“Very clever. Downright . . . shrewd,” Phoebe said.
“Well, he is a PhD. Very intelligent, no question. He applied his brainpower to making some money instead of artwork, I guess.”
“Profits from some inside trading on the stock market, right?” Maggie hated to steal Dana’s thunder, but she couldn’t help it.
Dana glanced at Phoebe again. “The lead you gave Mossbacher really panned out. Jack heard he was grateful.”
“I can’t really take the credit. It was Quentin’s idea. But he’s too crazy to follow through on anything.”
“But you weren’t and you did the legwork, Phoebe,” Dana noted. “The police confronted Healey with all this, and he confessed—to the insider trading, but not the murder. He still claims he’s totally innocent and would never have hurt Beth . . . or Charlotte.’ ”
Phoebe looked down at her lunch. Maggie could tell she believed Healey, despite this latest bombshell.
“What did he say about the stock market scam? How did he pull that off exactly?” Maggie asked.
“Well, he said Charlotte came to his studio one night, very upset. She’d just been fired and told him the whole story. She’d only wanted him to comfort her. But he quickly realized the information she’d passed on, while she was crying her eyes out, was valuable. The next day, he started setting up accounts and buying stock using money from retirement accounts. When the merger went through, he hit the jackpot. His plan was to hide the money and run away with Charlotte. But he says she was appalled, and that was why she broke up with him.”
“But she took fifty grand anyway?” Maggie asked.
Dana shook her head. “No . . . he claims she didn’t want to touch the money. But he put some in her locker, hoping it would change her mind. To her credit, Charlotte only took out one thousand dollars, enough to leave town. She must have gone into the building Sunday night sometime. Or maybe she already had it because she knew she wanted to get away.”
“So he’s the reason Charlotte ran away. She’s afraid of getting into trouble for what he did.” Phoebe was incensed. “No wonder she won’t come back. Even less chance now, once this part hits the news.”
“Maybe . . . but maybe she’ll see that it’s all out in the open and she can’t really hide anymore,” Dana said reasonably. “It could be a relief.”
Phoebe didn’t answer. Maggie felt sorry for her. Finally Phoebe said, “Well, at least now we understand something we didn’t know before. I was trying to help him, but I guess this makes the case against Healey even stronger. If Charlotte was angry at what he’d done and didn’t want to run off with him, he had even more reason to want to silence her.”
Dana nodded, spooning up the last of her soup. “That’s exactly what the police think now, too. But he still claims he’s totally innocent and someone is trying to frame him. He says he’s a stock market swindler but not a murderer.”
“While he has an even stronger motive to kill Charlotte, the question remains why he didn’t realize the woman in the bedroom was Beth . . . and not his intended victim,” Maggie reminded them. “He and Charlotte were lovers. He should have recognized Beth was the wrong woman.”
“It’s a good one,” Dana conceded. “But the prosecution will try to get around it. They have a lot of other things to talk about.”
Phoebe was frowning. She still looked angry and upset at this turn of news. “I still don’t get that part, either. He seems totally guilty now. I feel like such a jerk for looking up to him. He was like my favorite teacher. It’s like . . . who are you? And what have you done with Professor Healey?”
“I’m sure a lot of people were fooled by Professor Healey—you weren’t the only one,” Maggie pointed out. She turned to Dana. “With all this evidence stacked against him, don’t you think he’ll confess?”
Dana shrugged. She bunched up the trash bag and put it aside. “So far, he keeps saying he’s innocent and claims Sonya Finch is framing him.”
“Finch? That’s interesting. She has plenty of reason to want to see him punished. But why would she incriminate the Knit Kats? And she also wouldn’t have mistaken Beth for Charlotte.”
“Healey had even less reason to do that,” Phoebe pointed out.
“Yes, we’ve gone there before,” Maggie reminded them. “That part still doesn’t make sense.”
“We have. And I have to run. I have a patient coming in soon, sorry.” Dana glanced at her watch. “I guess we have to credit this one to the police. It seems they’ve got their man. At least we know that Charlotte wasn’t involved in the stock market scheme. And wouldn’t even take any money. That takes character,” Dana reminded Phoebe. “When she comes back, she’ll have some explaining to do. But she was naive and trusting, and Healey took advantage of her. She can’t be punished that severely.”
Phoebe nodded. “I sure hope so.”
When Dana left, Maggie was alone with Phoebe. A class was coming in soon, one of Maggie’s favorites, animal-face hats. Phoebe was going to help teach today. But they had some time before they had to set up.
“Well, seems like all the loose ends of this fiber piece are being tied up. What do you think now? Still feeling Professor Healey might be innocent?”
Phoebe sighed. “I don’t know . . . It doesn’t seem so, does it? And who would want to frame him besides Sonya Finch? And I just don’t think she’d throw the Knit Kats under the bus, just to get Healey.”
“I don’t, either. And she’s so clever, she could figure out any number of ways to incriminate him.”
“Yeah, probably.” Phoebe was quiet a moment. “It’s hard to believe he could pull off a stock scam like that. But he’s a pretty smart guy.”
“Obviously,” Maggie agreed.
“The only thing that still doesn’t fit is him—or someone else who would stand to benefit from taking Charlotte out of the picture—mistaking Beth for Charlotte. But maybe it was really dark and he was really nervous or had on some sort of mask so he couldn’t see clearly?”
“That could be,” Maggie agreed. Still, she didn’t think Phoebe was totally convinced. Maybe, in time, she would be.
Phoebe was feeling a little blue today for other reasons, reasons that had nothing to do with her runaway friend Charlotte, or her professor and role model who’d turned out to have feet of clay.
She’d gotten depressed again over the weekend about Josh, her ex-boyfriend with the feet of clay. She’d stayed away from his gig in Plum Harbor with admirable self-restraint. But she couldn’t help looking on Facebook late that night, and found pictures he’d posted of himself at the gig, with some new girl.
Even though she’d initiated the breakup, Phoebe still felt hurt. It had barely been two weeks. “It didn’t take him long,” she complained to Maggie. “He can’t stand to be alone. He’s so insecure. A girl just has to smile at him, and he like melts in a puddle. It’s pathetic. She’s wrapped around him like a rash. And she looks like she shops at Sluts-R-Us.”
Maggie nearly laughed at that description, but she knew this was a serious moment. “You’re well rid of him, honestly. He wasn’t nearly good enough for you, Phoebe. You’ll do much better next time.”
It was all true. But there was little more Maggie could say.
Getting over a failed romance was a roller coaster ride, up one minute, down the next. That Facebook photo had sent Phoebe plummeting again, though today, she seemed a bit better.
Maggie cleared up the lunch things, and Phoebe cleaned off the table. For the afternoon class—“Lions and Tigers and Bears . . . Oh My!”—they’d be making animal hats for children.
Maggie brought out the yarns and needles and set up the sample hats on the table—a bear, a lion, and a tiger . . . which could also be trimmed into a cat or a dog, of course. One basic pattern was used, but many different animals could be created, depending on the colors used and the sewed-on details. And the imagination of the knitter. Simple to knit and everybody loved making them. Especially grandmas.
Phoebe picked up the bear and put it on her hand like a puppet. “So give me your honest opinion,” she said to the bear. “You’ve heard all the evidence. Who do you think killed Beth Shelton? . . . Was it really Professor Healey? He always seemed like such a nice guy, couldn’t hurt a bug . . . even though he had a shady side. What about Professor Finch . . . or Quentin Gibbs? Crazy as a bed bug.” Phoebe held the bear to her ear. “Things are seldom what they seem. How true, Mr. Bear . . .”
Maggie stood back, watching this pantomime. “Are you done now?” she asked in a pointed tone.
Phoebe didn’t seem to hear Maggie for a moment. Then suddenly she stared up at her and dropped the hat on the floor. Her dark eyes grew very wide and her mouth hung open a bit. As if she’d just witnessed some amazing sight.
“Yes . . . I am done . . . I know who did it, Maggie. I know who killed Beth and wants to frame Professor Healey.” Phoebe’s voice rose on a note of amazement and she tugged at Maggie’s arm.
Maggie stood stone-still. She didn’t even breathe. “Who?”
“Gena Healey. Who else could it be?”
Maggie leaned back and shook her head doubtfully. “What made you think of that?”
Phoebe looked at the hat. “For one thing, a hat just like this fell out of her tote bag . . . and a copy of Vogue Knitting. So I bet she can knit. And she must have found out about her husband’s affair with Charlotte and his plans to ditch her and her kids. And maybe she even knew about the money he’d taken from their retirement accounts to fund his big deal. And how he’d hidden all his profits from her. In a way, he’d stolen from their family in order to set himself up in Europe with his mistress . . . and leave her and their kids without anything. That is really low . . .”
“And definitely motive for murder,” Maggie had to concede. This was making sense. “So she was the scorned wife seeking revenge on her double-crossing husband and his lover. It’s classic.”
“Isn’t it? And I don’t think Gena ever met Charlotte face-to-face. Though she’d probably seen her from far away or seen some photo of her. I remember at the art show she said something like, ‘Too bad Charlotte is gone. I wanted to meet her.’ Or something like that. And she easily could have planted the yarn in his studio, and even taken one of the gloves he uses when he works on his sculptures and left it at the crime scene. Ditto for the boots. Maybe she wore them herself and then put them back in his closet or something.”
It could have gone like that. Maggie could not find any holes in her logic. “But where do the Knit Kats come in? Why bring them into the picture?”
“It’s perfect. It makes it look as if Healey was trying to get rid of Charlotte and frame the Knit Kats. The Knit Kats are an easy target. They’re mysterious and rebellious. I think it was just like a big coincidence that they staged the parking meter thing right before the murder. She must have known her husband disdained them and what he called their ‘faux artwork.’ But not that Charlotte was in the group,” Phoebe concluded. “That was just lucky.”
“But maybe she knew Sonya was a Knit Kat,” Maggie reasoned. “Maybe Sonya knew that Gena liked to knit and tried to recruit her. That would have been a real coup for Sonya, getting back at Healey by bringing his wife into the secret fold that he scorned.”
Phoebe nodded eagerly. “Maybe the bad history between Sonya and her husband gave Mrs. Healey the idea. That would be another perfect reason for her to pick the Knit Kats as a cover.” Phoebe was breathless but elated. “Let the police take a peek in Gena Healey’s knitting bag. I bet they find all the evidence they need.” She picked up the bear hat again. “Hey, Bear, you’re like flipping brilliant. You totally nailed this one. Professor Healey is a jerk . . . and a shifty character, for sure. But he didn’t kill anybody. Which I was never buying, either.”
Maggie sighed. “We’d better call Detective Reyes and tell her what you’ve come up with. But without the bear . . . okay?”
Phoebe nodded. “I hear you.”
Phoebe was so eager to share her insights with the police that Maggie decided to close the shop early. Detective Reyes told them to meet her at the station and took them into a private interview room, along with Detective Mossbacher, who took notes again on a big legal pad.
It was hard for Phoebe to control her excitement, but she managed to talk at a semireasonable speed. She told the detectives everything she’d figured out. They asked many questions but seemed to take her seriously.
“So . . . what do you think?” Phoebe finally asked the detectives.
Detective Reyes pushed back a bit from the table. “This theory pretty much blows up the case we’ve built against Professor Healey. But it does answer some inconsistencies,” she admitted. “We can’t dismiss your information entirely, Phoebe.”
“We’ll look into it,” Mossbacher promised in his usual flat, unenthusiastic way.
Phoebe sighed as she and Maggie left the station. Maggie could tell she felt frustrated. But Maggie was encouraged. If Gena Healey was truly the guilty party, the police would figure it out. It was out of their hands now. Where it should be.
They had been buzzed out of the station room and were out in the lobby when Detective Mossbacher caught up. “Phoebe . . . I just wanted to tell you something. About Quentin Gibbs.”
Phoebe turned. She looked alarmed. “What about him?”
“He had an accident on his motorcycle last night. He was lucky, he’s not badly hurt. But he’ll be in the hospital a few days. He was DUI. His third offense. He’s agreed to go into a treatment program in Peabody instead of serving jail time. He’ll be there at least two months. Then he has to toe the line and deal with a lot of supervision if he wants to stay out of jail. I don’t think he’ll be bothering you again.”
Phoebe had not mentioned Quentin or his threats, but Maggie could tell she was relieved. “Thanks for telling me that, Detective. Sounds like Quentin finally hit the jackpot. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person,” she added.
“I’m glad to hear that, too,” Maggie admitted as they walked out to Phoebe’s car. “But I guess that means no more midnight waffle parties.”
Phoebe smiled. “We’ll still have parties, Maggie. But I will like hanging in my own apartment again . . . and getting a good night’s sleep.”
“I’m sure you will.” Maggie patted her shoulder. Phoebe had been through so much the last week or so. But she’d handled it all so maturely. Maggie was proud of her. She was an exceptional young woman and Maggie was proud to be her friend.
* * *
Alone at home that night, Maggie sat in her favorite chair and scanned the TV for a good show. What luck, Miss Marple was on again. The intrepid sleuth was visiting a former schoolmate, and a dead body had already turned up in a lovely English garden.
Maggie sat back and picked up her knitting. She did miss Phoebe’s company and lively chatter. But it was also good to have her space back to herself. She rarely minded being alone. Though she had to admit, she’d started to wonder if she, too, should take in a cat.
The phone was ringing, rousing her from a deep sleep. Maggie sat up in her chair, disoriented for a moment. Her knitting was on her lap, and the TV screen showed a big weather map with swirls of air-mass patterns.
She quickly found the phone, which had fallen to the floor near her feet. “Maggie? Are you still up?”
“Just barely . . .” It was Phoebe. She sounded quite excited, or maybe upset about something. “Are you all right? Is something wrong?”
“I’m fine. Turn on the news. Channel 25. The police have Gena Healey in custody. Detective Reyes really listened to us.”
“Listened to you. You solved it all.” Maggie fumbled with the remote, eager to find the channel. “I know it’s late, but you’d better let Dana, Lucy, and Suzanne know about this. They’ll never forgive us.”
“I just sent a text and copied all of them. Here comes Chelsea Porter . . . catch you later.”
“I’m going to bed. I’ll catch you tomorrow at t
he shop. I’m sure we’ll have some company.”
Phoebe laughed and said good night. Maggie turned her attention to the TV. She saw a picture of Whitaker College and heard the familiar voice of her favorite reporter.
“The investigation into the death of college student Beth Shelton took a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn today when Gena Healey was named a person of interest. Investigators escorted the wife and mother of two to the Essex County police station for questioning, where she is still being held.
“A search of her car has already yielded important evidence—evidence that ironically has cast doubt on the guilt of her husband, Professor Alex Healey, who had been charged with the crime only two days ago and is now released on bail. Law enforcement officials are not revealing any details at this point. But it appears they now believe Gena Healey may have committed the crime and planted evidence at the scene incriminating her husband. Her motive? Her husband’s affair with a student . . .”
Maggie clicked off the set. It was late, and she would hear all the details tomorrow. She already knew most of what they’d say. Thanks to Phoebe.
It still amazed her how Phoebe had figured this out. But why not Phoebe? She was so creative, possessed such mental plasticity. The girl rarely gave herself enough credit.
Deep down, Phoebe could not accept that her greatly admired professor Alex Healey was really so cruel and cold-blooded. It had been a blow to hear about his bad behavior—the stock fraud and infidelity. But Phoebe had still wanted to believe he was not guilty of Beth Shelton’s murder. She clung to the theory of his innocence and persevered to see him vindicated.
Hope and perseverance, always a winning formula.
I’ll stitch that on a pillow, Maggie thought sleepily as she shut off the light on her nightstand. I’ll give it to Phoebe for Valentine’s Day.
* * *
A Dark and Stormy Knit (Black Sheep Knitting Mystery) Page 22