Knot Guilty (22 page)

I saw Mason take out his phone and answer it. He glanced toward the front of the room and apparently thought it was safe to leave his client because he headed to the back and then went outside.

I was only half paying attention, still thinking about Ruby Cline. However, when Dinah returned to the table, I did zone back in and told her what a great model she was. She showed off the gift of some wooden knitting needles that was her prize for taking part in the fashion show. Adele barely reacted to the enemy tools.

“I feel kind of funny about it now,” Dinah said. “I hope people don't think I was pushing them to buy her pieces.” I assured her it didn't really matter.

Several items were auctioned off, and then I heard Lacey mention the silver knitting needles with the diamond accents. Maybe it was because those needles were keeping Mason and me apart, but I'd grown to really dislike them.

“Things with a story always seem to have more value,” Lacey began. “And this complete set of knitting needles has a big one.” She paused as a murmur went through the crowd. “In case any of you haven't seen them,” Lacey said, giving a nod to Audrey who held them up as the audience strained to look at them. The needles were famous or maybe infamous thanks to all the news coverage they'd gotten. I doubted there was one person who hadn't gone to look at them.

“They're valued at $3,500, but there's no reason they can't go for more. Remember, the money is going to charity.” She asked for an opening bid of $50.

Before the words were out of her mouth, someone had bid and then someone topped it. The bidding was fast and furious and in no time had reached $3,500. Rhoda and her husband seemed to be deep in conversation, then she nudged him, but he shook his head. Rhoda raised her hand.

“We have $3,600 from the lady at the front table,” Lacey said. Rhoda looked horrified, as did her husband. She stood and put both of her hands up this time.

“Wait a second,” Rhoda said. “I wasn't bidding on the needles. There's something about them. I wasn't sure if I should bring it up, but I'll have a guilty conscience if I don't.” She mentioned that her husband worked in jewelry and had looked at the needles. Then, seeming frustrated, she turned to him. “You tell them, Hal.”

Hal got up with an uncomfortable smile. He moved to the position just below the bottom of the catwalk, and someone handed him a microphone. “The description of the set of knitting needles says they are sterling silver with diamond accents and gives a value for them. But it's all incorrect. They aren't sterling, just silver plate, and the stones on the end—they're cubic zirconiums.” He paused while the audience reacted. “And the value, it's more like $500.” He turned to Lacey and apologized. “Right is right and I couldn't let it slide. Not when I knew.”

A bunch of conversations had started up, and Audrey looked aghast as she took the microphone from him.

“Are you kidding? You mean I did all this and they're fake? All that fuss K.D. made, insisting on pressing charges so I would actually go to jail?”

Julie jumped up. “Tell me about it. K.D. embarrassed me in front of everybody because I brought some other yarn into her store. And then she accused me of trying to enter the same sweater I entered in the knitting contest last year.”

I had forgotten all about Julie. She seemed all fired up until the woman next to her made her sit down.

“I know what you mean,” Audrey said. “If only K.D. Kirby had listened to reason to begin with I never would have—”

Delvin grabbed the microphone back and got up on the stage. “I'm sure K.D. had no idea the needles were only silver plate. The person who dealt with everything in the store was Thea Scott.”

Lacey was next to him now, and she pointed her finger accusingly at the store manager, who had gotten up and stepped away from her table. “You had to know the needles were only silver plate and the stones fake.”

Thea shook her head in annoyance and turned back. “Why couldn't K.D. have let me handle it from the beginning? I thought we should just accept payment for the stolen needles and drop it.” She glared at Audrey Stewart. “I thought everything was going to be okay when K.D. was out of the picture. But you couldn't just pay for the needles, could you? You had to put them in the auction.”

“You knew all along they were silver plate, didn't you?” Audrey said in an accusing manner. “You were the one who tried to steal them from the auction display.”

All the while, Thea had begun to step backward. She looked at Lacey. “I just want you to know that your mother wanted the store to be so high-class, but she didn't pay very well. She insisted that I act like I was on the same level with our customers. But I couldn't afford their designer jeans and fancy hairstyles on what she paid me. They had purses that cost thousands of dollars. The first time I sold the silver plate needles it was a mistake, but when nobody noticed I kept on doing it.” By now she'd reached the back of the room, but Barry was standing in front of the exit.

At that moment, the door opened, pushing Barry to the side as Mason came back into the room. Before anyone could react, Thea had slipped out. But probably not for long. Barry was already on his phone. I guessed a cop would snag her before she left the building.

Mason seemed surprised to find everyone looking at him. “What's going on?”

Under the circumstances, the needles were removed from the auction. But the whole episode acted like some hot sauce to what had been a sleepy affair. There were a lot of questions about the other items and then a lot of heavy bidding. I seemed to be the only one to realize that it sounded like Audrey was pretty close to confessing that she'd killed K.D. Well, maybe not close, exactly, but it could have been the next thing she was going to say when Delvin grabbed the microphone.

The auction ended and the award ceremony began, though I'm not sure if giving out one award counted as a ceremony. Lacey read something her mother had written about Kimberly Wang Diaz and how for years she had covered the yarn show with a feature story that helped inspire the public to take up knitting. That and the newscaster's flowery thank-you were all caught by her cameraman. The award was a bronzed ball of yarn with a pair of knitting needles stuck into it. There was a break in the program, and I went back to talk to Barry. First I asked him about Thea, and he confirmed what I'd thought—she was being questioned as we spoke. Then I got down to what I really wanted to talk about.

“I have a question for you,” I said. I saw his eyes roll back and forth.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Do you know how many champagne glasses the waiter left?” Barry took out his notebook and started flipping through it.

“I seemed to have missed that,” he said, his mouth twisting in annoyance. “But I'm guessing you know.”

“There were two,” I said. “And how many were at the crime scene?” He didn't bother with the notebook but just looked me in the eye.

“Obviously you know there was just one.” He blew out his breath. “Could we not play twenty questions? Just tell me what you know.”

“If I do, you have to promise not to snap on the cuffs and arrest me for investigating,” I said.

“It's all about making deals with you now. First I had to promise not to arrest Adele and now not to arrest you.” He seemed to be mulling over my offer, but I was pretty sure it was all for show. “Okay, I won't arrest you, so go ahead and tell me everything,” he said finally.

I told him about Ruby Cline and the champagne glass, but it fell apart when he said it was probably wiped clean of prints by now and useless as evidence if she even still had it. I brought up how both Audrey Stewart and Thea Scott both had motives connected with the silver needles.

“Nice try,” he said. “They all had motives, but where's the evidence? We need something like a crochet hook at the murder scene.”

I headed back to my seat just as Delvin returned to the microphone and began making announcements about the next day's schedule. As I got closer, something seemed off. Then I realized there was an empty seat beside mine. Where was Adele? I looked around the whole room and didn't see her. If the black curtain hadn't fluttered I would have missed her altogether. She and her suitcase were practically lost in the dark folds. She was moving toward the front of the huge room. And then I saw her destination. The red exit sign was almost hidden by the impromptu stage. Barry was right. She was going to take off.

I was much closer and quickly followed her. I was sure Barry had seen her empty chair, too. I didn't look back but figured he was probably somewhere behind me planning to nab her and then gloat. I'd almost caught up with her and reached out to grab on to her, but all I got was a handful of her tunic. I tugged hard and she fell backward into her suitcase, which in turn fell into me, and we went over like three dominos just as Barry got there.

“So where were you going, Brazil, Switzerland, someplace else far away?” I said, trying to crawl away from the suitcase.

Adele rolled over and sat up. “What are you talking about?” I pointed to the suitcase. For the first time Barry's presence registered to her. “What's he doing here?”

Barry crouched down to untangle us. “Is there something you want to tell me, Adele?” Barry said in his understanding cop voice.

Adele looked at me. “All I did was stand up for crochet. They only offered a few classes and they let us give free crochet lessons, but that was going to be it, unless I did something.”

I began to get an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. Was Adele about to confess? Just at that moment Mason joined our little group. He'd heard the tail end of what Adele was saying. “You might not want to say anything more,” he said, ever acting as a lawyer.

And Adele being Adele didn't take his advice.

“I did what I had to do. I told them I would single-handedly do a crochet fashion show.” She unzipped the suitcase, and inside it was packed with items she'd made. Now the black clothes made sense. They were just a backdrop.

Mason chuckled and shook his head with amused disbelief as he helped me up. He took over damage control and spoke to the roomful of people who were all staring in our direction. “Just a little accident over here. But it looks like everyone is fine.”

Barry tried to help Adele up, but she insisted on doing it herself. I thought he might leave after that, but he went back to his position by the door. He still didn't believe her.

Delvin seemed a little discombobulated when after a slight delay with some explaining, Adele handed him a CD and told him to play it. “Okay, then, we have another fashion show,” he said. “From the Tarzana Hookers.”

Once I understood what was really going on, I'd told the rest of our table and everyone had volunteered to model one of the pieces Adele had brought. Even Eduardo picked out a granny square scarf, which made an interesting look with his leather tuxedo.

When the evening finally broke up, quite a few people came by our table and made assorted comments including how they never realized how nice crochet was, how we seemed like a really lively bunch and how we had added a little excitement to the evening.

Adele took all the items and put them back in the suitcase. I couldn't quite tell, but it did seem like there were some other clothes items underneath. I didn't get much of a chance to see what they were, because Adele zipped up the suitcase and, in an annoyed huff, left. When I looked at the door, Barry was gone, too.

“You don't really think she was planning to take off and she made up that whole thing about the fashion show?” Dinah said as we all walked outside.

“No, it couldn't be,” I said. “At least I don't think so.”

*   *   *

I was on my way to the greenmobile when Mason caught up with me. He had lost his work look, taken off his tie and put on a warm smile.

“Audrey went home,” he said with a discreet sigh of relief. “I still can't talk, but I thought maybe we could spend some time together.” His dark eyes were warm. “After all the almosts we've had, I guess I'd like to make sure it was real this time.” He stayed by my car as I opened the door. Around us the parking lot was emptying, and I saw his black Mercedes sedan was parked nearby.

“I'm pretty exhausted,” I said. He tried to hide it, but I saw his expression fall. “But some company would be nice,” I added quickly.

“Great, I'll follow you home,” he said, back to his upbeat self. He waited until I got in and headed for his car.

As I drove home, I started to feel nervous anticipation. So far it had just been phone calls and stolen looks over the weekend. This would be the first time we would be up close and personal.

But it was Mason, I reminded myself. Mason who'd rescued me a number of times, helped me solve some murders. Supportive, fun Mason. No pressure to be anything but a casual couple. No strings or titles to our relationship. Not like Barry, who had been pushing for us to get married. It was what I'd always said I wanted. Then I had a dark feeling. Just like I kept saying I wanted to try flying solo and live alone. A warning bell went off in my head. The definition of anything with Mason was probably best defined as “whatever.” Friends with benefits, casual hookups and then we'd go our separate ways. Sure, Mason had said
love you
at the end of our calls, but it could just be an automatic way of saying good-bye to whichever woman he was involved with.

I thought about Dinah and Commander Blaine. They did a lot of things together and still had their space. But underneath it all was an understanding, a commitment of sorts.

“I don't want just some kind of arrangement,” I said out loud. “What have I gotten myself into?” My shoulders slumped as I realized I should have thought this all out before.

I pulled into my driveway, still deep in thought. Mason's black Mercedes pulled up right behind me. He was out of his car and walking up to me before I'd even cut the motor.

As soon as I unlocked the door, he opened it with a flourish and showed me a bottle of champagne. “I've been carrying this around in my car since I got back.”

We walked across the backyard together. We'd both fallen silent, and was it my imagination or did he seem a little hesitant, too? When we got to the back door, we both stopped and faced each other at the same time.

“There's something I need to talk to you about,” Mason said in a serious tone.

“Funny, I was going to say the same thing to you.” I was holding my key. Whatever warmth there had been during the day was gone, and there was a brittle, sharp feeling to the cold. The sweatshirt I'd found in my car and put on over my black dress offered little warmth and I shivered. “We can talk about it inside.”

I opened the door and expected the usual greeting committee of Cosmo and the cats and was surprised to see someone else in the mix. A little gray scruffy-looking terrier mix was with them. He pushed through to the front and put his paws on my knee like he was welcoming a long-lost friend.

“Who are you?” I said, looking past him into my kitchen. The lights were on and I heard voices. Mason shut the door behind him and then took the lead as if to protect me from whoever was there. I found it hard to believe someone was robbing my house and had brought the cute little dog along.

I caught up with Mason and we both peeked out of the kitchen into the living room. The first thing I noticed was the pile of boxes and assorted stuff in the entrance hall. My two sons were in the living room talking, well, maybe it was more like arguing. Seeing it wasn't really an intruder, Mason slipped behind me and I walked into the large, high-ceilinged room.

“Who's going to explain?” I asked, gesturing toward the boxes, not to mention the little gray dog who'd become my shadow.

Peter, my dark-haired older son, who was an ambitious television agent, spoke first. “Is it true that someone died at that yarn show you went to?” I nodded and my son shook his head with disapproval. “What is it with you and murder?”

“That's beside the point right now. What's going on?”

“I helped Samuel move his things, but I didn't think he should come back here.” Peter had been trying to get me to sell the house and downsize since Charlie died, and having his brother living here complicated matters.

I looked at my younger son. His sandy hair was pulled back into a small ponytail. When he looked up, I could see the heartbreak in his eyes. “Nell and I broke up.”

Peter was out of Samuel's line of sight, and his eyes went skyward with disbelief. Judging from his expression, I was guessing Nell broke up with Samuel. The gray dog moved in even closer until he was almost sitting on my foot.

“That's Felix,” Samuel said. “Nell and I found him in the street. She made me take him with me.” It was then that it registered that I wasn't alone. Not that it was a problem. They both liked Mason. Peter had actually been the one who introduced us and had been pushing for him all along. Samuel liked him, too. Samuel worked as barista at a coffee joint, but his real dream was to be a musician. Mason had helped him get a number of gigs and had the ability to be supportive without being bossy or overstepping.

“What's going on?” Peter looked from me to Mason and took in that we were both dressed up and it was late. It was easy to make a lot of assumptions. I didn't answer but led Mason back into the kitchen.

“We need to talk before I say anything to them,” I said.

“Right,” he said, and we went to the farthest part of the kitchen. Mason was still holding the champagne bottle but now put it down, saying he'd planned to bean a robber with it. We both let out a nervous titter of laughter.

“There's something I need to say,” he began. A feeling of doom hit my stomach. What kind of bomb was he going to drop? Give me the parameters to our casual relationship? Or maybe he was going to make it clear I shouldn't expect to make any claim on him. He'd taken my hand and actually looked nervous. He began to speak without looking at me.

“I know what I said before. No strings, casual relationship, no expectations, no road to anything but a good time. And I understand that is what you want.” He paused and looked at the floor. He was usually so self-assured, this seemed very strange.