Hounds of the Basket Stitch

by Anne Canadeo

  “Chubby hubby syndrome?” Phoebe teased.

  “Nonsense. It means you feel comfortable with each other,” Maggie said.

  “Lazy is more like it,” Lucy laughed. “We don’t seem to mind.”

  Dana quickly looked around the room and then pulled open a few of the desk drawers. “He’s definitely been in here. The papers have been moved. The folder with credit cards bills and the bank statements are gone. At least I have the most recent ones. I was hoping we could look them over tonight, too.”

  “So, he’s lived up to your worst expectations. I’m not surprised,” Maggie said. “We’ll have to sort that out later. What about the safe? Do you think he found it?”

  Dana turned to them with a grave expression. “I probably can’t tell, unless he was dumb enough to leave it open.” She pushed aside an armchair. “Help me roll back the rug. It’s under here.”

  Lucy helped with the rug as Maggie and Phoebe backed up toward the doorway. Dana knelt down and pried up a piece of floorboard.

  “There it is,” she said, leaning back.

  Maggie saw a small black metal safe. The silver knob of the combination lock stared up like a cyclops’s eye, daring them to battle for its secrets.

  Dana grabbed the handle and jiggled it. “It’s still locked, but that doesn’t mean anything. He could have been in there.”

  “It’s very solid looking, isn’t it?” Lucy said.

  “No one is opening that baby without the combination or something explosive,” Phoebe replied. “We can look on the internet for a recipe to blow it open. I hear fertilizer is a key ingredient. There must be a lot of that around here.”

  Maggie knew she was joking, but even the suggestion was alarming. “No need to panic. Let’s take a deep breath and think this through.”

  “Lucy had a good idea. Let’s try to guess where George would have hidden the combination. There must be some note reminding him around here.”

  “Did you search the books?” Lucy asked. Before Dana could reply, Lucy began pulling out the books on the shelves nearest to her. “It might be, written inside the cover, or noted on a page. Something like that.”

  “Good idea. Let’s check all the books.” Maggie started on another section, and so did Phoebe.

  “He did love his family. Look at the photos. I guess Holly never took them away,” Lucy remarked. “Here’s one of Holly and Rose on Christmas morning, opening their presents. It’s very sweet.”

  Dana glanced at the photo, her expression softening with a smile. “That was years before the accident. They were just little girls.”

  And no one could foresee the many challenges the future would bring, Maggie added silently. She hoped with all her heart this latest chapter of their story did not take an even darker turn.

  “Wait . . . look, a Bible. Rose said that was George’s favorite book.” Lucy pulled a thick volume bound in dark red leather off the shelf.

  She set it on the desk and then quickly searched inside the front and back cover. “It’s inscribed. I’ll read it. ‘Presented to George William and Ava Marie Piper on the event of their wedding, September seven, nineteen eighty-two. ’ ” Lucy looked up. “Let’s try that date or some variations. Nine, seven, nineteen, eight-two.”

  “Aren’t combinations three numbers?” Maggie didn’t know much about locks, but she did remember that.

  Dana started spinning the dial. “I’ll try nine, seven, eight and two, as the first numbers. Let’s see.”

  They waited quietly, watching her twist the silver dial. With no luck. She tried every combination of the date and finally gave up.

  “I tried birthdays last night. That didn’t work. either,” she said.

  “Maybe it’s in the Bible. A margin note or something,” Lucy said. She wasn’t giving up on her idea, Maggie could see. She hoped they weren’t wasting valuable time.

  “It’s the Bible, Lucy. It will take a week to search the pages,” Phoebe said.

  Lucy didn’t answer, flipping through the flaky-thin pages like a deck of cards. “I don’t see anything, not a mark. Looks like he wasn’t the type to write in books.”

  “I never do. I don’t think it’s right. No less a Bible,” Maggie said.

  Lucy wasn’t listening. She sighed and finally placed the Bible back on a shelf. “I guess we can keep looking through the books.”

  “That’s still a possibility. I just have a feeling that if the combination is in the room, it will be in a more obvious spot. Where he could access it quickly if he’d forgotten the numbers.” Maggie pulled out a copy of a guide to flowering trees and shook it. The dust made her nose twitch.

  Dana stood up and sighed. She rubbed her fingers, which had to be sore from all the lock twisting. Maggie wondered if professional safecrackers did special exercises.

  Dana tilted her head back and talked to the ceiling. “George? Can you at least give us a clue? We’re trying to help Rose and Holly. We know you loved them.”

  Phoebe ducked her head. “I hope he doesn’t answer,” she said under her breath.

  “Look at this print.” Lucy pointed to a finely etched botanical drawing. It looked antique to Maggie.

  “George loved lilies. That was his specialty. I noticed that drawing last night,” Dana said. “I thought the safe might be behind it, stuck in the wall.”

  “Maybe there’s something written on the back?” Phoebe suggested.

  “I checked. No luck there,” Dana replied.

  “Never mind the back. There’s verse underneath, written out by hand.” Lucy took the print from the wall and drew it closer to the light. “ ‘Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin. And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.’ Matthew, chapter six, verses twenty-eight through twenty-nine.” Lucy said the numbers slowly and looked at Dana.

  Dana sighed and knelt down next to the safe again. “Six . . . twenty-eight . . . twenty-nine,” she said aloud.

  They hovered over her, holding their breath, as she spun the dial. Maggie heard something click. Dana turned the handle, but the safe didn’t open.

  Everybody groaned.

  “I’m doing something wrong. I’m terrible with locks.” Dana stood up. “Someone else should try.”

  “Don’t look at me.” Lucy shook her head. “I was always late for gym class. I could never open my locker in time to get my uniform.” She looked at Maggie. “I think Maggie should try it. All that stitching? Your fingertips must be very sensitive and nimble.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Maggie’s gaze moved to the rest of the group. From their expressions, Maggie could tell they were in unanimous agreement with Lucy. She had been elected to try spin the dial again.

  “Okay, if you insist. I’ll give it my best shot. Tell me the numbers again, slowly.”

  Maggie knelt down and slipped on her reading glasses, and Lucy read the numbers. “Six to the right, twenty-eight to the left, twenty-nine to the right.”

  Maggie turned the knob as carefully as she could, secretly doubting the attempt would be successful. But, as if by magic, she heard something metallic in the belly of the black box grind into place. She turned the handle, and the door creaked open. Then she quickly stood up and stepped aside so Dana could check the safe’s contents.

  Lucy patted her shoulder. “I knew you could do it. Now we need to add safecracking to your long list of talents.”

  “Beginner’s luck,” Maggie replied, feeling secret pride at her victory.

  Dana pulled out a flat wooden box inlaid with an intricate design. “Here’s the jewelry. I’m actually afraid to look inside. What if Toby got here first and it’s empty?”

  Lucy took the box from her and lifted the lid. “There’s a lot of good stuff in here—rings, necklaces, bracelets. Would he have left so much if he was ripping the place off?”

  Dana looked relieved. “Probably not. Unless he took just one or two good pieces, so no one would
notice right away. Put it on the desk. I’ll check later.”

  “What else is in the safe? Anything interesting?” Phoebe peered over Maggie’s shoulder.

  “Not too much. There are some letters.” She took out a stack of envelopes secured with a rubber band and set them aside on the floor, then held up a book covered with pale green cloth. “And this record-keeping book.”

  Maggie took the book and flipped it open. She quickly scanned the pages. “It looks like a gardener’s journal. That makes sense. But why did Holly keep it in there?”

  “Good question. But let’s figure that out in the kitchen. I’m afraid Toby might come back any minute.”

  Maggie wasn’t sure how long they’d been in the office but Dana had a good point. Best to put the room back in order and sort out what they’d found in the kitchen.

  Dana slammed the safe door closed, swirled the lock, and slipped the wooden floorboard back into place. With Lucy’s help, the rug flopped back into place, and Maggie helped move the armchair.

  Not a moment too soon, they suddenly realized. They heard the dogs burst into a fit of barking.

  Phoebe had already left the room but suddenly appeared in the doorway again, her eyes wide with alarm. “Hurry up in there. He’s coming. I hear him in the kitchen. He must have come in through the back door.”

  Dana turned off the lamp, and they softly crept up the hallway into the foyer.

  “Now what?” Lucy whispered. “We can’t just march in there like a chorus line. He’ll wonder what we’ve been up to.”

  Maggie grabbed her tote bag from the bench near the coat-tree. “We went to get our knitting. Of course.”

  Dana grabbed her bag, too. “The mere sight of a flock of yakking women and knitting needles should chase him off for the rest of the night.”

  “The combination is automatic man repellant,” Phoebe agreed as she dug her knapsack out from under the pile of coats.

  They headed toward the kitchen door, with Maggie in the lead.

  Dana stopped. “Wait . . . I have to hide this stuff. I almost forgot.” The jewelry case and the pile of letters were tucked under one arm, and she shoved both in her bag. But she still held the journal in her other hand.

  “I’ll take that. Your bag is already bulging.” Maggie slipped the book into her knitting bag and pulled some yarn over it. “Heads up, shoulders square. It’s showtime.”

  They proceeded to the kitchen, and Maggie pushed open the door. She had already met the irascible Toby and braced herself for an ugly confrontation.

  But, much to her relief, it seemed that Suzanne had the situation well under control. She stood at the stove, in full charm mode, all dimples and batting eyelashes, as she heated some leftover flatbread slices and listened in rapt attention to Toby, who sat at the table, sipping a beer.

  His back was toward the door, and he didn’t seem to notice the women slip into the room.

  “Wow. You’ve had it rough, haven’t you?” Suzanne said, oozing sympathy. “I know how it is. We all have our war stories. Give me your card. I’ll ask around for you.”

  Toby pulled out his wallet and fumbled for a business card. He turned to glance at the women, and a few cards dropped to the floor. Maggie noticed they all had different logos and information.

  Interesting, she thought.

  He turned back to Suzanne and dropped a card on the kitchen counter near the stove. “I’m needed around here, the way things are going. But it’s always good to have options.”

  “My motto exactly.” Suzanne pulled a pan from the oven, then met the curious glances of her friends. “Hey, gang. Ready to knit?” Her tone was falsely bright, but she’d obviously picked up on their cover.

  “Hello, Toby,” Dana said. “This is my knitting group. We’re having a little get-together. I thought it would be a nice distraction for Rose.”

  Toby turned to face Dana. His dark gaze narrowed. “I won’t be in your way. Just waiting for my pizza to heat up.”

  “It’s flatbread,” Maggie quietly corrected, though no one heard her.

  Toby must have been scrounging in the fridge for something to eat, Maggie reasoned, and had come up with just a beer. Feeding him the leftovers was preferable to Toby staying in the house to cook himself a meal.

  Suzanne slipped the slices on a plate and handed it to him with a flourish. “Enjoy . . . And here’s your beer. Hey, take two.” He was already holding an open bottle in one hand, and she stuck another in his pocket.

  Then she turned to her friends and rubbed her hands together. “Let the stitching begin.”

  Maggie and the others had already taken seats at the table and pulled out needles, yarns, and projects, waiting for Toby to get the hint.

  “Party on, ladies. Don’t get too wild now.”

  “We’ll try not to disturb you,” Suzanne replied sweetly.

  The back door slammed shut, and they all breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Where’s Rose?” Maggie asked.

  “She took a few of the dogs out for an evening stroll. She should be back soon,” Suzanne said.

  “I’m glad she missed Toby. He makes her very anxious.” Dana had pulled the jewelry case from her knitting bag, along with the letters and bank statements. “All right. Let’s get to work. I’ll look through the jewelry. I should be able to tell if anything important is missing. Lucy and Suzanne can read the bank statements. You’re both good with that sort of thing.”

  Maggie pulled the clothbound book they’d found in the safe from her knitting bag. “Phoebe and I will study the gardener’s journal.” Maggie opened the book and glanced at the pages. “It looks like the usual sort of notations about temperature and rainfall, the acid level of the soil, and so on. But there must be some reason she kept it under lock and key.”

  “What about Holly’s letters? Should I start reading them?” Phoebe asked.

  “What letters?”

  They turned to see Rose. She walked into the kitchen, followed by her three faithful hounds, Wolf, Oreo, and Queenie. She must have come back inside through the front door, Maggie realized.

  “We managed to open the safe and found a few things in there. Nothing of huge value, except for the jewelry your mom left to you and Holly,” Dana explained. “And there were these letters,” she added, picking up the packet.

  She glanced at the postmark and the return address on the envelope on top. She looked disturbed by what she’d read. “They’re addressed to Holly, but not at this house. In care of a post office box in town,” she reported, with a note of surprise. “And now I see who they’re from. Jeremy Carlson. While he was in prison.”

  Rose stepped closer, to see the letters for herself. “Holly wasn’t allowed to be in touch with him after the accident. My father would have had a fit if he’d known they were writing to each other.”

  “Who’s Jeremy Carlson?” Lucy asked.

  “Holly’s boyfriend. Used to be in high school, I mean,” Rose replied.

  “He was behind the wheel the night Rose was injured,” Dana added. Her concerned glance at Rose told Maggie she was worried the conversation might be upsetting, and she didn’t want to say more.

  Rose was the one who answered unspoken questions. “He and Holly weren’t hurt badly, just me. But someone out on the road died. A motorcycle rider. Jeremy went to jail.”

  “He never went to trial. He plead guilty to manslaughter and driving under the influence. He was sentenced to twenty years, I think.”

  “Oh my . . . That is a tragic story.” Maggie looked around the table. Their productive, “Let’s do it” mood had suddenly turned somber.

  “My parents didn’t like him, but he was always nice to me,” Rose said. “He was sweet to Holly. He always made her laugh. She hardly ever does now.”

  Fifteen years had passed since that tragic night, Dana had once told them. A night that changed the lives of both young women forever. And robbed poor Holly of laughter, Maggie thought.

  Dana rested her hand on t
he letters. “These must be very personal. Holly might not even want me to read them. I guess it’s best if I’m the only one treading on her privacy.”

  “Yes, I think that’s best, too,” Lucy said. “You’re the only one who will be able to understand the significance of what she has written there, too.”

  Maggie agreed with that.

  Dana tucked the letters back in her knitting bag and started on the jewelry again. She opened the box and took out a satin roll that was tied in the middle. “Why don’t you look in here, Maggie. I’ll check the rest of the box.”

  “Will do.” Maggie took the jewelry, then noticed Rose was still standing by the table. She slid over to make space. “Why don’t you sit with me, Rose. We can help Dana.”

  Maggie wondered about that, considering the state of Rose’s memory. But maybe she could remember the past clearly. It was just the night of the car accident and other deeply traumatic moments that overloaded the circuitry in her nervous system.

  Rose seemed pleased by the assignment and pulled up a chair. She lifted a strand of pearls and ran it along her palm. “My mother loved this necklace. I remember helping her with the clasp sometimes. She looked so pretty all dressed up.”

  Rose’s memory made Maggie sad. She glanced at Rose and saw a soft smile of fond recollection, and somehow, that made her sadder.

  “Do you ever wear it now?” Maggie asked.

  “I can if I want to. Holly and I share the jewelry,” she explained. “But we never go anyplace fancy enough to wear it.”

  Her admission made Maggie smile. “I feel the same about my good jewelry. It’s sitting in a safety-deposit vault in the bank.”

  Dana had been spreading out the rings and necklaces on a blue velvet cloth she’d found within the jewelry box and suddenly looked up.

  “You just reminded me of something, Maggie. You said that on Tuesday morning, Holly told you she was going to the bank, and Rose remembered that night she was counting out a large pile of cash.”

  “That’s what she told me. I sensed she was stressed about the errand.”

  “It was a thick pile of bills. She put it in a manila envelope,” Rose added.

  “You told the detective about that,” Dana said. “Even if she expected to pay for a delivery on Wednesday, why didn’t she put it in the safe overnight?”