by Anne Canadeo
She picked up the pages and passed them to Lucy, who sat on her left. “I planned on using the project and service idea for my demonstration at Brookside, where Ruth lives. I thought it would be nice if we got involved, too.”
“That sounds great. What gave you the idea?” Dana asked.
“Liza and her mother. It’s their favorite charity. They donate knitting there often.” Maggie gave Suzanne a look, as if to say, “Would a truly heartless person do that?” Then she said, “I hope that doesn’t bother you, Suzanne.”
Suzanne wanted to object, but knew that would be terribly petty, and aside from that, she actually liked the idea.
“I’m on board. Even a broken clock has the right time twice a day,” she murmured.
Phoebe looked up, her dark eyes shining. “There’s like ten weeks until Christmas and five of us. So if we only knit two items each a week, we could easily hit one hundred.”
“I love the idea, too. But two items a week?” Suzanne looked around at her friends. “I could only do that if I locked myself in the bedroom for the next three months.”
Dana had taken a sheet with the pattern and was reading it as she spoke. “Suzanne’s right. It’s for charity. It should be fun, not stressful. Why don’t we just knit at our own pace and see where we get?”
Suzanne felt better about that plan. She had no doubt the speedy knitters, like Phoebe and Maggie, would definitely make up for the slowpokes, like herself and even Lucy.
“I’m glad you’re all on board. Here’s a good pattern to start with. It’s a very simple baby jacket, knit in one piece and then folded over and stitched on the sides.” Maggie had a picture handy and showed it to them.
Lucy took the photo to get a closer look. “This is adorable. And it looks easy, too. I’m going to start right now.” She rolled up Matt’s sweater and pushed it aside.
Suzanne laughed. “Watch out, Lucy. If you come home knitting baby clothes, Matt might ask some questions. Who knows where that discussion will go?”
Lucy blushed. Everyone knew she wanted to have a baby soon. But they’d just gotten married and she didn’t want to rush. “You’re right. That could get tricky. Maybe I’ll just tell him it’s a dog sweater.”
Lucy seemed perfectly serious, but her friends couldn’t help laughing. Suzanne included. Matt was a vet and they were both obsessed with dogs, mainly their two silly dogs Tink and Wally. But any dog could send Lucy into a puddle of oohs and ahhs.
“The reason that’s so funny is because he would believe you,” Suzanne said. Lucy smiled but didn’t argue, and Suzanne realized that she hadn’t thought about her awful day in at least . . . five minutes?
Where would she be without knitting night and hanging out with her BFFs?
* * *
As Suzanne left the shop with Lucy and Dana, a chilly wind greeted them, tossing tree branches and scuttling dry leaves down Plum Harbor’s quiet Main Street. Up above, a silver sliver of moon glowed in a deep blue sky. Suzanne pulled her poncho close and waved good night to her friends as they each ran in a different direction to their cars.
She climbed into her SUV and headed down the street. Knitting night had definitely brought some peace and perspective.
But alone again, worries crept in. Was Kevin still up? It was only a quarter to eleven, but her husband worked hard at his construction jobs. “Early to bed, early to rise” was his motto. He really did need his sleep and Suzanne knew she wouldn’t have the heart to wake him when she got in, even to share her awful day. Or warn him that she might get fired tomorrow. At least one of us should get some rest, she reasoned.
Right before the turn for her usual route home, the sign for Prestige Properties came into view. Suzanne noticed lights on inside. She expected to see the van for the office cleaning service. They came every Thursday night, without fail. A reason she preferred to invite clients to meet there on a Friday.
But only a white Mercedes SUV stood parked in front of the building tonight. The personalized plates on the back—AMEYMOXI—told Suzanne all she needed to know. Liza was burning the midnight oil.
Probably making her case for getting me fired. Or trying to figure out what other deals she can steal.
Now, now . . . you have to summon up a better attitude, pronto. Remember what your friends said? Good advice. Get yourself resigned to some heavy duty groveling. Or you might be very sorry. You can catch more black widow spiders with honey than vinegar, right? You’ve got to sweeten her up, before she talks Harry into giving you the boot.
Suzanne slowed down and pulled up behind Liza’s vehicle. Time to get this over with. The pep talk from her pals had psyched Suzanne into doing the right thing. But she knew that by tomorrow, she could wake up feeling mad all over again. It had certainly happened before.
Suzanne shut the ignition, then checked her hair and lipstick in the visor mirror. Not going to win any beauty contests, but looking a little ragged might work on Liza’s sympathy. If she had any, as Maggie claimed.
Suzanne slipped out of the driver’s seat, took a deep breath, and headed for the realty office.
As Mom always said, “No time like the present.”
Chapter 2
Large lights illuminated the gold-lettered logo of Prestige Properties, which hung above the storefront window. The glass was covered with glossy photos of houses, apartments, and vacant land for sale. It was a thriving office with lots of juicy listings, and Suzanne would hate to leave it.
The heavy glass door was unlocked and Suzanne swung it open easily. She wondered why Liza wasn’t more careful. There was little need to worry in Plum Harbor, but a woman alone, especially at night, needed to be cautious anywhere. Suzanne always told her daughter that.
The reception area was dark and empty. Further back, where the worker bees sat in partitioned cubicles, a soft light glowed, and Suzanne headed toward it.
Suzanne liked to joke about the padded walls in her cubicle. Definitely a plus when things got crazy. Most of the time, she didn’t mind not having a “real” office. She did most of her wheeling and dealing in her car, or at home, from her cell phone and tablet, as did the rest of the sales staff. The cubicle was a landing spot, a little nest where she rested and recharged before new adventures. She liked to think of it that way.
She passed her own space, catching a glimpse of the photos that covered one wall. Mostly of her family— dressed in their best at some holiday party; Alexis, in her lacrosse gear, grubby but victorious; her twin boys, Ryan and Jamie, mugging for the camera as they blew out the candles on matching cakes at their last birthday party.
When she felt drained and unmotivated, the smiling faces of the people she loved most in the world never failed to pump her up again.
That’s why I work so hard, she reminded herself as she walked by. Not to “best” Liza Devereaux. Or even for cashmere ponchos and other fine things. I do it for my family and I’ll sweet talk, or even beg this woman, in order to keep my job. I’ll do what I have to.
A thin shaft of light stretched into the hallway from Liza’s space. Suzanne’s steps slowed as she approached. She listened for keyboard clicks or Liza’s voice, talking on the phone. She didn’t hear a thing.
Was she in there? Maybe she was back in the staff kitchen, getting a cup of coffee? Or sipping one of those diet shakes she seemed to live on?
Suzanne paused and delivered her opening lines as she stood near the entrance to Liza’s cubicle. “Sorry to bother you so late. But I saw your car outside and wondered if we could talk.”
Suzanne stepped into the partitioned space, listening for a reply. . . .
But only heard her own scream of panic.
The desk lamp had fallen to one side, the harsh light shining directly in Suzanne’s face, casting long shadows around the small space. She raised her hand to shield her eyes and get a better look at Liza, who was sprawled out on the floor.
Suzanne rushed toward her and crouched down. She quickly checked for a pulse and leaned closer.
Was Liza breathing? She couldn’t tell for sure.
“This can’t be . . . Liza? Please! Can you hear me?” Suzanne slapped Liza’s cheek, but there was no reaction. She felt for the pulse in her wrist and then her neck. Then pressed her ear to her rival’s chest, desperate to hear a heartbeat.
Nothing.
“Oh, Liza . . . Answer me . . . please! Can you hear me? Please wake up. What happened to you?”
Suzanne stared down at Liza’s motionless body, the blue-tinged skin of her complexion, her blank, staring eyes. The surprised expression, frozen on her face. Suzanne sat back on her heels and felt the room spin. She staggered to her feet and stumbled backward. The soles of her boots rolled on small, round objects, and nearly made her fall.
She looked down and saw pearls, all over the carpeting. From Liza’s favorite necklace, she realized. The string had somehow burst and sent the precious beads flying.
Someone could gather them up and have the necklace restrung. It would be as good as new, Suzanne thought. No such easy repair for its owner. No remedy at all . . .
She turned and ran into the hall, heading for the light in the staff kitchen. “Help! Help, somebody! Is anyone here?”
No one answered. She was all alone. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed 911 with trembling hands.
The operator came on immediately. “What is your emergency?”
Suzanne could hardly speak. She felt sick to her stomach, but forced herself to form the words. “Someone’s dead. I just found her. A coworker. I checked her pulse and breathing. But she’s just lying there.... I can’t believe it. . . .”
“Slow down, please. Your name and location?”
Suzanne took a deep breath and answered the operator’s questions as quickly and clearly as she could. All the while a voice in her mind was saying, How could this be? How could Liza be dead? I was just screaming my head off at her a few hours ago. I was just complaining about her bitterly to my friends.
Was she dead all that time I was groaning and gossiping? I feel so awful now.
“The police are on their way,” the operator said. “Do you want to stay on the line until they come?”
“I’ll be okay. I’ll go wait outside for them.”
“All right. But don’t go far. They’ll need to take your statement.”
“Yes, of course.” Did the operator really think she would call in about a dead body and then just go home and go to sleep?
She wouldn’t sleep for months. The chilling image of Liza’s face, her rigid expression, her unseeing eyes staring straight into the desk light . . . The pearls scattered all around her body . . .
Suzanne shivered and pulled her poncho closer. She looked out at Main Street, as quiet and picturesque as a movie set. A strange, surreal feeling washed over her. Had she really just found Liza’s stiff, lifeless body? That couldn’t be. It had to be a dream, a nightmare. She’d wake up any minute now.
Suzanne glanced through the office window, almost expecting Liza to strut out in her Manolo Blahnik heels, the keys to her Mercedes in hand. “I really got you that time, didn’t I?” she’d say. Suzanne could even imagine the tight, superior smile as Liza sashayed by.
Suzanne stared out at the street again. Liza was not sashaying out of the office tonight. She wasn’t going anywhere.
I’ll never be on the receiving end of that smug smile again, Suzanne realized. A hard truth to get her mind around right now.
Suzanne began to cry—deep, wracking sobs that shook her body. She took a wad of tissues from her purse and wiped her eyes, but the tears wouldn’t stop.
Despite every mean thing she’d ever said or thought about Liza Devereaux, Suzanne knew her nemesis did not deserve to die. Not at her age. Early forties, probably? Had it been a heart attack? A stroke? Some other sudden health crisis just as swift and deadly?
She’d wished Liza ill at every turn, and she felt so ashamed now.
I should have been a bigger person. I shouldn’t have let the woman get under my skin the way she had. Sure, Liza had her faults. But didn’t everyone? Wasn’t I just as annoying to her?
Suzanne’s rambling thoughts took a dark turn. What if it was a stroke? What if the fight at the staff meeting had killed her? Just pushed her blood pressure through the roof and she burst an artery or something? What if she had some secret illness that I didn’t even know about?
Suzanne felt so awful. Sure, she’d been angry today. But she’d never wish such an end on anyone. Even her worst enemy.
She thought of calling one of her pals, to share the shocking, dreadful news. Lucy would still be up. She’d mentioned a project with a deadline. But Suzanne realized she wasn’t ready to talk about this yet. Not even to her circle.
She did need to call Kevin. It was late and he’d wonder why she wasn’t home yet. His cell phone rang and rang, but he finally answered, his voice thick with sleep.
“Hi, honey, it’s me.” She tried to keep the note of panic from her tone, but it was impossible. “Something awful happened.... It’s just so horrible. I’m at the office and I have to wait for the police. Can you come and stay with me? Just tell Alexis I had some car trouble and you need to pick me up in the village. She’s probably still up, doing homework.”
Their oldest child was a junior in high school and more intense about her schoolwork than Suzanne had ever been. She was usually up after midnight, studying, though Suzanne nagged at her to sleep more. And Alexis was often left in charge of her younger brothers, though she rarely volunteered for the job.
“You’re at your office? What are you talking about? It’s half past eleven. I thought you were at Maggie’s shop tonight.”
“I was. But I stopped at the office on my way home and . . .” The effort of trying to explain the events in a calm, logical way was too much. Suzanne broke down. “Oh, Kevin . . . Liza Devereaux is dead. I just found her, lying on the floor. Not breathing or anything. It was awful.”
Suzanne’s voice dissolved into tears. She could hear her husband’s confused but conciliatory words, but couldn’t answer.
“Are you kidding? That’s horrible. Did you call the police?”
“They should be here any minute. Can you please stay with me? I feel so bad. You know I never liked her. But I never wanted anything like this to happen.”
“Of course you didn’t. What a thing to say.” She could tell from the sounds on the other end of the line that he was out of bed and stumbling around the bedroom, trying to get dressed, she assumed. “Sit tight. I’ll be right over.”
“Thanks, honey,” Suzanne said, though she knew no thanks were really necessary. He’d always been protective of her.
A few moments later, she heard a siren down the street and a blue and white patrol car pulled up in front of the building. Suzanne waved nervously, though she was sure the police had already noticed her.
The two officers, a man and a woman, got out. They looked so young, in their midtwenties, she guessed. The male officer did the talking, introducing himself as Officer Zericky and his partner as Officer Durbin.
He first checked her name, reading it off a pad in his hand. “You reported a death, Ms. Cavanaugh?”
He looked very serious, and a bit nervous, she thought. That makes two of us.
“She’s inside . . . on the floor in her cubicle.” Suzanne heard her voice quiver. “Liza Devereaux. She’s a coworker of mine.”
“Can you show us, please?”
Suzanne swallowed to clear her throat again. She had hoped the police could find poor Liza on their own. But she nodded and led the way back inside the building. “Right through here. The office spaces are in back. That’s where she is.”
When they reached Liza’s cubicle, she stopped and pointed. “In there. I felt for a pulse or a heartbeat . . . but . . . Well, you’ll see.”
Officer Zericky walked past her and entered the cubicle. Officer Durbin followed. Suzanne stayed in the hallway, but listened in on their conversation as they examined Liza’s bod
y, then made a call on a crackling radio.
She heard Officer Zericky speaking. Though most of the conversation was in police jargon, coded with terms and numbers, Suzanne got the drift.
The two officers emerged and led her into the reception area, where Officer Durbin turned on the lights. “I need a brief statement, Ms. Cavanaugh. Detectives will be here soon and they’ll want to speak to you, too.”
Suzanne nodded. “Of course. I understand.”
This was going to be difficult, to review over and over the ghastly moments of finding Liza. But she knew that she couldn’t refuse. At least Kevin was coming. She hoped he’d get there soon.
Officer Zericky had his pad out again and began to ask her questions—her full name, address, and contact information. Easy stuff at first.
Then he got into the specifics about finding the body. His questions were brief and Suzanne tried to keep her answers brief, too.
She heard her husband’s voice and saw him through the window, just his head, above the gallery of properties for sale. He was talking to the other police officer. He looked as if he’d just rolled out of bed and pulled on a sweatshirt and jeans. But she’d rarely been happier to see him in her life.
He turned and met her glance, then shrugged. Suzanne guessed he wanted to come in, but Officer Durbin had told him to wait outside.
She felt frustrated. “My husband is here. Can I talk to him?” she asked the other police officer.
He looked at his pad, as if he might find the answer there. “I guess we’re done. But you need to speak to the detectives before you can go home,” he reminded her again.
“Yes, I know.” Suzanne had been through this ordeal before. When she’d found the body of a good friend, floating in a swimming pool. Poor Gloria. Everyone assumed it had been a tragic accident. But as time went on, she and her friends knew that there was more to dear Gloria’s demise than met the eye, and they helped find her killer, too.