Wound Up In Murder

by Betty Hechtman

  “It looks like the lieutenant is grilling Norman,” I said as a way of steering the conversation. “He probably wants to know if Norman really didn’t know she was coming to the retreat,” I said.

  Scarlett put down her coffee cup and took the bait. “I am sure that Norman had no idea she was coming.” We both watched as the cop talked to the handsome retreat leader and then Scarlett began to speak again. “Please don’t tell anyone, but the reason I know that Diana made a last-minute decision to come was because I’m the one who told her about it. Or gave her the details. She didn’t know the venue had been changed or about the program additions the manager of Vista Del Mar made.”

  “I thought you said she was a co-owner of the business with him. It seems odd she wouldn’t know all the details,” I said.

  “She still owned half of it, but it was really in name only. He and Sally were really in charge of everything, at least usually.” Again she mentioned how it had been very different at their usual venue. “They just provided the space and Norman arranged the program. My husband said that the only way Norman could get this place was if he let the manager make a lot of the arrangements. That’s why they’re here,” she said as Dotty Night, Bobbie Listorie and Jimmie Phelps came into the dining hall.

  Kevin St. John came in right after and arranged for each of them to sit at a different table. I was surprised when Lieutenant Borgnine looked away from Norman and seemed entranced by Jimmie Phelps. A moment later the cop was pulling out a chair next to the baseball player. It was clear it had nothing to do with Diana Rathman’s death and everything to do with the lieutenant’s hero worship of the athlete. I had to hand it to Kevin St. John. He’d been right about bringing in the three notable people from 1963.

  “Diana seemed very interested in this retreat after I told her about it, though she didn’t say why. She certainly didn’t tell me she was planning to come, either. That’s why I was surprised to see her. Everybody was. But then she’s the kind who has always gone her own way. As I told you before, I’d heard that Diana was pretty wild when she was young. I remember her telling me that she had a strange life growing up. She spent a lot of time with her father. He traveled a lot and she went along.” Scarlett stopped and seemed to be thinking. “I can’t remember the rest of it.”

  “So did you have some kind of falling-out with her?” I asked.

  Scarlett made a funny sort of laugh. “It was really more that out paths stopped crossing. When I told her about this retreat, it was the first time I’d seen her in probably a year. She stopped going to faculty events.” Scarlett made a face. “Not that I could blame her.” From here Scarlett stopped talking about Diana and instead went on about how boring it was to play the part of the polite spouse.

  While Scarlett talked, I finished my breakfast. Having some food and coffee made me feel much better. So much better that when I passed the rumpled cop as I was leaving, all I really wanted to do with him was to make peace, so I went out of my way to smile and offer him a friendly hello and a bit of information.

  “I suppose you know that the victim was carrying the streamer in her pocket,” I said, maintaining my friendly demeanor.

  Lieutenant Borgnine glared at me. “If you want to help in this investigation, tell your friend Dr. Glickner to give me a call.”

  Like that was going to happen.

  17

  Kevin St. John had heard the interchange between me and Lieutenant Borgnine, and as soon as the cop walked away, the Vista Del Mar manager joined me. In his usual dark suit, white shirt and conservative tie, he looked more like a funeral director than the manager of a rustic resort. “I’m sorry I ever hired the Amazing Dr. Sammy,” the manager said in a voice full of reproach. With the way he was glaring at me, he seemed to think it was all my fault. The truth was that he had hired Sammy to do table magic on the weekends on his own. It certainly wasn’t because Sammy and I were friends. It seemed more in spite of it. And I certainly had nothing to do with his having Sammy do the show for the 1963 mixer.

  I don’t know if he was expecting a comment from me or not, but after a beat he continued talking as the dining hall cleared out. “Do you have any idea what I have riding on the success of this retreat?”

  I think he meant that as a rhetorical question because he went right on talking. “Vista Del Mar is perfect for the retreats they put on. I was sure that once Norman Rathman saw what a blank canvas Vista Del Mar is, we’d get their future business, too. With these historic buildings and original details, we can look like any year, whether they choose 1932 or 1982.”

  “But not 2012,” I said, and he gave me a sour look.

  “That’s a ridiculous comment. They only pick years from the distant past.” Kevin St. John glared directly at me.

  “All the work I did putting this together. I arranged for the celebrities to be here. I put together the screening, the softball game and the Saturday night dance. We need to get this unfortunate incident with Norman Rathman’s wife settled quickly.”

  Unfortunate incident? That sounded like somebody had sprained their ankle, not like somebody died in a wild part of the grounds. I was still processing his choice of words as he went on. “If you are in any way helping Dr. Glickner avoid the law, you could be in big trouble.” He jutted his moon-shaped face a little closer to me. “I see how you’ve cozied up to Madeleine Delacorte, but Cora is the one who calls the shots, and if she thinks we have missed out on a big account because of something you did or didn’t do, I think you can kiss your special deal with them good-bye. And then you’ll have to deal directly with me.” He let out a malevolent chuckle. “I wonder how you’d feel if the room rates for your people suddenly tripled?” He let it sink in for a moment. “So be smart and tell the lieutenant where Dr. Glickner is now.”

  I thought he was done, but as he was about to walk away, he reminded me of the deal we’d made about including the guests in our knitting sessions. “Of course, nothing I just said changes that, now does it?”

  I ignored his latest rhetorical question. “There are other people who are much more likely suspects,” I said. “What about her husband? You must have heard them arguing. I heard they were getting a divorce and that Diana and Norman owned the Favorite Year Club together. It sounds to me that he has a number of reasons he’d want her out of the way.”

  Kevin St. John looked horrified by my comment. “Would you please keep it down? It isn’t going to help me keep their business if Lieutenant Borgnine starts treating Mr. Rathman like a suspect.” He glanced around to see if anyone was listening. For the moment we had the area to ourselves, but even so, he seemed exasperated by what I’d said.

  “Calm down, Ms. Feldstein. He has an alibi. You don’t know this because you weren’t here when it happened, but after the martini bar, there was a screening of newsreels from 1963, from ten o’clock until half past midnight. I saw Norman Rathman go into the Cypress meeting room, where the viewing was held. And when I came in, as the screening was ending, he was still in there.”

  “And the time of death was between eleven and midnight,” I said. “Except, did it occur to you that seeing Norman at the beginning and end didn’t mean he’d been in the room during the time in between?”

  “Ms. Feldstein,” he said, gritting his teeth. “Remember what I said.” Then he walked away in a huff.

  Lucinda was waiting outside when I finally exited the building. She glanced toward the receding figure of Kevin St. John as he marched angrily toward the Lodge. “What’s up with him?”

  “He’s jumped on the Sammy-is-guilty bandwagon and he wants me to turn him in.”

  “He said that?” She was incredulous.

  “Not in those exact words. He’s worried about losing the future business of the 1963 retreat people. You should have seen his reaction when I said the dead woman’s husband should be a suspect. He even tried to claim he was Norman’s alibi.” I saw people wal
king toward the assorted meeting rooms. “I don’t care what he threatens me with, I would never turn Sammy in.” I said it in a whisper, but even so, looked around to make sure no one was listening. “But I have to push all of that under the table for now.” My voice had returned to normal as we began to walk up the pathway. “It’s workshop time for us!”

  18

  The meeting room was already filling with people when Lucinda and I walked in. I was glad I’d chosen the Pines meeting room. The fireplace added a warm glow, and the wall of windows looked toward the dunes and showed a sliver of the ocean. Several people were helping themselves to the coffee and tea service set up on the counter. There was an empty place next to the cups and tea bags. I had forgotten all about bringing cookies again.

  I was glad that Crystal and Wanda were there hanging around the two long tables. The two women appeared as mismatched as a pair of Crystal’s earrings. It was pretty clear that, for Wanda, clothes were purely functional. The loose-fitting white polo shirt and medium blue pants didn’t have the slightest hint of style. If she wore makeup, it was so subtle as to be invisible. The vibe she gave off was straightforward and brusque. Crystal had the heavy eye makeup, the wild ringlets of black hair and a colorful layering of different patterned shirts. Of course, the socks that showed through her shoes didn’t match. I still had a hard time realizing they were both about my age.

  “Casey,” Scarlett said, putting her hand on my arm to stop me. “This is Alys Chin, and when she heard about this group, she asked if she could join.” I had an extra mystery bag and the group hadn’t really started, so it seemed okay. Alys beamed a big smile and pushed a check on me on the spot. Scarlett took Alys with her and arranged for them to sit together.

  I was glad to see the early birds had spread themselves between the tables and were acting as assistants. When it seemed like everyone had settled, I stepped to the front of the room. “I’m sorry about the interruptions yesterday,” I said without mentioning they were connected to Diana’s death. “We’re a little behind, but I’m sure we’ll make up for lost time now.” I repeated that Wanda’s group would be making a scarf and Crystal’s group would make the worry doll or something else. They each went to the head of one of their tables.

  “I changed my mind. I’m with her now,” a woman with her hair in a topknot said, pointing at Wanda. “I need structure, direction and knowing the road I’m on.” I saw Bree Meyers flinch. That’s how she’d been at the first retreat. She tried to tell the woman what she’d learned about doing something unique, but it fell on deaf ears. The woman with the topknot seemed to have started something, and a number of the others, including Scarlett and Alys, who had been sitting at Crystal’s table relocated to Wanda’s,

  Crystal had several samples of the worry dolls in the middle of the table, along with some other toys and purses that had been made from the mystery kits the yarn store sold. She assured everyone she had patterns and would help them, but the women who had moved over wouldn’t reconsider. Scott and Olivia joined Bree and the cluster of brave souls who had stuck with Crystal. Lucinda hung with me for a moment and then joined Crystal’s table as well, but not before reminding me that this was a chance for us to see what we could find out about Crystal and Wanda’s families. I knew Lucinda meant well, but at the moment I wasn’t that concerned about tracking down the mystery heir.

  “Am I late?” Madeleine said as she came in. All eyes turned toward her and I heard some grumbling that she was here. None of the women knew who Madeleine was and that, as a Delacorte, she was used to a certain kind of treatment. She seemed to have forgotten she wanted to make the scarf, and the only thing she was concerned with was that she wanted to sit with me.

  Crystal sized up the situation and helped Madeleine find her bag and got her situated at the doll table.

  “Before you start,” Crystal said, “I want to make sure you all understand about working with beads.” Wanda seemed miffed that Crystal had spoken first and interjected that then she would talk about planning how they were going to use the yarn.

  The group was at all different skill levels, and I’m sure that, for some, working with beads was nothing new, but they all listened attentively as Crystal demonstrated that the beads needed to be put on the yarn first and then were slid in place as they knitted. It was new to me and I watched as she showed how to overcome the problem of getting the yarn through the small bead hole with a piece of thin wire folded over the yarn. Then Wanda jumped in and explained how to figure out what order to use the different yarns in and reminded them to add the beads to each new strand of yarn before they attached it to their work.

  I was too keyed up and didn’t think I could concentrate enough to start working on the doll until Madeleine asked for my help.

  As soon as I started thinking about helping her, I forgot how tense I was and emptied my bag on the table. Madeleine had knitted a long time ago, so for her it was mostly about refreshing her memory. I was still learning. I knew the basics, like the knit and purl stitches, and casting on and off, but I still had to pay close attention to my work. Madeleine and I worked together to figure out what yarn we’d use for the doll’s body and hair. We both decided to keep the beads for her dress, which it turned out wasn’t knitted at all. It was crocheted. Crystal said her mother was bringing over crochet hooks, stuffing and some odds and ends of supplies that weren’t in the bags for the doll. I noticed Wanda’s group was already ahead of us. They had cast on their stitches and done a few rows.

  Once the doll makers at our table got started, it turned out that the beginning of the doll was very easy. Just row after row of knitted stitches. As everyone settled into their work, they began to talk.

  “I’m relatively new to this area, but both Crystal and Wanda are Cadbury natives,” Lucinda said with a wink at me.

  “Don’t forget me,” Madeleine said, sounding a little miffed. “My family practically built Cadbury. And Vista Del Mar wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for my brother, Edmund.”

  I knew what Lucinda was doing. Her idea was to eliminate people in the age group of the secret heir with the hopes that eventually we’d be left with the right person. Honestly I thought it was a bad plan except that we might gather some useful information along the way so I went along with it. “How interesting.” I looked at the three Cadbury natives. “Did your families know each other?”

  It came out pretty quickly that everybody in town knew the Delacortes, but the Delacortes knew almost nobody. “I thought it was too bad,” Madeleine said. “My brother and I both wanted to mix with everybody, but our mother was a snob.”

  I persisted. “Of course, Madeleine would have been more likely to know your mothers and grandmothers,” I said. “What were their names?”

  Wanda was helping the woman with the topknot cast on. “That seems pretty irrelevant to what’s going on.” Wanda gestured toward the knitters. Then she shrugged and turned to Madeleine. “My mother’s name is Edwina Howe Thompson, and her mother’s name was Marisa Jenkins Howe.” She started to talk about her grandfather and said that he hadn’t been from Cadbury and had come to work at the cannery the Delacortes had owned.

  “The cannery has been turned into a shopping center,” I explained to the group. “What about you, Crystal?” Crystal was demonstrating how to put a marker at the end of the doll’s head.

  “My family goes way back here. My mother owns the local yarn shop, but it was started by her mother. I barely knew my granny. She died when I was just starting kindergarten.”

  “What was her name?” I coached, supposedly for Madeleine’s benefit.

  “She had a funny name,” Crystal said. “Marigold Jerkowski. But then when she married my grandfather, her name became Marigold Wardlow.”

  Madeleine looked up at the name. “I remember Marigold. How could you forget a name like that when everyone was named Mary or Elizabeth? She was in my class at school. For a year anyway
until Mother sent Cora and me to private school.”

  Wanda seemed a little miffed that Madeleine hadn’t made a comment about her family. “I suppose I should have expected as much,” she said. “You don’t remember my grandmother, do you? She worked for your family.”

  I was curious about the information we were getting, but it was starting to interfere with the workshop session. Wanda’s whole body language had changed. She seemed to carry a lot of pent-up anger. She seemed to think she’d gotten the shaft on everything. And in a way she had. It was pretty clear that she was a great golfer and yet the resort made more fuss over Bobbie Listorie. And then I had seen her sister. She had the same features as Wanda but in a different arrangement and without the stout body. Her sister had been the prom queen.

  Madeleine had blinders on. No matter what she said about herself and her brother wanting to know all the different kinds of people, I don’t think she’d ever really thought about how the other half lived. Or how arrogant her comment about mixing with everybody sounded. The air was getting a little tense and it wasn’t good for the group. I quickly changed the subject to other events going on at Vista Del Mar over the weekend and how our group was being included in the 1963 events.

  I was glad when the tension went out of Wanda’s face. I was surprised when she was interested in coming to the dance on Saturday night. Crystal said she was in for sure. Madeleine got dreamy eyed. “Bobbie Listorie is going to sing.”