While My Pretty One Knits (12 page)

“But, Mom…Jamie started it…it’s not even eight thirty…”

Suzanne placidly ignored him.

“I’ll be right back,” she told Lucy.

The doorbell rang just as Suzanne reached the foyer with her captives. Lucy heard Maggie come in, along with Phoebe. Dana arrived a few moments later. Suzanne called Alexis to escort the boys upstairs and they all returned together.

As margaritas were poured all around, Suzanne took two kinds of quesadillas out of the oven, sliced them up, and served them in the sitting area. Everyone found a place on the couches and pulled out their projects, then took turns complaining about what was going wrong.

Luckily, Lucy had been too busy to go further with the sock monkey hat and was afraid to inflict more damage. She took it out along with the pattern and a picture of the finished product that she’d printed off the Internet.

Phoebe was instantly fascinated. “You have to finish these, Lucy. They’re brilliant.”

“Yes, I’m definitely going to finish. I promised Sophie and Regina.”

And one of her New Year’s resolutions had been “no more knitting UFOs.”

She did have a habit of starting things, getting frustrated, and jumping ship when only halfway done, especially if some new yarn or pattern caught her eye. Maggie had told her not to feel guilty, every true knitter hopped around. It didn’t mean she was fickle or slutty. It was more of a joie de knitting thing. So many patterns and yarns, so little time?

Not too many knitters were like Dana, who stitched away as steadily as a plough horse, straight ahead, row by row. She never started anything new until she’d finished the project she was working on. Lucy noticed tonight that she was about to complete the shawl-collared cardigan she’d begun about two weeks ago.

As the margaritas and tasty Mexican dishes disappeared, the conversation turned to Peter Goran and Maggie’s visit to the Knitting Nest.

“He called yesterday afternoon, around half past four, I guess,” Maggie explained. “He wanted me to run right over. Lucy was in the shop, so she came, too. Thank goodness. It was sort of creepy,” Maggie admitted.

“I’ll bet.” Dana glanced at Lucy. “How did he seem? Did he mention the murder?”

“He wasn’t exactly paralyzed with grief.” Lucy recalled the way he had been laughing on the telephone. “He did say he knew people were gossiping and saying he killed his wife. But he claims it’s ridiculous. And impossible. He says he couldn’t have murdered her, he faints at the sight of blood.”

Suzanne switched her knitting for her dish of quesadillas. “He came right out and said that? Wow, that was nervy.”

Dana shrugged. “He knows people are talking. He wants to get his side of the story out.”

“He wants to get out of town,” Maggie clarified. “He told us he’s moving down south or to Arizona. Someplace warm. That’s been his plan all along, while he and Amanda were getting divorced. But now the police are holding him up.”

“He kept going on about Amanda’s murder being a simple robbery but the police are making too much of it,” Lucy added. “He said a few things were stolen and the shop had been ransacked.”

“That doesn’t prove anything.” Phoebe shook her head. “Anybody—including Peter—could have done all that to make it look like a robbery.”

Dana put her dish aside and wiped her hands on a dark blue cloth napkin. “The police say there was no forced entry. No locks or windows were broken. Someone would have had to enter with a key.”

“Or Amanda could have let them in,” Lucy added.

Maggie dipped a chip in the guacamole. “Good point. I guess he still had the most to gain by her death.”

“There was insurance money, too. I hear he’s going to get a nice check.” Suzanne leaned over and tested the quesadillas. “I can heat these up again if anyone wants?”

“Who told you about the insurance claim?” Dana looked surprised, Lucy thought. She usually had the inside scoop on these things and wasn’t used to being trumped.

“We use the same agent as the Gorans and I had to sign off on a change in our homeowners’ policy, so I stopped in there on Wednesday. The secretary was talking to Peter on the phone and I had to wait. I couldn’t help hearing at least one side of the conversation. Sounded like he was pushing hard to move the paperwork along on Amanda’s life insurance policy. Good thing the divorce wasn’t final or his name wouldn’t even be on it, I bet. It’s a pretty big number, too,” Suzanne added. “I guess I shouldn’t have eavesdropped,” she shrugged, “but I couldn’t help it.”

“And Jack heard Peter’s alibi is weak,” Dana tossed in, not to be upstaged. “He told the police he was home alone on the morning of the murder and didn’t speak to anyone on the phone or see anyone before he left his house and found her body.”

“No wonder the police told him to stick around.” Suzanne added a dollop of sour cream to her dish. “I’m surprised they didn’t arrest him by now.”

“They need more evidence.” Dana was looking down at a piece of her knitting, smoothing it over her lap. “Solid evidence. So far, it’s all circumstantial.”

“Yes, it is,” Maggie pointed out. “So his wife had an insurance policy and he’s collecting on it. You can’t assume he killed her just because of that.”

Perhaps feeling unfairly suspected herself, Maggie spoke up to defend him. Lucy thought she made a good point. So far, it was all just gossip and guesswork.

Okay, maybe Jack Haeger’s connections to the police force lent them a little more inside information than most people in town. But what did they really know about who may have killed Amanda?

“You can’t assume but things do add up,” Dana argued as she examined the piece she was working on. “They add up and reach a critical mass. Unless there’s some big breakthrough, that’s how the police figure it out.”

Maggie glanced at Dana over the edge of her reading glasses but didn’t argue the point further, just stretched out a length of yarn and kept knitting. Maggie was still working on the tote bag for Julie, Lucy noticed. Some wide stripes showed now and it looked like it was almost done.

“Peter never mentioned that someone had broken into the shop on Sunday morning,” Lucy noted. “I think the police must have told him, don’t you?” she asked Dana.

“Yes, I think they had to. After all, the shop is his now.” Dana looked down at her knitting, counting out stitches. “Maybe he didn’t have any reason to mention that situation to you and Maggie. He probably didn’t know you were the one who reported it.”

Lucy had considered that possibility. She still thought it was an odd omission. He’d spilled his guts about nearly everything else. “It just seemed odd to me, unless he didn’t want us to know someone had been spotted sneaking into the building. Looking for something, maybe?”

Dana nodded. “That’s possible, too. It does cloud his random robbery theory.”

“What about the stock in the Knitting Nest?” Suzanne asked Maggie. “Are you taking any of it?”

“It’s pretty good stuff. I’m going to take all of it.” Maggie looked up and paused, knowing they were surprised to hear her decision. “I called Peter today and made what I thought was a low offer, figuring he’d make a counteroffer. He said he’d found more yarn at the house—that was probably her real stash—and I could have the whole lot for just a little more. So I made a deal with him,” Maggie explained. “It’s about what I expected to pay just for what I saw in the shop.”

“That sounds like a good bargain,” Dana said.

“You ought to work in real estate, Maggie,” Suzanne added. “You’re a real closer.”

“Don’t be silly. I would have even gone higher, but he isn’t a very good negotiator. He has no idea of the value of the stock. But he didn’t pay for it, either, so it’s all profit for him.” She shrugged and snapped a thread of yarn with her fingers. “I feel a little strange,” she admitted, “but it’s too good a bargain to pass up. I really can’t resist.”

“Well, that’s a surprise ending to the story of you and Amanda.” Dana had come to the end of a row. She pulled out the needle, then began binding off the edge. “Who could have imagined that twist, you winding up with Amanda’s stash?”

“I guess it is an ironic ending. If the story is finally over,” Maggie murmured.

When nobody answered, she added, “It’s not like I feel some great victory by taking it. She would have wanted it to pass on to someone who knows the value of what she had in there, don’t you think? Not some big anonymous estate auction place.” Maggie turned to Lucy. “It’s a little like Lucy taking one of the dogs.”

“You ended up with one of Amanda’s dogs?” Suzanne turned to Lucy, her brown eyes wide.

Dana looked over at her, too. “Really? How did that happen?”

“I don’t know. I felt sorry for the dog. Peter told us he’s just going to dump them all at a shelter. Her name is Tink and she’s very sweet. Sort of a golden retriever-ish mix…but not too big.”

Phoebe took a handful of chips and crunched down loudly. “Goldens are great. Can you bring her to the shop tomorrow?”

“She’s at the vet. She didn’t seem well and I brought her in to see what was going on. He decided to keep her there overnight.”

“I bring Charlie to Dr. Newton. He’s pretty good but he’s gotten expensive.” Suzanne patted the huge chocolate Lab who was stretched out at her feet.

“I went to McDougal, on Main Street. Peter said Amanda brought her dogs there and the office had all the records.”

“I take Arabelle there.” Dana was very proud of her purebred Maine coon cat. Lucy was terrified of the beast.

Arabelle would perch on top of a bookcase in the family room and hiss at everyone below. Once she took a flying leap and attacked Lucy’s knitting. Dana claimed it was just hunting instinct but Lucy thought dear Arabelle was psychotic and needed drugs. Dana seemed in denial about the cat’s social problems.

“Did you get the father or the son?” Dana asked. “The son just joined the practice.”

“I got…Matt. The son, I guess.”

“He’s doesn’t look like a pro golfer, does he?” Dana gave her a knowing look.

“Absolutely not,” Lucy agreed, trying to keep a straight face. She felt the others staring at her, especially Phoebe.

“Some private joke going on here?” Phoebe looked at Lucy, then at Dana. “Share the mirth, girls.”

“Nothing really,” Lucy said, moving on. “It looks like the dog ate something nasty and it’s stuck in her digestive tract. She’s getting medication so she can expel it. If that doesn’t work, she’ll need an operation.”

“Whoa…I’m not done eating yet, if you don’t mind.” Suzanne made a face. “But I hope your dog gets better, Lucy.”

“Me, too. It was nice of you to take her in.” Dana smiled at Lucy, then reached into her knitting bag and took out several pieces of her long cardigan. She spread them out on the coffee table, like parts of a puzzle.

“Okay, I just finished. What do you think? All I have to do is sew it together and block.”

Maggie leaned over and picked up a sleeve. “Nice work. You’ve got a very even gauge.”

“High praise coming from you. Thanks. It has a belt, too,” she said, showing the long knitted strip. “I was looking through Cara’s book and thought I could really do something interesting with those felted flowers she used on her jacket.”

Dana had brought the book with her and flipped it open to the section that showed the three-quarter-length jacket Cara had been wearing and the felted flower detail.

“Oh, right. Those would look great on that sweater,” Suzanne agreed. “Maybe a few down the front?”

Phoebe leaned over and looked down at the photograph. “It looks sort of complicated. Then you have to shrink them down…does she give good directions?”

“Good question.” Dana slipped on her reading glasses and tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear. “The directions aren’t wonderful,” she reported after a moment. “And there aren’t any great pictures, either. No step by step you can study. Once I have pictures I can usually figure things out.”

“Bad book design. I would have thought of that,” Lucy said.

“Maybe the graphic designer doesn’t knit?” Phoebe teased her.

“Maybe…but Cara does,” Lucy replied.

“I took pictures that day. But they’re still in my camera.” Maggie fished around her knitting bag and pulled out a slim digital camera. “I’m not great at getting these things in the computer, either. Why don’t you call Cara and ask her how to make the flowers? I’m sure she won’t mind.”

“I don’t want to bother her, she seems so busy. I’ll just muddle along, see what I come up with,” Dana said, looking back at the book again.

“Give me the camera.” Lucy reached over and took it off the table. “I’ll make prints and enlarge the flowers, if I find any.”

“Super. Thank you.” Dana nodded appreciatively. “I can’t start the flowers until I find the yarn. It seems tricky enough without improvising.”

“Let’s see, what does the pattern ask for?” Maggie pulled the book over and checked. “I don’t think I have any of that in stock…” She looked up and frowned, then her eyes lit up. “I’m pretty sure I saw some at the Knitting Nest today. I should have it soon.”

“No rush,” Dana replied. “I still have to put this together and block it.”

Knowing how efficiently Dana worked, Lucy guessed that phase would be done by tomorrow.

Suzanne stood up and gathered a few dirty plates. “Who wants dessert and coffee?”

Maggie shook her head. “I’d love some coffee. But I can’t eat another bite. Everything was too good. As usual.”

A chorus of similar replies rose up from the rest of the women.

“I made flan…light as a feather,” Suzanne said, tempting them.

No one answered for a moment…then they all gave in.

Suzanne’s flan was a rare treat. And, afer all, Lucy rationalized, it was Cinco de Mayo in March.

L
ucy checked in with the Harbor Animal Hospital on Friday morning at about 11:00. It was not good news. Tink’s digestive tract was still in a state of gridlock.

“I’d rather not operate if I can help it. She’s a little weak from not eating any solids,” Matt McDougal told Lucy. “Let’s give it another twelve hours. She’s on an IV and seems comfortable.”

He had a nice voice, deep and relaxed sounding. It was not the first time Lucy had noticed. She gave herself a mental shake.

“That sounds reasonable…I think I’ll come by later and say hello.”

“Fine with me. But I’m booked with appointments until five thirty.”

Very amusing. “I meant the dog,” Lucy replied.

“I know.” She could hear the laughter in his voice but didn’t really mind it.

After her flirting break, Lucy worked steadily until 4:00. She had sent the revised brochures on Thursday, as she’d planned, but of course, there was always one person signing off on these projects who had to rattle your cage, just to show they could.

Lucy had worked in plenty of offices. She should have remembered. It was never over until the fat lady sang. But not before she called to complain about—for instance—changing the photos they had all been looking at for weeks. Lucy had received those very instructions during her last phone call with the company.

“And the little boy sitting on his mom’s lap, blowing bubbles? Well, we all thought he had a really funny expression. And he was squinting.”

Did you ever see a kid blow bubbles who didn’t have a funny expression?

Of course, Lucy did not reply with that question.

She simply hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and charged into the dangerous depths of Internet image banks. Hours later—hungry, thirsty, and feeling as if her butt had gone numb—she emerged with one photo that fit the budget and satisfied the critique.

In fact, it was just what they deserved, she decided, showing a child with pop eyes and cheeks puffed out like Titan, god of the sea, about to whip up a typhoon.

But definitely not squinting.

She honestly had not meant to head over to the animal hospital so close to 5:30 that it might appear to Matt McDougal she’d purposely timed her visit with Tink so she could see him. It was just the way the day had worked out.

She had to shower and wash her hair, didn’t she? It was Friday night. Maybe she’d go out for a drink with Maggie, or catch a movie…or something.

After a brief chat with the receptionist, Lucy was led to a back room by a vet tech. A chorus of barking grew louder as the door was opened and Lucy was led inside. It was a bare clinical-looking room with another metal table in the middle. The walls were lined with cages like cubicles, most of them occupied by dogs or cats, though she did spot a large lop-eared rabbit hunkered down in the corner of one cage.

She saw Tink right away in a cubby near the door, on the upper level.

“Hey, Tink. How are you, sweetie?”

The dog lay on her side. She stared at Lucy and beat her big tail but didn’t respond much otherwise. Lucy felt a wave of concern.

“She’s a little groggy. We sedated her so she doesn’t pull out the IV,” the veterinary technician explained.

Lucy saw the line attached to the dog’s front leg. She nodded, her gaze fixed on Tink. She still didn’t like to see the sweet hound looking so weak.

The vet tech checked a few of the cages and made notes on a clipboard, then left the room. There didn’t seem to be anything she could do for the dog, but Lucy didn’t want to leave her so quickly. She stayed close to the cage and spoke in a soft comforting tone. She poked her finger through the wire door and stroked Tink’s paw.

“I know you don’t feel well right now, but you’re going to be just fine in a day or two…”

The dog wiggled her head close to the grate and Lucy touched her fur through the openings. She was probably confused and lonely here after hanging out in Amanda’s dog pack. She was probably scared, Lucy realized.

Lucy heard the door open again and looked up to see Matt McDougal. He’d exchanged his denim shirt and animal pattern tie for a surgical green scrub top and was looking very doctor-ish. A patch of dark chest hair showed at the top of the V-neck and Lucy vainly fought off a wave of some medicinal-scented aphrodisia that filled the air.

He smiled at her, then peered into the cage. “How’s Tink doing?”

“I’m not sure. I know she’s on sedatives, but she looks so listless. Is that all right?”

“She’s stable. But she can’t stay like this for too much longer.”

He grabbed a stethoscope off the metal countertop, then opened the cage and listened to Tink’s heartbeat.

When he was done, he held the cage door open for Lucy. “Want to pet her?”

Lucy nodded, surprised by the offer. “Just watch the IV,” he warned.

She quickly stepped over and reached inside the cage. She gently pet Tink on her head and chest. Matt stood close, watching her, but she tried not to notice. Tink lifted her head and licked Lucy’s hand. Lucy wondered if the dog remembered her.

Finally, she drew back and let him lock the crate again.

“She’s been through so many changes the last week or so. I hope she doesn’t just give up and fade away on me,” Lucy confided.

“Don’t worry, she’s hanging in there. Dogs are pretty resilient and flexible. Unlike most people.” He put the stethoscope aside, his expression more serious. “But the blockage isn’t moving or breaking down, as I’d hoped. We need to talk about an operation.”

“I remember you said that was a possibility.”

“I can take care of her tomorrow morning. It shouldn’t take long. We’ll put her under, of course. You’ll need to sign some forms at the front desk. If everything goes well, we can send her home on Monday. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like a good plan. I mean, there’s really no other choice at this point, right? She can’t stay like that forever.”

“No, she can’t. There’s danger of infection and blood poisoning.”

That sounded pretty awful to Lucy. She wished he could operate right away. The alarming thought must have showed in her expression.

Had she rescued Amanda’s dog just to see the poor creature waste away? Lucy felt a pang of guilt, feeling sure that Amanda was out there somewhere, watching this situation unfold, no doubt none too pleased.

The poor woman was murdered, her head bashed in, her killer still on the loose, and Lucy couldn’t even offer a little peace to Amanda’s restless soul by saving one of her beloved dogs.

“Don’t worry.” Matt lightly touched her arm. “Tink isn’t at that stage yet and we have her on antibiotics, as a precaution.”

Lucy nodded. She glanced at her watch, even though she didn’t have anywhere particular to be. “I guess I’d better go. Should I call at any special time to see how the operation went?”

“I’ll call you when it’s over. Can I reach you at the home number?”

The question was logical. Why did she feel he was poking around to see if there was some reason she wouldn’t be home early on a Saturday morning? Or wouldn’t be home
yet
.

“Um, sure. I’ll be around. I think I also gave the receptionist my cell number.”

“Okay.”

Lucy hitched her purse strap over her shoulder. “Okay, well…good luck tomorrow.” Lucy smiled briefly.

“Don’t worry, it will go fine. I guess I’m curious to see what she swallowed. You can’t tell from the X-rays, unless they’ve swallowed something solid, like a coin or a rock. All I can see is the gas patterns. We don’t have a clue.”

“I’d rather not go there, if you don’t mind,” she warned him.

He laughed and smiled as she slipped out the door.

He seemed to find her amusing, even when she wasn’t especially trying to be. That was encouraging. Her ex-husband rarely seemed to get her jokes. Though that was really the least of their problems.

Lucy stopped at the front desk on her way out and was given a few forms to sign, giving permission for Tink’s operation.

As she handed the sheets back, she started to worry again about the dog. Silly, she hadn’t even taken the dog home yet but she still felt attached.

Dr. Matt McDougal must do this procedure all the time, she assured herself. So on Saturday mornings he was in here, bright and early, eager to dissect dog bowels. Did that mean he wasn’t in a relationship, either? Probably a good sign, Lucy thought, holding her battered optimism in check.

Lucy drove down Main Street and parked near the Black Sheep. The shop usually stayed open on Friday nights fairly late, especially if Maggie held a class, which usually started at 8:00 and went until 10:00 or even later. Lucy remembered that there was going to be a class on intarsia knitting tonight, a fancy name for using two or more colors, knitting an argyle or Fair Isle pattern, for instance.

Lucy had not been tempted to take the challenge and was content right now to take on one strand at a time.

The shop door was open and she walked in to find most of the front rooms filled with boxes. She looked inside an open carton and saw skeins of yarn. Phoebe was carrying a box into the storeroom. Maggie was at the oak table, writing on a box top with a thick black marker. She paused and waved as Lucy walked back.

“Stock from the Knitting Nest. The first wave, anyway. Peter wanted me to get it out ASAP,” she explained. “Phoebe and I packed up all we could this afternoon and he brought it over in his truck. That was nice of him, I thought.” She straightened up and snapped the top back on the marker. “He’s bringing some more this weekend and throwing in some shelving, too. I’m going to put it up in the storeroom.”

“Murdered my wife…everything must go…” Phoebe sang out from the storeroom.

“You’re a very twisted young woman…but amusing,” Lucy called back. She heard Phoebe snicker, then turned to Maggie. “I think you got the best of that deal. Look at all this. It didn’t seem like half as much in the store.”

“It wasn’t. He found more boxes of yarn at home and upped the price a bit,” Maggie reminded her.

Lucy remembered now Maggie had mentioned that last night. “Right…her private, private stash…”

“Some of that is primo,” Maggie confided. She sighed, perhaps feeling a wave of guilt or conflict at the strange turn that had placed this bounty at her doorstep.

“Oh…and Peter gave me a box for you, too.” Maggie stepped around some cartons, then chose one and put it down near Lucy’s feet.

Lucy lifted the flaps and saw that it was filled with small knitted garments. She reached in and pulled one up. She thought it was a baby sweater at first, a bright pink turtleneck covered with small hearts. Then she realized by the shape and armholes it was for a dog.

“These are…dog sweaters?”

Maggie nodded. “Looks like it. I think Amanda sold a ton of them. Guess he figured you could use them for Tink.”

Lucy crouched down and dug around in the box. “She’ll have a bigger wardrobe than I do.”

Most of the sweaters wouldn’t fit Tink. They were either too large or too small. Lucy figured she’d pull out one or two and then donate the rest. Maybe to the Harbor Animal Hospital? So far Dr. McDougal hadn’t charged her a cent.

Phoebe had returned. “How’s your dog doing?”

“Oh…not so well. The vet is going to operate tomorrow, to remove the blockage in her stomach. I just went to see her,” Lucy added. “She looked weak.”

“That’s too bad. I hope the operation goes well…. You look nice,” Maggie noticed. “Do you have plans?”

Maggie’s diplomatic way of asking if Lucy had a date.

Lucy shook her head. “Nope, just thought I’d take a shower and wash my hair. Basic hygiene.”

Okay, she’d done a little more grooming than that.

“You clean up well,” Phoebe teased. Phoebe gave her a look. Lucy figured Phoebe had guessed something might be going on, but she hesitated to tell her friends about her interest in Matt.

“Josh and I are going to Newburyport. His band has a gig at Gunther’s. Want to come?” Phoebe’s boyfriend, Josh, played bass guitar in a band called Error Messages, which pretty aptly described their music, in Lucy’s opinion.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass. I’m just going to stick around town.”

“Not a problem. Except that I’m getting this feeling you’re holding out on us…. Are you sure you’re not going out tonight? Doing one of those speed date things again?”

“I am not. And that was speed dating for single knitters…and I didn’t even go,” Lucy corrected her.

“Well…something’s up,” Phoebe countered. “Hair product, perfume,” she added, moving close enough to sniff. “And the icing on the cake, a push-up bra.”

“I am not wearing a push-up bra. I don’t even own one.”

Lucy realized Phoebe was just not used to seeing her in a real bra. Most of her lingerie—comfort fit from Target—looked like an Ace bandage wrapped around her breasts.

“Okay, if you say so,” Phoebe tartly conceded. “I still say something’s up…besides your chest, Lucy.”

“Phoebe, give the poor woman a break,” Maggie interrupted. “Can’t she put on some perfume without getting the third degree?”

Now she was looking at Lucy, too.

“Does it smell too strong?” Lucy tried to smell herself, which was fairly impossible.

Had she seemed this obvious to Matt? Maybe he’d thought she was going out on a date after visiting Tink?

“I get it.” Phoebe nodded, the lock of magenta in her dark hair bobbing up and down. “It’s the veterinarian. The one taking care of your dog. Right?”

Maggie looked at Lucy with interest. She and Phoebe were both staring at her now and Lucy just nodded.

“Okay. I’m busted. It’s the vet.”

“I knew it. I could tell when you mentioned him the other night. Dana said he was cute and you didn’t say anything. I just knew from the look on your face,” Phoebe said.

“Pretty good, maybe you should be helping the police with their murder investigation,” Lucy granted her. She sat down in an armchair, feeling found out. It was actually a relief. “Do I really have on too much perfume? I hate that.”

“After what he smells all day, I don’t think you need to worry about it,” Maggie told her.