Spin a Wicked Web

by Cricket McRae

  She smirked.

  "But he doesn't," I continued. "He wants me, and there's nothing you can do to change that. Not a damn thing."

  "She's right." Barr's voice came from the bottom of the stairs, startling both of us. His tone was gentle as he said, "Hannah, there's nothing left between us. You know that. Go on home to the ranch. It's where you belong."

  "Come with me," she said, pleading.

  He slowly shook his head.

  She turned and stomped toward the stairway, hands clenched into fists by her side, fingers white. Barr moved aside as I followed her upstairs and through the house to the front entryway. Not once did she turn around, not even as she jerked the door open and exited the house. The loud slam of the door brought Meghan out of her office.

  "Sounds like someone left unhappy."

  I nodded, thoughtful. "Miss Hannah wanted something, and she didn't get it."

  Barr spoke from behind me. "Sophie Mae was wonderful."

  "Really?" I asked.

  He quoted me. "`I could no more give him away than I could give away the weather."'

  I rolled my eyes. How corny.

  "I think you convinced her," he said.

  "What do you think she'll do now?" Meghan asked.

  I shook my head. "I don't know."

  "I think she'll go home," Barr said.

  But I was just as concerned with what she might have already done. Despite her dramatic protestations, Hannah hadn't actually denied sabotaging my pickup.

  ***

  Meghan, Barr, and I had moved into the kitchen for a late supper of spinach salad topped with chicken, tomato, avocado, and black olives in a warm vinaigrette. Erin and Zoe had made up, and Erin was spending the night over there. Ruefully, I realized I already missed the little imp, and I still lived with her. As she got into her teens, summers would only get busier.

  Barr had happened upon his ex and me fighting over him like schoolgirls because he had news. Now he laid it out.

  "It's official. Your Toyota was deliberately sabotaged."

  Relief washed over me. "Excellent," I blurted out without thinking. After all I'd accused Gabi of earlier, wouldn't it have been ironic if my brakes failed simply because my truck was old and had fallen apart?

  Barr lifted an eyebrow at my reaction and took a bite of avocado.

  "That was fast," Meghan said, standing at the sink and rinsing her plate. She ate like a bird, and always finished her meals before everyone else. "What about Scott's patrol car?"

  "They found some indications that the steering wasn't working properly."

  I lifted my chin in an I-told-you-so gesture. "Sabotage?"

  He looked uncomfortable, then nodded. "I should have known."

  "You did," I said. "At the funeral, you suspected."

  "But I didn't do anything about it."

  Meghan closed the dishwasher door and turned. "You can't go around being suspicious of everyone and everything, Barr. That would be paranoid, especially in a sedate little town like Cadyville. Didn't you say once that was why you moved here from Seattle in the first place, because you felt like you were becoming so jaded? It looked like an accident, and so you treated it like one."

  Sedate little town? Meghan obviously hadn't been paying attention.

  Barr didn't say anything. I reached over and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back, then withdrew his fingers from mine. Not interested in being comforted.

  Well, at least I could distract him. "Um" I bit my lip. "I kind of messed up."

  Meghan came and sat down at the table. She gazed at me for a long moment. "What did you do, Sophie Mae." Her tone was flat.

  I sneaked a look at Barr. He sat back in his chair, eyebrow slightly arched again.

  "Er, I kind of accused Gabi Kaminski of killing Ariel."

  Meghan's jaw dropped. "You didn't."

  I winced. "I'm afraid I did. I also accused her of fooling with the brakes on my truck."

  "Before you even knew for sure it wasn't an accident?" Incredulity from Barr. "What were you thinking?"

  "It just sort of happened. She brought one of Ariel's paintings down for Zak Nelson, and I knew darn well Rocky didn't know she was selling it, and I kept thinking about how she had a handy answer for everything when we were up there, but I didn't really believe any of them, and that huge truck demolishing my little pickup was scary, damn it." I took a deep breath and opened my mouth to continue, but Barr cut me off.

  "It's okay," he said. "Scary doesn't even cover it, I'm sure. You must have been terrified."

  I nodded furiously, swallowing against the lump that had risen in my throat. Barr smiled at me, and I tried to smile back. Didn't dare look at Meghan, or I would have started bawling right then and there.

  "Did Gabi say anything incriminating?" he asked in a quiet tone.

  When I was able to speak again I answered, "Not really. And I'm afraid I pushed her really hard. Now all I can think of is to try and trick her into confessing. Maybe wave Ariel's diary around in her face and say there's evidence in it. Or I could try blackmailing her, and see if she pays up to keep me quiet."

  "Oh, you've got to be kidding," Meghan said. She stood up and walked to the sink, looked out the window at the darkening yard.

  "That," Barr said, "is a terrible idea."

  I pointed my finger at him. "It could very well work."

  He just looked at me. Of course he was right. It was a stupid idea. If I wanted to climb out of the hole I'd dug by shooting my mouth off to Gabi, that wasn't the way to do it.

  Meghan turned. "Did it ever occur to you that the reason she didn't confess is because she didn't kill Ariel?" Her voice overflowed with disbelief. "I mean, if you knew for sure she was guilty, you wouldn't have to trick her into admitting it; Robin and Barr would be able to prove it."

  I had a fair amount of wonder in my own voice when I said, "Are you actually implying that there aren't any murderers who get away with it? That there aren't crimes that go unpunished because the police don't have enough evidence?"

  She frowned. "Are you saying there aren't people who are convicted despite being innocent?"

  I thought of all the suspects in this case and slumped in my chair. Put my head down on the table. Oh, God.

  "If you're wrong, you've tortured that poor woman for no good reason." She squinted. "This is a side of you I don't see very often. I'm not sure I like it."

  "Yeah," I mumbled. "I don't like it either." I didn't know what to think, couldn't see the forest for the trees. There wasn't any real evidence against Gabi, only my ideas about what might have happened. But she had a viable answer for everything, and simply hadn't reacted to any of my questions in a suspicious way.

  All I'd done was make a potential friend hate me for life.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  THE NEXT MORNING MY alarm buzzed at seven, but I shut it off and went back to sleep. An hour and a half later I woke again, still feeling exhausted. It took me another half an hour to drag my sorry carcass out of bed, clothe it, and wander down to the kitchen.

  A wire basket of eggs sat on the counter, and I cracked two small brown ones into a frying pan. Then I assembled a sandwich with the fried eggs on Meghan's home-baked bread, mayonnaise, catsup, dill pickles from the pantry, and a big slice of cheddar cheese. Comfort food from my childhood. I almost moaned as I bit into it, and immediately began to feel better. Two cups of coffee to wash down the fried egg sandwich, and I was ready for work.

  I went down to the basement. First I finished cutting and trimming the lye soaps, then laid them in neat rows on my storeroom shelves to cure. So soon after making them, they were still quite alkaline, but the chemical process of saponification continued internally as they sat on the shelf, ultimately resulting in a soap milder than any commercial bar. An added benefit was that cold process soaps like mine still contained naturally occurring glycerin, adding to their humectant and emollient qualities.

  Handling the new soap, though most of the time I'd worn gloves, had
been hard on my hands. So had all the gardening of late. One of the solutions to what I referred to as "farmer's hands" was the solid lotion bars I made from beeswax, olive oil, and cocoa butter. These little gems were scattered all over the house for Meghan and me to use in the summer. But I'd just run across a lotion recipe on a website that sounded soothing and smoothing, and I wanted to try it. With all the manufacture I did for sale anymore, I didn't have as much opportunity to experiment with new formulas.

  I gathered my ingredients and started melting the oils, shea butter, and beeswax together. The recipe called for witch hazel and lanolin, as well as free glycerin and rose water. An emulsifier would be necessary in order to properly blend the water-based elements with the oils. Lecithin would serve as a perfect binder, especially when combined with beeswax. Orange and lavender essential oils would complement the rose water to provide a fresh, light scent.

  Using a hand blender, I whipped everything together, then returned every few minutes as the mixture cooled, whipping briefly each time. Finally, I used the blender steadily for several minutes. The result was a pastel, peach-colored fluff that melted into my skin. I rubbed some of it into my ragged cuticles and took a jar up to Meghan, doing bookwork in her office.

  "Thanks," she said, and immediately started massaging it into her own hands.

  "Sure" I sat down in the chair facing her desk. Through the halfopen door, the fountain in the massage room behind her made babbling-brook noises. I closed my eyes for a few moments and allowed the sound to flow over me.

  "This smells delicious. I'm half-tempted to take a bite," she said.

  "Mmm hmmm."

  A long silence, filled only with the serenade of running water.

  "I'm sorry," she said, out of the blue.

  I opened my eyes. "What for?"

  "For coming down on you so hard about Gabi last night."

  My right shoulder rose and fell. "Don't be sorry. You were right. Are right." I shifted in the chair. "You know, the thing that's making me so crazy? There've been two situations we've been involved in where people died, and each time it looked like an accident. But we figured out what really happened." I paused, gathering my thoughts. "Now we have a straightforward murder, and it looks like the killer-whether it's Gabi or not-is going to get away with it." "

  Meghan shook her head. "You have to give Cadyville's finest some credit. They're still working on finding out what happened. Have a little faith." "

  I guess." Even I could hear the doubt in my voice.

  She smiled and said, "I know Barr asked for your help, but it's not your responsibility to find out what happened. It's their job. If you can help, great, but you've let this whole thing get under your skin too much." "

  I keep trying to back off."

  I know. Don't let it get to you, okay?"

  I stood up and took a couple of steps to the doorway. "You're right. As always. Thanks for watching out for me."

  She blew out a puff of air. "Well, geez. Somebody has to."

  ***

  I'd just finished packaging the last of the custom bath fizzies for the wedding shower when the doorbell upstairs chimed. I hurried up to answer it.

  Barr stood on the other side of the screen. "I'll trade information for food," he said.

  "Funny man." I gestured him inside. "It's a deal. Tonight's dinner selection has an Asian theme. But first you have to hang out in the workroom while I clean up. Meghan's gone to pick Erin up from math camp."

  "I love watching you fuss around down there," he said, and laid a big smacker on me before I could bristle at the term "fuss"

  He followed me downstairs and settled onto a stool at the end of my work island. I went back to gathering small cellophane bags together and organizing the short lengths of satin ribbon used to tie them shut.

  "Information before food," I said.

  He laughed. "It's nothing much." Still, there was satisfaction on his face.

  Intrigued, I continued to tidy the packaging materials and tried for nonchalant.

  He fingered his string tie, this one a round sand-colored stone with the imprint of a tiny fish fossil in it. "We may have figured out who the killer is," he announced.

  Nothing much, indeed.

  "Who?" I leaned my elbows on the counter. "Stop teasing."

  "We questioned Zak Nelson this afternoon. We hadn't before, at least not in enough depth. After you found out from Lindsey Drucker that he and Ariel had been dating, we decided to go back and have another conversation with him."

  "Flatterer," I said. "Does he have an alibi like everyone else?"

  He grimaced. "Hard to tell."

  I pushed aside the ribbons I'd been sorting. "Meaning?"

  "He told us he was at home. But then he changed his story and said he'd seen Ariel on the night of her murder." He paused for effect. "He met her at CRAG"

  I sank onto the stool next to him. "Ohmygod. He was there?"

  "He insists she was alive when he left"

  Something wasn't quite right, but I couldn't put my finger on it. "Did he admit to doing anything to my brakes?" I asked.

  Barr shook his head. "Robin asked him point blank. He seemed confused by the question, but then again, he could be a good actor."

  "Yesterday Zak told me he'd been seeing Ariel, but she broke up with him. That he didn't mind because he likes Daphne Sparks, her roommate."

  "He told us the same thing. Only he admitted Ariel broke up with him that night. The night she was killed."

  "Oh, wow. Really?" I frowned, trying to take it all in. "You did say strangulation is a crime of passion. And he could have killed his rival, too. He had the perfect access to Scott's patrol car."

  "It's a pretty tidy package," Barr said. "But listen to this: Irene Nelson came in when we were talking to Zak and threw an absolute fit about him answering our questions. Then she told us Zak had been home with her during the timeframe of the murder. She said he'd been at CRAG, but that he'd gotten home before eight o'clock."

  Shaking my head, I said, "But Irene is Chris' alibi. She can't be both, not unless Zak was with her at Chris' house." I scooped up my neatly arranged packaging materials and took them into my storeroom.

  Barr followed on my heels. "When I pointed that out, she said she was lying about being at Chris' house"

  "Was she?" I asked. "Or is she lying now to protect her son?"

  "Your guess is as good as mine."

  We clomped up the stairs to the kitchen. "My guess is that she's trying to protect Zak. After all, Ruth confirmed the group alibi at Chris' It's too bad. I like the kid, even if he does look like a walking magnet."

  The screen door slammed, and a few moments later Meghan and Erin came into the kitchen.

  "Hey, just in time," I said. "The rice'll be done in a jiffy, and the chicken and veggies are ready to hit the wok."

  Erin looked horrified. "You're cooking chicken?"

  "Uh, well, yeah. I thought you loved stir fry."

  "Not chicken. God, Sophie Mae." She was still shaking her head in disbelief as she went out to the backyard to gather eggs.

  I turned to my housemate. "What was that all about?"

  "She won't eat chicken anymore. Don't tell me that surprises you." Meghan's tone was wry.

  "Ah. Got it. The girls have made her a convert. She's a vegetarian now." I scrambled for recipes in my head that might pass muster with the newly militant member of the household.

  "Oh, she's not a vegetarian." Meghan grinned. "She just won't eat chicken."

  "I'm not sure whether I'm relieved or disappointed."

  "Well, I'm glad you're not going to foist a bunch of rabbit food on me," Barr said.

  Meghan laughed. "There's tofu in the fridge for her stir-fry. And I hope she likes it, because she's eating it."

  TWENTY-NINE

  ERIN ATE HER TOFU and claimed to love it. After dinner, Barr left to catch up on paperwork at the police station. While we did the dishes, I told Meghan what Barr had told me about Zak.
<
br />   "I don't think he did it." She reached for the wok and began to rub oil onto the steel interior.

  "Really?" I asked. "Tell me why."

  "He's a nice kid."

  I snorted. "That's what people always say about murderers." Playing the devil's advocate, though I felt the same way she did.

  She placed the wok on a stove burner over a low flame to heat briefly, seasoning the metal. "He didn't try to hide where he was, or at least not very hard. It sounds like his mother is more worried about the police thinking he did it than he is."

  "Which means his own mother thinks he killed that girl, and you don't."

  "I'm not Irene Nelson." She pressed her lips together. "She can be a little…"

  "Granted. Okay, then who did it?"

  "You'd know better than I would. After all, you're the investigator."

  "I am not! I'm just doing a little… extracurricular…"

  "Snooping," she offered.

  I raised my palms. "Fine. Have it your way."

  The corners of her mouth turned up. "Better be careful, Reynolds. This is when things tend to get out of hand. But I'm going to bed."

  "Goodnight," I said, a little sarcastic bite in my tone. Only a few hours earlier hadn't she said it wasn't my responsibility? "Don't forget to take the phone with you"

  She grinned. "Remember when you and Barr talked on the phone every night?"

  I had to nod. She was right. At least I got to see Barr; she and Kelly only saw each other every six weeks or so.

  "'Night," she said. "Oh, and tomorrow is the last day of Erin 's math camp. It's a half day, and then we have to go pick Tootie and Felix up at the airport."

  Tootie Hanover, part of the cruise set. Would wonders never cease?

  "Noted. We can coordinate in the morning," I said.

  Erin was already in bed, and with Meghan off to the land of nod, it was just Brodie and me. After everything that had happened that day, I should have been exhausted, but I felt like I was wired for sound.