A Dark and Stormy Knit (Black Sheep Knitting Mystery)

by Canadeo, Anne

  “Hey, Mag . . . where’s Phoebe?”

  “Oh, she was so tired and worn out. I told her to get a little more sleep. She’ll be along in a while.”

  “How are you doing? You look a little tired, too,” Lucy observed cautiously.

  “Oh, I’m all right. Considering my shop was all over the news last night, the scene of a murder investigation.” Without Phoebe around, Maggie felt able to vent freely. “How’s that for free advertising?”

  “You never know. People are so nosy these days. You might draw some new customers who want to poke around such a notorious knitting shop.”

  Maggie had to laugh at that theory. Trust Lucy to find any possible upside. She climbed the porch steps and stuck the key in the shop door.

  “I suppose it’s possible,” she said with a sigh.

  She pulled open the door, then entered the shop and left her knitting bag on the front counter and headed for the storeroom. “Well . . . everything looks the same. I was afraid the police started tossing things around down here, too.”

  She set up the coffeemaker as she spoke. Lucy stood in the doorway and slipped off her jacket. “What were they looking for? Did they say?”

  “Anything that might help their investigation. At least they give you a receipt for things they confiscate. I know they took her computer and all of her yarn. They’re trying to match fibers with the wrapping on Beth Shelton’s body.”

  Lucy took in a quick, sharp breath. “I thought they were only bothering Phoebe because she’d been in touch with the Knit Kats. They can’t possibly consider her a suspect.”

  Maggie sighed and shrugged. “They called her a person of interest. But they sometimes don’t use the term ‘suspect’ until they’ve built a case.”

  “But there’s no motivation. Phoebe hardly knew Beth Shelton . . . and she loves Charlotte. She’s been trying to protect her.”

  The coffee had dripped down, and Maggie poured out two mugs. “Yes . . . I know. But once the police saw her on that video, it opened Pandora’s box. Or maybe Pandora’s knitting bag.”

  A weak jest, but the best Maggie could muster. The idea of Phoebe becoming a real suspect in this case was just unthinkable. She didn’t want to sound negative, but she was honestly worried. “Let’s hope that now that they’ve questioned her twice, searched her apartment . . . even taken a DNA sample—”

  “They did?” Lucy stared at her, looking concerned.

  “She didn’t have to. But her attorney advised her to do it voluntarily.” Maggie paused, trying to keep her thoughts straight. This was so distressing to talk about. “What I’m trying to say is, now that the police have all the information they can possibly want, maybe they can rule her out.”

  “I hope so.” Lucy took a testing sip of her coffee. Maggie could see it was still too hot to drink. Lucy took her coffee black, and Maggie could never figure out how she didn’t burn her mouth every morning. “How is she doing otherwise?”

  “Better than most people would be. I know she doesn’t look it, but she’s a strong girl.”

  “I’m sure you’ve been a big help.”

  “I try. It’s not over yet,” Maggie answered in a softer tone.

  They went out to the oak table and sat down. The construction paper and doilies from the interrupted window-decorating project were still on the table. Maggie pushed them aside. The front window was a mess and would just have to stay that way for a while.

  Lucy didn’t speak for a long time. “Didn’t they see anyone else on those videos? There had to be other Knit Kats creeping around that night.”

  “I wondered about the same thing. The detectives wouldn’t say. Only that they’re still looking at the tapes and it takes time. Maybe Dana knows more about that. And where in the world is Charlotte?” Maggie added in a hushed but emphatic tone. “I have a feeling she knows plenty. Phoebe has really put her neck out, trying to protect her. I wonder if Charlotte would be so loyal. If Phoebe’s situation gets more complicated, I wonder if Charlotte will come back to help her.”

  “Oh now . . . let’s not get carried away,” Lucy insisted. “The police have to rule Phoebe out. She didn’t do anything,” she pointed out emphatically.

  Maggie sighed. “Yes, of course she didn’t. I’d still like to know where Charlotte is and what she knows. I have a feeling she’s all right. Just hiding somewhere.”

  “I’m not sure why, but I feel the same,” Lucy said. “Have the police said anything more about tracking her? Beyond the train ticket in New Jersey?”

  “Not to me or Phoebe. But perhaps they know more. I hope they do,” Maggie added. “At first I thought she was running away from Quentin. But now it seems it’s definitely something more.”

  “I think so, too.” Lucy took a sip of her coffee. “I can see Quentin losing his temper so badly that he could do mortal harm to someone. In an angry rage. I can even accept that he might mistake Beth for Charlotte in the dark because his head was so fogged by his feelings. But covering the body in knitted material? Not an afghan he grabbed off the bed but real fiber art? Why would he do that? Where would he even find it?”

  “I agree.” Maggie nodded. “If I was a detective, I would have to rule Quentin out of this. Or at least put him on the back suspect burner. Unless Charlotte had a big piece of her artwork in her apartment and he was trying to make a statement of some kind?” Maggie sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s all so confusing. I just hate to see the way Phoebe’s being dragged into the whole mess. It seems so unfair.”

  They both heard the shop door open and Suzanne’s dulcet tones before the sassy brunette came into view. “How’s our girl? Is she all right? I couldn’t sleep a wink, thinking of her at the police station. Where is she? I picked up her favorite breakfast.”

  Suzanne walked to the back of the shop, waving a white bakery bag. In a dark-red peacoat, jeans, and knee-high black boots that laced in back, she looked like some sort of regal messenger, Maggie thought.

  “She’s still at Maggie’s. She needed a little more sleep before facing the apartment,” Lucy explained.

  “Oh, right . . . Is it a huge mess up there?”

  “We don’t know. She asked me not to look before she got here.” Maggie poured Suzanne a cup of coffee and set it on the table.

  “What did you bring her, a carrot muffin?” Lucy asked. Everyone knew how much Phoebe liked carrot muffins from the bakery that was down near the harbor.

  Suzanne gave Lucy a look. “A plain old muffin? At a time like this? It’s a red velvet cupcake. I said ‘favorite.’ Not ‘default setting.’ ”

  “For breakfast?” Maggie asked.

  “It’s an emergency. I want to cheer her up. I didn’t think a muffin was going to cut it. I can’t even imagine what that child went through.”

  “Very thoughtful,” Lucy said, hiding a grin.

  Maggie had no comment. Suzanne could be absurd at times. But the cupcake actually might cheer Phoebe up. And by the time she got to the shop, it could be time for lunch.

  “Thank goodness they didn’t charge her with anything and put her in jail.” Suzanne sat down and opened her jacket.

  “We can thank Phoebe’s lawyer. She got the police to drop the vandalism and littering charges in exchange for cooperating,” Maggie told her. “But Phoebe’s attorney was concerned that the connection to the Knit Kats and the direction of the investigation made for some hot water. After all, she’s the only Knit Kat they’ve managed to get hold of.”

  “So far,” Suzanne added. “I still can’t believe she auditioned for them. They must have an eye on this shop. Maybe they even know about our knitting group, especially after you were on TV. And that weird meow call. You told the police about that, right?” Suzanne had taken her own cup of coffee and a croissant out of the bakery bag and started on her breakfast.

  “Yes, I did. Don’t worry . . . Besides, Phoebe told the police that Charlotte was her connection. Charlotte knew the group was looking for a new member an
d asked Phoebe if she wanted to try out.”

  Lucy had been paging through a knitting magazine and now looked up at Maggie. “Is Charlotte a Knit Kat? You never would have known, sitting with her while we watched that news clip about the parking meters. If she is in the group, she’s a pretty good actress.”

  Maggie had been unpacking a special order but sat down at the table again with her friends. “Phoebe had a feeling she was connected to them. Or knows who they are.”

  “There is a face crossed out on the website page with their photos,” Lucy reminded them. “Maybe that’s Charlotte’s photo.”

  “Maybe . . . I hope it wasn’t Beth Shelton’s. That might imply that Knit Kats X-ed her out in real life as well,” Maggie told her friends. “But the thought that the Knit Kats are cold-blooded killers chills me to the bone. I don’t know why. I don’t even know them.”

  “I know what you mean,” Lucy agreed. “They’ve always seemed so clever and playful. That dark side would be like a horror movie—when all the house pets grow long, gruesome fangs and attack their owners.”

  “Eeew, yes . . . creepy,” Suzanne agreed around a mouthful of croissant. “Maybe Charlotte was invited to join the Knit Kats but didn’t. That’s how she knew the group was looking.”

  “That could be. Impossible to say at this point. Charlotte did know that the Knit Kats submitted work to the art exhibit. But it was rejected. Phoebe isn’t sure how she knew, and Charlotte made her swear not to tell anyone.”

  “Interesting.” Lucy frowned. Maggie thought of it as her “thinking cap” expression. “Isn’t that sort of information kept confidential? Though there is a lot of gossip in art departments . . . well, any department at a college,” Lucy added.

  “Almost as much as in a real-estate office. And that’s saying something.” Suzanne glanced at Maggie. “Hey, could the Knit Kats have gotten so jealous they wanted to kill Charlotte because her work was chosen and theirs was tossed aside? It seems too extreme, and insane,” Suzanne added, answering her own question. “Even for people who run around in the middle of the night, wrapping yarn around public property.”

  Maggie looked at her. “Hard to say. The way you describe it, the two seem fairly equal on the obsessive-and-insane scale . . . don’t you think, Lucy?”

  “I wouldn’t rule it out. Maybe there were other more serious issues, and this rejection pushed them over the top. By the way, what happened after Phoebe drank the Kool-Aid? Did they try to bring her into the cat coven?”

  “No, thank goodness. After she did their bidding—and got caught on candid security camera—she never heard from them. She even tried to get in touch, but the e-mail address didn’t work anymore.”

  “Really? That’s spooky, too.” Suzanne was wearing a white cowl-neck sweater but still rubbed her arms for warmth.

  Lucy laughed. “It sounds like a bad first date. You think you did everything right. Then the guy never calls you.”

  Maggie nodded. “Something like that. Which is often a blessing in disguise. Not that you have to worry about that anymore.” She glanced back at Lucy, who had taken her punches on the singles scene—or avoided it altogether—until she’d met Matt.

  “Yes, it was a blessing Phoebe didn’t get a call back,” Suzanne agreed. “If the police are badgering her this much for just trying out, imagine how bad it would be if she’d been a dues-paying member.”

  “I don’t even want to think about it,” Maggie said quickly. They all heard the shop door open. Lucy had the best view and took the others in with a sweeping glance.

  “It’s Phoebe,” she silently mouthed.

  “Hey, Phoebe,” Suzanne called out. “We’re back here. I brought you a surprise.”

  “A surprise? Is it good?” Phoebe walked to the back of the shop, carrying a big box. Maggie knew Van Gogh was inside. The others could probably guess from the scratching sounds and faint meows.

  “Why is your cat in there?” Suzanne asked.

  “He was at Maggie’s. While the police were here,” she added reluctantly. “I didn’t want him to get scared and run away or anything.”

  Then have to explain that to Charlotte when she got back, Maggie knew she meant. Maggie hoped Charlotte did come back. Pronto. She could answer a lot of questions and help Phoebe out of this jam.

  But Maggie was certain now she wouldn’t insist that Phoebe return Van Gogh. Not after she’d seen how the cat’s mere purring presence had brought Phoebe so much comfort last night. Pets do have an amazing power to care for and nurture human beings, though we get all the credit for taking care of them, Maggie thought.

  “Maybe he should stay down here until you see what happened upstairs,” Maggie suggested. “In his box, I mean.”

  Her “no cats in the store” rule remained ironclad. No question.

  “Good point.” Phoebe put the box down and put her big purse on top to keep the clever creature from opening the flaps.

  Maggie could tell she was reluctant to go upstairs. Understandably.

  “Want some coffee? There’s plenty left.”

  “No . . . I’m okay. I already had some at your house. I don’t want to get too wired.” She looked like she was readying herself to face the mess, then suddenly turned to Suzanne. “Where’s my surprise?”

  “I have it right here . . .” Suzanne handed her the bakery bag. Phoebe quickly opened it and peeked inside. She smiled and sighed with gratitude. “A red velvet cupcake? Suzanne . . . it’s beautiful.”

  Suzanne sat back and smiled with satisfaction. “I thought it might cheer you up a little. You don’t have to eat it now,” she added, glancing at her friends with an “I told you so” look.

  “Right. I’ll save it for lunch,” Phoebe agreed, carefully closing the bag. She looked up again, taking them all in with a glance, her expression serious. And sheepish, Maggie noticed.

  “I don’t think I even deserve a cupcake . . . I mean, after the way I lied to all of you last week. Acting like I didn’t know a thing about the parking meter covers. I feel like such an idiot. I thought being part of the Knit Kats would be so cool. I should have realized I already have the coolest knitting friends in the entire universe. Why would I ever need new ones?”

  Maggie had not expected this heartfelt apology. She could see that the others were taken by surprise as well.

  “You don’t have to apologize. We understand.” Lucy stood beside Phoebe and patted her shoulder. “I can see why the secret society stuff would be tempting . . . and the Knit Kats are real artists, just like you.”

  Suzanne smiled and carefully patted her lips with a paper napkin. “It’s flattering when a new clique asks you to hang out. We know you’d never ditch us.”

  “Well . . . thanks for being so understanding. I’ll make it up to you guys. I promise.”

  Phoebe set the bag with the cupcake on the table, then sighed. Everyone else sat back, watching her. Maggie knew what they were all thinking. There was nothing left now for Phoebe to say or do but go up to her apartment.

  Lucy stood up from her seat. “Want me to go upstairs with you, Phoebe? Come on. Let’s go together.”

  Phoebe glanced at her. “It’s going to be pretty bad. I know they took my computer. I mean, why not just pull my little wings off, right? Who knows what else they took . . .”

  She looked about to cry. Maggie’s heart went out to her.

  Suzanne stood up, too. “I’ll go up with you. Messes are my life. You guys should see my house on the weekend, when everyone is home for two days straight. It looks like the FBI was searching our TV room for Jimmy Hoffa. Guess who has to clean that up by her little old self?”

  “Yeah, it’s a small world—unless you have to clean it,” Lucy added.

  “How true.” Maggie stood up, too. “All right, let’s go. We may as well face this together.”

  “Wait . . . where are you all going? I just got here . . .”

  Dana had come into the shop, but no one had heard her. They’d all been so focused on P
hoebe, Maggie realized.

  “Up to Phoebe’s apartment. To help her clean. If necessary,” Maggie added. It was possible that the police had not made a shambles of the place. Possible, though not likely.

  “Oh, I see.” Dana shrugged her coat off, set it on a chair with her handbag, then leaned over and gave Phoebe a hug. She left her arm around Phoebe’s shoulder.

  “Well, are you ready? It’s totally up to you,” Dana reminded her . . . and her other friends, Maggie realized.

  Phoebe seemed to be thinking about it a moment, then nodded. “Let’s just do this thing.”

  “That’s the spirit. You know cleaning can be fun . . . when it’s done,” Suzanne said cheerfully. She fell into step behind Dana and Phoebe as they led the way up to the apartment.

  Lucy was next in line, and Maggie brought up the rear. It was possible that a customer might wander in while they were all upstairs, but Maggie didn’t care. It was more important right now to be there for Phoebe.

  Phoebe entered her apartment and let out a piercing scream.

  The line stopped, and Maggie was stuck in the stairwell. She heard Suzanne scream next, and then Lucy said, “What in the world?” in an astonished but revolted tone.

  Finally Maggie reached the top of the steps and quickly stared around. It looked as if the tidy, charming place had been turned upside down and vigorously shaken. Then, for good measure, stirred.

  What had they been looking for?

  What had they found?

  Phoebe darted around, picking up random belongings and putting them down again. She was shouting and crying. “Look at my stuff! Look at all my stuff! It’s wrecked. It’s ruined . . .”

  She ran over to a wooden cupboard near the couch. The doors hung ajar, and she pulled them open. The cupboard looked fairly empty, with only a few shoeboxes on the top shelf, marked “buttons,” “needles,” “thread.”

  “They took my entire stash! All my yarn . . . stuff I’d been saving for years. It’s gone!” She turned to the others, crying harder now. “Why did they do that? I didn’t do anything, guys, honest . . .”

  Dana caught up with her and held her close, stopping her in her tracks, though she resisted. Suzanne quickly came to stand on Phoebe’s other side and rubbed her back in a soothing motion.