Spin a Wicked Web (29 page)

"Which means his own mother thinks he killed that girl, and
you don't."

"I'm not Irene Nelson." She pressed her lips together. "She can
be a little..."

"Granted. Okay, then who did it?"

"You'd know better than I would. After all, you're the investigator."

"I am not! I'm just doing a little ... extracurricular..."

"Snooping," she offered.

I raised my palms. "Fine. Have it your way."

The corners of her mouth turned up. "Better be careful, Reynolds. This is when things tend to get out of hand. But I'm going to
bed."

"Goodnight," I said, a little sarcastic bite in my tone. Only a few
hours earlier hadn't she said it wasn't my responsibility? "Don't forget to take the phone with you"

She grinned. "Remember when you and Barr talked on the
phone every night?"

I had to nod. She was right. At least I got to see Barr; she and
Kelly only saw each other every six weeks or so.

"'Night," she said. "Oh, and tomorrow is the last day of Erin's
math camp. It's a half day, and then we have to go pick Tootie and
Felix up at the airport."

Tootie Hanover, part of the cruise set. Would wonders never
cease?

"Noted. We can coordinate in the morning," I said.

Erin was already in bed, and with Meghan off to the land of
nod, it was just Brodie and me. After everything that had happened that day, I should have been exhausted, but I felt like I was
wired for sound.

Spinning had helped to relax me the other night. Might as well
try it again.

After arranging the wheel, I oiled the moving parts, and attached the bands. Soon I was working my way through a length of
off-white sheep's wool. It would be a while before I'd be spinning
any more of Thea Hawke's light-as-thistle-down bamboo. The
very thought of it left a sour taste in my mouth, after my bad behavior toward Gabi Kaminski. Tonight I even avoided the raw alpaca I'd given in and bought at the co-op. It seemed a good idea to
go back to doing something I knew at least a little about.

But the act of spinning was just as soothing as ever. The Zen of
it overtook me: the enthralling rhythm of the foot treadle combined with the soft whir of the fly wheel. The wool fairly flew out
of my fingers, twisting into a uniform yarn and wrapping neatly
onto the spool. It looked good. Really good. Way better than the
stuff that had been used to strangle Ariel.

Ruth would be proud of me when I showed her.

The next morning I walked to the little house Ruth and Thaddeus
Black shared and found their mint-green Buick gone from the carport. I knocked anyway. Rustling sounded from inside, and finally
the interior door swung open. Thaddeus peered out.

Recognition dawned. He pushed the screen door open. "Sophie
Mae! Come in, come in. Glad you dropped by. I'm not getting out
as much as I used to, and it's nice to have a visitor"

"Hello, Thaddeus. Is Ruth around? I wanted to show her some
yarn I spun last night."

"Nope. Went to the store. That woman shops for groceries every
day. I just don't understand it." His cane thumped in exclamation.

"Oh" I couldn't keep the disappointment from my voice.

"She'll be right back, though. Never takes her long. You come
on in and wait." He waved me in. The house smelled of fake lavender air freshener. I made a note to bring them some Winding Road
gel fresheners, made with essential oils. Some nice soap, too, and
bath salts. It was the least I could do to pay Ruth back for letting
me borrow her wheel and teaching me so much.

Thaddeus trailed behind me into the living room. "I heard
what happened to that little truck of yours. You're a lucky girl."

"Don't I know it."

He nodded. "Sit down for a minute."

I sat. No good trying to get out of a little socializing, and besides, I liked Thaddeus Black.

"Can I get you anything? Coffee, maybe?" he asked, the gracious host.

"I'm fine."

He settled into his own chair and smiled broadly.

I smiled in return. "How's Ruth holding up, with all the trauma
and drama over at CRAC?"

"You mean that little girl getting herself killed?" He waved his
hand dismissively. "Ruth and I go to a couple of funerals a month."

"This was a little different, wouldn't you say?"

"Well, sure. All I'm saying is that Ruth isn't exactly a wilting
vine when it comes to the difficulties in life. She's gentle as a lamb,
but tough as nails, too."

"I'm glad she was able to provide an alibi for Chris Popper," I
said. "It saved Chris a lot of grief."

"Well now, I didn't realize she had. That was good of Ruth."

Good of her? "But she was over at Chris' house that night."

He nodded. "I remember. Some kind of meeting she had to go
to.

"It was a meeting? I thought everyone was over there because it
was the night before Scott's funeral."

"Huh. Well, I thought Ruth said it was a meeting about something going on at the co-op. Maybe I got that wrong. And who
knows why she hightailed it out of here later."

I blinked. "I'm talking about the night of the twenty-second.
The night Ariel Skylark was killed."

"I know which night you're talking about." He spoke carefully,
like maybe I was a little slow. "Ruth went to her meeting at Chris,
then she came home, and then she got that phone call and had to
leave again. I was surprised, because it was almost nine o'clock,
and she doesn't usually like to take the car out that late."

"Now, Thaddeus, I don't want you to think I'm questioning
your recollection, but what time did Ruth come home from Chris'
that night?"

"Oh, couple minutes after eight, I'd say. I'd just started watching a show on the history channel. You ever watch that channel? A
lot of interesting things you can learn from it." He chuckled. "Even
if you're an old fart like me. 'Course some of what they call, 'history' I call, `childhood"'

But I barely heard him, my brain was so busy trying to assimilate this new information. Ruth had lied, actually lied-to the police, to me, to everyone-about being at Chris Popper's during the
time Ariel was killed.

Jake Beagle said he'd left before eight. That gave Felicia an alibi
for the time of the murder, and providing her with an alibi meant
he had one, too.

Irene said she was at Chris' until Zak got in trouble, and then
she said she was at home, with him. Which gave him an alibi, but
took away part of Chris' alibi. And now I'd just found out that
Ruth couldn't give Chris an alibi, either.

The way I saw it, everyone supposedly had someone else who
could account for them during the time Ariel was murdered-but
no one really did.

"Sophie Mae?" Thaddeus leaned toward me with concern on
his face.

"And you don't know why Ruth left the second time that
night?" Tone it down, Sophie Mae. Way too eager.

Too late. Wariness settled across his face. He said, "I think
maybe I've said enough. Maybe I do have the night wrong. After
all, Ruth already told the police everything she knows."

Keeping my tone mild, I said. "I'm sure she was very helpful.
Did the police talk to you?"

He shook his head. "Why would they? I didn't have anything
to do with that whole business." Using his cane as leverage, he
stood.

I stood, too, understanding that my welcome was over. "I have
a few errands I need to run, Thaddeus. I enjoyed our chat. I'll drop
by another time to show Ruth my yarn. Will you tell her thank
you for me, for letting me borrow the wheel?"

"I sure will." His voice was hearty, smoothing over any misunderstanding we might have had. The sound of an engine wafted in
through the open front door. Thaddeus pointed. "In fact, there
she is. You can tell her yourself."

I kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks"

He smiled, at ease again.

Outside, I hurried around to the carport. "Let me get that," I
said and lifted the grocery sack from the back seat before Ruth
could protest.

"Why, thank you, dear."

"Glad to help. I just came by to thank you again for letting me
borrow your wheel, and I wanted to show you some of the yarn I
spun.

"I'm always happy when someone converts." She made spinning sound like a cult of some kind. Heck, maybe she was right.

I set the bag on the hood of the car. "Um, Ruth?"

She had already started for the back door that led into the
kitchen. Now she stopped and turned. Watched and waited.

"The night Ariel was killed? Where did you go when you left
here the second time? After you got back from Chris'?"

For a few moments she considered me. Then she nodded and
said, "Let me put these groceries away, and then we'll go downtown and get a cup of coffee."

"But-"

She turned and went inside.

Picking up the bag again, I followed her into the kitchen.

"I DIDN'T WANT TO talk about this in front of Thad," Ruth said.

She sipped her iced latte and gazed at the Cadyville River. We
were sitting on a park bench beside the river after stopping in at
Beans R Us to get drinks. The afternoon sun was warm on our
faces, and the sound of moving water had the usual soporific effect. I'd been patient, waiting until she was ready to tell me what
had happened that night.

Now I prompted, "You, Chris, Irene, and Jake met to discuss
something to do with CRAC."

Her eyes slewed my way, gauging what I already knew. Looking
back at the sunlight sparkling on water, she nodded. "Yes" Another sip of latte.

Carefully erasing judgment from my voice, I asked, "You had a
meeting about the co-op the night before Scott's funeral?"

"Yes."

"Must have been something pretty important."

"There was a problem that needed to be solved. We discussed it
and decided what to do."

"You're being very vague." Frustration leaked out of my voice. I
didn't like the way this conversation was going, didn't like it at all.
Dread settled into my gut.

I hesitated, then pushed forward. "What else happened that
night? After the meeting."

A long silence, and then a bracing breath. "Jake left first. A few
minutes later I left."

Why, oh why, had Ruth provided a false alibi for Chris? With
great effort I kept my mouth shut and let her continue.

"I went home," she said.

"And then you left again."

Slowly she nodded. But she didn't speak.

"Why, Ruth?"

Turning to look at me, she said, "Because Chris needed me. She
insisted she wanted to be alone, but shortly after I got home, she
called. Wanted me to come back. Irene had been getting ready to
leave, but then Chris broke down, and she agreed to stay for awhile
longer. So I drove back to Chris' house, and we spent two more
hours with her, talking some, but mostly listening as she talked
about Scott."

That wasn't so bad. I shook my head. "You lied about being
with Chris all evening. I don't want that to come back on you. Why
did you do it?"

"Right off the bat, that Detective Lane decided Chris had killed
Ariel. I knew she hadn't. Irene knew she hadn't. Any gap in our
story, and that detective would have arrested that poor woman for
something she didn't do."

Relief breezed through me. "You have to tell the police the
truth. Tell Barr if you don't want to talk to Detective Lane"

She stood and walked to the garbage can placed a few feet away
from the bench. Tossed in her empty latte cup. Came back and
stood beside me, looking down.

"We'll see."

"No! Ruth, this is murder. It's a small detail, you going home
and coming back, and it probably doesn't affect a thing. But you
need to tell them, anyway."

Resignation weighed her features, her shoulders, as she turned
away. "I know, Sophie Mae. I know."

"Where are you going?"