A Dark and Stormy Knit (Black Sheep Knitting Mystery) (19 page)

Maggie did. And was reminded again that Charlotte’s background was a lot like Phoebe’s. That must have been another reason the young women were drawn to each other. And part of the reason Phoebe remained so loyal to her?

“I’d been wondering about that,” Dana said. “I mean, no one’s mentioned any parents or family members coming to Plum Harbor to talk to the police. The girl has been missing several days now. Her father must have been contacted. He must be dealing with investigators by phone.”

“Probably. Maybe they’ve told him there’s nothing he can
really do here,” Maggie said. Though if it had been her child, she would have come anyway. “Unless Charlotte’s been in touch with him and he knows that she’s safe,” she added.

Dana nodded. “That could be. I never thought of it.”

“But let’s get back to the murder,” Lucy said suddenly. “Forgetting about the money a minute, we had that theory that the Knit Kats were jealous because Charlotte’s work was featured in the art show while theirs was rejected. But that’s such a lame motive. Even for a crazy knitting group. There must have been something else, some serious disagreement between all of them. Or maybe Charlotte knew some damaging information about the Knit Kats and they wanted to keep her quiet . . .”

“But ended up silencing poor Beth instead,” Suzanne finished for her.

“Yes, poor Beth. Jack heard that her body was released today. Her parents took her back to Maine for the funeral. I feel so bad for them,” Dana added.

“It’s a parent’s worst nightmare, no question,” Maggie replied quietly. “I know that we don’t know her or the family, but perhaps we should send flowers or something?”

She wasn’t sure how this idea would go over with her friends. She didn’t want to seem intrusive to the Shelton family. But she did want to reach out to them in some way.

“That’s a good idea, Maggie. I was going to send something myself.” Phoebe glanced at her friends. “I could find out the information and send flowers from all of us.”

Everyone nodded and thanked her for taking care of it. “Just let us know our share, and we’ll all chip in,” Lucy said finally, mindful of Phoebe’s tight student budget.

Phoebe agreed. Maggie was glad it was settled. If only they could figure out the rest of this puzzle so easily.

“So, getting back to figuring out why poor Beth lost her life,” Lucy continued, “we were saying that perhaps Charlotte knew something damaging about the Knit Kats and they wanted to silence her but killed Beth instead.”

“Something that ties in with that knapsack of money,” Suzanne added. “Fifty grand can buy a lot of cat chow.”

Phoebe shook her head. “Do you really think they’re that awful? You guys make those Knit Kats sound so scary . . . like a witches’ coven.”

“A sinister sisterhood?” Maggie asked.

“Good one, Mag. I like it.” Suzanne looked up and nodded.

“ ‘Mocking the meters’ is still my favorite,” Lucy noted. “But ‘sinister sisterhood’ is right up there.”

Maggie laughed. “Thank you, ladies. I’ll save it for my next interview. Clever turns of phrase aside, I agree with Suzanne. Maybe that’s how the money ties in.”

Suzanne had started a pair of Eleanor Roosevelt mittens, Maggie noticed, and was checking the stitching. “Absolutely. We can’t just ignore all that loot, girls.”

“Right, there must be some connection between Charlotte’s stash of cash and this mess. It’s just so hard to connect the dots . . . and it’s time for dinner,” Lucy said as she headed back to the kitchen.

Lucy had set up a buffet on the countertop in her kitchen. The cottage didn’t have a dining room, and the kitchen was too small to fit everyone around the table. She’d made an interesting dish, mixing oven-roasted zucchini and grape tomatoes with grilled shrimp, pasta, and a touch of pesto—though she
had thoughtfully set it out separately to accommodate her friends who might be dieting or gluten-free and skipping the pasta.

Maggie’s nutrition priorities fell in neither category. She had skipped lunch and helped herself to a generous portion.

“Mmm . . . this is yummy.” Suzanne was the first to praise the recipe. “You’re a good cook, Lucy. I hope Matt appreciates that,” she added with a sly glance.

“He does . . . don’t worry. Though we’ve both put on a few pounds since we started living together.”

“That’s what happened to me and Kevin. Then once we got engaged and set the date, I had to practically kill myself to look good at the wedding.” Suzanne laughed, remembering—until Dana gave her a look and she suddenly seemed self-conscious. A rare moment, but it did happen, Maggie noted.

“You’re comfortable together. That’s good,” Dana said simply.

Maggie knew she and her friends were all thinking the same thing: Lucy and Matt had been living together for almost a year and dating for even longer than that. Wasn’t it time for the relationship to move on to the next level?

“I’m not saying you and Matt have to get engaged, Lucy,” Suzanne clarified. “I was just telling a story. I guess with Valentine’s Day coming, you’re feeling the pressure, right?”

Now Suzanne was trying to get all sympathetic and therapeutic. Maggie practically groaned aloud. The first faux pas was bad enough.

Lucy looked up from her dish, seeming surprised. “Um . . . no.”

“Good. That’s very good,” Dana said quickly, beating
Suzanne to the punch. “These holidays are so commercialized. They make everyone think they have to feel a certain way on some certain day. And it just isn’t so.”

“Dana’s right. You guys seem totally happy. You’ve both been down this road before, too. Just go at your own pace.” Suzanne waved her hand in a sort of blessing. She tasted another forkful, then said, “But don’t drag it out too long. That’s my advice. I’ve seen couples just wait soooo long, it’s not fun and romantic anymore. Everything has cooled off, like a piece of leftover toast. All the butter congealed and everything. Yuck.” She shivered and shook her head. “You should definitely get married before the cold-toast stage sets in. Then he can’t wriggle out of it so easily . . .”

“Suzanne! What are you talking about?” Dana put her dish down on the coffee table and dabbed her mouth with a napkin.

“I think you’ve given Lucy enough relationship advice for one night,” Maggie cut in. She glanced at Lucy. Luckily, she was laughing.

“That’s all right, Suzanne. I know you only say such bizarre things because you care,” Lucy said kindly.

Suzanne shrugged and gazed around at the circle of friends. “What’s the matter? What did I say?” she insisted. “I think she has to give Dr. Dolittle a little push in the right direction, that’s all. Hey, nothing says ‘Be My Valentine’ like a diamond solitaire. Believe me.”

Maggie knew Lucy didn’t like diamonds. She thought they were cold. She preferred colored stones like rubies or sapphires, but she didn’t bother to correct Suzanne—though Maggie did hope Matt knew his beloved’s jewelry preferences
by now. Perhaps he would secretly consult her good friends when the time came?

Now you’re getting as bad as Suzanne. And Lucy’s face was beet-red, Maggie noticed. Not from cooking, either.

“Speaking of Valentine’s Day . . . has anyone finished their projects?” Maggie gazed around at the group, hoping to change the subject.

“I’m almost done with a bear. I just have to make her arms . . . and stuff her up.” Dana held up the knitting and arranged it so everyone could get an idea. Even without the filling, the toy was adorable and had come out very well, Maggie thought. “I have some white voile ribbon. I’m going to give her a big bow and sew on some eyes and a nose. In white yarn, or a different shade of pink. Though the pattern shows black.”

“I think you should stitch a little heart on her chest, to make her a real Valentine’s bear,” Phoebe suggested.

“Good idea. That will be perfect.” Dana slipped on her glasses. “This was a quickie. I might make another. But I’m making ear warmers for Jack first. He can wear them when he plays golf in the winter . . .” Dana’s phone sounded with a musical ringtone. She dug into her purse and checked the number.

“Speaking of my husband’s ears, they must have been ringing,” she murmured just before she pressed the phone to her own ear. “Hi, honey . . . what’s up?” she greeted him cheerfully.

Dana’s expression suddenly flipped from warm and relaxed to surprised and excited. Maggie wondered what news had penetrated her typically unshakable calm.

“Really? . . . Wow . . . We’ll put it on right now. Talk to you later.”

She looked over at her friends, her blue eyes wide as saucers as she put her phone down. “The police have taken Sonya Finch in for questioning. It’s on the news right now. They think she’s connected to the Knit Kats.”

“Sonya Finch is a Knit Kat? I knew it!” Suzanne dropped her knitting and tossed her hands in the air.

“The thought crossed my mind . . . but I found just as many reasons to dismiss it,” Maggie admitted.

Lucy led the way to the family room and grabbed the remote. “Is it channel 25?”

“
News Alive 25!
” Dana said, finishing the jingle. “Maybe we’ll even get to see Chelsea Porter again.”

“Won’t that be a treat,” Maggie said drily.

She and Phoebe straggled behind a bit. Maggie quietly considered the update for a moment.

“For some strange reason, I’m not that surprised. Though when she came to the shop, Professor Finch claimed she barely knows how to knit,” Maggie told her friends.

Phoebe, however, was definitely surprised. “She acted as if she didn’t know anything about the Knit Kats. As if she didn’t even know their name. And she asked me like a million questions.”

“I noticed that, too. She was fishing for information, obviously. Trying to figure out what you’d told the police and if she was going to be picked up next,” Maggie said succinctly.

“Yeah . . . that was the only reason she stopped by, to snoop,” Phoebe added sharply. “What a big phony.”

“If it’s any consolation, Phoebe, I went for the bait, too,” Maggie told her honestly. “Looks like there’s more bad publicity for Whitaker College and the art department. Unfortunately.”

The television was on by the time Maggie and Phoebe reached the family room, which was just off the kitchen. Maggie saw Chelsea Porter on the screen, front and center, and in the background, the big gray building at Whitaker College where they had visited the art exhibit . . . and chased Charlotte and Quentin through the maze of studios.

“. . . a possible break in the murder investigation of college student Beth Shelton. Police have begun searching the office and home of Professor Sonya Finch, a teacher here at Whitaker College. As seen in this video from earlier this evening, Professor Finch was escorted from her campus office by homicide detectives presiding over the case.”

The TV showed a distant shot of Sonya Finch, with a big hood pulled up over her white hair and most of her pretty face covered by a scarf. She left the art department building beside Detective Reyes and was helped into the back of a dark sedan by uniformed police officers.

“College officials were taken by surprise. We interviewed art department chairman Professor Alex Healey, who gave a statement to the media.”

Professor Healey suddenly appeared, a microphone thrust into his bearded face. He stood alone in the art gallery, where one of Charlotte’s pieces could be seen in the background. He looked nervous and tense, his face shining with sweat. Maggie noticed he wore the same tweed sports jacket he’d had on at the art exhibit opening, but this time it covered a plain cotton T-shirt. As if he’d been caught by surprise without his dress shirt and tie.

“We are shocked and saddened by the recent events off campus, the senseless murder of Beth Shelton,”
he said sincerely.
“Whitaker College is fully cooperating with the investigation. Professor Finch is cooperating as well, and hopes to help the police in any way that she can. We support her totally, and do not believe she has any connection to this heinous crime.”

Chelsea Porter returned to the screen.
“While Professor Finch is not charged with any crime, she has been deemed a person of interest in the case. Sources close to the investigation tell us that she is primarily being questioned in regard to her connection with the Knit Kats, an underground graffiti knitting group that has recently made its presence known in this area and may be involved in some way with this crime.”

Phoebe made a glum face. Maggie could tell she still felt annoyed at being “played” by the professor the other day. “Think of it this way, Phoebe. She was fishing, but you didn’t give her anything useful.”

Phoebe sighed. “I hope not.”

“. . . Police are releasing very little information due to the sensitive nature of this case. But you can see they are definitely gathering more evidence and clues . . .”
Chelsea stepped aside so that the cameraman could get a good shot of police officers marching in and out of the building, like a line of worker ants, Maggie thought.

Practically the same footage had been shown the night police searched Phoebe’s apartment. She hoped this time their efforts would yield solid information.

The news continued with other stories, and Lucy waved the remote and shut off the TV. “That is big news. I hope this lets you off the hook, Phoebe. It sounds like Sonya might be a real Knit Kat. Not just auditioning.”

“Maybe even the top Kat. The police will be much happier
with the real thing,” Suzanne agreed. “I wonder how they caught up with her. Maybe with more security video?”

“Jack heard there was more. But it was taking a long time to review. She must have been well disguised. She’s done it before and never gotten caught. But maybe her limp gave her away?” Dana added.

“That could very well be. The police may have questioned her early on and then someone recognized her on the video—her body type and uneven gait,” Maggie suggested.

“So if Sonya’s a Knit Kat, who do you think are the other two?” Dana asked.

“Good question,” Lucy replied. “I have an even better one. If Sonya was on the selection committee for that exhibit, why couldn’t she just pick the Knit Kats’ work for the show?”