by Dawn Eastman
In the lounge, several of the decorative vases had been covered with neon jackets and knitted flowers nestled among the real ones.
“Maybe Mavis saw a yarn bomber,” I said. “That would explain why the person didn’t respond and then ran away.” I turned to Vi. “The whole point is to not get caught, right?”
Vi examined the knitted flower. “I think I know who did this one.”
She turned to us. “Linda must be feeling better.”
“What do you mean?” I said.
“She makes these flowers,” Vi said.
“I didn’t know she was part of the conference,” I said.
Vi wandered the lounge inspecting the new yarn installations. “She comes when she can, in between whatever she has to do with the hotel. But she’s the one who started the workshops ten or so years ago. She’s a big knitter.”
Mac and I managed to drag Vi away from the knitting and back out into the hall.
The only place we hadn’t checked was the kitchen. We turned down the darkened hall that led to the staff entrance to the kitchen. There was a line of light under the door.
I pushed it open and we were all surprised to see Linda there at the stove stirring a small pan. A thin cord ran from her pale gray robe pocket to her ears and she seemed oblivious to our entrance.
She whirled around when we moved toward her and then quickly relaxed.
“Oh, you startled me!” she said and tugged the earbuds out of her ears.
“Sorry Mrs. Garrett,” Mac said. “We’re searching the area because Mavis Poulson thinks she saw a ghost.
Linda chuckled. “Mavis always did have a wild imagination. Where did she see the ghost, exactly?”
“She thought it came down the stairs about twenty minutes ago,” Vi said.
Linda shrugged. “She probably saw me.”
“It’s possible,” I said. “Did you come down the main stairs?”
She nodded. “I couldn’t sleep.” She stopped and blinked back tears. “I haven’t slept much since Clarissa died. I just can’t get the picture of her lying there, dead, out of my mind.” She gestured at the pot. “I thought some warm milk might help.”
“She says she called out to the ghost and it didn’t stop,” Mac said.
Linda pulled her iPod out and showed it to us. “I like to listen to Mozart when I can’t sleep.” She dropped it back in the pocket. “I wouldn’t have heard her with my earphones in. Plus, at three in the morning, I wouldn’t have been expecting to meet anyone in the hall.”
Mac and I exchanged a tired look.
“That’s probably exactly what happened,” Mac said.
We turned to go. As we reached the door, I stopped. “You weren’t in Clarissa’s room tonight, were you?”
“No. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to go in there again,” Linda said. “Why?”
“Someone was there and they left both windows open.”
“That’s strange,” she said. “Why would anyone do that?”
“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out,” Vi said. She flapped her hand as if it was already handled.
Mac sighed and held the door open for us.
He walked us back to our room in silence. We all seemed to be mulling over what we had discovered, which wasn’t much.
He gave me a quick kiss and said he’d see me for breakfast. It didn’t take long to fall asleep again and this time I didn’t dream at all.
22
After the ghost sighting, Saturday morning came too early. I rolled out of bed, and quietly opened the door. Mac and I had agreed to meet early again, before the knitters descended on the lounge. Wally approached Mac and me out of breath, but with a huge smile, as we walked downstairs.
“The phone lines are working!” he said.
“Fantastic,” Mac said. “Let’s call the police.”
We followed Wally out to the front desk. “I was going to call myself, but I thought you might want to talk to them.”
The old phone was ringing when we got to the counter. Wally pressed his lips together. “I plugged this old one in when the power went out. It’s been ringing off the hook—that’s how I knew it was working. Several of the guests received phone calls from family who were worried about them when the cell towers went down.”
Wally answered the phone, took a message, and hung up. He then took the phone off the hook and handed the receiver to Mac.
“Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll dial—we have to be quick before another call comes through.”
Mac nodded at him and Wally dialed.
From what I could glean by listening to his side of the conversation, it sounded like Mac was being put straight through to homicide. I began plotting how long we would likely have to stay after the police arrived.
Mac turned to Wally. “Let’s keep this between us for now,” he said. “I’m not sure how quickly they can get here with that tree blocking the road—there’s no need to raise everyone’s hopes.”
Wally nodded agreement. “I’ll just tell the rest of the guests when they come down that the phone is working in case they need to check in with family—it might limit the phone calls coming in,” Wally said.
We sat in the lounge while we waited for the dining room to open. The hours were later on the weekends and I was getting antsy without my caffeine.
“I’ll be glad when the police arrive and they can remove the body,” I said. “It’s creeping me out, knowing she’s outside in the shed.”
Mac nodded. “They’ll take over the investigation and maybe we can get out of here.”
“Should we write up what we know so far so we can turn it over to them?”
Mac pulled his notebook out of his back pocket and flipped it open. “It wouldn’t hurt.”
I scooted closer to him so we could read his notes together.
“Clarissa left the cocktail party at six thirty and we saw her arguing with Jessica in the hall.” Mac made a note.
“Isabel, Mavis, and Tina were all out of the dining room at some point before Clarissa’s body was found,” I said.
“And as far as staff members go, we can only rule out Wally.” Mac put a line through Wally’s name.
“By refusing to talk to us, Tina has guaranteed my suspicions. I don’t like it that she tried to cover up the fact she left the room.” I leaned back against the cushions. “It’s weird. How did she think she would get away with it? We were all there—someone was bound to remember that she had stepped out.”
“People don’t always make good choices.” Mac shook his head. “Maybe she’s scared. She hasn’t acted thrilled that we’re investigating.”
“I suppose.” I took Mac’s notebook and flipped a couple of pages. “Who had a motive?”
Mac ticked names off on his fingers. “Jessica and Linda had been fighting with Clarissa about the hotel. Mavis and Isabel hold a past tragedy against her. Holly was likely bullied and may have been afraid of losing her job.”
“What about Kirk?” I said. “He’s at the top of Dad’s list.”
“Incompetence isn’t a crime. We can’t forget René,” Mac added. “If Clarissa interfered with his plans for the restaurant.”
“At least we can give the police somewhere to start,” I said and handed his notebook back.
“They’ll probably want to do their own interviews,” Mac said. “I hope we can turn this over to them and head out before the weekend is over.”
“We probably can’t make it to Mexico at this point—where do you want to go?”
“Anywhere but here,” Mac mumbled as his mother waved from the doorway and headed in our direction.
“Hello, you two! Did you hear that the phones are back on?”
We nodded. “We just called the police to come and deal with Clarissa’s death,” Mac said.
; “Oh. You won’t be working on it anymore?” Lucille said. “I’m surprised you can just walk away after all the time you’ve put into it so far.”
Secretly I had to agree with Lucille. Mac was like Baxter with a bone when it came to solving a murder.
“I don’t think I’ll have a choice, Mom. It’s not my case. I only stepped in because we were all stuck here. I’ll turn over all the information I have and let them get on with it.”
Lucille held his gaze for a moment. “We’ll see,” she said. She walked around the room to admire the newest yarn creations. The lounge had taken on a surreal character with all the brightly colored yarny things stashed everywhere.
“Do you think we could stay and finish what we started?” I whispered.
Mac turned to me. “Is that what you want?” he said, and a slow smile began.
“I hate to leave a case right in the middle. If they’ll let us continue, I think I’d like to see it through.”
Mac let out a breath and I saw his shoulders relax. “Me, too. I just feel bad that our vacation is ruined.”
“We’ll still take that trip—just later than we planned.”
Mac took my hand and squeezed. “Are you sure you want to leave police work? You obviously love it as much as I do.”
I pulled my hand away. “I love solving the puzzle—I don’t love the hierarchy and the paperwork and the hours.”
Mac waited. I was very aware of Lucille wandering through the room, examining the knitting. I lowered my voice.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to go back to it after everything that has happened.”
“What will you do?”
I shrugged. I had hoped to avoid this conversation for a little while longer.
“Are you two coming in to breakfast?” Lucille said from the doorway.
I hopped up. “Yes, I’m starved.”
I took Mac’s hand and pulled him toward the door.
Mac and I walked to the dining room and I went straight for the tea. The buffet was more elaborate than before—apparently with electricity came homemade waffles.
We heard voices in the hall as we sat down with our plates loaded with waffles and whipped cream.
I recognized Vi’s voice first. She was telling the ghost story again. It got more and more lurid with each iteration. She entered the dining room with Seth. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open while Vi told her tale. He caught sight of Mac, Lucille, and me and raised his hand in greeting. The rest of the knitters followed and Mom and Dad took up the rear, holding hands.
Seth veered toward the buffet. Even a really good ghost story would not deter him from obtaining food. The noisy group swarmed the buffet and settled at tables in groups of four or five. Vi and Mom clattered their plates as they joined us.
“You were up early,” Vi said.
I nodded and suppressed a yawn.
“What’s the plan for today? Have you interviewed all the suspects?” Vi dumped half the cream pitcher into her coffee.
“This whole thing makes me very nervous,” said Mom. She leaned forward and glanced side to side. “There’s a murderer among us!”
Seth took a moment from his food to glance at Mom, but quickly went back to the task at hand.
Dad patted Mom’s hand. “It’s not like it’s a crazed lunatic. It sounds like this Clarissa had at least a couple of enemies.”
Dad must have heard the whole story from Mom and Vi.
“Baxter’s been acting really weird since we got here,” Seth said. “Usually Tuffy is the one who sits and shivers and acts scared.”
“Baxter’s been acting scared?” I said.
Seth took a gulp of milk and swallowed. “He’s just not himself. I guess I’d say he’s a little skittish. He doesn’t like my room in the cottage.”
“He ran right in there yesterday,” I said.
“I know, right?” Seth said. “Dogs are strange.” He shook his head and dumped more syrup on his waffles.
“I hope he’s not sick,” I said. I examined my plate. Suddenly I wasn’t hungry. I had gotten attached to the big lug. I didn’t know what I would do if anything happened to him.
Vi had been talking to Mac about her idea of opening a detective agency. He seemed to have lost his appetite as well. He pushed his plate away and sat back, looking a bit green.
“Isabel has a full day planned for us knitters,” Vi said to the rest of us. “I’m considering skipping her workshop on intarsia. I hate intarsia. It’s someone’s sick joke and actually takes all the fun of knitting and turns it into torture. That way I could help you and Mac.”
“What’s intarsia?” Seth asked.
I had been too late in my attempt to signal him to just let it go.
“It’s when you knit in multiple colors to make a design,” Mom said. “Like a letter, or a pattern.”
“Oh, like those sweaters Mrs. Weasley made in the Harry Potter books?”
“Yeah, but she used magical knitting needles and didn’t have to sit and read a chart and twist all the stitches and fix all the holes and weave in all the ends,” Vi said.
Mom smiled at Seth and leaned toward him. “It’s really not that bad.”
Vi huffed and turned her attention to Lucille. I noticed Mac kept his eyes on his plate and didn’t engage in the knitting conversation. I put my hand over his on the table.
“Do you like intarsia?” Vi asked Lucille.
“I’m more of a cables-and-lace kind of gal,” Lucille said.
Vi slapped her on the back. “I knew I liked you. Maybe we can get Isabel to skip the intarsia.”
“Given that her most recent pattern book is all intarsia, I doubt it,” Mom said and narrowed her eyes at Vi.
“So what’s with all the socks on the furniture?” Seth said after returning from his second trip to the buffet.
“That’s the yarn bombing. It’s a hoot!” Vi said.
“That reminds me, Violet,” Lucille said. “I brought a few items with me. Will Wally help me put them up?”
Vi shook her head. “No, you want Kirk. He’s got a ladder. Unless you want to bomb a low-lying area, which is fine but not as showy . . .”
“I’ll help, Mrs. McKenzie,” Seth said.
“Thank you, Seth.” Lucille smiled at him. They had become close over the past couple of months. Seth had moved in with me just before Thanksgiving, and Mac’s mother discovered that Seth would eat just about anything. The two of them bonded over her desire to bake and Seth’s desire to eat.
Mac put his hand on my back and whispered, “Ready to go?”
I nodded.
Mac pushed his chair back while gulping the last of his coffee. “Clyde and I have some work to do this morning. We’ll see you all at lunch.”
“I hope you’ll think about what I said, Phillip,” Lucille said as we stood.
Mac’s face turned a bit pink and he clamped his lips together. He gave her a curt nod, grabbed my hand, and pulled me toward the door.
“What was that about?” I said while jogging to keep up.
“You aren’t the only one with an interfering family,” Mac said.
23
Wally rushed up to us as we exited the dining room. “Detective McKenzie! Detective Harris is on the phone—he needs to speak with you.”
Mac and I followed him to the front desk.
Wally silently handed the phone to Mac.
“Pete? What’s up?” Mac said.
Wally and I watched Mac as he listened.
“I’m not surprised. No, that’s fine. We’ll see what we can do from our end.”
Mac caught my eye and gave a small shake of his head.
“Okay. Yup. We’ll see.”
Mac hung up and Wally and I almost pounced on him.
“They can’t get through. The tree
that came down took some power lines with it.” Mac grimaced. “I’m glad Kirk and I didn’t touch it or wander around too much in the vicinity.”
“So, are they going to clear the tree?” Wally asked.
Mac nodded once. “They have to get the power company out to secure the lines and then they’ll have to cut the tree into pieces to move it. It might take a while. They’re dealing with power outages all across Southwestern Michigan.”
Wally left us in the reception area and went to herd the knitters into the lounge for the big reveal of more yarn bombing.
We sat on one of the comfy couches that graced the entryway. I looked out at the white landscape, the trees outlined in snow, and the drifts that had piled up outside. After a few minutes we heard them noisily make their way to the library.
I wondered how long we would be stuck here with our families and the progressively more anxious knitters. “What was your mother talking about?” I said.
“Nothing. We had a little argument last night.”
“What about?”
Mac sighed. “About you.”
I opened my mouth to speak and we heard a shriek from down the hall followed by screams and exclamations from multiple voices.
I got to the hallway before Mac and we both raced to the workshop room.
The knitters were crowded around a pile of yarn, talking and pointing and wringing their hands. Yarn and needles lay on the floor near the chairs as if they had all jumped up and flung their projects down. It must be something serious.
Isabel gestured at everyone to stand back.
“What’s going on?” I said over the noise.
Isabel pointed a shaky finger at a pile of yarn.
I stepped closer and saw what was causing the ruckus. A Maglite sat halfway buried by the yarn. A brownish-red substance covered the side and part of the bulb. Of course, without a crime lab, we couldn’t be sure, but I was convinced that this was the murder weapon.