by Mary Kruger
“Do you think that’s what happened with Edith? Did she get in someone’s way?”
He almost decided not to answer that, though there was no real reason not to. “Maybe. She seems to have had enemies.”
“Yes,” Ari said tonelessly.
He sent her a quick glance. Her face was set and stony. There was no way around it. She had had a grudge against Edith. So had her friend Diane. “Money could have something to do with it, too,” he said, letting her off the hook.
“Yes, I’ve thought of that.” Her shoulders relaxed; she seemed as relieved as he to change the subject. “She had a lot of property. Do you know about her will yet?”
“No, but we should soon.” He rose. “I have to be getting back.”
“So do I.” She stood up, too, dusting off her beige linen slacks. “I doubt she left anything to her son.”
Josh picked up the cooler. “I can’t tell you if she did.”
Ari waved her hand in dismissal. “I’ll find out, anyway. And, no, I won’t have to ask any questions. This is a small town.”
He glanced at her as they walked back toward her shop. It was going to be impossible to keep her out of the case. “How did you get into your business?” he asked, to distract her.
The look she gave him said clearly that she knew what he was doing. “Through Laura, of course. It was her idea.”
“Not yours?”
“No. I think Laura wanted a yarn shop, but without the work. She has a way of getting what she wants.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, take knitting, for example. My mother showed me the basics, but Laura’s the one who really taught me.”
“Oh?”
“My grandmother Jorgensen was a wonderful knitter. She made the most beautiful Scandinavian sweaters.” She smiled to herself. “I used to love to watch her. I finally said I wanted to learn, but she wouldn’t teach me. She said I didn’t have the patience.”
“She didn’t really know you, then.”
“What she meant was that she didn’t have the patience. She never did understand it when someone didn’t catch on to something as quickly as she did. Anyway, I started pestering my mother, and she finally bought me a knitting knobby.”
“What is that?” he asked again.
“A knitting spool. It has four prongs on top, and you slip yarn over them to make loops. What you end up with is a long thin tube.”
He frowned. “What do you use it for?”
“The only use I ever found for it was to coil it around and stitch it to make a doll’s rug. Only I didn’t like to sew, and it seemed pointless. There are looms now that work on the same idea, and you can do a lot with them. Anyway, Laura overheard me complaining and offered to teach me. She just happened to need padded coat hangers.”
“Let me guess. Is that what she showed you how to make?”
“Yes. I told you, she manages to get what she wants. I didn’t care. I wanted to learn, so I did. I can be persistent when I want to be.”
Uh-oh. “So all that led to this?” he asked, indicating her shop and ignoring the challenge in her voice.
“Yes, eventually, with a few stops along the way. Well.” She stopped at the door of her shop. “This was pleasant, Detective. Thank you.”
“Josh, if you don’t mind. Thank you for your help.”
Ari nodded, turned to go into the shop, and then paused. “I’m really not going to stop, you know.”
Damn. “You’re going to get yourself into trouble.”
“Not if you help me. Why can’t we just exchange information? Unofficially, of course.”
“In this town?” He eyed her skeptically. “You know as well as I do that people will figure out what we’re doing.”
“They’ll think we’re dating.”
Josh grinned in spite of himself. “Well, we aren’t.”
“They’ll really think it.” She stared at him. “It’s actually a good cover.”
“I told you, I’m not letting you get involved.”
“And I told you, I already am.”
Hands in pockets, Josh looked away. Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t. She would go on investigating, no matter what he said, but if he sanctioned it, even unofficially, they’d both be in trouble. “Damn it.”
“I know,” she said sweetly. “You’re stuck, aren’t you?”
Why had he ever thought she was ditzy? She had just out-thought him, and he was no fool. “Damn it. All right.”
She beamed at him. “Oh, good!”
“But I’m not going to tell you everything I know.”
“Why not?”
“Be reasonable, Ari. How can I? There may be things that will compromise the investigation if I tell them. And as far as the D.A.’s concerned, you’re still a suspect. There’s wiggle room in the alibi.”
“You don’t think so.”
“I still have to keep investigating you.”
She made a face. “I suppose you do,” she said finally, and held out her hand. “Are we partners, then?”
Josh looked at her outstretched hand, sighed, and reached out. “I’m going to regret this.”
By the time Ari closed the shop that night, so many people had come in asking about her lunch with Josh that she wanted to scream. People knew that Ronnie Dean had given her an alibi, and so there was no reason for Josh to talk to her as a suspect. Good cover or not, the idea that they might be dating was going to be inconvenient.
Well, there was nothing she could do about it now. Dismissing the idea from her mind, Ari walked across the street to where her car was parked. Supper. Now what was she to make for supper? Cooking was the last thing she wanted to do, especially with the memory of that day’s lunch fresh in her mind. She could never make a sandwich to compete with that one, let alone anything more complicated. Her creativity didn’t lie that way.
Pizza, she decided, and headed down the shore road to Marty’s. They didn’t have the best pizza in town, but they were quick and convenient, and she could pick up some much-needed supplies there. Megan would be happy, she thought, and frowned. Megan hadn’t wanted to go to school that morning, pleading a stomachache as an excuse. Ari had tried that tactic too many times in her own life to let Megan get away with it, but it worried her. Megan usually loved school. Something had to be bothering her, and she didn’t know what.
Her cell phone rang at that moment. Muttering to herself, Ari pulled over and dug in her purse. “What happened today?” Ted asked without preamble, after she’d finally found the phone and answered it.
She sighed. “Hello to you, too, Ted.”
There was a brief silence. “Sorry, Ari.” His voice was milder. “It’s been a bitch of a day.”
Ari’s experience with Ted was that every day was a bitch of a day for him. “What is it, Ted?”
“I called the shop today and found out you were having lunch with that cop,” he said, aggrieved and accusing again.
“Yes, I did.” She didn’t owe him an apology for that, she reminded herself.
“Christ, Ari, don’t you have any sense? Say the wrong thing, you’ll end up in jail. Hell, knowing you, you’ll say everything wrong.”
“Ted—”
“Don’t you know enough not to talk to him without the defense lawyer I found for you?”
“Ted—”
“Or me, for that matter. I’m your husband, Ari.”
“Ex,” she shot back, angry now.
“Regardless. How do you think it will look if my wife—all right, ex-wife—gets arrested?”
“I’ve been cleared, Ted.”
“And another thing—what?”
“I’ve been cleared,” she said, with a certain smug satisfaction.
“Are you sure?”
“Ted,” she protested. “Don’t talk to me like that.”
“It’s only because I care.”
Ari rolled her eyes, though she knew that, in his own way, he did. “I’m not going to be arrested. Ronni
e Dean alibied me.”
“Oh. Well, if anyone could, it’s her.”
“Yes.” She decided not to tell him how provisional the alibi was, though.
“What did he want, anyway?”
“Background.”
“On what?”
“Knitting.”
“Knitting!” he exploded. “What kind of cop is he?”
“Knitting’s probably connected to Edith’s death somehow.”
“I doubt it. You know, the sooner your friend Diane is arrested, the better.”
That stunned her speechless for a moment. “That’s an awful thing to say.”
“Come on, Ari. We both know she did it. She had a motive.”
“So do I,” Ari retorted. “Diane didn’t do it.”
“Okay. Maybe it was Joe.”
“No!”
“Ari, it’s only a matter of time.”
Again she fell silent. The hell of it was, he could be right. “Ted, I’m in the car,” she said finally. “Can we argue about this at another time?”
“I’m not arguing.”
No, Ted never argued, she thought. At least, not in his own mind. “I’ve got to go. Megan’s waiting for me.”
“Look, I’ll come by tonight then, okay?”
“No! I mean, there’s no need, Ted.”
“I think we should talk over some strategy, just in case. What if the worst happens?”
Ari put her fingers to her temples, where a headache was beginning to form. She was doomed. “All right.” She sighed. “What time?”
A few minutes later, with plans made with Ted, Ari drove off. She’d taken the time to call ahead to Marty’s, so that she wouldn’t have to wait too long. Running into people she knew and talking with them about recent events would be inevitable, but she would keep the encounters as short as she could.
As it happened, Ari worried for nothing. Though she did, indeed, encounter acquaintances and a few friends, none seemed to want to talk. It was as busy a time of day for them as for her. She was thinking she was going to get off scot-free when she turned from the pizza counter, to be presented with a vaguely familiar masculine back. It took her a few moments to recognize him, but when she did, she wanted to turn and run. Too late, though. He had already seen her.
For just a minute they stared at each other, Ari and Eric Hall, Edith’s son by her first marriage. They’d dated for a little while in high school and had been friends since.
“Eric,” she said. Suddenly released from her paralysis, she moved forward to give him an awkward hug.
He returned the embrace as awkwardly as she. “Hey, Ari. I’m glad to see you.”
She pulled back, startled. “Are you, Eric?”
“Yeah.” He glanced around the store, and she became aware that people were likely watching them. “You got a few minutes? I’d like to talk to you.”
“I’m waiting for a pizza. Five minutes or so?”
“Okay. Let’s go outside.”
Ari followed Eric out to the bridge spanning the inlet. It was the second time today she’d been by the water with a good-looking man, she thought. If circumstances were different, she’d say her social life was looking up.
Eric’s sandy blond hair was a little too long, and his light denim shirt was rumpled, but he still moved with the loose-limbed casualness that had always appealed to her. She found it hard to reconcile his present appearance with that of the long-haired goof she’d known when she was young.
“I can’t believe you’re a professor at UMass,” she said.
“Believe it, baby.” He squinted, held up his index finger and thumb as if pointing a gun, and made a clicking noise. It struck her as an odd gesture, under the circumstances. “Damn good one, too.”
Ari didn’t doubt it. Eric had never had to work hard to earn good grades in high school, in spite of his goofy behavior. She wondered what his students would think if they knew he’d been involved in the infamous Theft of the Viking. Probably they wouldn’t be too surprised. “Are you happy there?”
“Yeah, most of the time.” He leaned on the railing overlooking the salt marsh. “So, what’s been happening?”
What’s happening! “Eric, for heaven’s sake.”
He gave her the loopy smile that had once endeared him to her, but that now only made him look silly. It was harder than ever to believe that he taught at a university. “Besides that. You seem to be doing well.”
“Oh, Eric,” she said. Even for him that was too much. “Do you think that matters to me right now?”
“Yeah, well, you never seemed the type to run a successful business.”
“Eric.” She put her hand on his arm. Someone had to put this conversation on an adult footing. “I’m so sorry about what happened.”
“Yeah, well,” he said again, looking away, and for the first time she noticed fine lines radiating from his eyes. For the first time she saw sadness there. He evidently wasn’t as indifferent as he appeared. “Yeah, well.”
“I know you were estranged from her, but still, it must be hard.”
He focused on her. “We made up. Didn’t you know that?”
That was a piece of information that hadn’t made it onto the town grapevine. “Really? When did that happen?” she asked.
“Not long ago. Kathy and I got divorced.”
“Oh, Eric, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, it had been coming for a while. Ma was right.” He stared out over the inlet. “She never liked Kathy.”
“But Kathy’s so nice.”
His look was rueful. “Yeah? Like Ted?”
“Well.” No one’s ex was nice, she thought, certainly not right after a divorce. “Of course it’s none of my business, but what did your mother have against her?”
Eric shot her a look. She’d asked with the familiarity of old friendship. Perhaps it was in the same spirit that he answered. “Kathy’s an environmentalist.”
For a moment, the seeming non sequitur puzzled her. Then, suddenly, she got it. “You didn’t want your mother to develop the Drift Road land.”
“Kathy convinced me. Hell, Ari, it’s a great piece of land, with that view of Buzzard’s Bay. It should be baseball fields or a park. God knows Freeport needs them.”
“But now you’re divorced.”
“Yeah, but it didn’t change my mind.”
“About what?”
He focused his gaze on her. “Ma left me the land. Didn’t you know that?”
That staggered her more than anything else he’d told her. “I had no idea.”
“No one did, but it’s starting to get around.”
“Are you planning to develop it, too?”
He frowned. “I don’t know. Kathy thinks I should.”
“You just said she’s an environmentalist.”
“Not when money’s involved, I guess.”
Kathy should have no say in anything Eric inherited after their divorce, Ari thought. “Are you going to?” she asked again.
Eric gazed out over the inlet. “Maybe—no.” He stood up straighter. “No, I want to sell it to the town as open space in perpetuity.”
“Did you just decide that?”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “It’ll annoy the hell out of Kathy.”
“Eric…”
“Mean to tell me you never wanted to do anything to piss Ted off?”
“Well, yes,” she admitted. “But this is a big thing.”
“Sure. The town’ll give me less money than a developer would, but, hey, I’ll have to pay most of it to Uncle Sam anyway.”
“As I seem to recall, Uncle Sam and the governor pay your salary,” she said dryly.
“Yeah, and then take part of it away. It’s not about the money, Ari. I’m still going to make out okay.”
“I wonder what your mother would think of that,” she said, more to herself than to him.
“She’d go ballistic.”
“Yes.” Ari’s mind worked furiously. In her experience, when someone
said it wasn’t about the money, it really was about the money. Eric might very well change his mind once he found out the difference between what the developer would pay him, and the town. The inheritance had to be a windfall for him. If he’d known he was getting the land, he had a heck of a motive. “It’s too bad you didn’t get to see your mom before she died.”
“Yeah, but I did. I was here the day before it happened.”
“What?”
“Yeah. She told me I was going to inherit, and she wanted to talk about her plans.”
Oh, Lord. Eric might have had the opportunity to kill his mother, though she couldn’t imagine him doing so. For the first time, Ari regretted the partnership she’d formed with Josh. He’d have to know about this. It would take police work to find out if Eric had returned to Amherst after visiting Edith, or if he had an alibi. “Eric, did you—”
“Ari!” someone called from the door to Marty’s. “Your pizza’s ready.”
“Thank you!” she called back, though she made no immediate move to return. “I have to go.”
“Yeah. Ari?” he asked, as she pushed away from the railing.
She turned. “Yes?”
“Will I see you at the funeral?”
Ari hesitated. “No. I don’t think it would be a good idea. I don’t want to take away attention from your mother. She deserves respect.”
“I suppose she does,” he said softly after a moment, and then held out his hand. “Thanks, Ari. You’ve always been a good friend.”
Her smile was strained. “Thanks,” she said, and, after saying good-bye, walked back to Marty’s, arms crossed over her stomach, head bowed. All her friends were suspects. It was a depressing thought.
Ari never stayed down for long, though. As she paid for the pizza, she was already busy with plans. There were a lot of people she could talk to, and a lot of questions to be asked. For one thing, she had to find out who could have gotten into her shop, and why. For another, she had to clear Diane, if she were indeed a suspect. Head up, stride militant, she walked out of Marty’s. Josh Pierce, she thought with a small smile, wouldn’t know what hit him.
six
ARIADNE’S WEB WAS QUIET THE NEXT MORNING, with the usual customers probably doing their Saturday morning errands. Ari took advantage of the lull to work on a new design in her office. Winter might be coming, but she had to plan for spring and summer, and for a different clientele. Her regular customers, especially the older ones, tended to be conservative in their choice of colors and styles. Warmer weather, though, demanded something different, as did the summer residents who flocked to the area from larger cities. For them she’d need something light, bright, perhaps a little clingy. The cards of sample yarns before her, which almost never failed to inspire her with their palette of colors and their range of textures, brought only the slightest wisps of design ideas. She could do a shell, she thought, fingering a silk-blend yarn that came in lovely jewel tones. A pullover with short sleeves and picot edging at the jewel neck, perhaps? Or a sleeveless turtleneck. She would use the colors of summer, the blues of the ocean, the pinks and reds of roses. It would be attractive, she thought—and boring.