Death of a Crafty Knitter (34 page)

On the main road, we passed what I thought was the crime scene investigation van, but it was unmarked, so there was no way to know for sure.

My father warmed up along with the car interior, and started explaining what he knew about fingerprints. If the aluminum can had been outside since New Year's Day, it had been exposed to the sun and other elements for about four days. For fingerprinting, this meant finding the clear ridge detail necessary for a positive identification was unlikely, but not impossible.

It would be simple enough to match the bullet lodged in the tree to the one that had ended Voula Varga's life, though, so that was something.

I told him I was crossing my fingers they'd find Dharma's fingerprints on the cola can, or maybe even fingerprints from another party.

For the second time that evening, my father told me not to get my hopes up.

I attributed his bad mood to pain from his hip, because it wasn't like him to be so negative. He sounded resigned to the idea of Dharma going off to jail, even though it probably meant a death sentence for her husband.

That wasn't acceptable to me, though.

My father didn't raise me or my sister to be quitters.

I would hold on to my optimism, because I remembered what he'd said so many times, whenever I'd been down.

Never lose hope in your quest for the truth, because even a little hope can light the way.

Chapter 33

At the end
of a very long day, I dropped my father off at his house and picked up Jeffrey in exchange.

In the car ride back to my place, Jeffrey sang me the songs of his people. I asked him if he took requests, and if he knew "Free Bird."

He did not.

All was forgiven when we got home and Jeffrey got his favorite dinner.

I kept the curtains open a crack and watched the window for Logan returning from the police station, but he still wasn't back by the time I went to bed.

January 6
^th

In the morning, I called my father three times before he finally picked up.

"You could have left a voicemail," he grumbled.

"Sorry. Were you in the shower?"

"No."

"Well, I don't know about you, but my back is killing me." I rubbed my sore hip while I slowly stretched from side to side. "I fell on my butt and got a bruise, but you had major surgery. I feel like I'm broken, Dad, so I can't imagine how rough your pain must be."

"It's a little better today," he said, his tone softer.

"Do you feel up to some investigating? We can look over the customer names from Sew It Goes. I have a new idea. We can cross-reference customers with photos from the Polar Bear Dip that day. It was on the opposite side of town, so whoever was at the dip would have a good alibi."

"Don't bother. I talked to Tony last night and told him everything. He'll get the other customers from Denise, if they decide to pursue the button thing."

"You called Tony?" I took a deep breath and resisted the urge to yell at him. "Dad, you shouldn't have done that. We took the job working for Logan, which means we're working for Dharma Lake, not the people who locked her up."

"They wouldn't have even been looking for her if you hadn't identified the van, though."

"Thanks for pointing that out," I said flatly. "Because I haven't been torturing the
hell
out of myself over that little fact, nonstop."

"Listen, I understand you're frustrated, but Tony called me, and he was just confirming everything Logan had told them. Your friend didn't name us, but Tony's the kind of guy who can put two and two together. He's a good cop, and he's handling the investigation."

"So, this is it? We're done?"

There was a long pause, and then he said, "I'm going to make some calls to some old investigator friends and see if I can find you someone else to apprentice with."

"You're firing me?"

"Stormy, calm down."

The irritation in his voice, combined with those three irritating words—
Stormy, calm down
—set me off. What happened next wasn't pretty, it involved some swearing, and it ended with me saying something to the effect of, "You can't fire me as your partner, because I quit!"

January 8
^th

Doing a full inventory at my gift store took three days, which was two days longer than I'd promised myself it would take.

The previous owner's system for assigning codes to items that didn't have barcodes was slightly worse than no system at all. By the end of the third and final day, I was throwing non-coded mystery objects into cardboard boxes that were heading to my house, or the garbage dump, or back to the circle of hell from which they'd come.

My employee, Brianna, knew exactly what I was up to.

"Boss, you don't really need that many heart-shaped candles at your house, do you?"

We were standing in the stock room, which had been pulled apart and mostly put back together again, along with the rest of the store.

"Candles are nice," I said defensively. "I like to set a mood when I take a bath. A heart-shaped mood."

She rubbed the back of her hand across her sweaty forehead, smearing dust across her skin. "Tell me the truth. You're only taking this stuff home because you don't want to code and count the final odds and ends."

"What's the point? We could put it all into the computer inventory, but nobody's going to buy this crap."

I tossed another unlabeled and uncoded object—a carved wooden tiki god with red eyes, a long nose, and giant teeth—into the cardboard box, then taped it shut.

"Bri, some of these bizarro tchotchkes have been in the stock room since before you were born.
Before I was born.
Where does it come from? Honestly, I suspect some of the garden gnomes come to life after closing time and make random crap out of garbage from the alley."

Brianna quirked one eyebrow at me. "We could have a sidewalk sale. Some of these old things are cool in a retro way."

"If by
sidewalk sale
you mean leave them on the sidewalk and hope they disappear, I'm in."

"Cheer up, boss. Remember how I said we had three more shelves left? I lied. It was only one, and we did it. As of this moment, we're finished doing inventory."

"We're done?" I pulled a tissue from my pocket and pretended to be weeping from joy.

Just then, the door chime beeped to let us know someone had come in the front door.

I grumbled under my breath about silly people not being able to read the signs posted on doors, but then switched to a cheerful greeting when I saw the visitor was Marcy from Misty Microchips, with Stanley in tow on his rainbow leash.

"Sorry to bust in on you," Marcy said.

"You saw the sign on the door:
Storewide Inventory In Progress. Unauthorized Entry to the Premises Indicates Your Consent to Count Inventory on a Volunteer Basis.
"

Marcy laughed. "I did read your sign. Did you have a lawyer write that up?"

"I did. Logan Sanderson stopped by on the first day, so I put him to work."

While we were talking, Stanley had been walking around the store, smelling everything with great interest. He'd been in before with Marcy, but now everything was in different places.

Marcy picked up a red glass apple and buffed it on her lavender tailored blouse, just like it was a real apple she was about to take a bite of.

"Logan Sanderson," she said. "That's the new lawyer, right? The one who rents an apartment from you?"

"He rents half my duplex. We're just friends."

She picked up a yellow-green pear and buffed it next.

"Isn't he involved in that whole thing with that waitress, Dharma or whatever her name is?"

I studied Marcy's face for some clue as to why she was pretending to be ignorant of the hottest bit of gossip going around Misty Falls for the last three days.

"If you mean representing her criminal defense, then yes, I believe he is."

"Right. So, have you heard anything? Between knowing that lawyer, plus your dad's connections, you must have the whole inside scoop on the case."

I sighed. The truth was, I could have gotten the inventory finished in two days, but I'd taken my time because it was a good excuse to shut out everyone and their nosy questions.

As for my inside scoop, I'd heard a few things the rest of the town wasn't privy to. I knew the bullet pulled from the tree matched the murder weapon. I knew the shot-through cans would be helpful in Dharma's defense, but that, sadly, the lab technicians hadn't been able to pull even a print from any of the cans, let alone a clear match. I knew Dharma's bail had been set at an astronomical amount that she had no hope of paying without help from her uncle, and I also knew her uncle was a jerk, because he
hadn't
put up the bond. Dharma Lake was sitting in a jail cell in the city, and her husband was still in Misty Falls, being monitored by a neighbor, but not doing well without his wife.

Those last two things were exactly why I didn't take any pleasure in participating in local gossip.

"I've got nothing juicy," I said to Marcy. "The whole thing makes me feel like crying, so can we talk about something else?"

She blinked rapidly and backed away from the glass fruit. "Like what? Do you mean that website you wanted me to track down the owner of?"

"Sure," I said. Not that it would do any good now. The cops were sure they had their killer, thanks to Dharma's confession. They weren't even following through on the button, because a quick glance at the full records for Sew It Goes revealed that half the town over forty owned a tan shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons. Even Marcy was a customer, by the look of the snazzy buttons on the lavender blouse she'd been using to buff glass fruit.

"I forgot all about your website thing, but I'll get right on it," Marcy said. "Are you busy tomorrow night? We should get the gang together for some Golden Wok."

"Sure, that sounds…" I smacked my forehead. "I can't, actually. I'm hosting a knitting club at my house." I snapped my fingers as a new idea hit me. "Marcy, you strike me as the crafty type."

Her eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

"Crafts and stuff. I loved the beautiful masquerade masks you made for yourself and Marvin for the New Year's Eve party. And you crocheted Stanley's leash and collar. You need to come to the knitting club? My place, at seven."

"Oh, I don't know…"

"I'll twist Jessica's arm and get her to come. It'll be fun, I swear. What are you working on now?"

"A blanket."

"Bring it! That is, unless knitters and crocheters have some sort of longstanding feud. I wouldn't want a violent confrontation."

She didn't laugh at my joke.

"You'll have fun," I said.

"Okay. I guess I could give it a shot." She tugged on Stanley's leash. "Come on, Stanley-boo-boo. We'd better get home and make our dinner."

"Marcy, before you go, can I ask you something?"

"Sure. Anything."

"Did you go to the Polar Bear Dip? Jessica didn't get any pictures of herself jumping in, and I was hoping someone got a photo I could make a print from, to celebrate her tenth year."

"No, I didn't go. I spent the entire day at home, in my house, with my husband. We didn't go out, and then we ordered pizza for dinner."

"That sounds cozy. Which pizza place? I'm still learning all the good places."

"Romeo's Ribs and Pizza. They make the best deep-dish crust. Anything else is just a waste of good tomato sauce, as Marvin would say."

"Sounds good," I said with a laugh. "I'll keep Romeo's in mind. See you tomorrow night. Here, let me give you my address."

I pressed the button on the receipt printer to roll out a scrap of paper, jotted down my address, and handed it to her.

"Hey, I have an even better idea," I said. "Come over a little earlier, like six, and bring Marvin. I'll get delivery from Golden Wok and open a bottle of whatever wine goes best with sweet and sour chicken balls."

"Marvin wouldn't want to impose."

"I insist. The four of us will have fun, just like we always do."

She paused for what felt like an eternity, then said, "Sure," before leaving with Stanley.

January 9
^th

I checked and re-checked everything, under the watchful eye of Jeffrey.

"All systems are go," I said to him.

He sat by the front door on the rubber boot tray, watching me freak out. He was using a pair of my boots to "hide" behind, and held absolutely still, except for the very tip of his twitching tail.

"Jeffrey, you do realize I can see your fluffy gray body around the edges of my boots, don't you?"

The tail twitched again, while his eyes held steady and hypnotic. Why would he flick his tail and give himself away? It had to be part of his hunting skills, to draw the attention to his harmless, fluffy gray tail, and away from his sharp teeth.

The doorbell rang. I was so wound up over my plan that I dropped the spoon I was holding.

Jeffrey interpreted the ear-piercing doorbell as a sign of something horrific impending, which it was. He skittered across the wood floor, spinning out wildly on his way down the hallway to a safety zone.