by Jan Fields
Stella turned to them sharply. “However do you suppose that man from Pennsylvania ended up dying here?”
Annie blinked. So Stella recognized the resemblance too? “I wasn’t sure it was the same man,” she said. “It doesn’t seem very likely that he would end up here.”
Stella waved the doubts away. “Of course it was,” she said. “I observed the man closely in the restaurant. And now I assume he was definitely the one who tried to break into the SUV.”
“It does look that way,” Mary Beth agreed.
Stella nodded. “The question is—why did he want the things in Betsy’s display?”
Annie thought that was an awfully huge leap. She couldn’t imagine anyone could possibly be that interested in her grandmother’s needlework. Certainly Betsy was incredibly talented, but Annie couldn’t picture needlework being the stuff major crimes are made of.
She turned toward the door and looked at it with more than a little worry. Was Kate OK inside?
Inside the display room, Kate was feeling anything but OK. “He looks a little like the man we all saw in Pennsylvania,” she said softly. “But I don’t know for sure. I really barely looked at the man in the restaurant. I don’t like to be rude.”
“I’m sure you don’t,” the detective said.
The detective led her away from the man before asking her anything else. Kate was surprised at how kind and friendly the detective seemed, though she found the intense way he looked right into her eyes a bit unnerving. On television, the police detectives were usually so gruff. Maybe it was just the slow Southern accent—it had a calming effect.
“Mrs. Stevens,” the detective said. “Could you tell me where you were last night after midnight?”
“I was in my room,” she said. “Mary Beth and I chatted until fairly late and then went to sleep. I’m not sure exactly when.”
He nodded. “Your husband didn’t come to the convention? I believe you said his name was Harry?”
Kate shook her head. “Harry is my ex-husband. I’m divorced.”
“Oh,” the detective said, and again Kate wished she knew what he was thinking as he looked at her so intently. She forced herself not to drop her eyes. It was hard for her to make so much eye contact with a total stranger—and a man yet. Still, she had read something somewhere about how criminals try to avoid making eye contact.
As the moment of silence between them stretched, Kate fretted. Was it bad that she was divorced? Did the police assume divorced women did bad things? She felt a little sick and mentally shook herself for jumping to conclusions. Then she asked, “How did that man die?”
“We’re not sure yet,” the detective said. “We’re not even sure it’s a homicide, but we have to treat it that way until we know.”
She nodded and waited for the detective to send her out of the room. She felt like she’d already been in the room longer than anyone else. Instead he looked at her intently for a few silent moments, and she resisted the urge to squirm.
“So … on the drive …” the detective continued, “did anything else odd happen?”
Kate described the break-in of Mary Beth’s car.
“Did you see who did it?” the detective asked, suddenly sharply interested.
“There were two men,” Kate said. “One I didn’t see at all, and the other I didn’t see very well. Just enough to tell he was tall. And I think he was white.”
Detective Matthews gestured behind them with his notebook. “Could it have been that man?”
Kate thought a moment. “It could have, but it could also have been you. Really, I didn’t see him enough to tell much.”
The detective nodded. “Did the thieves take anything?”
“No,” Kate said, “we scared them away.”
The detective smiled then. “You must have shown them your ferocious side.”
This coaxed a small smile from Kate. Another pause fell over them, and Kate wondered why he didn’t just usher her back out the door. Finally, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “If you think of anything else or need to speak to me about anything, call me.” Then he pulled a pen out of his pocket and wrote on the card. “I’ll add my cell number. You can reach me quicker that way.”
“OK,” Kate said quietly as the detective handed her the card. She was relieved when he finally led her back out of the room.
“It’s about time,” Stella said. “I hope you’re done upsetting people!”
“Someone died last night, ma’am,” the detective said. “I imagine I’ve barely begun upsetting people.”
He looked over all four of them closely. “Does the name Max Lessing mean anything to you ladies?”
Mary Beth, Kate, and Annie shook their heads in unison. Stella’s frown intensified, “Is that the name of that poor man?”
“We think so,” the detective said. “It’s the name that was on his license.”
“Surely, you don’t think any of us are involved in any wrong-doing,” Stella said.
The detective’s dark blue eyes sparkled. “I have to cover all my bases. After all, you ladies might be reenacting Murder on the Orient Express—without the train.”
“Or the stabbing,” Stella said.
The detective’s eyebrows raised.
“It’s obvious the man wasn’t stabbed,” Stella said. “I imagine stabbing victims bleed.”
“You’re an observant woman, Mrs. Brickson,” Detective Matthews said. “I’ll appreciate it if you let me know right away if you observe anything related to this case.” He handed Annie, Mary Beth, and Stella each one of his business cards. “My number is on the bottom.”
“I’m certain we’ve told you all we know,” Mary Beth said.
“Well, you never know,” Detective Matthews said, his eyes barely darting toward Mary Beth before resting again on Kate. “You may think of something you want to tell me. Or even if you just want to talk … about the case or anything that comes up.”
Then with a nod, he told them they were free to go. They walked slowly down the hallway toward the lobby. “Well, I think that’s pretty clear,” Stella said.
“What’s that?” Mary Beth asked.
“That detective thinks we killed that man,” Stella said firmly.
“Oh, I hope not,” Kate said, her voice shaky.
“That’s ridiculous,” Mary Beth said, patting Kate’s arm. “I’m certain he doesn’t suspect us at all.”
“You heard him,” Stella said. “He practically accused us of plotting together to kill him. That whole thing about the murder mystery.”
“I think he might have been kidding,” Annie suggested.
“It didn’t sound like kidding to me,” Stella said firmly. “It sounded like an accusation. And if we know what’s good for us, we’ll solve this murder ourselves, before that young man pins it on us.”
“You watch too much television,” Mary Beth said.
“I don’t watch television,” Stella said, her feathers clearly ruffled. “Except for an hour of news each night. I do, however, read mystery novels. You can learn a lot from a good novel. And I think we better all learn the answer to this mystery—and quickly!”
9
When the women reached the lobby, they nearly ran right into Carlton Gold. He had gotten a good bit of his color back, but still seemed very distressed. “Are you ladies all right?” he asked.
“We’re fine,” Mary Beth said. “Though I’m starving.”
“You’re so brave,” Mr. Gold said. “I believe they’re setting up a continental breakfast for all the conference attendees. It’s in the back of the Yellow Rose Ballroom. It’s a little early, but I’m sure they’ll let us have a snack. We’ve had such a horrible morning!”
“Did you know the man on the floor?” Stella asked, watching Mr. Gold sharply.
“Never saw him before in my life,” Mr. Gold said. “But I looked the exhibit over carefully. Some of the items were out of place, but he didn’t take anything—or bleed on
anything.”
“What a horrible thought,” Kate said with a gasp.
“Why would the man have been interested in my grandmother’s things?” Annie asked. “This doesn’t make any sense to me.”
“Well, your grandmother’s work is very valuable,” Mr. Gold said. “And I know this is a terrible time to mention anything, but I was going to speak to you today about your grandmother’s masterpiece. Our company wants to license some kits based on it.”
Annie looked at him in surprise. “I can’t imagine too many people would be interested in trying such a huge piece.”
“I agree,” Mr. Gold said. “That’s why we only want to create kits for some smaller pieces based on it. We hoped you would let us license a series of landscapes based on the small scenes Betsy embedded into the larger work. And we wanted to do one portrait of just the woman’s head and shoulders.”
“I don’t know,” Annie said. “This is all a bit much for one morning.”
“Of course,” the slender man said. “I’m sorry. I’m all discombobulated myself. I actually have the specifics; we can talk later. I do want to discuss it before Betsy’s ceremony, but we certainly don’t have to talk about it now.”
“Thank you,” Annie said weakly.
After they reached the ballroom, Mr. Gold was called away by another man to talk about the ceremony on Sunday. The contingent from Stony Point filled small plates with food and sat at a side table to eat.
“I think we should assign tasks,” Stella said.
“Tasks?” Annie repeated.
“For the investigation.”
“Oh Stella,” Mary Beth said.
“I’m sorry,” Kate said softly. “But I really don’t want to be part of this mystery. I was scared half to death just being in that room. I want to enjoy the convention and forget all about this horrible morning.” She stood up and hurried out of the room with her half-empty plate.
“That’s too bad,” Stella said. “The detective kept Kate longer than anyone else. I was hoping to hear all about his questioning.”
Mary Beth gave the older woman a stern look. “I think we should give Kate some space. None of us are exactly used to this kind of thing.”
“I agree,” Annie said. “This isn’t like trying to find out who owned some unusual item from Gram’s attic. This is serious.”
“I have found all the mysteries that have come our way since you moved to Stony Point were quite serious,” Stella said, “and some dangerously so. But this is the first time a police detective has practically accused us of a crime. I think we would be unwise to ignore this.”
“Well, I’m with Kate,” Annie said. “We should leave this to the professionals. Now, you’ll have to excuse me. I want to go back to my room and collect the things for today’s convention activities.”
“Me too,” Mary Beth said as she stood up. “I’m sure the police have this well in hand.”
“We’ll see,” Stella said, clearly not happy.
After collecting her things for the day from her room, Annie rode the elevator down to the lobby while reading the schedule from her packet. She wanted to catch the keynote speaker, attend a morning workshop on embellishing crochet projects for a modern look, and then go to the rehearsal for the fashion show before lunch. And she wanted to do all those things without thinking about murder, mayhem, or mystery.
As she stepped off the elevator, she was delighted to spot her friends from Brookfield. “Dorothy!” Annie cried. “Ida Mae, Lily! I was just wondering how to track y’all down. I missed you last night at dinner.”
“Yes, I plumb forgot,” Dorothy said. “We were so excited to see your grandmother’s display and wanted to get to the room before it was locked up for the night. That portrait she did was amazing. I almost expected that young woman to turn around and look right at me.”
“Thank you. I thought so too,” Annie said. “I found it in Gram’s attic in Stony Point.”
Annie looked curiously at the fourth woman in the Brookfield group. She didn’t recognize her at all. Lily caught the look and said, “Annie, we’d like you to meet Alice Lakeland. Her family moved to Brookfield not long after you left.”
The slim, white-haired woman beamed at Annie. “I almost feel like I know you already,” she said. “These three have told me so much about you.”
“I’m glad to meet you,” Annie said. She felt a tiny pang at the thought of her dear Brookfield church family growing with her so far away. Stony Point was her home, and she was glad of the move, but she guessed she wanted to have her cake and eat it too. Things change, even if sometimes you wish they would freeze in place.
“We’re all headed to the keynote,” Lily said. “Will you come and sit with us?”
Annie smiled. “I’d like that.”
The women chatted about all the beautiful things they’d seen already at the convention. “I always find CGOA functions to be so inspirational, and this joint function is just amazing!” Ida Mae said when they finally found seats in the largest of the hotel ballrooms. “This is your first craft convention, isn’t it, Annie?”
Annie said it was.
“Have you found it exciting?” Ida Mae asked.
“Yes,” Annie admitted a bit ruefully. “More so than I ever imagined.”
Ida Mae nodded. “I knew you would.”
At that moment, the conference leader stepped up to the podium at the front of the room. “I’m so happy to welcome all of you to our first-ever all–needle-arts conference. I want to thank everyone from the Crochet Guild of America, The Knitting Guild Association, and The National NeedleArts Association for pulling together to make this truly an epic event.”
Annie settled comfortably in her chair and just enjoyed the speakers. After the strange events of both the drive and the morning, it was nice to simply set it aside and do what she’d come to the conference for—learn.
With her mind so pleasantly diverted, the morning flew by. Before Annie knew it, she was rushing to make it to the fashion show rehearsal before lunch. She managed to be the last in the room again and had to change quickly.
With her mind on getting changed and rehearsing, Annie didn’t notice the young woman from the day before until they were changing out of the fashion show clothing. Annie was about to say hello when the young woman slipped out of her jacket and Annie saw a large bruise on her bicep. Taking a step closer, Annie realized the bruise was clearly a handprint.
The young woman caught Annie’s look. “Oh,” she said, “it’s not what it looks like.”
“Was that from your boyfriend?” Annie asked.
“Yes,” the woman admitted as she quickly slipped on a cardigan, covering up the bruise. “But it’s not what you think. Max was never like that.”
Annie just looked at her skeptically.
The young woman sighed. “I got to thinking about what you said, and what my brother says all the time. I had supper with Max last night, and I broke up with him. I told him I ought to be treated nice, and if he couldn’t do that, I didn’t want to see him anymore. I told him about what your grandmother said about love and that I wanted to be treated like that.”
“And he hurt you,” Annie said quietly.
“Well, he got pretty upset. He said that we wouldn’t have had any trouble if people kept out of our business.” She looked up sharply at Annie. “He didn’t really mean you, I don’t think. He knows my brother doesn’t like him. That’s always been a sore point.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “Anyway, he was getting kind of loud, and I was embarrassed. I got up to leave him in the restaurant, and he grabbed my arm. I bruise real easy, but still—it’s like you said, I deserve better. So I just jerked my arm loose and left.”
“It sounds like you made the right decision,” Annie said gently. “I’m glad he wasn’t rough with you all the time, but it still sounds like he didn’t treat you the way you deserve.”
The woman nodded. “I really miss him though. Honestly, I thought he’d probably ca
ll me, but not one call. I guess he really didn’t care so much.” Her demeanor turned sad, and her eyes dropped a little.
Annie impulsively gave the young woman a hug. “Sometimes doing the right thing feels pretty bad,” she said.
The young woman nodded, but then she smiled. “Bad and good, though. By the way, I’m Cat Reed, and I’m glad I met you.”
Annie smiled back. “I’m Annie Dawson—and I’m glad you’re OK.”
“Yeah, I’m doing OK.” Then she straightened her back and held her chin up. “And I’m going to do just fine. Anyway, I should go find a restroom and fix my face before lunch. Thanks for everything—really. I’ll see you at the fashion show.”
As Annie watched the young woman pick up her things and head for the door, she suddenly had a horrible thought. “Cat?”
Cat turned with a smile. “Yes?” she said.
“What’s your boyfriend’s last name?” Annie asked.
“Lessing,” Cat said. “Why, do you know him? We don’t live far from here. I could tell by your accent that you probably didn’t either.”
Annie looked at Cat sadly. “No, I don’t know him. But I am afraid I have horrible news for you. I know why he didn’t call you.”
Cat stared at Annie for a moment, with a deer-in-the-headlights look. “Why?” she asked.
Annie walked over to Cat and gently suggested they go somewhere a little more private to talk. Cat looked even more alarmed, but she nodded and followed Annie silently from the room.
With such a crowded convention, it took a few minutes to find an empty room. They finally found a small room that seemed to be used mostly for storing chairs. Annie coaxed Cat to sit down. Then she told her about her early morning summons, and what it meant. After that, they simply sat while Cat cried softly.
Finally, as Cat’s tears began to subside, Annie asked, “Do you have any idea why someone would want to hurt Max?”
Cat shook her head. “About ten years ago Max got into some trouble,” she said. “Burglary. He went to jail for it, but that was before I knew him. He didn’t do that kind of thing anymore.”