Knit Fast, Die Young

by Mary Kruger

  “I just can’t figure this out. I don’t know why she’d go back.”

  “But we know, unfortunately, that she did.”

  Unfortunately. Ari sat back, and the three were quiet. She was about to speak when the door opened and Captain Briggs walked in. Today he’d left off his leather trench coat in favor of a well-cut tweed sport jacket and gray flannel pants. A blue shirt and a conservatively patterned tie completed his outfit. The shirt brought out the color of his eyes, she noted, just as a sweater would. He could be an attractive man, if he would just smile.

  Briggs nodded at them and then, setting his coffee cup on the table, sat beside Charlie. “Ms. Evans,” he said.

  “Captain,” she said equally formally, and braced herself for dismissal.

  It came a moment later. “We have things to talk about,” he said to the two officers. At that, Josh got up and crossed to Ari. Together they walked out of the room.

  “Josh,” she whispered once they were out in the hall linking the two conference rooms. “Could you keep me up to date on things?”

  “I don’t know. There might not be time. Anyway, Briggs will be here.”

  “Yes.”

  “I have to get back in there, Ari—”

  “Josh, what about the baby’s father?”

  “Felicia’s baby? We don’t know. Winston couldn’t tell us anything, and unless we get a court order to unseal the adoption documents, there’s no way we can find out.”

  “Unless she told her daughter.”

  “Are you thinking you could find out?”

  “Josh, how many people here knew about her daughter?”

  “From what I can tell, just us and Debbie.”

  “Do you mind if I tell people?”

  “Ari, you know we don’t like to release everything we know. That’s an important fact. We can’t waste it on some harebrained idea of yours.”

  First she’d been called a crackpot, and now harebrained. “I see,” she said coldly, and walked away.

  “Ari, I’m sorry, I’m tired. I was only thinking of what Briggs would say—”

  She smiled at the trooper who held the large conference room door open for her, not looking at Josh. “Never mind,” she said, and went in.

  Damn it, Josh thought, combing his hair with his fingers, and then turned away. Making amends would have to wait for later.

  Briggs was on his cell phone when Josh walked back into the smaller room. He looked up, gesturing Josh to a chair, and went on taking notes on a paper on the table. Josh raised his eyebrows at Charlie, who only shrugged. After all, Briggs was in charge.

  “That was the forensics team out on the lane behind the fairgrounds,” Briggs said, closing his cell phone. “They found some brush broken at the drive into the fairgrounds.”

  “So someone did go in through Pine Lane,” Josh said.

  “Yeah, and it could have been anyone.” Charlie reached for the sheet of paper that detailed who had left the fairgrounds yesterday and when. “Did they find tire prints?”

  “Quite a few. A number of vehicles have been down that road, considering the weather.”

  “Well, last night was Saturday. Date night. What about the branches? Were they freshly broken?”

  “Yes. It’s possible one of the local teens saw our murderer going onto the fairgrounds that way.”

  “It is,” Charlie agreed. “We’d have to put out a request for information to find out. It’ll take time.”

  “Kids might not want to admit they were there,” Josh said.

  “True. In any event, there were several tire tracks at the beginning of the entrance, but only one that went farther in. The same tracks, incidentally, that we found near Rosalia’s SUV. Just so you remember,” he added, “the left rear wheel shows more wear.”

  “Mm.” Both Charlie and Josh were quiet for a moment, digesting this. They already knew there had been a set of tracks near Rosalia’s car. This was only confirmation of their theory. The problem was finding the car with the tires that had made the tracks.

  The search warrants they’d requested yesterday, to hunt for the blue yarn, had, as they’d expected, been refused, for lack of probable cause. They had more of a chance of getting a warrant to take casts of everyone’s tires, but that would take time. From that end, they were stuck. They would have to find out what they could through interviews alone.

  “All right,” Briggs said after a minute. “We don’t necessarily know that the tracks have anything to do with the crime. Let’s start seeing everyone. Ms. Evans have anything to tell you?”

  Josh shook his head. “I talked with her last night. There are people who can vouch for her.”

  “I wasn’t thinking of her for this,” Briggs said impatiently. “The techs say the tire prints are from another SUV, like most of the suspects drive, or a large car. Ari drives a Toyota. That lets her out for Rosalia’s death.”

  “What about Debbie?”

  “She was driving Felicia’s car. A Cadillac SUV. Beth’s car is an old Oldsmobile.”

  “Ari did find out something,” Charlie said, relenting. They would have to talk more with Debbie Patrino.

  “All right, let’s bring her in next,” Briggs said finally. “If she held out on us about Felicia’s daughter, who knows what else she knows?”

  “All right,” Josh said, and went out, though he wondered what more they could get from Debbie. He didn’t think she’d come back to the fairgrounds to kill Rosalia. Gut instinct told him she was innocent. Instinct wasn’t evidence, however. The only reason Debbie could have had was if Rosalia had seen something. Come to think of it, that was a good motive for any of the suspects. The problem was, what did Rosalia see?

  Ari headed for the coffee urn as soon as she returned to the larger conference room, though she was already buzzing from the caffeine she’d had earlier that morning. “Anything?” Diane asked as Ari joined her.

  Ari shrugged. “Just that Captain Briggs doesn’t need to go on that show where straight guys learn how to dress.”

  “Ari.”

  “Well, it’s true,” she said, and as she did, that errant memory went through her mind again. Damn it! She had a feeling it was important, and yet she couldn’t grasp it. What was it she’d seen or heard?

  “There goes Debbie.” The two of them watched as a trooper escorted Debbie from the room. The bounce that had been in her step yesterday was gone, but she held her head high. Ari felt a reluctant stab of pity for her, in spite of all that she had kept hidden. She hated to think of Debbie as a murderer. But then, she hated to think of anyone here as a murderer.

  Ari took a covert look around. No one had moved from their positions since she’d left. Lauren and Annie continued to knit in muted colors of beige and rose that were remarkably similar, Nancy rattled her newspaper ostentatiously, and Beth was still glaring at everyone. It would be convenient, and satisfactory, if Beth were guilty, Ari thought with a small spurt of malice.

  “The question is, who knew about that back entrance?” she said, more to herself than to Diane.

  “What back entrance?”

  “The one from King’s Road in Acushnet.”

  “Oh-ho.”

  “I was so embarrassed, admitting that I knew about it.”

  “Hell, Ari, everyone around here knows about it. Everyone’s been there at one time or another.”

  “My wild past catches up with me.”

  “Hah.”

  “You’re right, though. Anyone from around here would know about that road, and that it leads to the fairgrounds.”

  “Is that how they think the killer got in?”

  “I think so, from the way they asked me about it.”

  “Hm.” Diane frowned. “Ari, there was a map of the fairgrounds printed on the entry form.”

  “Was there? Oh. So anyone here could have known about it.”

  “How do you think she did it? We’d all left. She’d have had to lure Rosalia back here somehow.”

  “Mm
. Poor Rosalia.”

  “I know. She never did anything bad to anyone.”

  “No. You know, Diane.”

  “What?” Diane asked, when Ari didn’t go on.

  “Felicia’s daughter would be about our age.”

  “So?”

  “Look at the people here. Beth is the only one who’s older than we are.”

  “Are you saying that Felicia’s daughter is here?”

  “She could be.” Without turning, Ari listed the other people in her head. Nancy had gone to Freeport High School a year after they had, but Ari didn’t know anything of her background. Nancy could be adopted. So, for that matter, could Lauren or Annie.

  “I’ve met Rosalia’s family,” Diane said, breaking into her thoughts. “She looks just like her mother.”

  “No, she wasn’t adopted.”

  “Ari, what about Debbie?”

  Ari shook her head. “I don’t know. If she thought Felicia was going to change her will, she had a motive. But she really seemed to love Felicia.”

  “Sure, if she was her daughter.”

  “Oh, come on. What gives you that idea?”

  “I don’t know. It’s a thought.”

  “Debbie already told us about her mother, and she said that Felicia treated her better.” She gnawed at a fingernail, and then quickly pulled her hand away. In moments of stress, she tended to resort to that old habit. “But if the daughter found out she was going to be in the will…”

  “Why kill Felicia before she had a chance to change it? I think you’re reaching, Ari.”

  “I know.” She blew out her breath. “But someone here did it. You know as well as I do.”

  “You can’t figure this one out, Ari. You don’t know enough about anyone, or about their background. Let the police handle it.”

  “I suppose I’ll have to, she said gloomily, and reached for the packet of photographs Debbie had left behind on a nearby chair. “Did you see these?”

  “No, what are they?”

  “Nancy took pictures yesterday. Debbie was thinking of using them for Knit It Up!, but I don’t think there’ll be an article now.”

  “Hm.” Diane flipped through the pictures. “They’re not very good.”

  “No,” Ari agreed. The light in the barn yesterday had been so murky that most of the pictures were dark, except for close-ups of someone’s work. Those tended to be washed out. “That one of you is priceless.”

  Diane scowled at the picture of herself at her spinning wheel. Her face was screwed up in concentration, with her tongue sticking out a little. “Ugh. Felicia would have used this.”

  “Debbie probably will, too.” Ari grinned at her. “Want to guess what the caption would be?”

  “No.”

  “ ‘A baa-d spinner.’ ”

  “Ha. Here. You can have these.”

  Ari took the pictures back and shuffled through them idly. She was about to return them to the envelope when that stray memory, stronger this time, nudged her again. She’d seen something.

  This time she paid more attention to the pictures, studying each one for a moment before putting it aside. No, there was nothing in the picture of the Sheep to Shawl contest, or in the one of the vendor with the natural-dyed yarn, or the one of the woman who owned the llamas. “There’s one of Rosalia near a table—Holy crap.”

  “Ari, Ari. If your mother could hear you.”

  “Never mind,” Ari said impatiently, and shoved the photograph at Diane.

  Diane stared at it for a moment and then looked up at Ari, her eyes wide. “Holy crap.”

  Chapter 15

  “Wait a minute,” Diane said, looking up. “It doesn’t mean anything that she was using aluminum needles.”

  “Mm.” It wasn’t the needles that had caught Ari’s eye, however, but the light blue yarn on them.

  Diane didn’t know about the blue yarn, and Ari herself didn’t remember seeing it, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. People often switched projects. She thought this might have been a baby blanket.

  Something pinged in Ari’s mind at that, something she had seen, but she couldn’t quite grasp it. Darn it, she thought. She was getting tired of that happening, whether the memory was important or not.

  “It’s hard to tell the color of the needles,” Diane went on. “These just look light.”

  “The yarn’s covering them. What color were they, anyway?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “Fine. Be that way.” Diane returned to the picture. “I wonder if she really did it.”

  “Huh. I wonder.”

  Diane looked at her. “What?”

  “Think, Di,” Ari said. “Why was Felicia here? Debbie said they were thinking of doing an article on wool festivals, but why this one?”

  “Okay, I’ll bite. Why?”

  “To see her daughter.”

  “Oh, come on, Ari. That’s really reaching.”

  “I know, but what do we really know about the people here?”

  “Are you seriously saying that one of them could be her daughter?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Then why kill Rosalia?”

  Ari briefly closed her eyes at that thought. “There’s one person here who has a motive to want Felicia’s daughter dead.”

  “Debbie,” Diane said after a beat of silence.

  “Yes.”

  “Didn’t you tell me she doesn’t know who the daughter is?”

  “She could be lying. How would we know?”

  “You sound like you want her to be the murderer.”

  Ari shook her head. “No, but someone did it.” Ari looked at the pictures again. “We have to find out more about her,” she said, tapping the picture.

  “We?” Diane pulled back and looked at her. “What do you mean ‘we,’ kemo sabe?”

  “The police, of course.”

  “Uh-huh. You meant us. Not this time.”

  “Okay. So I’ll tell Josh. There must be things they can do if they have a suspect.” Like search for the blue yarn. Ari didn’t remember seeing that yarn yesterday afternoon.

  “You swear?”

  “Yes,” Ari said impatiently. Diane was right. Investigating further on her own would be stupid. This was a person who’d killed twice, and who took advantage of whatever methods were at hand. It didn’t matter that they were chancy; the important thing was that they had succeeded. Ari didn’t want to be victim number three. But on the other hand…“Anyway, what kind of danger am I in at the Welcome Inn?” she asked. “We’re all here in plain sight.”

  “They’ll have to let us go sometime. If you try anything and you fail, she’ll find some way to get at you. It’d be easy for her to find out where you live. Just let the police handle it.”

  Ari shuddered, not so much for herself as for Megan. She couldn’t put her daughter in harm’s way. What Diane was saying made perfect sense. She had no way of proving who the murderer was. Something still bothered her, though. “All right. I’ll get this to Josh somehow.”

  “Maybe the camera, too.”

  “Why?”

  “Nancy uses a digital camera.”

  “That’s right. I’d forgotten. She must have printed these out last night. She took a quick glance around. Nancy had picked up the newspaper that Debbie had left behind and was hidden behind it. “I wonder if she has it here today. Should we ask?”

  “Ari, for God’s sake—”

  “Yes, I know, leave it to the police. But, Diane, who knows what else is in that camera?” She looked back at the pictures. “I wonder when she took these. In the morning, I’d think,” Ari went on, answering herself. “There are other people around and you can see other tables in the background. It has to be before the murder, because there’re still two needles here.” Ari frowned. “I don’t remember seeing this knitting project. Do you?”

  “No, but I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “I was. I always look at what people are making.” And there was that littl
e niggle again, of something more than she had seen. This time she shrugged it off. It would come back of its own accord, or not at all. “Josh really needs to see these.” She turned around to look at the door where a trooper she didn’t know stood guard. If she got up to give something to the trooper, she’d likely catch the killer’s attention. “Stupid,” she muttered, and picked up her cell phone.

  Josh answered a few moments later. “What is it, Ari? We’re busy here.”

  “I’ve got something I need you to see,” she said in a low voice.

  “Give it to the trooper.”

  “I can’t. I don’t want the murderer to see me. Josh, call me out for an interview again. Make it look as if you’ve discovered something that makes me look guilty.”

  “Okay,” he said after a moment. “When we’re done here.”

  “How is it going?”

  “I can’t talk,” he said brusquely, and disconnected.

  “Humph.” Ari flipped her phone shut and put it back into her pocketbook. “So much for that.”

  “Did he say what’s going on?”

  “No, of course not, not with the others right there.”

  “So what is going on?”

  “I just told you.”

  “I meant with you and him.”

  Ari looked at her and grinned. “Maybe something. Maybe not.”

  “It’s about time.”

  “Do you really feel that way?”

  “Yeah. No.” Diane looked away. “I could wish you’d chosen anyone else, but I’m glad you’re finally seeing someone. Ted did a number on you.”

  “Yes, he did,” Ari said after a moment. “I’m glad you’re okay with it.”

  “Hey, what are friends for?”

  Ari was about to answer when the door to the room opened and Debbie, looking wan and tired, walked in. “Ms. Evans?” the trooper said. “Come with me, please.”

  Ari, hoping she looked convincingly surprised, got up. She palmed the picture in her left hand and held it close to her She hoped that no one in the room would notice it. Glancing around casually, she saw that no one was paying particular attention to her. Good, she thought, and let the trooper escort her from the room.

  Josh looked up from studying the photograph lying on the conference table. “Are you sure this is the yarn?”