Yarn to Go (23 page)

Seeing it close up, the strip of different stitches that had been added to each end in what seemed like a slightly different shade of the same color was more obvious. “Why would you want to change a shawl that you wore all the time? Unless something happened to it, like it got ripped. You must have wanted to fix it, but when you went to buy more yarn it was from a different dye lot, and the color wasn’t quite the same. So, you added it to both ends, thinking it would look planned and no one would notice.”

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing. There isn’t any crime in changing my shawl.” She held out her hand and asked for it back. When I didn’t give it up, she moved toward me.

“You’re right, there is no crime in adding onto your shawl. But the question is, what happened to it?” I had it clutched under my arm now. I know that I should have stopped talking, but I was so proud of how I put all the pieces together, I wanted to show her I knew what she had done.

“Maybe someone tried to grab onto it before she was pushed off a cliff. Someone who was found with some off-white yarn still clutched in her hand. Amanda Proctor wasn’t really knitting when she went for that last walk along the water, was she?”

It was as if a shade had passed over Kris’s face and all the sunny perkiness had been replaced by a hard, somber expression.

“You don’t understand. I was just going to talk to Amanda. She kept stepping backward, I tried to warn her, but she took a wrong step. I reached out to grab her, and she grasped onto my shawl. It ripped away before I could do anything, and she fell.”

I didn’t bother to bring up the fact that she hadn’t gone for help. “What is it that you were talking about?” I said. “Maybe something about Retreat in a Box?” I knew by Kris’s look of consternation that I was right. I mentioned finding the flash drive in my aunt’s box of papers, and that I hadn’t realized what it was at first. “I didn’t get what
RIB Test
meant at first, but when I checked it again, I saw there was another file on the drive. When I opened it, there was a note to my aunt from Amanda about the test version of the program Amanda had written for their project, Retreat in a Box. RIB. She wanted Joan to try it out and give her feedback.” I looked directly at Kris. “There was no mention of you. When I went through some more of my aunt’s papers, I understood why.” I referred to the essay my aunt had written, which really was more like a mission statement for the Petit Retreats, and all her knitting notes, which made all the cryptic notations after the current group’s names make sense.

“Joan’s mission with the Petit Retreats was to give each of the participants a challenge and help them to meet it. With Amanda’s help she was going to take it to retail. Amanda was a computer programmer and must have worked with Joan to develop the software. All those kits you brought to the first workshop weren’t designed by you. Joan was the one who wrote the questionnaire and then used the information to come up with a project for each of the retreaters.”

Kris shook her head in consternation. “We were supposed to be partners. Amanda, Joan and me. But when Amanda figured out that the whole Retreat in a Box thing was based on Joan’s work, she wanted to cut me out.” Kris looked at me for understanding. “Joan was fine with me being a partner and the front person.”

I knew Kris was probably right about that. Joan was a generous soul. Before I could ask what happened, Kris continued. It was as if she’d been holding in all in and now it erupted.

“Amanda didn’t understand. Joan wanted me to take the credit for the individualized projects. She told me to use the idea in other classes I taught. She even let me use the questionnaire she’d written. As for the Petit Retreats, she did all the behind-the-scenes work, but she thought it added to my cachet as a master teacher to let the retreaters think it was me. Joan liked to take part in the weekend with the other retreaters and made up her own.”

Kris’s voice grew in intensity. “Joan didn’t want to be the face of Retreat in a Box. She thought having the former Tidy Soft toilet paper lady touting a yarn concept would seem weird anyway. Besides, I’m the one who had written patterns for yarn companies. I’m the one known as a master teacher around the Bay Area. I just wanted to explain that all to Amanda.”

I took out the auto club card from my pocket and showed it to her. She didn’t seem to make any connection with it.

“Joan was so good to you. Why did you kill her?”

The direct accusation caught her off guard, and she sputtered something about me being ridiculous.

“What did you do? Maybe call my aunt early that morning and tell her your car broke down and you didn’t have an auto club card? And Joan being the sweetheart she was, she probably told you that she’d walk right over since it was only a few blocks from her house and she’d let you use her AAA membership.”

“That’s just ridiculous. I was as brokenhearted about your aunt’s accident as anyone else. I was nowhere near Cadbury that day.” She let out a huffy sound to punctuate the absurdity of what I’d said. “And I can prove it, not that I need to. I was in a silly accident in Seaside. My car rolled into a fast-food restaurant. Nobody was hurt, but my poor SUV.” She took another step toward me, reaching again for the shawl, but I pulled it closer to me and moved away from her.

“That was just your way of covering up the damage from the hit-and-run you staged when my aunt showed up. You thought my aunt would call the auto club when she got to you, but Joan called it in before she left her house.” All my telephone work for Frank had come in handy, and I’d been able to talk my way into getting the information I needed. “They asked for the license number of your car. Since Joan didn’t have that or even the make, she gave them something else. The notes on the order gave the location and said the vehicle was a white SUV with a hand-painted design on the back window of a ball of yarn with the needles sticking out of it and KWRBK beneath it.”

Kris swallowed hard at that bit of information, and I continued. “I can’t imagine you would want to kill my aunt. What happened, did she figure out you were involved with Amanda’s death?”

“I told her it was an accident, but she wouldn’t let up. She wanted me to go to the cops and tell them what happened. We arranged to meet that morning. She said she would go with me for moral support. Though Joan never said it exactly, I knew she was going to tell the police if I didn’t.” Kris shook her head in dismay. “Why not just leave things as they were? It wasn’t going to bring Amanda back.”

“And it was going to land you in trouble. Because even if it was an accident, you didn’t go for help. You left her there to die.”

Kris gazed at the floor, and her body slumped. “If only I had called 911.” Her regret sounded genuine.

She glanced up and regarded me directly. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. All I could think of was that taking Retreat in a Box to retail was going to save me. I’m a single mother with no child support and two teenage kids. They need clothes, food and college. You don’t get rich giving knitting classes. I couldn’t let Amanda cut me out. And Joan didn’t understand. Even if the police believed Amanda’s fall was accidental, I would have gotten in trouble for not reporting it, for leaving her there.”

“So then you ended up the sole partner,” I said.

“Maybe I did, but the work Amanda and Joan had done was only a beginning. I took the concept to the yarn company I have a connection with. They redid the whole program and simplified Joan’s concept, along with making all the instructional videos. Even so, I was planning to give some of the money to Amanda’s family and, of course, to you.”

I noticed a change in Kris. It was as though she’d made some kind of internal decision. Was she going to let it all out and give herself up?

“Edie had the old retreat photos on her cell phone, and when she compared it with the new photo she took of all of us, she noticed the difference in the shawl. That woman didn’t miss a thing. She kept asking and asking me about it. Why had I made the change in the shawl I had said was my favorite? She guessed that it had gotten damaged somehow and then wanted to know what had happened. She was relentless. I made something up, but she poked holes in it and kept insisting on knowing the real story. When she brought up Amanda and the yarn in her hand, I had to do something.

“I thought the combination of the sleeping pills and the wine would shut Edie off for good. Accomplishing it was easy. I knew about Olivia’s sleeping pills and had no problem lifting her purse at dinner. While everybody was looking for it, I had it at my feet and was transferring the pills to my bag and one to Edie’s. Then I just said I’d found Olivia’s bag. And the wine? I suggested the toast to Joan’s memory. I had already crushed the pills when Kevin served the wine. I dropped the powder in my glass—”

“And you knocked over Edie’s glass and gave her yours to replace it,” I said, interrupting as I remembered the scene at the reception on the Lodge’s deck. Kris gave me a terse nod.

“I knew Edie always got two keys to her room, and I’d taken one during our first meeting. I just went to check to make sure the wine and pills had done their job. But Edie had thrown up and was still breathing. I panicked and shoved the pillow over her face to finish her off.

“As soon as I added the pillow into the mix, it no longer would pass as an accident. I got the double-pointed needles from your aunt’s and stuck them in Edie to make it look like it was the work of some kind of crazed knitter. I knew that Joan always left a key in the flower pot next to the door.”

So, she hadn’t been trying to frame me and apparently wasn’t even concerned with adding something with fingerprints. But I suspected that Kris had other motives for going to Joan’s. She probably had wanted to get the papers I’d seen that revealed that Joan was the real force behind Retreat in a Box. I realized if I hadn’t taken that fabric-covered box to my place, Kris would have taken it and I would never have known about her deception.

“I’ll take my shawl now,” she said, reaching out for it. It didn’t matter that she seemed to be ready to give herself up; the only hard evidence was the shawl, and I held it tighter.

I hadn’t noticed it at first but now realized that Kris had been stepping closer and closer to me as we talked. Instinctively, I’d moved back each time. Now when she moved closer, I felt a cool breeze and the metal frame of the open window against my back. Before I could react and move away, she lunged toward me.

“If you’re going to be that way,” Kris said, ripping the shawl from my arms with one hand and giving me a hard shove with the other.

There was no chance to grab onto anything, and I sailed out of the second-story window backward.

29

“AN AMBULANCE IS ON THE WAY.” I RECOGNIZED
the voice as Dane’s, but I was surrounded by darkness.

“Am I dead?” I said.

There was little surprised chuckle. “I’m pretty sure you’re not.”

“Then why can’t I see anything?” I said, feeling a little panicky. I remembered falling and trying to squeeze myself into a ball and brace myself for the impact, but then there was a blank. Maybe it was a good thing. Did I really want remember hitting the ground with a thud? I was afraid to move. I only felt a dull ache, but I was sure if I moved all my broken bones would scream out with pain.

“You might want to try opening your eyes.” Dane’s voice was bordering on the teasing tone he’d used when he drove by my house. He wouldn’t sound like that if I was in pieces, would he? I flickered my eyes then let them open fully and slowly moved my arms. There was no rip of pain. Instead I felt something soft. Dane was leaning over me, looking for damage. I saw the white undershirt and dark shirt and realized he was in uniform.

“This must be your lucky day.” Dane held out his hand for assistance and asked if I could sit up.

I felt a little light-headed but was able to maneuver myself up. “What the . . .” I said, glancing at my surroundings.

“Sunday afternoon is when they do all the maintenance around here, like changing out the old mattresses.” He showed me how they had been stacked three high next to each other, making a perfect landing spot for my backward dive.

“What are you doing here?” I said, swinging my feet over the side of the mattress pile.

“Cadbury PD got a call from Frank someone, who said he was some kind of detective and that you had worked for him and you might be in some kind of trouble.” He pointed toward the fence and the street beyond. His cruiser was parked at the curb. “I saw you coming out the window and jumped the fence, but it was too late to try to catch you. But thanks to these it was okay.” He gave the mattress a grateful thump. As he said that, what had happened before my fall came back to me.

“You have to stop Kris Garland.”

“That’s who did this to you?” The words were barely out of his mouth and he was off toward the front of the building. I didn’t see it, but I was sure his gun was drawn.

I felt better and made an effort to stand up. As I moved around and checked everything to make sure I was okay, I saw Kris about to come through the back door. She must have heard Dane come in the front and thought she’d get out the other way. She froze in the doorway when she saw me. I don’t think she’d expected to see me moving.

She clutched the shawl and her eyes had a panicked look.

Just then I noticed several deliverymen coming up the back path, each carrying a single-size mattress. “Stop her!” I yelled.

Both men had perplexed looks, but they didn’t stop to ask questions. The closest one rushed to the door and blocked her exit with the mattress. A moment later Dane came through the building and nabbed her.

Dane was able to call off the ambulance before it roared in and drew a lot of attention with its lights and siren. Since his cruiser was parked outside the grounds, the peace of Vista Del Mar hadn’t been broken. I told Dane a fast version of everything I’d learned and made sure he got the shawl as evidence. I told him they should check Kris’s suitcase for the clothes Kris had been wearing that first night. Even if she’d tried to rinse them out, there was probably still some residue of Edie’s throw up on them. I promised to stop by the police station and give Lieutenant Borgnine a complete statement.

“But for now, I have to get to my group,” I said, feeling a heavy heart at the news I was going to share.

I tried to straighten out my appearance as I walked up the path to our meeting room. It seemed as though almost everyone but our group had left the hotel and conference center, and the walkway was empty. My heart had started thumping again as I tried to think of how I could possibly make this weekend turn out okay now.

Lunch had ended, and everyone but Kris had gone directly to the Cypress meeting room. They were all working on their projects when I walked in. Melissa glanced up, and when she saw it was me, seemed concerned. “Kris isn’t here yet. I can’t imagine what’s keeping her. She knows this is our last time together.”

“She’s not going to be able to make the workshop,” I said in the understatement of the century. Everyone looked up suddenly, and I had their rapt attention.

“Is she all right?” Lucinda asked.

“Not exactly,” I began. As I told them all that Kris had done, I noticed they seemed to huddle closer. When I got to my trip out the window, Lucinda flew out of her seat and rushed up to hug me and to examine me for damage. She found a nasty-looking bruise on the back of my arm, and I suspected there was a nice big one on my butt, too.

There was a long moment of silence as they dealt with the shock that their wonderful master teacher was a serial murderer. Then they looked at me with a bit of awe.

“You did it! You really did it,” my friend said, starting to give me a pat on the back and then, realizing it might hurt, changed it to a soft touch. “You solved Edie’s murder, your aunt’s hit-and-run, and Amanda’s supposed slip off the rocks.” The group broke into spontaneous applause. I felt myself blushing as I took a mock bow.

“Thank heavens you’re okay,” Melissa said in a motherly tone. “I’m so shocked about Kris. It doesn’t seem possible that she killed three people. And to think I was letting her give me advice on how to get along with my daughter.” Melissa leaned in to Sissy and gave her a warm hug and kissed her on the cheek. “I know we fuss, but you have to know that I really love you and think you’re wonderful.”

Sissy’s eyes filled with tears as she hugged her mother back. “You are the best mother in the world,” she said. The mother and daughter showed off their projects to each other. I held my breath, wondering if Melissa would start critiquing her daughter’s work, but instead she said she was doing a great job with the cables.

It was odd, but somehow the whole thing with Kris made everyone want to hug each other and say how much this time together meant to them. Lucinda waved the scarf she was making to show off that she had mastered the seed stitch. “I’ve gotten over my fear of purling,” she said.

Now that we knew Olivia’s problem, she got a group hug, along with a reassurance that she would get past her pain. “I know I wasn’t very pleasant all weekend. Thank you all for including me anyway. Having this retreat really did help,” Olivia said, giving us her first happy smile.

“And you will start a whole new chapter in your life. Believe me, I know about that,” Lucinda said. I was glad she left it at that and didn’t mention any of the pitfalls she had encountered.

Bree looked at her silent cell phone on the table and put it away. “This weekend has changed my life. I spend so much time with my kids or thinking about them, I forgot how to be by myself. Even staying in the room alone was good.” She glanced down at the floor. “I know it sounds corny, but I got to know myself again.” She held up the sari yarn scarf with all of its bright colors. “I wish I could have met Joan and thanked her for figuring out just the kind of project I needed to make. No computer program is ever going to be able to put in that human touch.”

Only Scott still held back. He hadn’t stopped knitting and was listening to all that was going on but hadn’t shown any reaction. I’m sure Joan hadn’t always had a one hundred percent success rate.

“What about you?” Bree said, looking toward the spot where my work still sat. I fingered the swatches I’d made and the rows of the scarf I’d done. I felt my eyes fill with water now that I realized it had been Joan all along who had made up the project for me. I let out a big sigh as I picked up my project and began to work my needles. “I’m going to finish this in my aunt’s memory.” As I said it, I was really hoping it was going to be true. There seemed to be so much knitting to do.

For the rest of the workshop, we all focused on our work and enjoyed the comfort of being together.

There was another round of hugs at the end as everyone went back to their rooms for the last time and I headed across the street to the guesthouse. Well, I’d done it. I had stayed to the very end. I had finished something. While the group packed up their things and checked out, I made a quick trip to downtown Cadbury and stopped in at the police station. Lieutenant Borgnine was waiting for me.

As I followed him to his office, I glanced toward a hallway in the back. I’d never been back there but assumed that was where they had a jail cell. He saw where I was looking. “We’re holding her on suspicion of attempted murder. She pushed you out the window, right?” I nodded, and he offered me a seat. He took out a pen and began to write as I told him the whole story.

“You should compare the yarn in the main part of Kris Garland’s shawl with the yarn Amanda Proctor was holding. I’m sure the fibers will match,” I said.

“Ms. Feldstein, I know how to handle an investigation without any help,” Lieutenant Borgnine said in a growly tone that matched his bulldog looks.

“What about Edie’s husband and that guy Michael? You should let them go now that it’s obvious neither one of them killed Edie,” I said. The lieutenant appeared even more irritated.

“Not that I have to tell you, but they have both been released.” Lieutenant Borgnine stood up.

He was true to his word. He did know how to run an investigation. They did still have the yarn from Amanda’s fall in their evidence file. As I had predicted, the fibers did match, but there was no way to know for sure if Kris had pushed her or Amanda had really slipped in the midst of their argument, so Kris was charged with manslaughter for Amanda’s death. The information I’d gotten from the auto club was enough reason for the cops to impound Kris’s SUV as evidence. Even though she’d staged the accident to cover up any damage done when she hit my aunt, the cops found a strand of Joan’s hair still sticking to the undercarriage. Again, there was no way to prove that it was premeditated, so she was charged with vehicular manslaughter.

Kris had been very careful in Edie’s murder. She’d wiped the door handle clean, along with the needles she taken from my aunt’s, so there were no prints, which meant all my worry and glass breaking was for nothing. But she hadn’t wiped down Edie’s second key before hanging it back in at the Lodge. And even though she’d tried to wash the throw up off her clothes, there was still some residue. The DA charged her with first-degree murder on that one. And finally, she was charged with attempted murder for my fall out the window.

She was moved to a prison to await trial. Any way you looked at it, she was going to be spending a long time in jail. The story was all over the Internet with headlines like
Master Teacher Masterminds Murders, Knitter is Needled to Death
and
Acclaimed Knitting Teacher is Serial Killer
.

Once the yarn company that was putting out the Retreat in a Box kiosks found out that Kris had stolen the idea from my aunt, they took her name off and called it Joan Stone’s Retreat in a Box instead. They even offered to pay me the royalties due my aunt. I was glad for the extra income, but I felt bad for Kris’s kids since they were just innocent bystanders, so I split the money with them.

But all of that was still to happen when Lieutenant Borgnine walked me to the front of the Cadbury police station and held the door open. “You’re free to leave the area now,” he said. Something in his tone made me believe he hoped I’d make a fast departure.

I drove home and went inside the guesthouse, knowing I couldn’t put off packing my bag any longer. Sammy and my parents had no idea what had happened. They had just left me several messages on my cell phone, telling me what time they’d pick me up. There would be plenty of time to tell them about my afternoon on the trip back to Chicago. I tried to get myself excited about Paris and cooking school and wearing a starched white coat with my name embroidered on it.

I looked around my tiny abode, wondering why I seemed to be stalling. Wasn’t this what I did best? Living my life as if everything was just a temporary arrangement before moving on? Why was I feeling such a bittersweet tug? I picked up the red fabric-covered box and held it close to me. I had taken out what Kevin really wanted, my aunt’s list of previous clients and the file with retreat ideas. I knew Kevin was probably salivating behind the registration desk, waiting to get his hands on them. I don’t know why, but I didn’t want to leave them for him to find. I wanted to actually hand them over to him.

I picked up the file of papers and a set of keys and headed toward the door. I went across the street and up the driveway into Vista Del Mar. My retreat group was standing together outside the Lodge building waiting for the van to take some of them to the airport.

When I saw Scott, I stopped in surprise. He was back in his business attire of a sports jacket over slacks, and his briefcase was at his feet. But there he was in public with the giant red knitting needles, knitting as they waited. When one of the women who worked in the gift shop walked out, he held his hands high to make sure she saw.