Silence of the Lamb's Wool (A Yarn Retreat Mystery)

by Betty Hechtman

  “That’s my brother, Edmund,” Cora said. “Mother was so distraught when he died she had the locket made from his hair and the baby photo inserted.”

  I held up the envelope and photo that had been inside and again Cora spoke. “Is that Edmund?” She seemed puzzled, pointing out that the two baby faces seemed almost identical. She shook her head as a realization came to her. “Of course not. That must be of James, Edmund’s son.” She lowered her head as she explained that Edmund’s only child had died in an accident with his mother barely a year after her brother had died. “Where did that photo come from?”

  I repeated the story about the dresser and now added that Madeleine had confirmed it had been her brother’s and that it must have been left at the family home after he died.

  “But you’re missing what I didn’t see at first, either. I think it is Edmund’s child, but not James.” I pointed to the baby’s shirt. “The color is distorted, but I’d bet anything it’s pink. But the sure giveaway that it’s a girl is the bow in her hair.” I held out the photo and pointed to the tiny hair ornament. I said a silent thank-you to the woman talking about the baby blanket and the infant I’d seen in the restroom. If it hadn’t been for them, I never would have realized that the baby in the picture was a girl, although I’d heard that Edmund had a son.

  Cora’s eyes were as big as saucers. “She looks just like my brother did as a baby.”

  I nodded as the meaning began to sink in. “So it seems your brother had another child. A secret child,” I said. I showed off the back of the envelope that had Our Baby written in blue fountain pen. I heard Kevin swallow so hard he almost choked. “And from what I have heard, your brother was very specific in his will that Vista Del Mar was to go to his children.”

  The real impact hit Cora. “So then this baby would inherit Vista Del Mar and be entitled to Edmund’s portion of the family’s estate? Who is she?”

  Instead of answering her question, I picked up the small key. “If you notice, it has a number on it. I don’t know how Nicole figured it out. Maybe when she was ripping out the pages of those old ledgers to put in the fireplace, she realized they were sign-in sheets for the safety-deposit boxes. Then when she found the number on the key, put it together with the signatures.” I turned to Cora. “The key goes to your brother’s safety-deposit box.”

  Everyone glanced back toward the vault and I explained the locks were all removed and the boxes empty. “Your brother came in the bank every Friday and went into his safety-deposit box. A little while later, someone else came into the bank and accessed the same box.”

  “It sounds like a money drop for a payoff, probably to the mother to keep her quiet,” Dane said. I was surprised at his comment and realized he was listening intently.

  “That’s a crude way to put it. I’m sure Edmund could have been leaving money for the mother or the child’s caretaker. He was a wonderful person and responsible,” Cora said. “It was a different time . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  “And he wanted to run for governor,” I said, repeating what Tag had told me. “Even now a love child can capsize a political career. But that’s all old news and not what this is about. It’s just about Vista Del Mar and who it really belongs to, isn’t it?” I glared at Burton, Ronny and Kevin.

  “This is all conjecture,” Burton Fiore said impatiently.

  “Not really,” Dane said, nodding in recognition. He pointed to the hairbrush sitting on the table. “Casey, are you going to explain or should I?”

  “I can do it,” I said, trying to find a way to explain it so it wasn’t complicated. I mentioned that Nicole was interested in the origins of things and had a bunch of books on the history of textiles and fibers. “Hair was just another fiber to her. When she was doing her research it probably came up that you can extract DNA from hair. Well, not really the hair. You need to have the root.” I picked up the brush and pointed out the tiny white bulb on the end of a strand of hair. “And if there was any doubt that the hairs in the brush were Edmund’s, the strands could be matched with those in the locket, which was known to have been made from his hair. And with his DNA, you can do a paternity test.”

  Kevin St. John finally spoke up from the back. “You’re forgetting one thing. You need to know the baby’s identity to get a DNA sample to do a paternity test. Unless you have something with the baby’s name on it, there’s no way to know who that baby was or what became of her.”

  Ronny broke free of the group and grabbed one of the ledgers. “It’s empty.” She went through the rest and saw they were all the same. “They’re all empty.”

  Cora seemed a little confused. “What exactly is the point of all of this?”

  “Nicole had figured out a way to increase her income through blackmailing assorted people by dangling the idea that she had proof that Edmund had another child who could inherit Vista Del Mar,” I said.

  Then Cora got it. “But Vista Del Mar has been ours for years. You mean someone could show up and claim it as theirs?”

  “The secret baby is probably in her fifties now and she probably has no idea who she really is,” I said.

  Cora seemed emphatic. “You need to understand why Vista Del Mar meant so much to Edmund. He was ashamed of what our family’s sardine cannery did to the bay. Ashamed that our fleet of boats had fished until the sardines were gone. It was his way of paying back. It wasn’t so much about making money as preserving the historic buildings from the old camp and saving the natural quality of the land. My sister and I know how he felt about it and we want to keep it as Edmund would have wanted it. Who knows what some new person might do to it.”

  She surveyed the group and shook her head in dismay. “I’m sorry, but all this is taking a while to sink in. Let me understand this. You were paying Nicole to keep quiet about all this so Vista Del Mar wouldn’t change ownership.” She focused on Burton. “Now I get it. Of course you wouldn’t want someone else to step up and claim Vista Del Mar.” She smiled sweetly. “I’ve seen you looking around the grounds as if you were making plans and I’ve heard your suggestions. But, Burton dear, did you really think I was going to hand over the running of it to you and your daughter?” They both did a great act of looking shocked.

  “I loved all the attention you both gave me, but I wasn’t born yesterday.” She looked at Burton’s stunned expression. “My goodness, you did more than make up plans in your head, didn’t you? I hope you didn’t lay out too much of your money.” She turned to Ronny. “And, dear, you better not quit that job of yours, because we have a manager and that isn’t going to change.”

  Kevin St. John was her next target. Before she could speak, he started to talk.

  “I didn’t want anything to change for you or for me,” he said. “But this seems to be a big fuss about nothing. There is nothing with the identity of the mother. There’s no way to know who that baby was or what became of her,” he repeated, trying to reassure Cora.

  “Except for this.” I put down all the other props and picked up a folded sheet from the ledger, and I heard a gasp go through the crowd.

  “Then you do know the mother’s name?” Dane said.

  I unfolded the sheet and they all saw part of it was missing. “Not exactly. But I can tell you her name starts with an M. Someone came in here and shredded what was left in the ledgers.” I looked from face to face to see if any of them flinched. Either they were great actors or none of them had.

  Kevin gave me a dirty look. “So then what was the point of this charade?”

  “To find Nicole’s killer,” I said and they all began to talk and basically say what a ridiculous statement that was. Even Dane said Nicole’s death had been ruled a suicide.

  In the midst of it all, Madeleine Delacorte walked in and looked around. “I didn’t know you were having a party.”

  28

  “Don’t feel bad,” Dane said. We were the only
ones left inside The Bank. “I’m impressed at what you figured out. One of them could have killed Nicole if it wasn’t suicide and it didn’t turn out that they all had alibis for the time when she died.” He put his hand on my arm in a supportive manner.

  I hung my head, reliving what had happened after the group had seen the torn ledger sheet. “I’ve made a terrible mess of everything.” In my mind’s eye I saw Ronny begin to argue with her father. Apparently he’d made it seem like a done deal that he would be taking over Vista Del Mar as soon as the wedding was over. I got the feeling it wasn’t the first time he’d made promises he couldn’t keep. Burton’s mustache had started to twitch from a tic in his face as Cora stepped in. Cora had turned out to be anything but a silly older woman in love. She loved the romance of it all and had simply not wanted to spoil things by bringing up anything like a prenup. Her plan all along was that they would make a life together on equal footing, each of them responsible for half the bill. He’d given the impression that he was such a big shot in real estate, she was sure he’d have no problem going halves with her on one of the cute cottages near the park downtown.

  “I’m sure Cora will blame me for the end of her engagement.”

  Dane sighed. “I think it was going to end one way or the other as soon as he found out Cora wasn’t going to support him.”

  “If only that was all.” I let out my breath in a tired sigh. “I’ve had a troubled relationship with Kevin St. John all along and now it’s even worse. He’s angry that I stirred everything up even if there is no way to identify Edmund’s mystery heir. I know you don’t agree, but I still don’t think that Nicole’s death was a suicide.”

  “I hate to bring this up, but we need more than your thinking it’s not suicide,” Dane said.

  I noticed that his hand was still resting on my arm. The spot had become increasingly warm, and I had to admit I liked it. It seemed pretty obvious it could escalate into something more really fast. But I couldn’t let it happen. I stared at his hand and he seemed to get the message, retracting it quickly as he straightened up.

  We walked to the back door and Dane made sure the lock was secure. “At least we solved the mystery of the break-ins. And I don’t think there will be any more.”

  My mood was really descending. I’d been so sure I’d figured out who had killed Nicole. Who would have figured she was blackmailing Burton, his daughter and Kevin. And I began to think of the retreat again and how Wanda had just taken off when the spinning was done and she’d realized how little yarn the group had made.

  Dane noticed my expression. Maybe I looked like I was about to cry. As we walked toward the front of the store he started to put his hand on my shoulder but didn’t. “Don’t take it so hard. It’s not like a killer is going free.”

  “I’m glad you were the one who answered the call,” I said. “It would have been even more embarrassing if it had been someone else. And thank you for not bringing out the troops.”

  “I figured we wouldn’t need the SWAT team for a break-in at an antiques store,” he said as his serious face slipped into a grin. “Don’t worry. I’ll just write up a report that it was a mistake. Lieutenant Borgnine never has to know anything about what went on.” When we got outside we stopped at his cruiser.

  “I’m assuming that Nicole did figure out the identity of the mother. She must have tipped her hand about the sheets in the ledger to one of them and they came in here and destroyed them.” He was thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe it’s just as well. It would certainly change things if there was a different owner of Vista Del Mar.” He gestured beyond the quiet downtown street to the houses built up the slope on the side streets. “Someone out there, probably asleep by now, could be the Delacorte heir. By now the woman probably has grown children of her own. Maybe it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie.”

  “Maybe it is,” I said, “but there is a part of me that thinks whoever that woman is ought to get what she’s entitled to.”

  Dane lightened the mood and started to tease me about being some kind of muffin-baking superhero who wanted to right all the wrongs in Cadbury.

  “Isn’t that what you do?” I said.

  “I’m more about keeping the peace,” he said. I didn’t agree and pointed out how he was trying to help every messed-up kid in town get on the right path.

  “It’s no big deal,” he said. “The garage was just sitting there. And working with them helps me keep in shape.” To show off what he meant he did a few karate moves. “Anytime you want to, join us for a lesson,” he said. In the streetlight I could see the crinkles around his eyes when he smiled.

  “I don’t want to keep you,” I said. “It’s Saturday night or what’s left of it. You must be off duty now and I’m sure you have plans.” I thought of the woman I’d seen sitting in his kitchen.

  “You’re right about me being off duty. If you want I could stop by your place.”

  I shook my head. “You’ve got somebody waiting for you.”

  “Right,” he said with a nod. All the teasing was gone. Obviously he’d gotten himself into an awkward position. But it was none of my business.

  * * *

  Julius must have heard the sound of the kitchen door as I returned. When I flipped on the light, he came sauntering into the room. He stopped to stretch and give his paw a cleaning before he stared up at me with those yellow eyes of his.

  “I certainly made a mess of things,” I said. I recounted the disaster with the yarn and my big sting operation. Then I laughed at my confession. Even though I’d never had one, I knew that dogs were like confidants. They knew when you were down and rushed to lick your face to cheer you up. I looked at Julius and wondered if he had any idea I was upset, or even cared. “This is really about stink fish, isn’t it?” I said with a sigh. But Julius surprised me. He didn’t make a run for his bowl. At least not right away. He blinked a few times and then jumped into my arms and began to purr. I think that was a cat version of licking your face.

  “Wherever I go, you’re coming, too,” I said, petting his fluffy black fur.

  * * *

  I had a troubled night. It wasn’t so much worry that the retreaters would be angry or ask for refunds. It was that I felt I’d let them down. I had promised sheep to shawl and gotten nowhere close.

  I hoped things would seem more promising in the morning. They didn’t. I had a feeling of complete doom when I thought about the last session with the retreat group. No matter what Crystal and her mother cobbled together, it wasn’t going to be handspun yarn.

  I was dragging my feet getting ready when of course my mother called.

  “How is the retreat going?” my mother asked. I recognized it as a setup. She knew me well enough to know that there was bound to be a problem. I tried to say that it was going just fine, but she was an expert at dissecting my tone of voice and saw through it.

  “What’s wrong?” she said with that knowing sound.

  “Nothing,” I said, trying to add a cheerful bounce to the word. But my voice was already warbling at the “ing” and I started to spill my guts—at least as far as the retreat was concerned. The words just came tumbling out before I could stop them. No sheep shearing, a dead workshop leader who hadn’t thought through the reality of what could be done in the time they had, my group of yarn crafters who’d ended up with only a handful of spun yarn to knit a whole shawl and finally a replacement leader who’d run off in the middle of things.

  “Is that all?” my mother said with just enough of a laugh to let me know she was being facetious. “So, maybe you’re ready to accept this retreat business isn’t for you.” I girded for the speech in which she’d tell me to cut my losses and move on to cooking school. But that wasn’t at all what she said.

  “Casey, you’ve still got today to fix things with your group,” she began. “As much as you’ve gone from one thing to another, you’ve never been a quitter.
I mean, quit in the middle of something. You finished the semester with good grades before you decided that law school wasn’t for you. You stayed with the substitute teaching until the school year was up. Have you ever stopped in the middle of baking a cake? No,” she said, answering her own question. “I have every confidence that you will find a way to finish on a high note with your yarn people.”

  I was dumbstruck. Was my mother encouraging me? Then I told her about Sammy’s performance.

  “That’s the worst thing that could happen,” she said when she heard he’d been a success. “Next he’ll be dropping his practice and doing magic full-time.”

  Her comment made me laugh and she wanted to know what was so funny.

  “Sammy would take your comment as a compliment. He’s trying very hard to become a bad boy.” Now my mother laughed.

  “Sammy, a bad boy? Not in this lifetime.” She wished me well for the day and asked me to let her know how things went.

  I looked out the window to see if any pigs were flying by. Because I thought that was as likely as the phone call I’d just had with my mother.

  There was no more time for stalling. I dressed in my most confident outfit, wound a royal blue scarf around my neck in my best attempt at a nonchalant style and headed outside. I remembered only at the last minute about Maggie’s messages and my plan to talk to her in person. With all that had happened, it wasn’t surprising that I’d forgotten. I figured even if she was busy this morning, she could take a moment to tell me her big revelation. I got into my car and headed out onto the street.

  This early on Sunday morning, I had the streets to myself. The restaurants and coffee places in Cadbury were already open, but the shops were still closed up tight. As I looked up the street toward the Coffee Shop, I felt my heartbeat go crazy. Two blue-and-white cruisers were stopped in front of the Victorian storefront, and worse, a red rescue ambulance had its lights flashing as it pulled away and took off down the street. I parked and ran.