A Fright to the Death (12 page)

She focused on her lap.

“I read a book and rested for a while in my room and then went upstairs to start the turndown.”

Vi cast longing looks at her velvet pouch that contained her pendulum. I saw her flexing her fingers in anticipation of questioning it. I shook my head at her and narrowed my eyes.

“I was just finishing in the hallway outside the turret room when I saw one of the knitter ladies—the one with the tattoos—coming out of the stairwell. She seemed surprised to see me and said she had gotten turned around. I showed her the way to her room and then went to finish turndown.”

“You saw Tina coming out of Clarissa’s room?” Vi said.
She leaned forward and rummaged in her knitting bag. She pulled her notebook from its depths and began scribbling.

Holly watched Vi with interest. “I saw her coming out of the turret stairway, not out of the room. I can’t say whether she was in the room.”

Vi’s lips made a thin line. She snapped the notebook shut.

“How did you get along with Ms. Carlisle?” Vi asked.

Holly looked down. “Honestly, I didn’t like her.” She raised her head and met Vi’s gaze. “She was hypercritical of the staff and I often had to calm one of them down after they’d had a run-in with her.” Holly looked at me. “I don’t think she will be very much missed by any of the employees.”

“Do you have any theories about what might have happened?” I asked.

Holly shook her head slowly. “No one liked her, but I can’t see any of the staff actually killing her.” She paused for a moment. “I heard she had some history with a couple of the knitters.” She lifted a shoulder. “Maybe it was one of them.”

“How long have you worked here?” Vi asked.

“Two years. Mrs. Garrett has been wonderful to me.” Her eyes teared up and she blinked them away. “I have a five-year-old daughter who has diabetes. If I didn’t have insurance through my job, I don’t know what I would do. Olivia needs a lot of expensive medication and monitoring supplies. Mrs. Garrett made sure it was all covered and she helps me keep my hours up so I continue to qualify under their plan. I’m taking classes at the community college and working here and Mrs. Garrett is always so supportive and flexible.”

“It must be hard for you—caring for your daughter, working, going to school . . .” I thought of my own relatively responsibility-free life. “Where is your daughter right now?” I asked.

“My mom takes her for me when I’m working or in
classes. I called her yesterday and she agreed to keep her for me until the storm passed. The other two housekeepers had to get home to their own kids, so I volunteered to stay. Whenever I can, I try to help out.”

“Where were you when the lights went out?” Vi asked.

“I . . . had finished my work and went back downstairs. I was in my room.”

“Weren’t you scared to be in the basement of a haunted house with no electricity?” Vi continued.

Holly glanced at me and I shrugged. If Vi focused on real evidence and not ghosts and animal messages, she might become a good investigator.

“No. I don’t think the castle is haunted and I had a large flashlight with me. I thought the power would come back on pretty quickly—” Holly broke off and stared at the door. “There she is!”

Vi and I turned to look at the door as well. Duchess stalked into the room, surveyed the area, and approached Holly. Purring sounds filled the air as she rubbed her head on Holly’s legs. The cat jumped up and made herself comfortable on Holly’s lap.

“That’s a beautiful cat,” Vi said. “I haven’t been able to get close enough to see her—she always disappears before I can get near her.” Vi cocked her head at Duchess. She sat very still and stared hard at the cat in what I knew was her “receptive” mode. Duchess continued to purr with her eyes closed, seemingly unaware of Vi’s focused attention.

Vi quietly stood and approached Duchess. Just as Vi reached forward to touch the cat, she jumped off Holly’s lap and zoomed out the door.

Vi tsked. “She’s a clever one.”

“I thought you said you didn’t get along with cats?” I said.

Holly shook her head. “I don’t. That’s the first time she’s let me pet her since she arrived.”

“Very strange,” Vi said. She stroked her chin and watched Holly.

Holly began to fidget under Vi’s glare.

“Thank you for talking to us,” I said. I sent Vi a “back off” look. “Please let us know if you think of anything that might help.”

Holly nodded, stood up, and gathered her things. She cleared out quickly and didn’t look back.

Vi had convinced me to come to the workshop with her while I waited for Mac to return from his snowmobiling adventure. We passed Wally in reception. He was huddled over his weather radio and didn’t notice us as we passed.

“If I didn’t know he was innocent, he’d be my first suspect,” Vi said.

“Why? He seems completely harmless,” I said and had to quicken my pace to keep up with her.

“That’s exactly why,” Vi said. “People are never the way they seem.”

Miss Marple was Vi’s new hero—she’d been talking about her all winter as if Agatha Christie were an up-and-coming new author. Quoting her cynical view of human nature had become a new hobby.

“I think that’s going a little far,” I said. “Not everyone is up to something.”

Vi shook her head and looked at me sadly.

Fortunately, we had arrived at the workshop room. I never thought I would welcome a roomful of knitters, but anything to get Vi off this topic was fine with me.

The knitters sat in a circle near the fire, each one clicking her needles rapidly while a buzz of conversation filled the room. Amy’s bright pink head was bent near Mavis’s gray one and they counted stitches on a delicate pink baby sweater. Heather, the nurse, sat near Mom and quizzed her on herbal remedies for headaches and allergies. Mom’s best friend is an herbalist and she’s picked up a few tips through the years. Tina and Isabel knitted brightly colored socks and discussed local yarn suppliers. I glanced back at the door, but Vi grabbed my arm and pulled me forward.

“Clyde! Come sit with me and I’ll get you started.” Lucille patted the couch next to her. I looked over my shoulder again and saw no easy escape. Lucille had a prime seat next to the small fireplace so I climbed over the bags of yarn and needles and sat next to her.

They explained that this was their sharing workshop, so everyone had brought something different to show the other knitters. Selma had just finished presenting a neon-striped scarf that had to be a gift. She wore a brighter shade of beige today with a soft ivory scarf. I murmured polite compliments as they all showed off their works in progress. Then the attention shifted to me.

“Here, Clyde, you can use this yarn,” Mom said. She handed me a soft purple skein that slowly shifted from pale lavender to deep plum. “If you finish a scarf, it will look great on you.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I said.

Mavis handed me a cord with needles on either end, but Vi intercepted it and traded for two thick straight needles.

“Don’t get her addicted to circulars until she learns how to use straights,” Vi said to Mavis.

Mavis narrowed her eyes at Vi and sniffed. She turned away from Vi and began vigorously knitting. I was glad I wasn’t sitting next to her—she looked like she wanted to kill her knitting, or Vi.

“She should try both,” Lucille said. “Which do you want to start with?” Lucille turned to me holding out the needles. I looked at them and shrugged. She might as well have been asking whether I wanted to hold the snake or the tarantula. I decided on family loyalty and chose the straight pair.

Vi sat back and humphed in a satisfied way. Mavis refused to look at me. I consoled myself with the knowledge that we were never going to be friends anyway, what with our competition for Mac’s affection and all.

For the next hour I tried to knit using the purple yarn and big needles. Several of the knitters got involved and contributed advice and encouragement. After Lucille cast on for me, she patiently showed me how to put the tip of the needle in the first loop, wrap the yarn, and pull it through. When it was clear that I was a complete klutz when it came to the knit stitch, Isabel got involved and tried to show me the “continental” method.

“Hmmm,” she started, “maybe you’re a picker, not a thrower.”

I looked up at her, never feeling more clueless in my life.

“I knew it,” Vi said. “Leave it to Clyde to be a picker when every woman in her family tree has been a thrower.”

There were rueful murmurs of agreement around the knitting circle and I wasn’t sure if I was being insulted or what I was being accused of. But I did feel that I finally got the hang of it once I adopted Isabel’s method.

Heather leaned forward to watch me struggle with the needles and yarn. “I think you’re getting the hang of it,” she said. “It takes a while.”

Amy looked at Heather’s gray cabled project. I couldn’t tell whether it was a scarf or a blanket. “I remember when you used to be afraid of cable needles.”

Heather laughed. “Now look at me!” she exclaimed. She held up her knitting for admiration.

“Now, whatever you do, Clyde,” Amy said earnestly, “don’t make anything for your detective.”

There was a round of nods and murmurs of agreement.

“They’re right,” Vi said. “I didn’t warn you because I never thought I’d see you knit, but you can’t make anything for a boyfriend or you’ll doom the relationship. You’ll break up before the project is finished.”

I dropped a stitch and swore under my breath as I tried to put it back on the needle.

Lucille gently took the needles from me and fixed the mistake before handing them back.

“I don’t think there’s a risk of that,” I said. “I’ll be lucky if I can make a scarf for myself before next winter.”

By the time the clock on the mantel struck four, I had managed six rows of knitting. I’d begun with twenty stitches and now had twenty-two on the needle. And there was a hole beginning right in the middle. I leaned back into my chair and stretched my neck. I did not find knitting relaxing. Between counting the stitches, and keeping track of whether I was knitting or purling, and fielding questions on everything from my love life to my career path, it was downright stressful. Mom and Vi had obviously filled the group in on every detail they knew about my private life.

I put the knitting down and got up to stretch my legs. I wondered what was taking Mac so long, and suspected he
was afraid to come rescue me from the knitters. He can be such a coward sometimes.

I was standing by the window, watching the wind make little tornadoes out of the snow, when I heard the snowmobiles returning.

They pulled into the back of the building and I could just see them by angling sideways and peering to the far right.

Mac and Kirk parked the vehicles and climbed off. I couldn’t tell whether they had been successful in reaching the police or not. They certainly didn’t arrive with a police escort.

They stood with their heads close together, hunched into their coats. I saw Mac put out his hand and Kirk shook it, then Mac headed for the hotel while Kirk pushed the snowblower around the side of the building.

I quickly packed up my knitting and stuffed it into Vi’s bag. I whispered to her that I had to step out for a few minutes. She nodded and kept knitting while Isabel walked among the women, offering assistance and advice.

I left the room, took a deep breath, and let it out.

I rounded the corner toward the back of the hotel and almost collided with Mac. He was still wearing the snowman sweater and his jeans were damp from the knees down. I guessed I’d be seeing the pink Bermudas again soon.

“Hi, I was looking for you,” he said.

“You found me.” I put my arms around his neck and kissed him. His lips were still cold from being outside and he smelled like snow and gasoline.

He had just slipped his arm around my waist to pull me closer when we heard a discreet cough.

Mac’s shoulders relaxed and he rested his forehead against mine for a moment.

“Yes?” he said, and turned to see who had interrupted.

Emmett stood there, shifting from foot to foot. He glanced over his shoulder and took a couple of steps in our direction. His face was pink, but he still wore that friendly smile.

“I’m sorry to . . . interrupt,” he said quietly. “I’ve been thinking about Clarissa’s death. I didn’t think this would matter, but then the more I thought about it, the more I realized that anything can be important, right?”

He had Mac’s full attention now. Mac released me and I took a step back to steady myself. We both turned to Emmett and nodded encouragement.

“This probably doesn’t have anything to do with your investigation, but there was a meeting on Wednesday afternoon. It was just between Clarissa, Jessica, and Mrs. Garrett.”

“Do you know what the meeting was about?” I asked.

“No, but I know that René was really ticked off about it.”

“Why?” Mac said.

“He sees himself as a shareholder even though he and Jessica aren’t married yet. I don’t blame him—he’s put his whole life into this restaurant. If sweat equity counted for anything, he’d be the majority owner.”

Emmett shoved his hands in his pockets and lowered his voice even more.

“I think he and Jessica had a fight about it. And I think the meeting itself was a bit of a knock-down, drag-out kind of thing.”

“What do you mean?” Mac said.

“I saw Jessica and Mrs. Garrett storm out of the meeting and then a few minutes later Clarissa strolled out like she didn’t have a problem in the world.”

Emmett shrugged. “I got a little nervous because the last time they had a meeting like that a bunch of people lost their jobs. I don’t know who they could lose at this point, we’re at bare bones as it is, but nothing has come of it so far.”

“We’ll look into it, Emmett, thank you,” Mac said.

Emmett turned to look over his shoulder, and lowered his voice.

“There’s something else,” he said. “I saw Jessica coming out of the door that leads to the back stairway of the turret room.”

Mac had become very still. We exchanged a quick glance of surprise.

“What time was this?” I asked.

“Maybe ten minutes or so before the lights went out,” Emmett said. He held his hands out. “I can’t say for sure that she was in the room, just that she came out of the stairway door.”

We heard a door close down the hall and footsteps heading our way. Emmett waved and melted into the back hallway.

“That was weird,” I whispered. “Why didn’t he tell us that yesterday?”

“Maybe he really didn’t think the meeting mattered, or maybe he didn’t want René to hear him.”

Kirk rounded the corner carrying the ladder again. He nodded as he passed and went into the lounge.

“Did you get in touch with the police?” I asked.

“No, the road is blocked and the snowmobiles are low on gas, so we didn’t want to go looking for a phone. It’s almost a mile to the turnoff.” Mac leaned against the wall.

“It’s too bad Dad and Seth didn’t tell the police they were looking for us,” I said. “They didn’t realize there would be a murder to deal with.”

“It’s likely anywhere nearby is dealing with the same outages as we are,” Mac said. He pushed away from the wall and paced. “The police know the hotel is here. If the phones don’t come back on, they’ll eventually try to get up here. We’ll have to keep working the case in the meantime.”

“Vi will be so pleased,” I said. “She’s identifying herself as one of our deputies now.”

Mac rocked back on his heels and looked at the ceiling.

“While you were away she and I spoke with Holly.”

“Let me guess, she wasn’t much of a Clarissa fan, either.”

I nodded. “Holly doesn’t even think the cat liked her. She did say she saw Tina come out of the stairwell sometime after seven thirty.”

Mac pressed his lips together. “I thought Tina was in the dining room the whole time.”

I held my hands out. “I guess not. She also didn’t volunteer the information when we were talking to them in the workshop room.”

“We’ll need to confront her,” Mac said. “It also means her friends covered for her. They must have known she left the room.”

“I don’t like this, Mac,” I said. I wrapped my arms around myself to ward off a sudden chill that I suspected had nothing to do with the temperature. “Everyone is hiding something.”

The corner of Mac’s mouth twitched up in a rueful smile. “It does seem that way. Including the building itself. Which reminds me, I wanted to talk to the Garretts again after finding the secret stairway. With Emmett’s news, we have even more reason to question them,” Mac said.

“Let’s wait to confront them about the hidden stairway until they’re together—I want to see how they react,” I said. “I think the offices are back here by the kitchen.” I pointed down the hallway where Emmett had disappeared.

Mac and I followed the hall until we were almost to the kitchen door. We heard drawers slamming and papers rustling in one of the rooms.

We peered around the doorjamb and saw Jessica
rummaging through a desk. She looked up, startled, when we walked in.

“Hello, can I help?” she said as she quietly slid one of the drawers closed.

“We were hoping to talk to you and your mom again,” I said.

“Oh, I see.” Jessica straightened the pens on the desktop. “She’s really not doing very well today. Clarissa’s death has hit her much harder than I would have expected.”

“Why do you say that?” Mac asked.

“It’s just . . . they never got along that well and they had been arguing over how best to run the hotel.” Jessica turned away from us and looked out the window. “Honestly, I thought on some level she might be relieved, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. If anything, she’s spending a lot of time talking about how wonderful Clarissa was.” She turned back toward us. “I finally had to walk away.”