While My Pretty One Knits (6 page)

“You don’t think I had anything to do with Amanda Goran’s death…do you?” Maggie stared at Detective Walsh, looking stunned. When he didn’t respond, she turned to Detective Reyes.

“Our job is to question people who knew her,” Detective Reyes replied.

“Like you just told us, Ms. Messina, she rubbed a lot of people the wrong way,” Detective Walsh added.

Lucy didn’t find his answer exactly reassuring. She could see Maggie had not, either.

“Believe me, it was far more likely that she would have tried to finish me off than I ever would have harmed her.” Maggie punctuated the insight with a strained laugh.

Detective Walsh flipped his pad closed and slipped it back in his breast coat pocket. “One more question, please. I noticed a green Subaru parked out front. Is that your car?”

Maggie nodded. “Yes, it is…why do you ask?”

He paused, as if judging whether or not to tell her. “A car fitting that description was seen parked at the Knitting Nest early yesterday morning.”

Maggie took a breath. Her cheeks colored again. Surprised by the question, or trying to control her temper, Lucy couldn’t tell which.

“There are a lot of green Subarus on the road these days. That doesn’t mean anything.”

He flashed a brief, tight smile. “Nothing means anything until it means something, Ms. Messina…know what I mean?”

Good one, Detective,
Lucy thought. If that wasn’t a Zen koan, it really should be.

Detective Walsh drew a white business card from his wallet. “Thanks for your time. If anything comes to mind, even if it seems insignificant, please give me a call.”

Maggie took the card without looking at it.

“You’re welcome, Detective.”

A shrill ring sounded and Detective Walsh reached into his coat pocket and flipped open his phone. “Walsh,” he answered curtly. He focused on the conversation a moment, then looked at Detective Reyes. “I have to take this. I’ll meet you at the car, Marisol.”

She met his glance and nodded. He walked quickly to the door and let himself out. Detective Reyes turned back to Maggie. “I’m sure this situation is upsetting, Ms. Messina. We appreciate you taking the time to speak with us.”

“It
has
been upsetting,” Maggie admitted. “But I want to help the police find whoever did this. I didn’t like her, that’s true, but she didn’t deserve to die that way. No one does.”

Detective Reyes held out her own card. “Please feel free to call me, as well, if anything else comes to mind.” She glanced around as she headed for the door. “This is a very nice shop. I can see why you do a good business here.”

And I can see why Amanda Goran may have been jealous, Lucy thought the detective was also saying.

“Thank you,” Maggie said politely.

The three women watched as Detective Reyes stepped outside. Maggie shut the door behind her. A long silent moment passed before anyone dared to speak. Maggie returned and dropped onto the love seat.

“Did that really happen?” She stared at each of them in turn, looking shocked and frightened. “Can the police possibly think that I killed Amanda Goran?”

Dana touched Maggie’s arm. “Let’s slow down a minute. The police have to interview a long list of people she knew. Detective Reyes just told you that. They must have heard about the bad vibes between the two of you and come to check out your side of the story.”

“Probably…but that doesn’t make me feel better. I think they got the impression
I
was the crazy one. Especially Detective Walsh. Didn’t you notice the way he kept looking at me? Could anyone possibly think I’d kill Amanda over competition between our shops? That’s utterly…absurd.”

Lucy agreed. It was absurd, laughable even. Under different circumstances. But it hadn’t helped to dredge up all those old stories about Amanda. Lucy didn’t think this was a good time to point that out to her, though.

“Dana’s right,” Lucy said calmly. “The police must be questioning everyone who had problems with Amanda, and that’s a long list. Longer than we even know.”

“And what about Peter?” Dana leaned back and crossed her legs, covered by knee-high, black leather boots. “Peter had a truckload of problems with his wife and definitely has the most to gain by her death.”

“Certainly more than I do,” Maggie cut in.

“Absolutely,” Dana agreed. “Jack said their separation agreement was never signed. So Peter still stands to inherit any property or savings they held in common. He’ll collect any insurance benefit, too.”

“He did find her body,” Maggie reminded them.

“And came out of the house covered with her blood,” Dana added.

Maggie picked up a skein of yarn from the table. She fitted it on her wooden umbrella swift, which was clamped to the table rim, and started rolling the yarn into a ball.

“That’s how it always ends up in the movies,” Maggie reminded them. “The husband or wife did it. It’s a known fact that most murder victims are killed by someone familiar to them. I must have read it somewhere.”

“I’ve heard that, too, but…sorry, I just can’t see it,” Lucy admitted. “Unless Peter Goran has a dark side. A very hidden dark side,” she added.

Maggie suddenly stopped rolling and looked up. “The police think I have a dark side. Why can’t Peter Goran have one?”

“Oh, Maggie. No they don’t,” Dana insisted.

Maggie met her glance but didn’t seem much calmer. “Thanks, Dana. But I think I’d better call your husband. I think I need to find a good lawyer.”

S
oon after the detectives left the Black Sheep, customers began to drift in. Dana returned to her office and Maggie gathered materials for a class that would start at 11:00 called It’s a Wrap!: Ponchos, Stoles and Wraps for Beginners.

Lucy lingered, paging through a new pattern magazine that featured spring styles. She couldn’t help but overhear the conversations swirling around her, mostly about Amanda Goran’s murder. The event had shaken the town but truly shocked the knitting community. Just as she was about to leave, she saw a man walk in the store. He stood at the counter and gazed around curiously. Lucy walked up to him. “Can I help you with something?” she asked him.

“I’m looking for Ms. Messina?”

Lucy looked him over. Middle-aged, wearing a dress shirt and tie under his down jacket. Another detective? Oh…she hoped not.

“And you are?” Lucy asked.

He offered her a business card and an eager smile. “Gladiator Security. I wondered if she wants to update her alarm system. There have been some serious break-ins around town,” he added in a solemn tone.

“So we’ve heard,” Lucy replied.

It had started; Plum Harbor shopkeepers were circling the wagons. This guy was enterprising, she had to hand it to him.

“Ms. Messina is back there, at the big table. The woman with the curly brown hair,” Lucy told him.

Maggie might be annoyed at her later for not just turning the salesman away. But Lucy was so relieved to find out he wasn’t another police officer, she didn’t think of brushing him off until it was too late.

Lucy spent the rest of the day and night at home at her computer, slogging away on her freelance project. Once she was immersed in her work, it was easy to forget that it was Saturday night and she had no social life. Probably not the healthiest way to cope with the situation, she knew. But what the heck, so far it was workin’ for her.

On Sunday morning, she woke to the sound of Suzanne’s chipper voice on the answering machine.

“Hey, Lucy. This is your wakeup call. We’re going to that free yoga class this morning, remember? I’ll be by to pick you up in ten minutes.”

Yoga class? Since when did Suzanne do yoga? Then Lucy remembered. The yoga studio Dana belonged to was holding an open house today—bring a friend and get a free class—so she and Suzanne had agreed to try it.

They must have ganged up on her at a weak moment, Lucy realized as she staggered out of bed. She did need a regular exercise routine, no arguing with that. The sands of time were shifting all over her body. Sitting on her butt all day in front of the computer wasn’t helping matters. But yoga? Dana seemed to thrive on it and had promised to take them out for breakfast afterward. What else did she have to do this morning anyway.

A short time later, Lucy was seated next to Suzanne in the Cavanaughs’ huge SUV, aptly named a Sequoia. The interior smelled distinctly of stale french fries, crayons, and abandoned cleats. Fearing they were late, Suzanne flew down side streets and practically took the last turn on two wheels. She maneuvered the buslike vehicle into a space with remarkable ease, then shut the engine, whisking a sheen from her forehead with her sweatshirt sleeve.

“Whew…feels like I had a workout just getting here. I could definitely use some stress-busting stretches.” She smiled at Lucy and grabbed her purse from the backseat. “There it is, Nirvana Yoga Center.”

“Look…” Lucy pointed to the building directly across the street. “The Knitting Nest.”

Suzanne turned, her expression suddenly serious. “Oh, right. I didn’t realize.”

They sat for a moment and stared at the storefront, the first floor of a large old cedar shake building that was badly in need of tending. Yellow crime-scene tape that surrounded the front entrance now hung a bit slack, a few strangling piece blowing in the wind.

It was a damp chilly day and the gunmetal gray sky made the scene even more ominous. The shop windows were dark and the place looked forlorn and deserted. Lucy couldn’t help thinking about Amanda and her gruesome end.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped. “Come on, we’d better go,” Suzanne said quietly.

Lucy nodded, grabbed her bag, and hopped out of the SUV. By now, Lucy had seen the newspaper photo of the Knitting Nest covered in crime-scene tape countless times, but standing in front of the place gave her a jolt and brought the reality of Amanda’s murder home all over again.

Lucy and Suzanne were the last ones to arrive at the class. They found places in the back of the room near Dana and set up mats. Then they settled down for some serious stretching.

Lucy soon decided that the yoga class was a bit like eating a sandwich made with really tasty bread, but a filling she didn’t particularly care for. She enjoyed the warm-up stretches and the cooldown—“picture your happy place”—segments. But she was sure that forcing her pathetically out-of-shape body into contorted poses, like Downward Dog and Blossoming Lotus, was not leading anywhere near a happy place. More likely to a chiropractor’s office.

Their teacher, Wanda Gruber, was kind and encouraging. She spoke in a slow soothing voice and her own lithe form seemed to be made of some inhuman, rubberlike substance.

Dana, who had been practicing for years, could also bend her slim figure into amazing configurations. She could even stand on her head. Lucy realized that feat had ceased to be impressive at say…age ten? But it did seem like an achievement of some kind at this point in life. Dana had studied ballet and modern dance, from elementary school all the way through college.

Lucy, on the other hand, had played soccer during her formative years. Defensive fullback. What else did you need to know?

When the class was over and the students busily rolled up their mats, Wanda walked around to chat with the visitors.

“Did you like the class?” she asked Lucy.

“Interesting,” Lucy replied. “I’m sure once you get into it, you don’t hear all those cracking and popping sounds, right?”

Wanda laughed. “Students come in here with years of stress and bad body postures to release. I think you did really well.”

Lucy would hardly go that far. She’d barely muddled through without totally embarrassing herself and splitting the seams on her yoga pants. Lucy glanced out the window at the dark gloomy day, the specter of the Knitting Nest filling her view.

“I never noticed your studio before. But I don’t come down this street much.”

“We opened about a year ago. It’s a little out of the way and it’s taken people a while to find us. It might sound awful to say,” she added, “but there’s been a parade coming through here the last few days. They all want to see the Knitting Nest. A little ghoulish, if you ask me.”

“Yeah, it is pretty tacky,” Lucy agreed, though she could relate to the crass interest. “Did you know Amanda Goran at all?”

Wanda swallowed and nodded quickly. “She was a bit standoffish when I first opened.” A kind way of describing Amanda’s prickly personality, Lucy thought. “But we’d become pretty friendly lately. She took a few classes here and whenever she had to go into the city for the day, I’d check on her dogs.”

Lucy’s eyes widened and she took a moment to reply. No way could she picture Amanda doing yoga. But Wanda’s claim that Amanda took frequent trips into Boston was even more intriguing.

“I’m sure Amanda must have appreciated that,” Lucy said finally. “She really loved those dogs.”

“Oh yes, she did. It was a very spiritual connection,” Wanda agreed in a wistful tone.

“Did she go into Boston a lot?” Lucy knew the question was a bit nosey, but now she was curious.

“Oh, a few times a month, I’d say.” Wanda shrugged. “To see friends, she told me. But I thought maybe she was in a relationship. Technically, she was still married to Peter, of course. But she did have a certain glow lately,”

“Yes, she did.” Lucy had seen it with her own eyes. It was a bona fide glow, not just owning to Amanda’s cosmetically whitened teeth. A romantic relationship would explain the makeover and weight loss, too.

“Well…I hope she was happy,” Lucy added. Happier than she seemed most of the time I knew her, she nearly said aloud.

Wanda nodded solemnly. “I think she was happy. And is at peace now. I was heartbroken when I heard the sad news. But I always try to lift my vision, Lucy. Amanda’s death served to remind me that it is so important to be here now. To be focused and aware. To be grateful for the simple things. To allow ourselves to be happy…to simply…
be
.”

Wanda’s philosophical insights left Lucy with a slight wave of vertigo. The speech sounded vaguely familiar. Hadn’t she read it on a package of Celestial Seasonings tea?

Wanda leaned forward and bowed slightly. “Namaste, Lucy—the divine in me honors the divine in you.”

Lucy stood wide-eyed for a moment, then in a reflexive reaction, found herself bowing toward Wanda. “Right…Namaste. And thanks for the class.”

Wanda smiled and drifted into the group.

Dana and Suzanne had been standing nearby, talking with some of the other students. Both had already pulled on their sweatshirts, jackets, and shoes. Lucy rummaged through her tote bag to catch up. They walked outside and stood on the sidewalk, near Suzanne’s car.

“I’m parked right down the street,” Dana said. “I’m still taking you guys out to breakfast, right?”

“That’s right,” Suzanne answered. “You got two free classes and I’ll never do the macerena again. I can at least get a bacon-and-egg sandwich out of the deal.”

“Sorry, Sue. They don’t serve egg sandwiches at the Sprout. You can get an egg-white omelet and some tofu bacon,” Dana told her with a smile. “And they serve really awesome oatmeal. Hand-cut oats, with dried cranberries.”

“Be still, my beating heart.” Suzanne rolled her eyes. “I should have slept late and made my gang waffles for breakfast…with piles of real bacon on the side.”

Lucy stood nearby, only half listening to the exchange: her real focus was on the Knitting Nest. The conversation she’d had with Wanda Gruber about Amanda echoed in her thoughts.

As Lucy stared at the shop, she realized that she hadn’t really known Amanda very well at all, had she? Sure, she knew of Amanda’s critical sour side—the traits that had defined the woman publicly—but there was more there, Lucy realized, a lot more. Maybe that brash, bitter façade was a curtain and a completely different person was hiding behind it. Like that scene in
The Wizard of Oz,
when the thundering Wizard is revealed to be a timid little man. “Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain,” he says. But of course, it’s too late.

“Lucy…are you okay?” Suzanne stood a few steps away. Lucy turned to see Suzanne staring curiously at her.

“Wait…” Lucy took a deep breath. She wondered if her eyes were playing a trick on her. She’d been thinking about Amanda so much this morning. Maybe she’d just…lost it.

“What’s the matter?” Dana had started up the street toward her car, but now turned and came back.

Lucy paused. She knew her friends were going to think she’d gone crazy. “I think I just saw someone in Amanda’s shop.”

Suzanne squinted at her. “Saw someone? What do you mean?” Dana stared at Lucy, too, but didn’t say anything.

“I was standing here, staring at the shop, and I saw a shadow or a person or something in there. I’m sure of it.” Lucy knew she was rambling now, but she couldn’t help it.

“There couldn’t be anyone in there, Lucy. That place is taped up like a UPS box going to Tierra del Feugo,” Suzanne said.

“Maybe you just saw a reflection off the window. From a passing car?” Dana offered.

“Could be…except a car hasn’t passed for a while now,” Lucy replied. When they didn’t answer, she added, “I’m going over to check it out.”

Lucy knew that sounded a bit crazy, but she was curious now to find out if she’d imagined it. She felt certain she’d seen something. But the doubts of her friends were making her question her own perception.

Suzanne reached for her arm as she started to cross the street. “You can’t go in there. It’s a crime scene…duh? What if the police drive by and see you over there? You’ll be arrested.”

“Lucy, if there really is someone there, it could be dangerous,” Dana pointed out. “Maybe we should just call the police right now.”

Lucy considered the suggestion. “By the time they come, whoever is inside will be gone and we’ll be standing here for hours in the cold answering questions.” From what she’d seen so far, the police had no shortage of them. “Besides, we’ll draw attention to Maggie and that might upset her.”

Her friends didn’t answer but she could tell from their expressions that they more or less agreed.

“Just stay here and watch for patrol cars. I’ll be right back. I’m not going to do anything stupid,” she promised.

I hope, she added silently. Without waiting for their approval, Lucy ran across the street to the Knitting Nest. Peering in the front window seemed too obvious. And Suzanne was right about the police catching her. It would be just her luck if a patrol car passed as she slipped under the yellow tape and pressed her face to the front window. There had to a side window, she thought, or one in back.

A paved alleyway, about the width of a car, separated the building from the one next door. Lucy crept down the passageway and finally came to a small window on the side of the building, close to the back.

She stood up on tiptoes and peered in. Despite the fact that it was daytime, the interior was very dark, especially at the back of the shop. Lucy could barely see anything at first. Gradually, her eyes adjusted and could make out the shape of a counter and register up front, cube-shaped shelves on the walls.

In the back of the store, a large oddly-shaped object took up most of the space. She realized it must be a spinning wheel.

The shop looked empty and silent. She watched for another minute, then decided her imagination had indeed been working overtime and her eyes had been playing tricks on her. She was also getting a cramp in her calf muscle from being up on tiptoes so long.