Knot Guilty (10 page)

“But who would do that? K.D. did kind of rub a lot of people the wrong way, but kill her?” She put her hand to her forehead in dismay and rocked her head. “I was up there. I went to her suite to talk to her about the mix-up with my space.” She seemed stricken as she explained that K.D. had said she would take care of it and then Rain had left.

“Do you know if anyone else went up there?” I asked.

“Probably K.D.'s daughter and Delvin. Maybe someone else, too. She said something about toasting a new beginning with someone. She kind of bent my ear about it. It was someone she'd gone to college with and then, because of something with a man, they hadn't spoken for years. Only recently had they mended fences. When I left, the waiter was at the door with the champagne.”

I asked her how well she knew Delvin. She understood where I was going. “You think that he might have been the one?” She stopped to consider for a moment, but the woman with the long white vest made a move toward her. Rain dropped our conversation like a hot coal at the prospect of making a sale.

I left her to make her transaction and headed across the front walkway. I'd been gone long enough, anyway.

When I got back to the Shedd & Royal booth, things had quieted down as closing time approached. And not a moment too soon for me. It had been quite a day.

Most of the Hookers had already left, and the booth seemed quiet without them. Adele was giving a last lesson to Thea Scott, who'd come over since it had gotten so quiet. My coworker seemed to have gotten over her lost hook, for the moment, anyway. Dinah sat back in a chair, looking exhausted. When I checked the small bin where we'd kept the packets to make the pins, it was empty.

“Nothing like something free to attract a crowd,” Dinah said.

“There's no reason for you to stay,” I said, taking off the pendant and handing it to her.

“Keep it,” she said. “It's better than looking for scissors all the time.” I thanked her and put it back around my neck. She took my suggestion and wearily went to the exit.

I got ready to close down the booth. Mr. Royal had devised a series of roll-down duck cloth curtains to cover the whole front of the booth when it was closed. It was more for look than security. As I got ready to let them down, Eric and his mother came by. They certainly made a strange pair. Eric seemed twice as tall as his diminutive mother, but both of them carried themselves with the same ramrod-straight posture.

“Cutchykins, after what happened, I wanted to be sure you were okay.”

When Leonora Humphries heard the pet name her son had for Adele, her eyes went so far back in her head, I thought they were going to disappear.

Adele seemed stricken. “How did you know?”

Eric shrugged his big shoulders. “It's common knowledge now.”

Adele put her hand on his shoulder. “You mean everybody is talking about it? It isn't what it seems. I'm upset about losing it, but not because he gave it to me.”

Eric seemed perplexed. “I'm talking about K.D. Kirby's murder,” he said. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh,” Adele said a little too loudly. “She's dead?” She seemed totally surprised by the news.

“Didn't you hear Delvin's announcement?” I said. Adele shook her head.

“You said you lost something?” Eric sounded concerned. “Maybe I can help you find it.”

Adele shook her head quickly. “It's nothing. He means nothing. Don't worry about it.” I tried not to roll my eyes, realizing that Adele had been talking about her lost hook and its connection to Dr. Wheel. Only Adele would think everybody was talking about something that happened to her. She looked at her glittering logo and snapped the flashing lights off. It seemed like she let out a sigh of relief as she patted the oversize gold hooks. Her eyes grazed the rest of the front table, littered with balls of yarn and hooks left from the crochet lessons. She muttered something under her breath. It sounded like she said she had an idea. I shuddered to think what it might be.

“Now that you've seen she's fine, why don't we go,” Eric's mother said. “I'm sure Adele wants to go home and rest up for tomorrow.”

“No,” she said forcefully. “I'm coming with you.” She grabbed her things and rushed out of the booth to join them.

I finished closing up, letting down the coverings for the booth. The lights were already going off and a man in a gray uniform was waiting to lock the door when I left. It was easy spotting my car since the parking lot was almost completely empty. I gratefully headed for home.

When I opened my kitchen door, both dogs ran out. It was strange not to have to coax Blondie outside, but then they'd been left alone longer than usual. Cosmo had registered his discontent by knocking over the trash again, and this time spreading it around the floor. The cats walked in the kitchen with their tails held high and gave me a dirty look.

I checked their bowls and understood the unhappy faces. Other than a few stray pieces of dry cat food, their bowls were empty. I didn't have to be Sherlock Holmes to deduce what had happened. The footprints near the bowls were too big to belong to either cat. I'd left a chair too close to the shelves. Blondie would only have eaten the cat food if it was easily accessible, but Cosmo was a different story. I was sure it was the little black mutt who'd figured out how to jump on the chair and help himself. I refilled the bowls and moved the chair to the other side of the dining room.

I was back in the kitchen sweeping up the coffee grounds and food scraps that Cosmo had spread around when the phone rang.

“Don't you check your messages, Sunshine?” Mason said when I picked up. I took my BlackBerry out of my purse and checked it.

“I don't see any on my cell phone,” I said. I scrolled around and random things began to open.

“That's it, I'm getting you a new one,” he said. “I left a message on your house phone as well.”

I explained I'd just gotten home and was too busy with the animals to check it yet. “It's about what happened, isn't it,” I said, assuming he was calling about K.D.'s death.

“Did something happen?” He sounded concerned. “Are you all right?” He offered assorted services in case I wasn't, including bringing over anything I needed or giving me a lift to the ER.

He was half teasing and I laughed, though I knew if I'd said yes to any of them, he would have come through. “I'm fine. Well, maybe a little tired. But it's K.D. Kirby who has the problem. She's dead.” I started to explain who K.D. was, that she was the woman his client Audrey Stewart had the issue with. There was a moment of silence on his end. “She is your client, isn't she?”

“I'm not sure if I should confirm that,” he said. “Attorney-client privilege and all.”

I almost laughed. He'd managed to tell me Audrey was his client without actually saying it. Then he wanted details—when did it happen, how did it happen and most of all was it natural causes or murder.

“I think the word you're going for is
homicide
. Is
murder
even an official police word?” I said, and he chuckled. I told him what I knew and he listened without comment before abruptly changing the subject.

“I can't tell you how happy I am that you called me and that you're finally ready to start things between us. You really do bring the sunshine into my life. I know it's late and we said we'd wait until after this weekend, but I could come over,” he offered.

“I know Audrey stole some knitting needles. I don't suppose you could tell me what you were doing there this afternoon.”

“Allegedly stole,” he corrected. “And you're right; I can't tell you what I was trying to accomplish. Do you know if the cops have any suspects?”

“I've lost my in; nobody would tell me anything.” The first part of my response must have gotten him to thinking, because he suddenly wanted to know if I'd seen Barry. He didn't sound happy when I said Barry had been the one to question me since I'd been the one to find K.D.

“I just bet he was happy to interrogate you.”

“He was all business. It was as if we'd never been a couple. He didn't call me Babe once and he might have even referred to me as ma'am.” Mason seemed to relax and started talking about seeing me in the afternoon.

“I'm sorry I couldn't stop and talk. At least now I know what you're going to be doing all weekend. I saw your booth and it's very impressive.” The dogs had come to the back door and were scratching to get in and be fed. I let them in and tried to cradle the phone while I opened the dog food can, but it required two hands. I told Mason I had to go.

“Are you sure? Last chance. I could come over and give you a preview of my attention.” Then he stopped himself. “Sorry if I'm being too persistent. After everything that's happened, I'm just afraid you're going to change your mind.”

“No way, I have really thought this through. And you're the one I want to spend time with.” I hesitated. “Starting on Sunday night.”

It seemed like I'd barely been asleep when the alarm went off and I opened my eyes. For a moment I lolled in bed and thought of sleeping a little longer, but then I remembered the show. I almost ran across the house and started in on animal chores. Water bowls needed to be changed, the cat box attended to and food for everyone. In the end, I barely had time for a cup of coffee and a container of instant oatmeal.

I stopped at the bookstore on the way. Mrs. Shedd gave me a dark look. “Molly, not another body. I thought for sure you could get through one weekend without ending up in the middle of a crime scene.”

“How'd you know?” I asked.

“The eleven o'clock news. Kimberly Wang Diaz's story was the top one. Imagine my surprise when I looked up and saw her talking to you. You could see the Shedd & Royal booth in the background. Joshua outdid himself,” she said, smiling with pride. “I wish you had just talked about our booth though instead of mentioning the dead woman.”

I had forgotten all about the newscast and regretted missing it. I wanted to ask Mrs. Shedd for more details, but I thought it better to get off the subject of my relationship with dead bodies. I particularly didn't want to bring up that I'd been the one to find the victim. I changed the subject to how well the booth was doing. “That's why I'm here. We sold all the Anthony books Mr. Royal brought over. It helps that we had a real live Anthony in the booth.” I mentioned that Elise's husband had dressed up as the character.

Mrs. Shedd shook her head and said something about it being a stretch, and I realized she'd seen the man with the hair that looked like a hat. “You'd be amazed what a little glitter makeup does.”

Mrs. Shedd laughed at the image, and then we got a supply of all three of the books and a freestanding cardboard holder. She even helped me load it into the greenmobile. “I'm almost afraid to ask, but how is Adele doing?”

I knew Mrs. Shedd wasn't referring to her health, but rather the level of trouble Adele was generating. You might wonder why we all kept Adele around if she was so much trouble. Though none of us had actually talked about it, I think we were all on the same page. Adele was like that troublesome cousin, a bunch of bother, but family all the same. And she certainly kept things interesting. But I decided there was no reason to stir things up by mentioning the fuss Adele's logo had made and her drama over the lost hook, so I simply said Adele was doing fine.

“I'm surprised you don't have a list of suspects. Not that I'm complaining. I'm glad you're focusing all your attention on running the booth instead of playing detective.”

I started to react to the word
playing
. There was no playing involved, and I reminded her that I'd solved quite a few murders.

We'd gotten to the greenmobile and were loading things in the backseat and trunk. “But maybe this time you really should leave it to the professionals,” my boss said.

The words echoed in my mind as I drove across the San Fernando Valley, avoiding the rush-hour clogged freeway by taking Burbank Boulevard. The view was enough to take your breath away as the wide roadway wound through the Sepulveda Dam area. The Los Angeles River looked like a real river here and not the concrete channel it was in so many other areas. A hawk coasted on the wind, circling over the wild open space. The air was cold and crystal clear, and the peaks of the San Gabriel Mountains were so sharp, it was almost like they'd been outlined in black ink. Who killed K.D. really wasn't my business, and then there was the issue of Barry's threats. Not that I really believed he'd arrest me, or at least I didn't think so. And yet it had happened almost under my nose. The killer was probably someone I'd seen, maybe even someone I knew. How could I ignore that?

The Buena Vista parking lot wasn't as quiet as I'd expected, considering that the show didn't open for another hour. A group of cars were parked close together, and the women were standing around drinking coffee. Some of them had brought baked goods that were being passed among the group. My first thought was it looked like a tailgate party for yarn fans.

As I passed by them I saw there was a lot of admiring of each other's handiwork and I heard snippets of conversation. Some of it was about yarn they'd bought or classes they were taking that day, but the biggest topic of conversation was last night's news and the murder at the yarn show. What was that saying about publicity? Bad publicity was still publicity. Of course, the facts had gotten wildly distorted. I heard one woman say that K.D. had died in the midst of the marketplace and another say K.D. had been modeling a sweater when she'd keeled over and that it was probably some fast-acting poison. I almost wanted to stop and correct them, but I forced myself to keep going with my bin on wheels to the event center. As I prepared to go in, a deliveryman came out pushing an empty dolly. He let the door slip but then caught and held it when he saw me.

Inside, the people running the registration booth were just arriving and went behind their temporary stand near the entrance. Several easels were being set up with large placards presenting the day's schedule of classes. I scanned it quickly and noted that most of them had to do with knitting. The few crochet offerings were taught by people I'd never heard of. Another placard had the day's schedule of knitting demonstrations, fashion shows of knitted designs and special events at some of the booths. I noticed there was no mention of our free lessons or pin making.

I started to get annoyed at how crochet was being ignored. I didn't understand why K.D. had included it in the show and then excluded it from all the demonstrations and events.

“Oh no, I'm turning into Adele,” I said under my breath as I went inside the exhibit hall.

The first thing I noticed was that a large floral wreath had been placed just inside next to the administration table. A picture of K.D. was beside it with the words: “A Knitting Legend Gone Too Soon.”

I went directly to the Shedd & Royal booth and began rolling up the coverings on the front. I wheeled the books inside, and it only took a few minutes to set up the freestanding holder. Now that I was viewing the booth with less tired eyes, I saw that we'd sold so much yarn that the extra Mr. Royal had left up in the mini suite wouldn't fill all the empty spots. I certainly didn't want to miss out on sales because we didn't have stock. What to do?

I had a good view of the other vendors as they filtered in, drinking their morning coffee. Paxton Cline came in looking like he wasn't sure he wanted to be there. But then I'd felt from the start he was working in the family business because he had to, not because there was yarn in his blood.

Perhaps he could offer a solution to my problem. He was pulling back the coverings from the Cline Yarn International booth as I approached him. He looked up and, when he saw it was me, appeared stricken. “I didn't do it,” he said as I got closer.

It was so funny that someone with such an unusual name was so bland and ordinary looking. He had medium brown close-cut hair and a soft, roundish face, which would probably become more defined when he got out of his twenties. I didn't get what he was talking about at first, but he continued on. “If you're coming to question me about K.D. Kirby's death, I have an alibi. My grandmother made me stay in the booth the whole time so she could wander around.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” I said.

“I saw the interview on the eleven o'clock news. I know all about your detective work.”

I told him I'd missed the broadcast. He took out his smartphone and with a few swipes of the screen had brought up the Channel 3 site and found the story. He went right to the part where Kimberly read the tweet out loud and mentioned that it seemed like her death was murder. The picture went directly to me after that. It was weird to see my name in tiny letters scrawled across the screen.

“I look horrible,” I said, focusing in on myself more than what the newscaster was saying. I'd never realized how bad I looked from the right side. My hair was askew and my complexion was as pale as a ghost. “It doesn't even look like I was wearing any makeup,” I muttered. I only tuned in to the report at the end when Kimberly said the part about me being the Miss Marple of Tarzana. “Could you play that again?” I said and he obliged. When I listened to it carefully, I realized it had been edited. They had cut out my statement about a loss to the yarn world and left in the part where I said something about a list of suspects. It really made it sound like I was on the case.

“Paxton, I'm not investigating K.D.'s death, and even if I was, you wouldn't be on my list of suspects.” Maybe I had wrongly suspected him in the past, but that was over and done with. He looked instantly relieved. “I'm here about yarn. We're doing so well, I need more stock and now.” I figured that Paxton kind of owed me. He'd been mostly a gofer until I said I wanted him to be the contact for the bookstore's yarn department and he'd been elevated to sales.

We walked into their booth and he looked over their stock. “I'm sure it wouldn't matter to Gran if I sold you some of our yarn. The end result is the same whether your shop or ours sells it.” Then he had a change of heart. “Maybe I better not. There's something weird going on. The very fact we have this booth is strange. We only sell wholesale to yarn stores. I asked Gran about it and she refused to say anything.”

He finally offered to call in a rush order and pick it up when he took a lunch break.

I asked him if his grandmother knew K.D., and his face fell. “Please don't investigate her. She wouldn't take it well. She'd probably sue you for character assassination or something.”

He looked at me for some kind of acknowledgment, but before I could say a word, he went off talking like a runaway train.

“Okay, Cline Yarn International bought ads in the knitting magazines. And the
Knit Style
magazine sometimes used our yarn in the patterns they featured. They bought yarn from us for their store. It doesn't mean anything that Gran always made a face when she mentioned K.D. Kirby's name.”

Poor Paxton realized what he'd just said pointed out how his grandmother and K.D. were at odds. “Forget I said that.”

“Don't worry, I'm not investigating anything,” I said, putting my hands up in capitulation. “I only came here to ask you about buying some yarn for our booth.”

Adele was just coming in when I went back to our booth. She was wearing a sample of the stash buster wrap her upcoming class was based on. It had a variety of colors and textures of yarn, but at a distance it was the reds that stuck out. She wore it over a navy blue pencil skirt that brought out the bright colors of the wrap. She'd brought another sample and laid it on the front table with a pitch about the class.

She noticed me staring.

“I'm trying to show off what students can learn to crochet in my class,” she said as she bustled inside. I expected some kind of fuss about the hook, but she said nothing. I decided it was best not to bring it up. She rushed off a moment later and said she had to take care of something.

I didn't expect the Hookers until later and was glad when Rhoda came in. She set down her stuff and took up a position to give crochet lessons. Adele was back by the time the doors opened and people began to come into the marketplace. Delvin took the microphone and welcomed everyone to Friday morning. I tuned out what he said after that, figuring it was all just stuff about knitting.

The morning crowd was lighter than the night before, but all of them stopped at our booth. Several people commented on seeing me on the news and asked for details about K.D., although it seemed like what they were really interested in was my reaction to coming across a dead person. Other people asked me if it was true I was some kind of amateur sleuth.

“She is,” a woman with brown curly hair said. “She's like our own Nancy Drew.”

There was a lot of interest in the crochet parties and the fact that the bookstore had a yarn department where people could hang out. Adele modeled her wrap and tried to get sign-ups for her class. She seemed a little frantic, and it occurred to me the class might still be a bit low on numbers.

“We've got to get enough people to sign up,” Adele said finally, and I realized I was right about her concern. “With all these knitters, we can't have a crochet class canceled. The embarrassment of it all,” she wailed. I was pretty sure she was most concerned about Eric's mother finding out.

“It's not until tomorrow, so there's lots of time for people to sign up,” I said. Adele seemed slightly calmed by my words. The crowd grew steadily, and then there was a lull as the morning classes started on the upper floor. When I looked around, Rhoda had disappeared. I took the opportunity to straighten things up while the booth was relatively quiet.

Across the way, I watched as Thea Scott and her helper did the same. I think everyone who'd come to the marketplace had stopped over there, too. It was, after all, K.D.'s yarn studio booth. I imagined it was a combination of people wanting to pay their respects and a certain level of curiosity.