by Nancy CoCo
“Why don’t we put your bedroom together first? That way, after dinner you can take a nice hot bath and get some rest. Everything else will keep.”
“What about you? Do you have plans for the evening?”
“No, no. I was going to try my new candle-painting craft. That can certainly wait now that Agnes is gone and you need help.” She ushered me into my bedroom. There was something comforting about her familiar orange blossom perfume.
“What about your kitties?” I asked. She always had at least three Havana Browns. She’d given up showing and breeding cats after Everett’s mother died. Instead she started a Havana Brown rescue group. She had Everett’s sisters Ember and Evangeline spayed. They’d recently fostered a rescue named Sir Hamilton Princeworthy, but preferred to be called Lug.
“The girls are doing quite well with Lug. I think we might have a home for him soon,” she said. “I’m talking to a great gal in Eugene who is looking for a cat.”
I stopped just inside my bedroom and tried to hide my horror.
They had stripped my bed and searched under the mattress. Stuff was everywhere. I felt sick to my stomach to think that anyone, let alone the very people who are supposed to protect and serve, could just go through my things. It devastated me. My dismay must have shown.
“Go get some clean sheets,” Aunt Eloise said, her tone all business.
I was numb as I went out into the hall and took clean linens from the closet. The hallway was strewn with things from the rest of the house. My pictures hung crookedly. Tears filled my eyes as I hugged the sheets. Everett wandered down the hall sniffing at random objects.
“All right,” Aunt Eloise said. “It’s going to be okay. Come on, help me make the bed.” She had somehow muscled the mattress back on top of the box springs, cleaned up the floor, and deposited clothes in the hamper in the corner of the room.
“They destroyed my home. I won’t know what they took until I go through everything.”
“Matt will get you an inventory,” she said as she made the bed. “Come on, give me a hand. Action will help. We’ll have this room back to normal in no time. Don’t worry, I’ll help you wash your clothes.”
“Thank you,” I said as I tucked in the top sheet. “I don’t know what they touched and didn’t touch. I’ll feel better after everything is cleaned.”
“You should charge them for your dry-cleaning bill,” she said.
“I think I’ve got bigger issues than a laundry bill. Porsche thinks we should figure out who’s framing me.”
“Now that’s an excellent idea,” she said.
“We set up a murder board in her living room. You know, like all the police detective shows? I realized that I don’t have the first idea how to begin an investigation.”
“Who was your first suspect?”
“We wrote down Mr. Snow because husbands are the best suspects in the murder of a woman. But then I asked why he would murder her the week before their fortieth anniversary bash.”
“It does seem strange,” Aunt Eloise said. “Unless Agnes was having an affair. Then it might have been a crime of passion.”
“I’ve been thinking about that and I don’t think so. A crime of passion would have been more . . . blunt. Wouldn’t it? I mean, it would have taken a murderous rage. Yet, she looked so peaceful there in the sand.”
“Poison is usually a woman’s weapon,” Aunt Eloise said.
“So what woman wanted Agnes dead and me out of business?”
“That is the question of the day. Come on, let’s go make some dinner.”
I picked up Everett’s favorite cardboard box and placed it back on the closet shelf. The room was nearly back to normal. Except for the large pile of clothes in the laundry basket, you could barely tell anyone had been in it. The rest of the apartment had a long way to go.
I worked in silence while straightening my home and returning everything to its normal position. I noticed the police had taken my accounting books and my laptop. “What am I supposed to do now?” I muttered.
“What’s missing?” Aunt Eloise asked when she noticed I’d paused just inside the combination living room and kitchen.
“They took my account books and my laptop.”
“You have your stuff backed up in the cloud, right?” she asked as she pulled a skillet out of the cupboard. I realized that she had already straightened the kitchen.
“Wow, you act fast.”
“Thanks,” she said. “I prefer a tidy kitchen to make dinner in. Now, what stopped you in your tracks?”
Everett wound around me, as I hadn’t budged from the spot where I entered the living room. I knew he was worried. “I need my laptop.”
“If you have things backed up, you can get a cheap replacement to use until yours comes back,” she suggested.
I reached down and picked Everett up to reassure him and somehow touching him reassured me. “Yeah, I think I have it backed up.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll go down tomorrow morning to the discount store and get you a used laptop. You can download your accounts from the cloud and use it until you get yours back. Easy peasy.”
“You don’t think they locked my accounts, do you?”
“Did Matt tell you the warrant covered your accounts?” she asked.
“No.”
“I think it’s safe to say that the warrant didn’t cover your accounts. Matt would have told you. Really, they have no reason to freeze them.” She came over and hugged me. “This has rattled you. Let’s have some dinner and discuss the next steps. There’s always next steps.”
“Right,” I said and hugged her back. “I can salvage what’s left of my inventory and download the backup of my files. It’s going to be all right.”
“You betcha,” she said. “Now, skillet mac and cheese is on the menu. Go clean up and set the table. Dinner will be done before you know it.”
Aunt Eloise was right, dinner made things better. “You know you can always come stay with me until things settle down,” she said. “I still have your room set up.” After mom died, I lived with Aunt Eloise. It was a comforting thought to go back, but I needed to move forward not backward.
“Thanks, but Everett and I can get through this. Right, Everett?” He meowed his agreement and jumped up in my lap.
“The room is always there if you need it.” She pulled a pad of paper and a pen out of her cat tote and placed them on the table. “Okay, we’ll do dishes in a moment,” she said and pushed her plate aside. “First, let’s look at the next steps. You’ve identified possible killers. Do you have any motives?”
“No motives,” I said. “And I don’t understand what motive the police think I have.”
“All right, we need to find out all of Agnes’s dirty little secrets.” Aunt Eloise rubbed her hands together. Her eyes glinted.
“You’re having too much fun with this.”
“Maybe,” she said casually. “I will talk to my friends at the senior center tomorrow. Someone knows something. This is a small town and the seniors all have their ears to the ground.”
“Okay,” I said. “What can I do?”
“Snoop around the craft store. Agnes practically lived there and no way could I even go into it without her knowing. Someone there knows something and they will more likely talk to you than me.”
“Okay,” I said. “I feel better now with a task.”
“Several tasks,” she said. “Now, I have to go.”
“And leave me with the dishes?” I widened my eyes.
She laughed. “Yes.” She got up, leaned over, and kissed me on the forehead. “Now, you do the dishes and take a nice hot bath. You’re going to be fine. You’re a very strong woman.”
“I take after my auntie.”
* * *
The next morning, I was up before the sun. Everett was mad that I kicked him out of bed so early to make it. He went off and sulked in his box. After doing two loads of laundry and completely organizing my apartment, I felt energized. B
y the time 10 a.m. came around, I had already straightened half my store. Porsche arrived and slipped in through the back. Out front was a TV news crew as well as local reporters.
“Hey girl,” Porsche said. “The kids are in school and all is right with the world. Wow, you really did a lot this morning.”
“I did,” I said. “I feel good and I’m not going to let anything get me down. You and Aunt Eloise are right. Let’s figure out who is framing me and why.”
“Great,” she said and went to the back door. “Because I had to take the murder board out of the house. The kids kept asking questions.” She brought the poster board into the shop. “Now I don’t think we should keep it in the shop, but upstairs might do.”
“Let’s put it in my den.” I had a second very tiny bedroom. I had thought of making it a master closet, but then decided instead to make it my den. That didn’t mean I did much in there. I was a laptop girl, which meant, as everyone who searched my place yesterday found out, I did most of my work from my living room couch. I took the poster from her and went upstairs.
Everett came out to see me when I entered the apartment. The second bedroom was off the living room and about eight feet by eight feet in size. I think at the turn of the twentieth century it was good enough for someone to sleep in, but for today’s homes, it would barely fit a twin bed. Inside I had a soft, cream shag rug and a futon in my favorite color, purple.
I cleared the tiny writing desk that fit under the eaves and put the board up on it. Porsche had filled in the placeholders of boyfriend and girlfriend with black silhouette cutouts. Bernie’s photo was one from an old campaign poster where he was smiling and waving with a baby in his arm, which made me think. If anyone knew what was going on, it would be Bernie’s secretary and campaign manager, Judy Sellers. Judy didn’t run in my limited social circles. I figured I needed to meet more people and made a mental note to figure out how to get introduced to Judy. If anyone knew Bernie’s secrets, it would be her.
I grabbed my crossbody bag and slung it over my shoulder, careful to put my wallet and my phone safely inside. Then, I grabbed a pair of sunglasses and went downstairs.
“You should go out the back,” Porsche advised. “There’s a real crowd out front.”
“Do you think the back is safe?” I peered out the peephole. My back alley also held a crowd. I chewed the inside of my cheek and pondered what to do. Everett rubbed up against my leg and meowed. “Good idea,” I said and took his leash off the wall. “You go distract them.” I handed Everett over to Porsche.
The moment the front door opened on Everett and Porsche, the crowd swelled. Photo flashes went off. People were shouting questions. Porsche waited long enough for the people in the back to run around to the front before she took off her hood and let them all know it was her and not me who was facing the crowd with Everett beside her.
I slipped out the back as soon as it was clear and made it to the craft store undetected. It felt like a victory and my heartbeat sped up as I slipped inside. Walking through the store, I made a careful note of the three ladies inside. The cashier was Hanna Graebill. She had graduated high school last year and was taking a year off to figure out what she wanted to do with her life. I doubted Agnes would have much to do with a nineteen-year-old. In the back stocking shelves was Marcy Reynolds. Marcy was my mom’s age and had spent her life working part-time at the craft store. Her husband was a local fisherman and they didn’t need her to work a full-time job. The third was store manager Brenda Emperies. Brenda was my age and had graduated college with a business degree before going into retail management. She’d taken the job as craft store manager and never looked back.
My guess was that Marcy would be most likely to give me the information I needed. So, I sidled up to the yarn section where she was stocking shelves and grabbed a pattern for a pair of socks. Then, I found some oversized knitting needles and went to the yarn, looking for a great color.
“Do you need any help?” Marcy asked.
“Oh, no,” I said. “I’m going to make a pair of socks. I was just looking at yarn.” I flashed her my pattern book.
She glanced at the needles. “Oh, no, honey, those needles are way too big to use to knit socks. Have you ever knitted before?”
“No,” I said. “But my aunt said I need to get a hobby and these socks look pretty easy to make.”
“Let’s take you back to the knitting needles and find you the right gauge. Actually you might want these.” The needles she picked up were small and made a loop.
“Oh, gosh, I guess that makes sense if you’re going to knit something round like socks. I guess I thought you would stitch up the back.” I took the needles.
“Let’s get you the right yarn for your project.”
“The store is pretty empty today,” I commented as she went through the wall of yarn and showed me a variety of colors in a lightweight texture.
“Oh, everyone is out at the community center. There’s an event for Bernie Snow.”
“Huh,” I said. “I thought he didn’t want any fuss.”
She studied me for a moment. “You’re Wren Johnson, aren’t you? You’re the one who found Agnes dead.”
“Yes,” I said. “It was quite traumatic.”
“Aren’t you a person of interest in the case? I mean, that’s what they are saying on the news.”
“I’m afraid that’s only speculation. I haven’t done anything but discover her body. Still the whole thing is quite something, isn’t it? It’s why I came here today. I needed a project to calm my nerves.”
“Well, knitting will do that.” She turned back to the yarn. “Hard to start with a pair of socks. You should really start with something simple like a hat and scarf set.”
“I thought the socks were cute.”
“Suit yourself,” she said, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I need something a bit challenging to take my mind off of finding Agnes and the rest of the mess. I understand that she came here often. Did you know her well?”
“Yeah, she came in here all the time, and I loved to talk to her. She always had an opinion. You know, she was getting ready to teach a class for us. I think it was on candle painting. Yes, that’s right, candle painting.”
“Funny, that’s the craft my aunt just started working on.”
“It’s like Agnes had a craft radar. She always knew what the next hot craft was going to be. In fact, she started scrapbooking before it became a fad. Don’t get me started on her needlepoint.”
“I wonder what got her interested in crafts. Was she sick as a child or something?”
“Agnes, sick? Goodness, no, that woman was healthy as a horse her entire life. That’s why her death is so suspicious,” she said and pulled a skein of yarn off the shelf. “How’s this?”
“It’s perfect,” I said and took it from her. She had picked out a bright orange and black mixture. “These might make great witchy socks for Halloween.”
“That’s only a few days away,” Marcy said. “You’d better get to knitting.”
“I’m sure I’ll have a lot of time on my hands.” I studied her. “You think Agnes was murdered. Who do you think would want to kill Agnes? Did she have any enemies?”
“That nice police officer asked me the same thing. I’ll tell you what I told him. Agnes could get a person’s nose out of joint pretty quickly. But then she had a way of always drawing someone back in. It was a gift. So while a lot of people might not like her, she never got anyone mad enough to want to see her dead.” She studied me. “Did she?”
“What about Bernie?” I persisted. “Do you think someone would have wanted her dead to get back at him? He was the mayor for years and years.”
She laughed. “If anyone wanted to get back at him, they would have done it before he retired.”
“Hmm, that’s true.” Then I leaned in close. “I heard Agnes might have been having an affair. Do you think that’s true?”
“What? An affair?
Agnes?” She laughed so hard tears came to her eyes. “I’d eat the entire yarn section if she was having an affair. That woman was too busy crafting to be getting into that kind of trouble, if you know what I mean.”
“I do,” I said. “Thanks for the information and the yarn.”
“You’re welcome. Bring those socks in when you’re done. I’d love to see what they look like.”
“I will,” I said bravely. Then I made my way to the front. Hanna was reading a gossip magazine. I set my stuff down on the counter. She looked up at me. “Oh, my gosh, are you Wren Johnson?”
“Yes,” I said. “Hi.”
“Aren’t you a person of interest in Agnes Snow’s death?”
“Me? No,” I said. “Definitely not me, I can’t imagine having a reason to kill Agnes.”
“Oh, I can,” Hanna said as she rang me up. “That old biddy was into some nasty stuff.”
“Really.” My eyes grew wide open. “Like what?”
Hanna stopped swiping my stuff over the reader and leaned toward me. “You didn’t hear this from me, but I heard Agnes getting into a fight with Rhonda Doll.”
“Really? Over what?”
“Rhonda wanted Agnes’s place as president of the garden club. She told Agnes that she’d been president far too long and it was time for a fresh face and fresh ideas.” She leaned on the counter. “Then two weeks later, they were both in here when they started shouting at each other. Rhonda saw Agnes through the window and stormed in to confront her. Turns out Rhonda had initiated a coup of the garden club. She thought she had enough members to overturn Agnes’s position, but Agnes wasn’t going down without a fight. That woman knew everybody’s secrets.”
“I take it Rhonda wasn’t successful.”
“No,” Hanna said and straightened. “Agnes managed to convince the club to keep her as president. That’s when Rhonda came in here gunning for her. She was so mad she was shouting about how Agnes was a master manipulator and control freak. She told Agnes to watch her back, she was coming for her.”
“Wow.” I glanced over my shoulder. “Did Marcy witness this, too?”