you were smart enough to figure it out. I’m just taking you at your word,” she said, challenging him.

  “Good tactic, Maggie. We men always like to prove ourselves don’t we? And brag about it. Maybe I have figured it out. Maybe not,” he toyed with her. “This is a time to honor Patricia and Jeremy. Not boast about my accomplishments.”

  “Very true,” she said smoothly.

  Was he trying to play the modest type? He was definitely the double-talking type. He had artfully sidestepped a frank answer to her question. Though she hadn’t really expected one.

  Score one for his side. She’d call it all even.

  She noticed Dana enter and waved to her. “Excuse me. There’s one of my friends. I’d better catch up with her.”

  “Sure thing. See you later.” He smiled and raised his glass to her for a moment. Two green olives floated in his martini glass. They suddenly looked like two eyeballs watching as she walked away.

  As Maggie strolled through the crowd to meet Dana, she took in the large, open atrium where the reception was held, part of a new wing that Patricia Moore had also helped to build.

  Maggie had noticed from a sign that the space was normally used as a special lounge for the families of surgical patients. But it had obviously been closed for a few hours for this party.

  The glass walls, constructed with abstract-shaped pieces of glass in different shades of blue, were at least two stories high. Tall potted palms and arrangements of exotic flowers made her feel as if she were walking through a greenhouse. One filled with tables of fancy hors d’oeuvres and waiters passing trays of sparkling champagne in fluted glasses.

  By the time she and Dana met, they were both holding champagne cocktails and delicately toasted hello.

  “Here’s to Rebecca. Let’s hope this evening helps,” Maggie murmured.

  “I’ll drink to that. Looks like you’ve already started. Lewis Atkins found you quickly, didn’t he?” Dana noticed. “You two seem to have plenty to talk about.”

  Maggie pulled her stole a little closer. “We were just chatting. Nothing important to report. He’s too smart to disclose anything truly helpful. I did ask if he figured out the formula yet.”

  “My, you’re a bold one.” Dana smiled at her admiringly.

  “Never underestimate the element of surprise,” Maggie reminded her.

  “Or cleavage,” Dana added, her gaze slipping to Maggie’s low neckline.

  Maggie tugged at her dress, then just closed the stole over her chest again. “It’s not that low. Just a bit much for me.”

  Dana laughed. “What did he
say? Did he beat out his rivals yet in the glue race?”

  “He gave me some double-talk. I have no idea. I guess he’s not totally dazzled by my charms. Have I lost my touch?”

  “You’re just getting started, if you ask me,” Dana assured her.

  Lucy and Suzanne came in together and spotted them quickly. By the time they reached Maggie and Dana, and admired one anothers’ outfits, the speeches were starting. They faced forward to watch Patricia Moore receive her award.

  She was introduced by the hospital’s head of fund-raising and development, who left no accolade unturned.

  Jeremy’s mother walked onto the stage to a loud round of applause. She shook hands with the woman who had introduced her and stood behind the podium with a modest smile. Maggie thought she was the very picture of quiet confidence, equanimity, and grace.

  Patricia looked out calmly at the audience, though a certain shadow of sadness lingered in her features.

  “Wow, what a class act. She could play herself in the made-for-TV movie,” Suzanne whispered.

  Maggie nearly laughed out loud, but restrained herself. As did the rest of her friends, thankfully.

  Patricia first recognized and thanked everyone involved in giving her the award, noting that so many others among the audience would be as worthy, or even more, of the honor. She felt fortunate to be able to play a small part in bringing quality health care to the community, and vowed continued commitment to that cause.

  She soon went on to talk about Jeremy, and the generous endowment that would bear his name, earmarked for a new treatment center for pediatric cancer.

  “My son Jeremy was a brilliant scientist, who would have been a brilliant physician or perhaps dedicated his career to medical research. That was a dream of his. He even began medical school. But instead of following that path, he eventually chose to enter the family business and serve the community in a different way. By discovering new technologies to improve our quality of living . . .”

  “Translation,” Lucy whispered, “his father forced him to go into the family business and invent new ways for the Lassiters to make money.”

  Maggie nodded in agreement, but shushed her all the same.

  Lucy’s joke was an exaggeration, of course. But not a very large one. Here was another, even more toxic reason why Jeremy wanted to get back at his father. He’d been robbed of his dream, to study medicine. No wonder he prized his part-time teaching post at the medical school. He must have relished being part of that atmosphere. Maybe he even hoped to resume his medical studies someday in some far-off land?

  Patricia soon concluded her speech, rallying the audience to join in this worthy cause and become part of the solution. Or some such call to arms with her closing words.

  Maggie was a bit distracted by the sight of Claudia and Alec, hovering near their mother. Of course they would be here, too. Maggie doubted she’d be lucky enough to overhear an extended conversation between the two again, but decided to cruise up in their direction anyway, as soon as the speech ended.

  Of the three people she guessed Jeremy had been in contact with during his motel hideout—Rebecca, Atkins, and Alec—his twin brother was the only one they had not spoken to yet.

  Maggie doubted she’d get much out of him, especially in this sedate setting. But it was worth a try, she thought.

  Alec stood a short distance from his mother, shaking hands as people approached, accepting congratulations. Once again his resemblance to Jeremy was stunning. How painful that must be to their mother, Maggie realized. Though in some odd way, maybe a comfort, too?

  “Mr. Lassiter, I just wanted to offer my congratulations . . . and my condolences on the loss of your brother.”

  “Thank you very much . . . I’m sorry, have we met? You look very familiar.”

  “I was at Jeremy’s wedding . . . and the memorial service. I’m a friend of Rebecca and Nora Bailey. My name is Maggie,” she added.

  “Nice to meet you, Maggie. I knew I’d seen you somewhere. How is Rebecca? I thought I might see her tonight. I’m afraid I haven’t been a very good brother-in-law. I should call or visit her,” he acknowledged.

  “Yes, you should,” Maggie agreed bluntly. “She’d appreciate that. And it might help dispel some of the rumors that are flying around town right now.” Maggie watched his expression, wondering where he fell on the question of Rebecca’s guilt or innocence. “The police seem to think she’s responsible for your brother’s death. Did you know that?”

  “I’ve heard something along those lines. I don’t really believe that, though,” he added quickly.

  “Neither do I. There’s no solid evidence for it. Not a shred.”

  “I can’t see how Rebecca could have done such a thing. What possible reason could there be?” Alec’s expression was somber.

  “Detectives can always seem to find a reason, however flimsy, when they want to make the pieces fit. Did your brother have any enemies, Alec? Anyone who wanted to do him harm? Who was he hiding from exactly?” She took a step even closer. She couldn’t help herself. “I’m only asking this because Rebecca is under such great pressure now from the police. There might be something you know that can help her.”

  Alec considered her questions. Then slowly shook his head. “I loved Jeremy, but we really weren’t that close anymore. I’ve been out in Santa Fe for years now and I rarely come east. I have zero interest in the family business. Literally . . . and figuratively.”

  His father had made sure of that. Maggie wondered why Alec had been exiled from Philip’s royal court. But that story would have to wait for another day. She would have to ask Nora sometime. She probably knew.

  “That happens. Even very close siblings grow apart.” Maggie’s voice was laced with understanding. “But he did call you from the motel, to tell you that he was still alive. So you two must have had some relationship left.”

  Alec, who had just sipped from his flute of sparkling wine, stopped midswallow. He coughed and covered his mouth with his hand a moment.

  “How do you know that?” he asked in a low tone.

  “Oh . . . I just know. That’s not the point. I think you may have even visited him there, too. No one would have recognized you. They would have mistaken you for Jeremy.”

  Alec stared down at her, starting to look annoyed, she thought. Had she gone too far?

  “I can only tell you what I told the police. I never went there. I never saw him alive after the lab fire.”

  “All right . . . but why did he call? Did he just want to talk to you? Did he ask you for help? Was someone pursuing him?”

  “I wish he had asked for help. He might still be alive,” Alec said sadly.

  “I’m sorry to press you like this,” Maggie said honestly. “But I feel Rebecca’s fate is fragile right now.”

  He nodded and sighed. “Yes, I understand. But I can’t think of anyone who could have found him there and harmed him.” Maggie saw his glance dart away for a moment, back to his mother. Patricia was talking with Lewis—a relaxed, friendly conversation.

  “Not even because of the formula he’d been working on?” Maggie pressed again.

  Alec’s glance snapped back to meet hers. She sensed he could tell what she was thinking—Lewis Atkins had a strong motive to harm Jeremy. Even if he had a good alibi for the night of the murder. Lewis might have hired someone to pressure Jeremy to give up the information but the coercion got out of control.

  Alec shook his head. “If you mean Uncle Louie, you’re totally mistaken. Uncle Louie loved us. Especially Jeremy. He doted on him. He could have never harmed him.”

  Maggie had gotten that same impression. But now she wasn’t so sure. The equation seemed to boil down to Lewis Atkins. No matter how many ways she tried to add it up.

  “The only person Jeremy was trying to escape was my father. And probably the federal investigators who are swarming all over At-Las Technologies right now. I think Jeremy was trying to duck out the back door before the ax fell.” He sig
hed and glanced over at his sister. “Now Claudia is left holding the bag. Which would be laughingly ironic if it wasn’t so unfair. She’s the only one of us who truly loves the business. But Philip never gave her any respect or credit. No Y chromosome. Too bad for her.”

  Maggie could easily see that. She and her friends had speculated about most of Alec’s disclosures. But it was different hearing it from him. It confirmed their hunches, which was important.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, please, I have to join my mother and sister for some photographs. It’s been interesting talking to you, Maggie. Good luck,” he added.

  Maggie quietly thanked him. As she watched him walk away, she wondered if he would ever make good on his promise to visit Rebecca. Or if that was just fine talk, what he knew she wanted to hear. She wondered how deep Alec Lassiter’s sincerity reached, once you scratched the surface of his smooth manner.

  Turning away from Alec, Maggie noticed that Dana was talking to Patricia Moore, and Suzanne and Lucy were in a group, chatting up Claudia.

  Her friends knew how to work a room, didn’t they? Maggie was pleased. There would be a lot to discuss on the ride home, and with any luck, a few more insights and clues to help Rebecca.

  Chapter Twelve

  Maggie heard sirens. Sirens and alarms. Everything was going off at once and she jumped out bed, fumbling for the lamp on the bedside table but only succeeding in knocking it over.

  She ran out of her bedroom with her feet bare and downstairs, sniffing the air for smoke. The siren was even louder in her house, but now she could tell it was the burglar alarm. A small light was on in the kitchen, over the stove top. She quickly looked around the living room. Everything looked normal. Had someone broken in? Was someone in the house right now?

  And what was that other noise, outside? It sounded like a car alarm . . . her car.

  But before she could check the driveway, she heard the phone ring and ran to the kitchen to answer it. It was the alarm company. Maggie quickly gave them her password. Her heart was beating so fast in her chest, she could hardly speak.

  “Yes, the alarm went off . . . but I don’t see anything strange . . .”