Weave of Absence (24 page)

“Drink up, everyone,” Liz said. “Don't let your coffee get cold.”

“Liz, you tell them,” Melinda said.

“Liz is the one who told me,” I said. I looked at her. “Didn't you?”

Melinda was utterly confused. “Is that true? You said that? But don't you remember? You were standing right next to me. You told everyone not to move while you tried to find the electric panel. I was still in the same spot when the lights came back on.”

“Let's not get all excited over a misunderstanding,” Liz said. “Why don't you sit down, Melinda? Drink your coffee before it gets cold. You too, Bunny, Della.” Melinda's face fell, but she went back to the sofa and brought the cup to her mouth.

“Stop!” I screamed. “The coffee is laced with cyanide. She wants to poison us.”

Melinda looked stunned. She stared down at the cup in her hands, hesitating. “That's ridiculous. Why would Liz want to poison me? She and I are old friends. Liz? What's going on?”

“Don't pay any attention to her. She's just trying to make trouble.”

Melinda eyed the coffeepot. “Why didn't you want a cup of coffee too?” she asked. She picked up her cup, handing it to Liz. “Here. If Della is lying, prove it. Take a sip.”

Liz slapped the cup out of her hand and coffee went flying everywhere. She snatched her gun from her pocket. “I didn't want to have to do this, but you're leaving me no choice.” Her smile was more of a snarl. “You and I were never friends. You only moved here to be close to me, because of my brother. You were always obsessed with him. Never once did you ever spend time with me, without pumping me for information about him. What he was up to. If he was seeing anyone. So pathetic.”

Melinda's eyes widened. “Oh, my God. It was you. You killed him, didn't you? You killed your own brother. But why?” Tears were now running
down her cheeks. “Whatever Barry did, he didn't deserve to die. You killed Helen too, didn't you?”

“Helen should have minded her own damn business. When I was talking to her at the party, she was sure she recognized Barry. Turns out her sister had taken some pictures of Barry and sent them to Helen. Luckily, at the time Helen had misplaced those pictures, so she was never able to give them to the police. But after she got home, she called me and told me she had found them a few weeks earlier and was about to go to the police with them. I managed to calm her down and told her I was coming right over. As soon as I got there, I suggested we have tea, and then while she went to get the pictures to show them to me, I put cyanide in her cup.”

“So you took the pictures with you when you left,” I said, more to keep her talking than out of curiosity.

“Yes. But instead of being grateful, Barry was furious with me. I swear that man was getting soft in the head in his old age. He moved here to be close to me, his big sister,” she added in a singsong voice. “Of course, I'd never told him that Melinda lived in the next town. And then even when he got here and found out, he refused to move away.”

“Why did he want to stay?” Melinda asked with something like hope in her eyes. Did she imagine that he'd wanted to rekindle their romance?

Liz probably read her the same way because she said, “It wasn't for you, if that's what you're
thinking. It was for Marnie. Don't ask me why, but he was crazy about the woman. I think he had a mother fixation. What an idiot. Didn't he realize it was only a matter of time before it came out that Bruce wasn't his real name? That he was a con artist.”

“But what you didn't know,” I said, trying to keep her talking, “was that you left one picture behind at Helen's house.”

“I know. She told me she had six pictures, but after I got home I realized I had only five. I went back later to search the house, but I never found the sixth one. But it doesn't matter because Barry is dead. And now nobody can link him to me. Helen didn't live to tell the tale and neither will you.”

“Why did you kill him?” Melinda asked again.

“He confronted me at the hotel that night, kept telling me I was a murderess and that he was going to turn me in. And then he figured out that I killed Sybille.”

“You killed Sybille?” Bunny said. “But why?”

“I think I know why,” I said. “Sybille used to work at the Art Institute of Chicago, in the human resources department. She gave you a job, didn't she? And then what happened? Did she catch you trying to steal something?”

Liz laughed. “Close, but not quite—Barry talked her into hiring me as a night janitor. One day she stayed late for work and happened to catch me toying with the alarm system. As you can see, the girl had to go.”

It occurred to me that Nancy Cutler was a very lucky lady. If she had told anyone that she'd recognized Bruce as Brent, chances were she'd be dead too.

“You've been robbing museums all these years?” Bunny said.

“And jewelry stores, and private residences,” Liz said. She seemed to be enjoying herself. “Anywhere I find something worthwhile. That's how I came across some containers of cyanide. Museums use it all the time in restorations.”

“You must be very good,” I said, hoping flattery might get her to keep talking. Surely Matthew would show up soon.

“Enough with the chitchat,” she said. “Now drink your coffee.” She waved the gun. “Or would you rather get a bullet in the gut and bleed out slowly?”

“You can't shoot us,” I said. “You know the police will work this case until they figure out what really happened.”

She gave me a haughty smile. “Oh, they'll figure it out all right. They'll know that Melinda stole the flag and Bunny's painting.”

“I did no such thing,” Melinda said.

Liz widened her eyes. “Oh, but you did. The proof is in the hall closet.”

Melinda gasped. “You planted something in there. What is it? Bunny's painting? But, how—how did you get in?”

“Oh, sweetheart. Give me a little credit, please.
I can get into museums with advanced security systems. Do you really think one little lock would be an obstacle to me?” She smirked. “The police will think that little miss sleuth, Della, and her buddy, Bunny here, came over and confronted you. So you pulled out your gun and shot them, and then, realizing what you'd done, you decided the only way out was an exit by cyanide. Good plan—don't you think?”

“There are three of us and one of you. You can't shoot us all at the same time,” Melinda said desperately.

“Don't worry. I can work this scenario a few different ways.” She raised her gun.

Suddenly there was loud banging at the front door. “Police. Open up!”

In one swift movement, Liz grabbed me by the wrist, pulling me to my feet, and swung me around so that I became her shield. She pressed the barrel against my temple.

“Tell them if they don't get away from the door, you're dead.”

And then everything happened at once. Melinda dashed over, knocking me out of the way. The gun went off, and she and I collapsed to the floor. The front door flew open and Winston raced in, teeth bared and snarling. He leapt onto Liz, knocking her to the floor. Matthew appeared in the doorway, followed by Marnie, who was brandishing her purse like a weapon.

I was still on the floor when I noticed Liz's gun
a few feet away. I scrambled for it and jumped to my feet, pointing it at Liz. But I needn't have worried. Winston was standing on her chest, his face inches from hers, and growling.

“Get him off me,” she screamed. “He's going to kill me.”

“Winston, you stay right where you are,” Matthew ordered. “Liz, you move so much as an inch and if he doesn't kill you, I swear I will. Della, you all right?”

“I'm fine,” I said, and then he noticed the blood all over my torn dress.

“Shit! You're bleeding.” He grabbed my arms, as if to prevent me from collapsing, his eyes filled with panic.

“It's not me. It's Melinda.” I had crawled through the blood as I'd reached for the gun. She was lying on her back, her face a ghostly white, a pool of blood spreading around her.

“Call an ambulance, and the police,” he said to Marnie, who was already on the phone, giving the address. I rushed to the kitchen and picked up a stack of dish towels.

Back in the living room, Matthew was inspecting Melinda's injury. “The good news is the bullet went clear through one side and out the other. Hopefully it didn't touch any vital organs.” He sounded worried. He rolled her on her side and I stuffed a bunch of towels against the bleeding, while he did the same on the exit wound.

“When will that damn ambulance get here?”
Marnie said. “I called them ages ago.” In reality it hadn't been five minutes, and I could already hear sirens in the distance. Moments later, the ambulance arrived, followed by three police cars. Uniforms kept appearing in the doorway until the small room was crawling with cops.

“It's okay, Winnie. You can get off now,” Matthew said. Liz looked almost relieved when the police pulled her to her feet and snapped the cuffs onto her wrists. As they escorted her out the door, she was yelling about knowing her rights and demanding her lawyer, until she was unceremoniously shoved into the back of the police cruiser. Meanwhile the ambulance attendants were working on Melinda.

“Blood pressure eighty over fifty,” yelled one of them. “Pulse, one hundred and twenty. Respirations, twenty-two. Get an IV going and get me an EKG. We're losing her.”

They rushed about, trying to save her life, and finally one of them said, “She's stabilizing. Let's get her to the hospital.” They lifted the stretcher and hurried out.

“Will she be all right?” I asked.

“She's young and strong,” Marnie said. “I'm sure she'll be fine.”

“Della?” I tore my eyes away from Melinda. Standing in front of me was Officer Lombard. “How did I know you'd be involved?”

From the hallway, her partner called out, “Looks like Melinda was the museum robber. I just found the evidence.”

“No, she wasn't,” I said angrily. “It was Liz. She admitted everything to Bunny and me.”

“In that case, how do you explain this?” He was standing by the open closet, pointing at a large primitive painting—Bunny's painting. On the floor was a package I recognized as the one that had contained Marnie's flag.

My eyes sought out Matthew's. He was looking at me with such relief. That's when it hit me and my eyes watered.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I'm fine, because of you. If you hadn't come in right when you did, Bunny, Melinda, and I would be dead.” As I said this, tears rolled down my cheeks.

“Don't cry, sweetheart,” he said, gathering me in his arms. “You know I couldn't let anything happen to you. I need you in my life.”

I pulled away and looked up at him. “You need me?”

He wiped a tear away with his thumb. “Who else am I going to worry about if I can't worry about you?”

“Does that mean you . . . you . . .” I couldn't bring myself to say the word.

“Love you?” he said. He brought his thumb and index finger close together. “Maybe just a little bit.” And then he kissed me.

An Easy Beginner Project

O
f all the possible weaving projects a beginner can choose from, my favorite is place mats. Not only are they easy to make and fast to complete, but a place mat is an item everyone can enjoy for years to come. For those reasons, or perhaps just because I love a pretty table, even after many weaving projects, they remain my favorite item to make and one of my favorite gifts to give.

I've made many different place mats over the years. I made one set from fine linen thread, resulting in a finely woven cloth, appropriate for a more formal table setting. Others I made of thick acrylic yarn, perfect for informal meals. But my all-time favorite is a set I made from some discarded blue-and-white toile curtains. If this is your first weaving project, this trick might be perfect for you.

When working with fabric, printed cotton curtains are prettiest. Here are the steps to preparing your cotton fabric.

1. Press your fabric panels so they are perfectly smooth and lay them flat.

2. Following the length of the fabric, cut strips one and a half inches wide.

3. Once you've cut up all the fabric, sew the strips together end to end, until you have one very long strip.

4. Fold the edges in on both sides of the strip so that the edges meet at the center of the strip. Carefully iron the folded result so that you have a strip of fabric showing the right side of the printed fabric on both sides.

5. Fold again, this time along the center of the strip, so that the pressed edges join each other in the center. You should now have no unfinished edges showing. Iron again. By now your strip should be about three-eighths of an inch wide, which will be perfect for a weft yarn.

6. You will need a normal cotton yarn for your warp. (The warp is the taut yarn through which another yarn travels under and over to form the weave. In this case, your cotton strips will be your weft.)

7. Next, decide on how many place mats you want to make, and also their width and length. Then weave a small sample to determine the number of threads you will need to use for your warp in order to achieve the width you desire.

8. Once you've dressed your loom with the number of warp threads you need, you are ready to start.

Tip: When you make place mats out of different yarns, keep the following in mind: Place mats will likely get dirty with food stains. You can use bleach on white cotton and linen, but not on colors, and not on acrylics. Those spaghetti-sauce stains might be difficult to remove from light colors. On the other hand, bright, bold colors can camouflage many a nasty stain.

If you follow these simple steps, whatever project you weave will give you years of joy.

Happy weaving!

Carol Ann Martin