by Mary Kruger
“Herb.” Diane snorted. “He keeps his brains in his—”
“Diane.”
She grinned. “Back pocket. What?” she said innocently.
“Nothing,” Ari said, but she gave Diane a look.
“Could Herb have done it?”
“I don’t know. He hasn’t been ruled out yet.”
“It would be nice.”
“If it were him? Yes. Convenient. But why’d Edith get killed in my shop? That’s what I keep coming back to.”
“There has to be a reason.”
“I don’t know what. Oh.”
“What?”
“Guess who I saw yesterday,” Ari said.
“Who?”
“Mrs. Mailloux.”
“Oh, yeah. I saw her the other day, too.”
“Where?”
“At Marty’s. Where else?”
“Shaw’s, in my case. Diane, she told me something.”
“What?”
“She said Edith had one of my patterns.”
“She actually bought one from you?”
“No, of course not. And the picture was in color, and I hadn’t put it out yet. It’s a new design.”
Diane stared at her. “Then how…”
“I don’t know, but someone’s stealing my patterns. And I wonder if whoever it is killed Edith.”
sixteen
“WHAT?” DIANE EXCLAIMED. “Who?”
“I have no idea,” Ari said.
“Yes, you do. Someone you trust. Who has access to your patterns?”
“Well, that’s the problem. It could be anyone. Kaitlyn and I racked our brains this afternoon and couldn’t come up with anyone.”
“Hmm.” Diane looked thoughtful. “You have them on your computer first, right?”
“Yes, so?”
“Maybe someone hacked into your computer.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Oh, come on, even you have to have heard of hackers. Someone could have gotten into your computer online and stolen the designs.”
“That’s ridiculous. Who’d do such a thing?”
“Anyone with computer knowledge.”
“Do you know how?” Ari demanded.
“Well, no. It’s a little too advanced for me. But maybe someone does.”
“No,” Ari said firmly. “That’s going a little too far. There has to be a simpler answer.”
“Okay. Someone at the printer’s?”
“No. No. Ridiculous. My patterns don’t make much money. Who’d risk his job for that?”
“Maybe it’s not for the money.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’ve thought from the beginning that someone has a grudge against you. That’s why Edith was killed in your shop.”
“Do you think Edith would have been murdered anyway?”
“It’s a possibility.” Diane pursed her lips. “I think someone had reason to want her dead. Getting at you was probably just a side benefit.”
“Some benefit.”
“Yeah. Ari, where else do you keep your patterns, besides your computer? In your office?”
“Yes. In a file.”
“And the pictures to go with them?”
“In another file. Why?”
“Someone could have stolen them from your office.”
“I can’t believe that,” Ari protested.
“Who could get into there?”
“No one.”
“No? Not Kaitlyn? What about Summer, or even Laura?”
“They all have alibis for Edith’s death. So much for that theory,” Ari said, and fell silent.
“What is it?”
“Di, I think there are times when anyone could have gotten in. If there’s only one of us working, and we have to go into the back room for a customer, no one’s covering the sales desk.”
“Who have you done that for?”
“I don’t know. Anyone. Everyone. Well, not everyone, but a lot of people. People who special-order yarns, or want something I haven’t put out yet, or even…” She grinned. “Once in a while I’ve run to the bathroom when there’s a customer in.”
“Someone you trust, obviously.”
“Yes, but I couldn’t give you names.”
“Maybe you should start thinking.”
“It seems so absurd. I mean, isn’t it a little far to go to get a free pattern?”
“It’s not that, and you know it.”
“I know.” Someone had a grudge against her, she thought, and shuddered. “I wonder if anyone else knows about Edith having my pattern.”
“I can ask around.”
“Thanks, Di. If you happen to see Mrs. Mailloux, would you ask her about it? She was supposed to call me last night, but she didn’t.” She grimaced. “Those grandchildren of hers are holy terrors.”
“Sure, I’ll ask her, and anyone else I see.”
“Be careful,” Ari said, alarmed. “You don’t want to tip her off.”
“Her?”
“The killer.”
“Get real. Do you really think someone will come after me because of stolen patterns?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what set her off.” She slid off the stool. “I have to get back. I’ve got things to do before I go out.”
Diane walked her to the door. “Is Megan with Ted?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you ever hook up with him?”
“He was wearing a designer sweater.”
Diane laughed. “Only you, Ari.”
“In homespun yarn,” Ari added.
“Well, that still wouldn’t have done anything for me. Maybe you’ll have better luck with the cop.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“He’s better-looking than Ted.”
“Oh, honestly.” Ari got into her car. “It’s not like that.”
Diane stepped back from the car, grinning knowingly. “Yeah, right.”
“Yes, right,” Ari retorted, and started her car. Diane was so wrong, she thought as she turned around and started down the drive. She and Josh were friends, and sometimes co-conspirators. That was all.
The Lucky Dragon wasn’t quite as pedestrian as Ted had implied. While its menu did include chow mein sandwiches and such ordinary fare as chop suey and egg foo yong, it was better known for its more gourmet items and its quality. Among other things, it boasted the only Mongolian grill in the area. After some deliberation, Ari and Josh decided on crispy lemon chicken and tea for her; beef with asparagus and Tsingtao beer for him. It wasn’t a date, Ari told herself, but it was unexpectedly fun to be out with a man again, with no hidden agenda. At least, not the usual one.
“I saw Diane today,” she said, reaching for a fried noodle and dipping it into sweet sauce.
“Oh?” Josh’s look was guarded. “What’d she have to say?”
“Lots of things. We’ve been friends for too long to let a little thing like murder separate us.”
He grinned at that, an honest-to-goodness grin. She felt absurdly pleased at that reaction. “Or vandalism and destruction of school property.”
“Mmm-hmm.” She sat back as their waitress placed cups of hot-and-sour soup before them. The mention of school reminded her of Sarah Mailloux, who hadn’t been far from her thoughts since yesterday. Ari wondered why she hadn’t called. “Anything new?”
“Nope. Uh-oh.”
“What?”
“Don’t turn around, but it’s Gerry Macklin and his wife. I said, don’t turn around.”
Ari turned back from smiling at Macklin, who was a town selectman. “There. Now we’re an item.”
“Yeah. So much for being subtle.”
“I didn’t think we were supposed to be subtle. Isn’t the idea to throw everyone off the scent?”
“Yes, but…”
She glanced quickly up at him as she spooned up some soup. Not for the first time, she wondered what this evening was about. Was it about Edith’s murder, or was it indeed
a date? “So there’s nothing new at all?”
“No.” His face was grave. “It’s not looking good for Camacho, though.”
“Does the chief know you’re still investigating?” Ari asked.
“No, but he knows I’m not satisfied with the case against Camacho.” He leaned forward. Anyone watching would think it was for romantic reasons, Ari thought. “Have you ever thought that maybe he is guilty?”
“No. Not for a minute.”
“The evidence is strong.”
“So who hit me? Your case has holes.”
“Most cases have holes. That doesn’t mean we’ve arrested the wrong person.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“Unless something new comes up, I may have to.”
Ari sat back, fuming, as the waitress set down their entrees. “Are you saying that Diane attacked me?” she asked when they were alone again.
“You said your attacker was a woman.”
“Not Diane.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she wouldn’t. It certainly wasn’t Joe.”
“True.” He was quiet for a moment. “The chief asked if I had anything new today.”
“Oh.” Ari passed the rice to Josh as she pondered the implications of that. “Do you?”
“No.”
Josh’s expression spoke more of discouragement than conviction. Maybe going in another direction would help.
“Edith Perry was getting my patterns from somewhere.”
Josh speared some asparagus. “So?”
“Not from me.”
“So she borrowed them from someone.”
“Josh, she had the pattern for a sweater I wore yesterday for the first time, and not the way I had it printed.”
That made him look up. “What are you saying?”
“I think someone’s stealing my designs.”
He frowned. “How different was it?”
“The picture with it was in color. My patterns are in black and white. Besides, I didn’t put it out until after Edith died.”
“Who told you this?”
“Sarah Mailloux. She used to be my history teacher, and she knew Edith.”
“Far as I can tell, everyone in this town knew Edith.”
“Well, yes, that’s true. But, Josh, someone stole that pattern.”
He sat back. “Any idea who?”
“No. Diane and I went over and over it this afternoon, and we couldn’t think of anyone.”
“Someone who works for you, maybe?”
“Yes,” she said reluctantly. “Or one of my customers.” Quickly she outlined all that she and Diane had discussed. “Josh, I’d hate to think it of someone I know. I mean, I’ve had people shoplift before. One of my grandmother’s friends took a pattern once. That hurt.”
“Someone you know likely killed Edith,” he pointed out. “Ari, I’m sorry, but having your patterns ripped off doesn’t seem that important when someone’s been murdered.”
“All right, so it’s not. But that’s my livelihood, Josh. Someone’s stealing my work. Don’t you think it could be connected?”
“Maybe.” He picked up his fork, and then set it down again. “Ari, have you thought that it could have been Edith herself?”
“What? How? She never came into the shop.”
“She had a key,” he pointed out.
She thought that over. “No,” she said finally. “Edith was a lot of things, but I can’t see her as a thief. Yes, I know that taking things off the Internet is technically stealing, but it probably doesn’t feel that way to most people.”
“Okay. You never know what’s going to be important in a case, though. This is a loose thread, and it does concern her, but I doubt she was killed for it.”
Ari pushed aside the paper-thin slice of lemon that adorned a piece of chicken. It seemed important to her, no matter what Josh thought. But then, she was closely involved with this. “The only one who’d have a motive for that would be me, or whoever’s selling them, to keep from being found out.”
“It’s pretty thin. I’ve known people to kill for less, but I can’t see it. Wonder who did sell it, though.”
“Yes, and how? If someone’s peddling my designs around here I’d’ve found out before this.”
Josh ate a moment in silence. “Maybe whoever’s doing it isn’t from around here.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mail order. I don’t know how Edith found out about it, but—”
“The Internet,” Ari said suddenly, sitting up straighter. “That has to be it.”
He frowned again. “Why?”
“I’m not the only one with a website.” She leaned forward. “Josh, there are whole sites of pirated designs. That’s what I was looking at just before I got hit. I remembered that yesterday.”
“Who could have known you’d be doing that?” he said, alert.
“I told you, I don’t know. Strange.” She pursed her lips. “It’s awfully coincidental, isn’t it?”
“Did you find your designs?”
“No. I found some odd genealogical things, but not my patterns.”
“Maybe we should—damn. That’s my pager. Do you mind?” he asked as he reached for his cell phone.
“No, of course not,” Ari said, sighing at the interruption. In spite of their conversation, she’d been enjoying herself. This was what it must be like to be married to a cop, she thought, and brought herself up short. Not hardly.
Josh folded up his cell phone with a snap and gestured to the waitress. “I’ve got to go.”
“What is it?”
Josh had turned to the waitress. “The bill, please, and we’d like our food wrapped.” When she left he said, “I probably shouldn’t tell you, but there’s been a knifing in a bar.”
“Was anyone killed?” Ari asked, hand to her throat.
“Not yet. Some drunks in a fight, probably. I’ll drive you home.”
“Thank you,” she said, and let him escort her out, annoyed and disappointed. So much for her evening out, she thought glumly.
Sunday was gray and misty. Ari had treated herself to a special breakfast of fresh malassadas, a Portuguese version of fried dough, and hazelnut-flavored coffee, and had read both the New Bedford Standard-Times and the Boston Globe from front to back. The bar fight that had taken Josh away last night had proven to be not much of anything, according to the local paper; one man was in the hospital with minor knife wounds, and the other was in jail. Both awaited charges for their little escapade. From Josh himself she heard not a word. When they had decided that they weren’t really dating, he’d apparently meant it.
Laura, on the other hand, had called as soon as Ari came in the night before. She’d heard about the stabbing on her police scanner, and guessed correctly about the abrupt end to Ari’s evening. Ari quickly changed the subject, bringing up instead the intriguing possibility that someone was stealing her patterns. She wasn’t really surprised when she found out that Laura already knew. Sarah Mailloux had told Ruth Taylor, among others, and so the word had spread. Sarah apparently knew nothing beyond what she’d told Ari, which meant that she had no new clues as to where Edith had gotten the pattern. She and Laura speculated on the problem for a few minutes, without reaching any conclusion.
Now Ari faced a house ringing with silence, without Megan’s busy presence. Ted wouldn’t be bringing her home until five, which meant that the day stretched out before her, empty and lonely. She might as well work on that new idea she’d had, Ari thought, bringing her dishes to the kitchen and rinsing them in the sink. It would at least pass the time.
She was just bringing up her design software at her computer when her doorbell rang. Startled, she went to the door, gazing out the side windows first, and then resting her head on the jamb with her eyes closed. Josh. Of course. Just when she looked her best, she thought sardonically, still in her robe and slippers, though it was early afternoon.
Josh looked surprised when s
he opened the door. “Am I interrupting something?”
“No.” She stepped aside so he could come in. “I tend to be lazy on Sundays. If you want to wait in the living room, I’ll go get changed. There’s coffee in the kitchen,” she called over her shoulder as she dashed for the stairs.
“Thanks,” he called after her.
A few minutes later she was back, wearing jeans and a loose brown pullover knitted in reverse stockinette stitch. She’d pinned her hair up in back with a clip, and wore only soft moccasins with no socks on her feet. She definitely looked less than her best, especially compared to last evening, when she’d taken pains with her hair and makeup. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said a little breathlessly. “I didn’t expect anyone.”
“Sorry.” He was standing, looking awkward. “Maybe I should have called first.”
She waved him over to a brown corduroy recliner, and settled onto the sofa that was upholstered in a sturdy plaid, nudging back some of Megan’s toys as she did so. For all her design expertise, Ari hadn’t done much to fix her house up. This room was childproofed because Megan had to play somewhere besides her room, but the parlor was as boring as it had been when she and Ted first moved in. It held the same beige-painted walls, the same wide walnut coffee table, the same Indian print rug. “No, it’s okay. So last night wasn’t much of anything?”
“What? I thought—oh, the stabbing, you mean?”
“Yes.” Had he thought she meant their brief evening together? she wondered, and hoped her cheeks weren’t red.
“No, just two drunk idiots. Look, I’m sorry about last night.”
It felt unexpectedly cozy sitting with him, with the rain now coming down in earnest outside. “It’s okay. I understand.”
“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised.
“Okay,” Ari said, uncomfortably aware of something hanging in the air between them, and wondering just why he was here. “Have you found out anything new?”
“About Edith? Not since last night.”
“Oh.”
“But I got to thinking.” He leaned toward her. “About your patterns.”
“Laura called last night. She’s been asking her friends about them, but no one’s seen them.”
“Then where did Edith get the one she had?”
“If she did,” Ari said doubtfully. “Mrs. Mailloux could be wrong.”