Road Trip (9 page)

10

After the morning masters’ classes, Kate walked aimlessly through the crowd in the vendors’ hall. Now and then, a really lovely crocheted sweater or vest on one of the women would catch her eye, but mostly Kate’s mind wandered. No matter how hard she tried to relax and enjoy the conference, her thoughts kept slipping back to the horror of the morning. She couldn’t believe Stella actually said they should spend more time getting involved with that kind of terrible experience.

When Kate realized she’d once again let her thoughts slip back to the morning, she gave herself a little mental shake. She wondered if it was too early in the day to call her in-laws and check on Vanessa. She was sure that talking to her daughter would make her feel better. There was nothing like a drama-filled chat with a teenager to cut through any adult self-indulgence.

“Mrs. Stevens!”

Kate turned quickly to see the police detective from the morning weaving through the crowd. If anything, his hair stood up even more wildly than the last time she saw him. The detective moved quickly, and Kate had to fight the urge to turn and run.
I haven’t done anything wrong
, she told herself firmly.
I need to stop acting so silly. What is it about the police that always make a person feel vaguely guilty?

Detective Matthews slowed as he reached her. For a moment, he just looked at her with a charming crooked smile. Kate fought the urge to reach up and feel if she had food or something stuck to her face.
What is he looking at?
“Detective Matthews,” she said with what she hoped was a cool nod rather than a nervous twitch.

“Are you enjoying your visit to Texas?” he asked.

“Well, the murder wasn’t a high point,” she said dryly, and then nearly clamped her hand over her mouth. She certainly knew better than to give a police detective a smart answer. “I mean, I’m enjoying the conference other than that. Which is sad. Even though I don’t know anything about it. The murder that is. I know a good bit about the conference, though not as much as Mary Beth.”

The smile on the detective’s face grew wider as she babbled. She stopped and took a deep breath. “Can I do anything for you, Detective?”

The question seemed to surprise him, and for a moment, his eyes twinkled with something she might have thought was mischief. Then he looked unsure. “I was wondering … have you or your friends thought of anything you might have forgotten to tell me? Or have you seen anything unusual since then?”

Kate felt a jolt of panic. Why was he asking that? Did he think they were hiding something? Was Stella right? Did the detective really think they were involved in the poor man’s murder?

She wasn’t certain what she should say. Would telling him about Stella’s determination to
help
the investigation make them look more innocent or guilty? She certainly didn’t want to lie to a police detective. “Well, we didn’t exactly come here to solve a crime,” she said honestly. “We have workshops to go to. And I have the whole fashion show thing. And there are
so many
great vendors to see.” She recognized the she was babbling again and snapped her mouth shut.

“Fashion show?” he asked. “Are you going to be a model in a fashion show?”

“Oh no, not me,” she said.
Why had she mentioned the fashion show? She certainly didn’t want to talk about the fashion show.
“Annie is going to be in the show. But I made the dress that she’ll be wearing. So I have to be there, and maybe my dress will win a prize. Though probably not.”

“You sew?” he asked.

Why should he care if I sew? Surely there isn’t any sewing clue about the murder?
“A little,” she said. “Mostly I crochet.”

He nodded. They both seemed to have run out of things to say and an awkward silence hung between them. Finally Kate couldn’t stand it. “Well, I’m sure you have lots of detecting to do,” she said.

“I was just wondering,” he said at nearly the same time. They both paused again and sorted out what the other had just said.

“Wondering what?” she asked.

“Well, maybe we could get a cup of coffee,” he said. When she looked shocked, he quickly added, “To go over your answers from this morning.”

He suspects me!
Kate felt such a jolt of panic, she felt the room spin a little. “Um, I would,” she said, “but I promised Mary Beth that I would meet her at the vendor booths.” Then she felt more panicky. She’d just lied to a police detective. She was going to prison for sure. Plus, she had watched plenty of crime shows on television. She knew that he’d just drag her off for questioning anyway.

“Oh,” he said, looking disappointed. “OK. But if you think of anything at all, be sure to call me. Do you still have my card?”

Kate nodded mutely, relief making her feel shaky.

“Good, good. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

She nodded again. He was practically telling her that he was going to be keeping an eye on her. She was a suspect. How could
she
be a suspect? “OK, I have to go,” she whispered.

“OK,” he said, though his tone didn’t make it sound like he really thought it was OK. “You have a nice day.”

She turned and practically ran toward the vendor hall. It looked like Stella was right. They’d better solve this mystery before she was arrested for sure. Just outside the door of the vendor hall, Kate practically ran over Annie.

“Are you all right?” Annie asked, concern written all over her face.

“Not really,” Kate admitted. “I just ran into that police detective. He asked me more questions, and he was acting very odd. I think he suspects me.”

“Suspects you?” Annie echoed. “You mean suspects you of having something to do with that man’s death?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but he wanted to question me more,” Kate said. “Has he asked you more questions?”

Annie shook her head. “I haven’t seen him. But I do have some news. Maybe we should find Stella and Mary Beth. We all need to talk.”

They walked into the large room where the vendors were located. Beautiful skeins of wool in amazing colors and textures draped from displays on most of the booths. Sprinkled between the yarn booths and knitting-machine booths were vendors focused on other needle arts or on related products.

In front of nearly every display, clusters of women looked at the products admiringly. Kate looked at each group as they walked down the rows. All the women seemed so happy.
If it weren’t for this horrible crime
, Kate thought,
I’d look like that too.

“I’m starting to not like mysteries so much anymore,” Kate said.

Annie looked over at her. “I really don’t think you have anything to worry about,” she said. “I can’t imagine that anyone could seriously consider you a suspect.”

“You didn’t see how that detective looked at me,” Kate said. “He just studied me like he was trying to figure something out.”

“That just makes no sense,” Annie said again.

Finally they spotted Mary Beth and Stella standing in front of one booth where a young woman was spinning raw wool into yarn with a hand spindle. Mary Beth spotted them approaching. “Kate—Annie,” she called. “You must come and meet the people from The Two Ewe Spinnery. A Stitch in Time has done very well with their yarn. It’s become a tourist favorite.”

“What beautiful yarn,” Annie said. “I hate to drag you away, Mary Beth and Stella, but we really need to talk to you.”

Stella turned sharply from where she was looking at a particularly lovely ball of gray yarn. She looked intently as Annie and Kate. “Are you feeling all right, Kate?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” Kate said quietly.

Mary Beth turned back to the women in the booth. “I’ll catch back up with you later,” she said. “I want to talk about expanding the selection we carry.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” said the round-faced woman behind the table.

Mary Beth herded them all toward the door. “You two look like you’re bursting with things to say,” she said. “Should we find somewhere really private, or do you think the restaurant will do? I know I’m starving. Those continental breakfasts never stay with me.”

“The restaurant should be fine,” Kate said.

As soon as they got back out into the main flow of people, Kate watched sharply for the police detective. She expected him to pop up at any moment and declare her under arrest. She knew Annie didn’t take the idea seriously, but Annie hadn’t seen the detective’s intense expression.

When they were finally seated in the restaurant, Kate wasn’t sure she could eat anything. Her stomach was in knots. She ordered a cup of hot tea and hoped she’d find it calming. Hot tea always reminded her of Betsy Holden who practically treated it like medicine. “Hot sweet tea is like a hug in a mug,” Betsy told her once. The memory made Kate smile slightly.

“OK,” Mary Beth said. “You both look as if you could pop, what’s happened?”

Annie looked at Kate. “Do you want to go first or shall I?”

“I will.” Kate took a long sip of her tea, and then said, “I saw the police detective this morning. He said he had more questions for me. He tried to get me to go have coffee with him.”

“He
tried
?” Mary Beth said. “You didn’t go?”

“No, I told him I had to meet you.”

“And he didn’t insist?” Mary Beth said.

Kate shook her head. “He seemed a little disappointed, and I sure thought he would insist. The police always do on television. I thought he’d threaten to take me ‘downtown.’ Maybe they don’t have a downtown around here?”

“I am sure the police have a station here,” Stella said dryly. “So, if the detective had questions, why didn’t he insist?”

Mary Beth smiled. “Because I don’t think he really had
those kinds
of questions.”

“I don’t understand,” Kate said.

“Am I the only one who noticed how attentive he was to Kate this morning?” Mary Beth asked. “And he kept her twice as long as the rest of us.”

“Yes, which is proof,” Kate said with a small moan. “He thinks I’m a killer.”

Mary Beth and Annie exchanged a look and both smiled.

“I don’t see anything funny here,” Kate said. She couldn’t believe her friends thought it was funny that she was a suspect.

“Kate, dear, you’re a very lovely woman,” Mary Beth said. “And I happened to notice the detective doesn’t wear a wedding ring. I think he
likes
you.”

“No … ,” Kate said slowly.

“I think Mary Beth is right,” Annie said. “But we
are
going to need to talk to the detective.”

“About what?” Stella asked.

“I met Max Lessing’s girlfriend,” Annie said. “Actually, I met her last night at the fashion show rehearsal, but I only found out she was his girlfriend today. Unfortunately, I had to break the news to her. She’s going to call the detective.”

“Oh, that’s terrible,” Mary Beth said. “The poor girl must have been distraught.”

“She was,” Annie said. “They’d been having troubles, and she even broke up with him last night. I think that weighs heavily on her today.”

“Maybe she’s feeling guilty about more than the breakup,” Stella said. “Maybe she’s feeling guilty about the murder.”

“We really don’t even know that the poor man was murdered,” Mary Beth said.

“The police detective is still skulking around here,” Stella said as if that settled the argument entirely.

“I really don’t think the girl I met is a murderer,” Annie said. “And I don’t know how she could do much damage to a great big man like Max Lessing. She was thin as a rail.”

“We don’t know how the victim died,” Stella reminded them. “She could have poisoned him. That doesn’t take a lot of muscle.”

Annie shook her head. “I really don’t think she’s a likely suspect.”

“Well, we have others,” Stella said. “What about that strange little man with the mustache? I found him decidedly suspicious.”

Mary Beth shook her head. “That’s just because he hit on you.”

Stella’s face wrinkled in distaste. “I particularly dislike slang sometimes. That man’s silly flattery certainly wasn’t much of a hit with me.”

“I dunno,” Mary Beth said. “He seemed to be trying pretty hard.”

The women were distracted as someone walked briskly up to their table. To their combined shock, it was the very man in question. “Excuse me, ladies,” the man said nervously. “May I have a moment of your time?”

“We’re trying to have lunch,” Stella said dismissively.

To Stella’s obvious horror, Mr. Harvester simply pulled out the empty chair next to her and sat down. “I really must ask about the attempted theft of Elizabeth’s art,” he said. “I heard you all went into the display room. Was anything lost or damaged?”

“I don’t see where it’s your concern,” Stella said.

“Elizabeth was my very good friend,” Mr. Harvester said. “And her art was very important to her. It’s very important to everyone who … loved her. Please, was anything damaged?”

“No, nothing in the display was disturbed,” Annie said. “I believe one of the pillows Gram stitched was on the floor, but it didn’t look damaged at all. I didn’t pick it up though.”

The man looked at her intently. “And the portrait? It was intact?”

Annie nodded. “It looked fine.”

“Oh, that’s good,” he said, relief making him nearly collapse in his chair. “I was so worried.”

“Why?” Stella demanded. “Why would you be worried about a portrait that has nothing to do with you?”

“That portrait has something to do with everyone who admired Elizabeth,” the man said firmly.

Annie reached out and patted the distraught man’s arm. “Mr. Harvester, could you tell me exactly how you knew my grandmother?”

The man turned his eyes away from Stella and seemed to calm down a bit. “It was my wife actually who first contacted Elizabeth Holden. My wife was like that. Whenever something gave her joy, she’d write a letter about it. She wrote letters to movie producers, for heaven’s sake.” He chuckled a little at the memory. “She often said that letter writing was a way of sending a little bit of yourself to someone else. And she often received replies. Those always made her so happy.”