Spin a Wicked Web (22 page)

"Even if she really did have the mechanical ability to damage
his vehicle, he was killed in his patrol car. It would have been awfully risky to sneak into the motor pool to do that."

I sniffed. "`Motor pool.' It's a parking lot behind the police station, Barr."

"Fenced off, with limited access," he said. "It still would have
been risky."

"Did he always drive the same car? Or do they switch around?"

Barr gave a facial shrug. "Same one. And he could have taken it
home, parked it in the driveway; many officers do. But he liked to
leave it at the station, and drove his truck to and from work."

I took another sip of Scotch and changed the subject. "So who
are the suspects in Ariel's murder?" I held up my hand and began
ticking them off on my fingers. "There's Chris."

"Alibi," Barr said.

"I know. But right now I'm focusing on who might have wanted
Ariel dead, not opportunity."

"What, you think someone hired it out?" he asked.

"How should I know? It's a possibility, isn't it?"

"Strangling someone with your yarn? Sounds more like a crime
of passion. Though you may be interested that the medical examiner told us Ariel was struck on the head with a blunt object before
she was strangled."

I perked up at that. "Really? Was she knocked unconscious?"

"Possibly, but probably not."

"But she might not have been able to fight back, at least not
much. Not that she was very big or strong to start with. So whoever
strangled her might not have been that strong, either."

"True. And please don't say anything to anyone about the blow
to the head. We're trying to keep that under wraps. 11

I nodded my agreement. "So anyway, we have Chris, because
Ariel was sleeping with her husband. And Irene, because Ariel was
sleeping with her son."

"Same alibi."

"Right. Then there's Felicia, because she thought Ariel was sleeping with her husband."

"But she wasn't?"

"Apparently not, according to Ruth and Lindsey."

"Okay."

"Then there's Zak," I said. "Because Ariel was sleeping with
Scott."

"At least Scott couldn't have done it," Barr said.

"But: Jake could have known about both Scott and Zak. He may
have been jealous."

"By giving Felicia an alibi, he's giving himself one."

"Exactly."

"Then there's Daphne, her roommate. Ariel owed her a bunch
of money, and it didn't look like she'd pay it back anytime soon.
Daphne wanted a new roommate right away," I said.

"That's really reaching, Sophie Mae."

"Yeah, probably."

"What about the brother?" he asked.

"I didn't get any idea that he had a motive. He adored his sister
and seems devastated by her death."

"His wife?"

"There was no love lost between Gabi and Ariel, but they live
awfully far away."

"It's only an hour drive."

He was right. Why did an hour's drive through the country
seem so much longer than the hour's drive to downtown Seattle?

"Okay, put her on the list," I said.

"The friend? Drucker? I'll tell Robin about her tomorrow, so
she can follow up"

I shook my head. "She may have more information to give you
about Ariel-she clammed up on me all of a sudden at the end of
my visit-but I don't see her as the murderer."

Barr took a sip of his drink. "Okay, who else?"

"I can't think of anyone. Can you?"

He sighed. "She'd dated several other men, some of whom
were married. But it was all awhile ago. You've hit the current
ones. There certainly do seem to be a lot of convenient alibis floating around."

"Somebody's lying," I said.

"Somebody always is.,,

"Well, this somebody's starving. Any chance you're going to
feed me anytime soon?"

He stood up and offered me his hand. "Come on, woman. Let's
get some victuals in you."

The tiny table in the kitchen was actually set with candles and
dishes that matched. It was still light outside, but Barr lit the tapers
anyway. Then he served shrimp scampi over rice with a simple
salad. It was delicious. He had the good sense to buy a ready-made
dessert, and the further good sense to make it cheesecake-only
my favorite sweet indulgence in the whole wide world. He garnished it with fresh raspberries. As night fell, we snuggled on the
sofa and watched an old black-and-white movie on TV.

I was giddy as a school girl on Valentine's Day by the end of
the movie and the wine. And I may have even giggled a bit during
the activities that followed. Afterward, relaxed in the crook of
Barr's arm with a light breeze curling in the open window, I listened to his deep breathing and thought about how happy I was when I was with him. Maybe this living together thing would work
after all.

At three a.m. I was wide awake again, thoughts running around in
my head like rats in a cage. I found myself reflecting on what Barr
had said earlier, before we drifted off to sleep. Ever since he'd told
me about the money his uncle had left him, questions had been
collecting in the back of my mind. As we cuddled in the dark it
seemed easier to talk about, so I'd brought up a biggie.

"Are you going to quit your job now that you have a ton of
money?"

"What? Why would I do that?"

"People win the lottery, they quit their jobs. Follow their dreams.
I just, you know, wondered."

He'd laughed. "I don't know what I'll do with it yet, but most
of it will be invested for when I do quit my job. But I like being a
cop, and I like being a cop in Cadyville."

"No changes?"

"Oh, I imagine there'll be a few. Maybe I'll get a new car or something. But if you're worried that I'm going to change my whole life
just because I have some dollars to play with, you can stop. It's just
money. I'm just me."

I'd also read that a lot of people who won the lottery were miserable and ended up going through their winnings within a few
years. Barr was practical and viewed his inheritance as security,
though. The guy was solid as a rock.

Sighing with contentment, I pulled the sheet higher. The
breeze wafting in the open window held the fragrance of roses as
well as a chill. As I began to doze, my mind drifted to the list of
suspects we'd discussed earlier. Which one had Ariel angered to
the point of murder?

She'd looked so small there on the floor of Ruth's studio space.
Hmm. That was kind of strange. Why hadn't she been in her own
studio space? She didn't spin. She didn't do anything involved
with fiber or yarn, and had never showed any interest in learning.
But she'd had that tuft of fiber clenched in her hand; I'd seen it
myself. I could see it in my mind's eye now.

It had been green. With a little blue and pink. Like the northern lights. The colors of nature obviously inspired Thea Hawke's
choices of color combinations in her hand-painted batts.

Green and blue and pink. Like the stuff Gabi had buried in her
spinning basket. Said she'd bought it online.

My eyes opened.

I watched the sky brighten slowly on the other side of the window, from a lighter shade of night to early dawn. The air gradually
filled with the songs of early birds looking for their proverbial
worms. From beside me came the sound of light snoring. Finally, I
slid out of bed and padded out to the kitchen. Barr's laptop sat on
the counter.

Thea Hawke Designs had a very nice website, but she referred
anyone who was interested in her unique creations to the Cadyville Regional Artists' Co-op. She didn't sell online.

I made coffee and stared out the kitchen window at the backyard. The crows that lurked in the copse of trees across the road joined their raucous calls to the other birdsong. The cacophony
made my teeth hurt.

I liked Gabi Kaminski, but she'd lied about where she'd obtained the fiber tucked deep into the basket by her spinning wheel.
There was no reason to lie about that, not unless she was hiding
something else.

How much bamboo in that color combo had been at CRAG?
Ruth would know. And Gabi could have come into the co-op when
neither Ruth nor I were there and bought the batt. But that didn't
account for the tuft of it in Ariel's clenched fist or why she'd been
strangled with my yarn beside a spinning wheel.

Besides, Gabi had come right out and said she'd bought it online. And now that I thought about it, she'd snapped at me when
she found me looking at the fiber in that basket. I'd put her lessthan-gracious response down to the morning-after grouchies, but
perhaps her bad mood had to do with something else-like guilt.

Ariel had borrowed money over and over again from her
brother, and it didn't look like that would have stopped anytime
soon. Gabi was sick and tired of it. She believed Ariel was a slut,
that she had seduced her teacher and made him lose his job.

She also believed Ariel had been responsible for the car wreck
that had killed the Kaminski siblings' parents.

In fact, when it came right down to it, Gabi not only didn't like
her sister-in-law, she believed she was evil.

AT SIX-THIRTY BARR CAME into the kitchen, sniffing the air like a
hound dog.

"Mmmm. Bacon."

I surveyed him, taking in the bare, lean chest and long legs
housed in pajama bottoms. "And hash browns coming up, along
with your favorite cheesy eggs."

"A real heart attack on a plate." He sat down at the table. "You
must have been up for a while. Why so early?"

I brought him a cup of coffee and gave him a long kiss. "I had
some trouble sleeping last night."

"Really? I would've thought you'd sleep like a log." His grin
was wicked.

I laughed and turned back to the potatoes browning in a frying pan. "I should have. Woke up, though, got to thinking about
things. Do you remember the fiber Ariel had in her hand?"

Behind me, Barr said, "I remember. There was a lot of that stuff
around where you found her. I'm sure the lab folks have it neatly
zipped up and cataloged."

I turned down the burner and sat in the chair across from him.
Resting both elbows on the table, I held my mug of coffee in front
of my face and looked at him through the rising steam.

"Gabi had some of the same fiber. At least I think so. There
must be a way to see if they match."

"Really. Is it common?"

"Huh uh. Pretty hard to come by. What you might call limitededition bamboo roving. Hand painted. Small batches. And," I
paused for effect, "only available through CRAG"

"Maybe Mrs. Kaminski got it there."

"She said she ordered it online."

He leaned back in his chair, a speculative expression on his face.
"You asked her about it?"

"Well, yeah. But we talked about a lot. Yarn, spinning wheels,
drum carders, spindles-tons of stuff. But I didn't see the fiber I'm
talking about until the next morning, right before I left." I made a
face. "I told her I knew who made it, though."

His jaw set. "That's not good."

I lifted my palms and let them drop. "I didn't make the connection until this morning." I stood and moved to the stove again.

He grew quiet, staring out the window and slowly sipping his
coffee. I poured another cup for myself and leaned against the
counter, curious as to what he was thinking but willing to wait.

Finally he spoke, slowly, as if thinking out loud. "I can't see that
we have probable cause, not just on your word. It's simply too
weak. So no warrant. But if that hand-painted stuff is really that rare, and if we could unofficially get a sample from Gabi Kaminski, then maybe we could put something together for a judge."

"I can go back. Figure out an excuse and go inside and take it.
Like I did the diary."

He gave me a look. "I told you that was a bad habit."

I smiled.

"No. I really mean it. And besides, it would be much better if
that kind of evidence was gathered by me. Chain of evidence and
all. Even outside of the jurisdiction of the Cadyville P.D."