Till Death Do Us Purl

by Anne Canadeo

  “We have a report from sensor number fifteen. That’s a window in the back of the house on the ground floor,” the operator told her. “Do you want to check? I can hold on.”

  “All right, I’ll take a look,” Maggie said reluctantly, walking to the family room at the back of the house. “Are the police coming? I hope you’ve called them . . .”

  “The police are on their way, ma’am.”

  “Well, that’s some reassurance if there’s a burglar in here,” she mumbled. She quickly peeked into the room, flashing on the overhead light with one hand without actually stepping through the doorway. The windowpane was broken, she noticed, but the window was not raised. As if someone had started to break in, but changed his mind.

  She explained this to the operator. “Okay, ma’am. I’ve made a note. You can shut the alarm if you like. I’ll hold on.”

  The operator spoke in a patient tone. It calmed Maggie down a bit. She didn’t think an intruder could get in a broken window. Could he?

  She put on more lights and turned off the alarm. Then she heard a knock on the front door and saw flashing lights through her living room window. It was a police cruiser.

  “The police are here. Thank you for staying on the line with me,” she told the operator.

  She grabbed a rain jacket off the coat tree and pulled it on over her nightgown. She opened the door and faced two young male officers in uniform. One was tall with fair hair. He reminded her of the boys in high school who went out for basketball. The other was shorter and stockier, with a weight lifter’s biceps and bulky neck to match.

  They stared back at her, both holding big flashlights.

  “Mrs. Messina?” the weight lifter said. “Your home alarm went off?”

  “Someone tried to break in the back window. I’ll show you,” she offered, opening the door. “Maybe they tried to steal my car, too,” she added, shouting over the alarm.

  “I don’t think that’s a problem, ma’am,” the stockier officer replied. “Did you see your car yet?”

  Maggie shook her head. Something in the officer’s expression told her she needed to take a look. She stepped out of the house and quickly looked in the driveway. The tall blond one helpfully slanted his flashlight at her car.

  Someone had been working hard while she had been asleep, she realized. Her little green SUV was covered with shaving cream, broken eggs, and a massive tangle of yarn, stuck in handfuls all over the mess. As if that wasn’t enough, a trash bag—or two—had been ripped open, the unsightly, rank contents poured all over the hood, windshield, and roof. All four tires had been deflated and a sheet of white paper, like a huge parking ticket, was stuck under a windshield wiper.

  At first she stood stone still, taking it all in. The smell alone was totally nauseating. She didn’t realize that she was barely breathing and shaking uncontrollably until she tried to take a step or two forward, to see what was on the note.

  She was about to pull it out from under the wiper arm when the dark-haired officer stepped in her way.

  “That’s evidence, Mrs. Messina. We need to leave it there for now,” he explained.

  “Yes, I understand.” Still, she couldn’t help leaning over as far as she could without brushing her jacket on the mess. No small feat. But she could manage to read it. It had been written in large block letters with a black permanent marker, which compensated considerably for her lack of reading glasses.

  TIME TO CLEAN UP YOUR OWN MESS, MAGGIE.

  STAY OUT OF EVERYONE ELSE’S. OR YOU’LL

  BE VERY SORRY.

  Even the note stunk. As if the vandal had purposely rubbed it in something particularly foul-smelling.

  “Can you shut off your alarm with a remote?” the tall officer asked.

  “Oh, yes . . . of course. Just a minute.” The sound had been going on so long, she hardly noticed it. Odd how that happened. She was sure her neighbors did, though. She noticed more than a few lights on in the houses nearby, though it was somewhere around three in the morning.

  She found her remote inside the house, then quickly shut off the car alarm from her front step. Then she walked down to talk to the weight lifter officer, who seemed to be in charge. He already had his pad out to take her report. She would ask him to call Detective Reyes, she decided. The sooner this incident was connected to Jeremy’s murder investigation, the more it would help Rebecca.

  Lucy had gotten up early and was just about to start painting the bedroom when Maggie called. She and Matt had moved all the furniture to the middle of the room before he left for work, but she still had a lot more prep to do.

  Lucy nearly let the message machine take the call, but the distress in her friend’s voice was alarming. She ran to the phone and Maggie quickly told her about the car being trashed and how the police had come at three in the morning.

  “I went back to bed for an hour or two. But I couldn’t sleep. Detective Reyes is on her way over. She should be here any minute,” Maggie added.

  “I’m on my way, too,” Lucy said and hung up without waiting for Maggie to reply.

  She was definitely dressed for dirty work, she realized as she grabbed her keys and ran out to the driveway. She drove to Maggie’s house and parked on the opposite side of the street. Lucy saw a blue-and-white police car and a gray sedan parked right in front of the house. Two uniformed officers were in the driveway, circling Maggie’s car, which looked like an unbelievable mess and smelled even worse than it looked. A Halloween prank gone over the top, Lucy thought.

  One of the officers took photographs and the other made notes.

  Maggie stood in the driveway also, closer to the garage, talking to Detective Reyes. Lucy recognized her right away.

  The detective looked the same, her long dark hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, wearing a conservatively cut navy blazer, gray slacks, and sensible heels. Medium height, slim and strong, she was Lucy’s exact idea of a female detective, projecting an air of calm intelligence and professionalism.

  Nothing like the women in law enforcement so often seen on TV—actresses who looked more like runway models, chasing the bad guys in five-inch heels, wads of glamorous hair swirling as they whipped out firearms and hit their target every time.

  From what Lucy had seen, police investigation was slow, often frustrating work. Distinctly unglamorous and more intellectual than physical. With few car chases or shoot-outs involved, either. Though Detective Reyes, with her fit figure and perfect posture, looked prepared for any of those possibilities.

  At least Maggie was able to deal with a familiar face about all this. Though Lucy was sure the entire bizarre situation was very upsetting.

  “I understand, Detective. I really do. But we’re all so concerned about Rebecca Bailey,” Lucy heard Maggie saying as she approached. “It seems to me your investigation is narrowing in on a totally innocent young woman and ignoring so many other possibilities.”

  Detective Reyes gave Maggie her full attention, her leather-bound notepad in one hand, a pair of used plastic gloves in the other.

  “I know you’re concerned, Maggie. But you must sit back now and let us do our job. That note is right. You’re putting yourself, and your friends, in danger.”

  Maggie didn’t answer. Lucy couldn’t tell if she was taking the police officer’s advice to heart. Or just waiting her out.

  “We’re going to give this incident a very thorough look and see how it might be connected. Consider yourself lucky. It could have been worse,” Detective Reyes added in a serious tone. “I’m assigning a patrol car to watch your house for a while. Cruise by a few times during the night. Until the investigation is concluded.”

  “Oh . . . that’s not necessary. Really,” Maggie argued with her.

  “I think it is. I’m sorry, you don’t have too much say about it, Maggie. It’s our job to protect you.”

  Detective Reyes gave Maggie her card. “Please call me for any reason at all. And just a tip, it’s best to get that egg off the car ASAP
.”

  The detective spoke to the uniformed officers for a moment, then they all got back into their cars and drove away. Lucy looked over at the Subaru again. She could not recall a more putrid-looking nor more foul-smelling mess.

  Maggie joined her, covering her nose and mouth with her hand.

  “Seen enough? Let’s go inside. I can’t stand looking at it, or smelling it anymore.”

  While Maggie made a pot of coffee, Lucy searched on the laptop in the kitchen, looking for the best way to remove egg from a car.

  “I’ve heard it is bad for the paint,” Maggie said, pouring them each a cup of coffee. “But I don’t think I’ve ever had to deal with it. Maybe once, long ago, on Halloween.”

  Lucy found the answer and showed it to her. “Vinegar and water. We should have guessed. The universal cleaning solution.”

  Maggie peered down at the screen through her reading glasses. “Detective Reyes was right. It says to clean it off right away or it will damage the paint. I have to get all that trash off first. It might be too late anyway,” she murmured. “I really need to take some pictures for my insurance company. I hope I have some paint damage coverage.”

  A short time later, they were outside wearing plastic gloves and carrying trash bags. Maggie kept telling Lucy to go home and do her work. But Lucy couldn’t leave her with the hideous mess.

  “At least Phoebe is there to open the store,” Maggie said as they started on the car. “Monday mornings are slow. I think she can handle it.”

  “I’m sure she can. She puts on a good space-cadet act. But she’s pretty responsible.” Lucy picked off bits of garbage and placed them in her bag. “Any ideas who did the job on your car?”

  “Oh, I have a few,” Maggie pulled off a chunk of egg-soaked yarn and dumped it. Lucy had a few theories, too, but wanted to hear Maggie’s first.

  “I’d have to put Lewis Atkins at the top of the list. Just because he’s the only one who warned me, face-to-face, not to meddle. I had to tell Detective Reyes that, of course. Now she’ll have to go talk to him.”

  Lucy could see Maggie felt embarrassed about that. But what could she do? Maggie hadn’t gone running to the police right after their conversation. But this was different.

  “I thought you were tending to believe what Alec Lassiter told you, that Lewis loved Jeremy and never could have harmed him.”

  Maggie worked quickly, picking off the garbage and spoiled yarn, Lucy noticed. But she paused and shook her head, her short brown curls bouncing around her face.

  “See, that’s the thing. It all gets muddled. I do believe Alec. I heard Lewis talk about Jeremy with my own ears, at the memorial service, in such a tender, loving way. It is hard, if not impossible, to believe Lewis would have tracked Jeremy down and harmed him. Or even hired someone to do it while he sat and enjoyed an opera.” Maggie sighed, looking at a hunk of shaving-cream-soaked yarn. “I’m not even sure this trick-or-treat-type trashing is his style. He seems too neat and methodical a person. Though whoever did this car may have ransacked Rebecca’s apartment. Even Detective Reyes had to admit the two incidents might be connected.”

  “We keep forgetting about Erica Ferris,” Lucy reminded her.

  “Yes, out of sight but not out of mind. She does hate knitting or anything even vaguely connected. Maybe this masterpiece is her artistic statement . . . yarn combined with garbage and rotten eggs?”

  “I know what you mean. I was wondering the same thing.”

  Lucy heard a car approaching and turned to see Suzanne’s huge SUV turning into the driveway. She parked behind Maggie’s car and jumped out from behind the wheel. Dana hopped out the other side.

  They were dressed in their oldest jeans and sweatshirts, Lucy noticed. Suzanne waved bottles of white vinegar in both hands, as if she were bringing vintage wines to a picnic in the country.

  “We’re here . . . with vinegar to spare. I bet you don’t have nearly enough.”

  “We haven’t even gotten to the vinegar yet.” Lucy stood back from the side of the car she’d been working on. “We’re still picking off the litter.”

  “Didn’t the police take it away, as evidence?” Dana looked perfectly serious asking the question.

  “They took a few samples. That’s all they needed to track the forensics of this”—Lucy pulled up a bit of trash with her rubber-gloved hand—“old spaghetti?”

  Suzanne drew closer and peered at the specimen. “Looks like linguine to me. Whole wheat, I’d say.”

  Maggie rolled her eyes. “Thank you, Watson. I’ll have to call Detective Reyes later and tell her that. Maybe she can trace the garbage to an Italian health food restaurant. I don’t even buy whole wheat linguine.” She looked over at Suzanne and Dana again. “You guys didn’t have to come over like this. I appreciate it, really. But shouldn’t you both be at work now?”

  “I don’t have any appointments until the afternoon,” Dana replied. “Besides, we couldn’t leave you alone with this, once Phoebe told us what happened.”

  “I told her not to sound the alarm,” Maggie said. “I didn’t want to bother everyone.”

  “I have today off. Just some follow-up calls to make,” Suzanne said. She looked over at Maggie’s car. “What a mess. This is the handiwork of a truly sick puppy.”

  “Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Dana pulled some plastic gloves from the box sitting on the lawn and handed a pair to Suzanne. “Do the police have any idea who did it?”

  “Not that they were willing to share with me,” Maggie said. “But we have one or two,” she glanced at Lucy.

  “I had a feeling you would say that.” Dana made a queasy face, wiping off a handful of gunk from the tailgate. “Let’s spin some theories, ladies. It will distract us while we work.”

  With all four of her friends working, cleaning Maggie’s car did not take nearly as long as Lucy expected. The scent of the white vinegar solution was almost as bad as the trash smell, but in a different way. Most of the egg came off, but the paint was damaged in spots. It made Maggie’s car look like a camouflaged vehicle.

  “You can go undercover much easier now, Mag,” Lucy told her.

  “There’s always an upside, if you look long enough, right?” Maggie said drily. “But don’t tell Detective Reyes,” she added.

  After the cleanup, Suzanne and Dana headed off to resume their postponed schedules. Lucy went home to shower and change, then returned to Maggie’s house to drive her into the village. The car was cleaned off, but the tires were still flat. A roadside assistance service was coming and Maggie was pleased to hear they could make the repair without her being home. She decided to cover the back window with a wooden board and leave that repair for another day.

  Maggie’s house was a long walk into town and she was tired from the ordeal during the night and the cleanup. Lucy didn’t mind the extra favor. She was too distracted to get any real work done in the afternoon anyway.

  When they reached the shop, Nora Bailey was waiting.

  “Maggie, I’m so sorry about your car. What an ordeal.” Nora gave her a quick hug. “Rebecca and I feel responsible. It wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t trying to help her. Please let us pay for the repairs. We really want to do that,” Nora insisted.

  “Don’t worry, Nora. My insurance might cover all of it. It’s not your fault or Rebecca’s. I think the blame falls squarely on the nut job who came over last night.”

  “Well . . . that’s true. But you know what I mean,” Nora sat on the love seat in the small side room, and took out her knitting.

  Lucy sat in an armchair nearby and leafed through a new knitting magazine with spring patterns and projects. She was almost finished with the shrug and wanted to try something new.

  “Alec Lassiter called last night. He and Rebecca talked for a while. He said he’d felt bad about not being in touch lately. Something about being a bad brother-in-law.” Nora shook her head. “He said he met you at some fancy party and you made him feel guilty.”
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  “Oh . . . I didn’t mean to . . . Well, maybe I did a little,” she admitted.

  Maggie had slipped on her glasses and was going through the mail. Phoebe was in the back helping a customer choose yarn to fit a pattern she had out on the worktable.

  “I only said it would help tamp down some of this nasty gossip if he and his family stood by Rebecca right now. And people could see Jeremy’s own family believed she was innocent.”

  “It would help. But I think the Lassiters have their own worries. Alec’s sister and father probably need his help right now even more than Rebecca does. Have you seen the newspaper this morning? Oh, you must have been too busy,” Nora said.

  Lucy put the magazine in her lap and looked over at Maggie. She had a copy of the newspaper in her hand, along with the rest of the mail. She put down the envelopes and unfolded the paper.

  “It’s on the second page, I think . . .” Nora put her knitting aside and walked over to Maggie, so they could read the article with her. Lucy did the same.

  Maggie quickly opened the paper and found the news article. “Here it is . . . a big headline. ‘Investment Scandal Rocks Mighty At-Las.’”

  Maggie held out the paper so Lucy could read it, too. Nora had already seen the news and stood by waiting.

  The article reported that an emergency board meeting was being held that morning. “‘It is expected that Philip Lassiter will be ousted as the chairman and CEO. The move comes in reaction to his alleged mishandling of investments earmarked for research and development of a new resin product, touted as a miracle adhesive,’” Maggie read aloud in a shocked tone.

  “‘An investigation, mounted by federal authorities, is expected to be completed within hours. Sources close to the investigation predict Philip Lassiter will be charged with luring investors into a pyramid, or Ponzi-type scheme, over the past two years or more. The elaborate scheme included false financial statements and earnings reports on bogus advanced sales of an adhesive product that the company claimed was not perfected yet but already in demand.’”