Monica Ferris_Needlecraft Mysteries_01 (30 page)

“Both Irene and Joe described your car as the one they saw in that parking lot at a little after ten. You really should have taken that hood ornament off. Ask me how I can prove it was your car.”

“You can't prove it was my car.”

“The department of public safety can make up lists of Minnesota car owners broken down any way you want. Did you know there are only seventeen Rolls-Royces in the state, Hud? And only two of them are convertibles. And guess how many owners of Rolls convertibles don't have alibis?”

“Bitch,” Hud muttered. “You
bitch
!” He grabbed for her, but prepared, she ducked away.

“Jill!” she shouted, and Jill stood up on the other side of the gleaming-empty salad bar. Beside her were Lars and two more uniformed officers, one with his gun drawn.

“Hold it right there, Mr. Earlie,” the cop with the gun said in a deep, calm voice.

“I tried,” said Betsy. “But he wouldn't confess.”

“Close enough, I think, Miss Devonshire,” said another man's voice, and a heavyset man who looked like every B-movie plainclothes cop came out of the kitchen. He was the chief of Excelsior's police department. With him was Mike Malloy, handcuffs in hand.

Jill, Lars, and the uniformed cops ducked under the salad bar and approached.

“You're under arrest, Mr. Earlie,” said Malloy. He reached for Hud's right arm and snapped the handcuffs onto his wrist. “For the murder of Margot Berglund. You have the right to remain silent....”

Betsy had always wanted to hear the entire Miranda warning, but all of a sudden her head was swimming and someone grabbed her and the next thing she knew she was sitting sideways at the end of a booth and the room was empty, except for Jill.

“Hey,” said Betsy. “Where did everyone go?”

“Down to the police station,” said Jill. “They want to talk to you some more, but it can wait until tomorrow.”

“That's good, I think I'm kind of talked out. Did Hud go quietly?”

“Yes.”

“Too bad, I would have liked him to feel a billy club or two.”

“Want to go back to the dance?”

“Oh, gosh no. But oh, and how am I going to get home? Hud brought me!”

“Want a ride in a squad car? I can arrange for you to ride in the front.”

“Can I play with the lights and siren? No, sorry, I don't mean that. I think I'm still light-headed. Riding in the front—is that what you and Lars thought was so funny about riding in the back of Hud's Rolls?”

“Yes, when he rolled up that window we started reciting the Miranda warning to each other.” Jill chuckled.

Betsy said, “We got him, didn't we?”

“You bet we did. Mike has a whole lot more respect for you than he used to.”

“Did he order up the the list of Rolls-Royce owners like I asked him to?”

“Yes, he did. How did you know there were only seventeen of those cars in the state?”

Betsy stared at her. “There are? I just pulled that number out of the air. Wow, do you think I'm psychic?”

“No, I don't. But I do think you are damn quick on your feet. Now come on, let's go phone for transportation.”

 

 

Hud wisely invoked his right to silence. And the indictment did not mention a motive when he made his first appearance in court Monday morning. So the
Strib
put the story on the first page of its Metro section, below the fold, without a photo.

But when an Asian art expert came up from Chicago on Wednesday to look at the Minneapolis art museum collection, two employees of the museum resigned without notice. They were arrested and one of them began negotiating a deal.

A week later Jill sat at the table in Crewel World. She was in uniform, drinking coffee with one hand and stroking Sophie with the other. She didn't seem too concerned that Mike Malloy might come in and run her off.

Betsy was grumbling over a piece of twelve-count aida, blunt needle in her hand threaded with scrap yarn. “I just don't get it, Goddy.”

“I know, I know; but it's like purling. Just listen and be patient and all of a sudden you'll wonder what you were complaining about. Now, where do you go next?”

“I haven't got the faintest idea.”

“You're about to go up, so go down here.”

“See what I mean?” she demanded. “I'm going up, so I go down.”

“Yes, that's right. Here,” he said, pointing, and Betsy obediently stuck the needle through from the back.

Jill said, “You'd think anyone who could figure out the clues that pointed to Hud Earlie could figure out a simple thing like basketweave.”

“Yeah, you would, wouldn't you?” Betsy said crossly. She stuck the needle back in again on the diagonal. “Now where?”

“Here.”

“Ah, this part I get.” Betsy finished the angled row and said, “Now where?”

“Now we're starting down again, so go across, here.”

“Ahhh!” Betsy growled, tossing the canvas down. “To go up you go down, to go down you go across. It gives me a headache!”

“But it isn't hard,” said Godwin, picking it up and putting it back in her hands. “You're saying it right, that means you know it. Just do it.”

Jill said, “How's business?”

“Crazy,” said Godwin. “Everyone wants to meet the person who figured out a murder. And thank God they're ashamed to admit it, so we're selling every starter kit in the place.”

Betsy said, “That knitting class Margot had on the schedule is overbooked; I may have to hire Irene to teach.”

“Don't do that, you'll lose all those potential customers,” said Jill. “You teach it.”

“Me? I can't do anything more than knit and purl. Those crossovers and knots and all are a mystery to me.”

“But you're so good at mysteries,” said Godwin with his famous limpid look.

“And the students will be more interested in how you solved a murder that baffled the police than they will be in how to do crossovers,” said Jill.

“Are you upset that I solved it?” asked Betsy. “Is Detective Malloy?”

“I'm not upset. And I think Mike has decided you're a special kind of informant. After all, you came to him at the end.”

“Of course I did! I'm not V. I. Warshawski.”

“Some people think you are,” said Jill. “They'll be really disappointed not to meet you at knitting class.”

Betsy laughed. “You teach it, Godwin,” she said. “I'll sign myself up as a student. That way we won't disappoint our clients in any way.”

“Well—”

“Thanks. I'll make up the poster tonight. Say, do either of the rest of you subscribe to that newsgroup rctn?”

“No,” said Jill.

Godwin said, “Aren't they fun?”

Betsy nodded. “And long-winded. It takes forever to download their messages, but they had this thread about coffee stains on a needlepoint—”

The door went
bing
and talk stopped. A young woman wearing a maternity top she barely needed came in with an older woman who looked enough like her to be her mother. Betsy stood and asked, “May I help you?”

“My daughter may have to spend the last part of her pregnancy in bed. She can knit and wants to make a bed jacket, but she can't do complicated stitches. Can you suggest something?”

Betsy said, “Here, let me show you something.” She reached beneath the worktable and lifted a wood-framed folding canvas holder up onto its surface. She pulled out a pair of knitting needles to which was attached a pale gold length of knitting. It caught the light in a very attractive way when Betsy draped it over her hand.

“Oh, that's beauti—why, look at that, Mama, it's ribbon!”

“Yes.” Betsy nodded. “It's mine, and I'm just learning. If you can knit and purl, you can do it. Isn't it pretty? We have the ribbon in stock in a wide range of colors, and there are pattern books that show you how to knit with ribbon.”

The older woman fingered the knitting. “You know, that is beautiful. It makes me want to take up knitting again myself. Do you have any alpaca wool?”

“We just got a shipment in. I've never seen such wonderful colors. We have bone and bamboo knitting needles, if you need needles. But first, let me show you the ribbon selection.” Betsy started to lead them toward the back. “Oh, and do you know we have classes here? Our regular knitting class is full, but there's going to be a second one starting soon, if you're interested. Or if you want to wait until spring ...”

Over at the worktable there was a lot of winking and nodding going on. No one had wanted to ask, but if Betsy was talking about spring classes, she wasn't going to be holding a going-out-of-business sale anytime soon.