Yarned and Dangerous (12 page)

Josie grinned. “She's a charmer. I came in to see if you'd had a chance to look at the Saab?”

Rusty made a few keystrokes at his computer. “Nothing serious, for a car that age. I tightened up the steering column and gave you a new set of spark plugs. That should take care of it.” He handed her the invoice that spat out of the printer. “I only charged you for an hour of labor and the parts were inexpensive, so I didn't bother to call you for authorization. Hope that's okay.”

Josie looked at the total. It was half of what she would have expected to pay in New York, assuming she could have even found a mechanic. She gave him her card. “Thanks,” she said, relieved.

“You bet. That car will run for a long time if you keep it maintained.” He handed her the receipt and a pen. “There's a box of yarn in the trunk.”

Josie scribbled her signature, then looked up. “Yarn?” She was sure she hadn't been carrying around any yarn. There was enough of that at Eb's and at Miss Marple Knits.

“It was Cora's. After the accident, the car was towed here so the appraiser could look at it. The car was a total loss, so I bought it from the insurance company for parts.”

“And the yarn wasn't . . . damaged?” Josie's stomach knotted up again.

“The yarn was in the trunk.” Rusty looked sympathetic. “They went off the road and hit a tree head-on. Her air bag didn't deploy, but Eb's did, which is why he survived.”

Josie swallowed. She felt sick that she'd never asked how the accident happened. Poor Cora. And poor Eb. Imagine the survivor's guilt her great-uncle must feel.

“Do they know what caused the accident?” Did she really want to know? “Eb doesn't talk much.”

Rusty's smile indicated that he wasn't surprised. “The police think she skidded on a patch of ice and lost control of the car.”

Josie wondered vaguely why Eb hadn't been operating the vehicle. He was old-fashioned, not the kind of man she'd expect would let his wife drive him around.

“I'm sorry,” Rusty continued. “I thought you knew.”

“I'm fine.” Not really. She felt awful for Cora, and for Eb. “Uh, I should be going. Thanks, Rusty.” She wrapped Cora's scarf around her neck and shouldered her purse.

“You bet. And I'm sorry about Cora. The car's parked in the side lot. Come this way.”

Josie followed him out the back door and around the side of the building. Rusty let her into the car. He pointed to the center console. “I found this set of keys in Cora's car. Eb never came to pick them up when I called him. Not that we need an ignition key anymore. I parted out what I could, then sold the car for scrap metal. It's been crushed by now.”

Josie gulped, then turned on the ignition. “That's probably for the best,” she finally said. “Thanks, Rusty.”

The Saab seemed to be running correctly again, but she decided to take it for a test drive around town to make sure. After a couple of circuits around downtown and the adjoining blocks, she was satisfied the car wasn't going to break down.

As she passed the town hall for the second time, a thought occurred to her. She'd forgotten to ask Mitch this morning about Trey's application to the zoning commission. But that was all right. She could go directly to the source. She stopped at the stop sign in front of the building, took a right, and pulled into the parking lot.

The Dorset Falls town hall was an imposing redbrick building built in the Federal style. Whether it actually dated back to Connecticut's colonial period, she didn't know, but it had clearly been around for a while. The steps were made of some kind of hard white rock speckled with black dots, worn in the center from decades, maybe centuries, of townspeople coming and going. She stepped under the white wooden portico and through a set of tall, very heavy doors.

Inside, the walls were covered in raised panels of dark oak. The space was saved from being oppressive by a line of white-shaded chandeliers that lit it. High ceilings made her want to shout something and see if she got an echo.

About twenty feet or so across the polished floor Josie spotted an easel. T
OWN
C
LERK
, 2
ND
F
LOOR
. She made her way up the stairwell.

The town clerk's office occupied a fairly large space. A woman at the counter said, “Can I help you?”

“I hope so. I'd like to look at the application of Trey Humphries regarding 13 Main Street.”

The woman eyed Josie through the top half of her bifocals. “Are you a town resident?” She set down the file she'd been working on. Wow. Was that an actual typewriter? Josie couldn't remember the last time she'd seen one of those. The woman's name plate next to it read M
ARIAN
M
URPHY
.

“Does it matter? Isn't the application a matter of public record? I saw the notice in the paper.”

Marian pursed her lips. “Yes, it's public record. But we like to know who's looking at our applications. Sign here, please.” Her voice was frosty, but she handed Josie a clipboard, which Josie signed. “Just have a seat over at that table, and I'll bring you the file.”

While she waited, Josie looked around. The space was utilitarian and 1980s modern, in stark contrast to the more ostentatious lower lobby. Her eyes landed on a series of photographs in dark frames. Ugh. One was labeled D
IANTHA
H
UMPHRIES
, C
OUNCILWOMAN
. For the love of Prada, could she not get away from this woman? Diantha's haughty stare seemed to bore into Josie's skull. The frame next to her was occupied by a photo labeled D
OUGLAS
B
REWSTER
, M
AYOR
. Where had she heard that name before? Oh, right. Lorna had been talking about him the other day. He owned the general store. He was also, apparently, the mayor of Dorset Falls.

Ms. Murphy returned and set a bound document in front of Josie. “Bring it to the counter when you're finished,” she said crisply.

Well, Josie thought, if I had to work in any kind of proximity to Diantha, I'd be cranky too. “Thanks,” she said, and flipped open the cover to the title page.

 

N
o. Trey couldn't be planning to demolish the building that housed Miss Marple Knits. How would such a thing even be possible? As far as she knew, number thirteen Main Street was attached to number fifteen Main Street. She supposed a construction company that knew what it was doing could accomplish the feat. But why?

Heart in her throat, she began to read.

Redevelopment. Opportunity for growth. Benefits to community. The application went on for pages. She turned to the next tabbed section, and her heart sank. A full color drawing stared up at her. She'd seen this building before, in any number of towns and cities and on television commercials.

Trey wanted to demolish Miss Marple Knits and put up a fast-food restaurant.

Josie sat back in her seat, stunned. She closed her eyes, picturing the giant illuminated spatula that identified every Simon the Fryman chicken franchise across the country. It didn't matter that downtown Dorset Falls was full of empty storefronts. Any charm, any small-town appeal it had would be ruined forever.

And yet, she asked herself, why did she care? This wasn't her town. She had no right to be incensed on its behalf. If the people who lived here didn't mind, why should she? But did they even know about it? Who actually read those notices in the newspaper, anyway? Yet she would have thought something like this could not be kept secret in a town this size.

On the other hand, it wasn't like Dorset Falls didn't need jobs. Working the cash register or fry-o-lator at a fast-food restaurant wasn't glamorous, but it was honest, paying work, something that appeared to be pretty tough to come by here.

Still, why did the restaurant have to be built downtown? Why couldn't it be built a few streets over, on the connector road out of town?

Josie had a pretty good idea why. Because Trey Humphries had a piece of property that was no longer going to be producing rent once Miss Marple went out of business, and he was going to be stuck with both upkeep and probably a mortgage. Bulldozing the building and selling or leasing to a national company would mean Trey would not only be out from under the building, he'd probably stand to make a pretty penny on the transaction.

Josie looked at the picture of Diantha. Trey Humphries's mother was on the town council. Could Diantha be involved? Of course, Josie had no proof of any dishonesty or nepotism on Diantha's part, but Josie wouldn't put it past her.

She closed up the application notebook. She'd seen enough.

Ms. Murphy took it from her and stowed it away efficiently under the counter. “Are you finished? We close early today, and I'd like to get home.”

“I'll be going, thank you.” Josie took a few steps toward the door, then turned back to the clerk. “When's the hearing on this application?”

The woman eyed her. “At the next council meeting. It's expected to pass, but the town bylaws require the formality of a hearing.”

“Do the citizens of Dorset Falls get a chance to voice their opinions?”

“Are
you
a citizen of Dorset Falls?” Ms. Murphy's tone was frosty again. Josie felt her hackles rise.

“Does it matter? You could tell me, or I can ask you to get me the bylaws so I can look it up myself. And that”—Josie glanced up at the big round clock on the wall—“might take some time.”

The woman huffed out a breath. “Fine. Yes, townspeople can speak at the meeting, but only if they have an actual legal residence in Dorset Falls. Which I'm assuming you don't.” She shoved a piece of paper at Josie. “Here's the agenda.”

Josie folded up the paper and put it in her pocket. She thought about reading it right there, just to annoy the woman a little more, but decided against it. You could always catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. “Thanks. You've been great.”

Ms. Murphy pursed her lips, but nodded. Yeah, the woman was clearly suffering from Diantha-induced crankiness.

 

Her car started right up, and Josie sat inside, waiting for it to warm up a little. She pulled out the agenda. The department of public works was asking for more money for snow removal. Various committees and commissions had vacancies that needed filling. Trey's application was the last item on the list. Insurance, probably, that fewer Dorset Falls residents would stay till the very end to voice their opinions.

Should she go to the meeting? There didn't seem to be much point. It wasn't like she'd be allowed to speak, and who would pay attention to her, an outsider, anyway? Going just to listen would probably just make her sad, or angry, or both. She pulled out of the parking lot and drove back to Miss Marple Knits, parking in front of the building. Evelyn's Buick was parked in the space ahead of her, but the car appeared to be empty.

Josie put her hand on the bright blue door of the yarn shop. The wood was cold and solid beneath her bare fingers. It had been here long before Josie was born, probably long before Eb or Cora had been born. If what the clerk at the town hall had said was true, it wouldn't be here much longer. Josie's heart squeezed as she went inside. In a few months, if Trey and Diantha had their way, this spot would no longer have the warm, earthy scent of yarn, but the greasy smell of fried chicken.

And there wasn't a darn thing Josie could do about it.

Evelyn blew in a few minutes later. “Sorry I didn't get here until now. It was a late night.”

Josie shook off her depressing thoughts and grinned. “We still have a couple of hours, if you have the time. Did you win?” She set up her laptop and called up the inventory document, which was now several pages long.

Evelyn got right to work. They were nearly finished with the yarn and knitting paraphernalia in the formerly public part of the store. She began to sort. “I was up thirty dollars at the end of the night. I'm strictly a slots girl. Helen and Courtney broke even. Diantha wouldn't admit it, but she was grouchy on the way home so she must have lost a few bucks. We're none of us big gamblers.”

Josie was perversely pleased that Diantha hadn't won. Wait, what had Evelyn said? “Courtney Humphries?” Josie shouldn't have been surprised that Courtney was part of the Charity Knitters. She'd been knitting up a storm at Rusty's car repair shop.

“Yes. She and Diantha are thick as thieves. Diantha likes her daughter-in-law better than her own son.” Evelyn made quick work of the skeins in front of her, and began to call out the brand and color. Josie made the appropriate notations.

“I saw Courtney this morning,” Josie said, typing away. “At the car shop.”

Evelyn stopped what she was doing and looked up. “Oh?”

“Yeah, she seems to have a little, uh, thing for Rusty.”

Evelyn went back to her sorting. “That's the rumor around town.”

“Well, I don't think Rusty has a thing for her. Unless he put on a very convincing show for me.”

“The verdict is still out on that one,” Evelyn said.

Before Josie could respond, the bells over the shop door rang. Her teeth clenched.

Diantha.

But not just Diantha. Following behind her like a faithful lapdog was Trey Humphries. Josie hadn't seen him in a decade, and he had more weight and less hair, but there was no mistaking him.

She steeled herself, glad Evelyn was there for moral support.

“Can I help you?” Josie said. “Hi, Trey. It's been a long time.”

Trey shoved his hands in his pockets. “Hi, Josie.” He was clearly uncomfortable.

Diantha glared at her. “I don't appreciate your spying on me,” she snapped.

From the corner of her eye, Josie saw Evelyn stiffen. “What are you talking about?” Josie said. “Why would I spy on you? No offense, but you're just not that interesting to me.” Take that, Dragon Lady.

Diantha's eyes narrowed to tiny slits. She shoved a finger toward Josie. “I saw you driving past my house the other day. It's bad enough you won't sell me the shop. You have to drive by and rub it in my face?”

“Settle down, Diantha. Remember your blood pressure,” Evelyn said.

Diantha's head spun toward Evelyn. “You stay out of this.”

“Don't tell me what to do,” Evelyn said, her demeanor calm.

“Frankly,” Josie said, “I'm not quite sure why you offered to buy the shop in the first place. I went by the town hall today. If Trey here gets his wish and tears down this building, you'd have to open the yarn shop in a different place.”

Diantha's face flushed. “I saw your name on the sign-in sheet. And that's another thing,” she spat out. “What business is it of yours what happens in this town? You're only temporary. You don't belong here.”

Josie turned to Trey, who stood there like a limp fish. Seriously, what had Josie ever seen in him?

“Give it to her,” Diantha ordered.

Trey obediently reached inside his wool topcoat and pulled out a folded piece of paper, which he handed to Josie.

Josie frowned. “What's this?” She opened it and read the subject line.
Notice to Quit
. Quit what?

“That's your formal notice to vacate the premises,” Diantha said triumphantly. “You have seven days.”

Seven days? Cora had had this shop open for a couple of decades. Did Diantha know how much stuff was in the building? Josie looked at Trey, who was seriously studying something in the vicinity of his shoes. Wuss.

“That doesn't seem legal. I think I'll have my lawyer check this,” Josie bluffed. She didn't even know who Eb's or Cora's lawyer was—her mother was handling that—but Josie intended to find out. Josie might not be able to speak at the town meeting, but she might be able to throw a monkey wrench into Trey's—make that Diantha's—plans.

Diantha bristled. “You do that. Trey's lease with Cora was ironclad. The lease is binding on her heirs, and that would be Eben Lloyd.”

Josie looked at the paper in her hands again. There was a paragraph, presumably quoted from the lease, that gave the landlord the right to terminate the lease upon seven days' notice.

Truth was, Josie was hoping to be done here in less than seven days. But she certainly wasn't going to say that to Diantha or Trey.

Josie looked Diantha in the eye. “Nice way to treat a friend, Di. I'm sure Cora would be pleased at how you're handling this.”

Diantha's face purpled. “This has nothing to do with friendship. This is business. And you're interfering with mine. Just get it done and get out.”

“That's enough,” Evelyn said. “You've said what you came here to say. The two of you can be on your way now.”

Diantha turned to Evelyn. “I told you to stay out of it, and I meant it. I'll see you at the Charity Knitters meeting tonight. Seven o'clock, my house.” She stormed out the front door. Trey followed without saying good-bye.

“Whew,” Josie said. “That was . . . fun.” She felt her shoulders relax.

Evelyn was nonplussed. “Speaking of fun, I wish I could be a fly on the wall of her house tonight.”

“Really, why?” Personally, Josie wanted to stay as far away from the woman as possible.

“Because,” Evelyn said with obvious glee, “Helen and I have already decided we're not going! So she'll have a lovely meeting with just Courtney. She'll pop a cork.
And
she'll have cooked and cleaned all day for nothing.”

Josie was impressed. “Not bad. But what about the Charity Knitters as a whole?”

Evelyn's face clouded over with sadness, and if she'd been closer, Josie would have given her a very non-New-Yorky hug.

“Cora was the heart and the brains of the group. She was the one who found the charities for us to donate to, and who kept us organized and moving. We can't get Diantha out of office until November, when we have our elections.” Josie pushed the box of tissues along the counter in case Evelyn needed one. “But Courtney will vote for Diantha as president, and of course Diantha will vote for herself. Helen and I will vote against her, but with only four of us in the group, we'll be at a stalemate. We won't be able to elect a president, which means we'll have to dissolve.”

Josie's stomach gave its characteristic flip. First the shop having to close, then the Charity Knitters folding—all of Cora's life work seemed to be dissolving away. The tissue she put to her own eyes dampened. “I'm so sorry,” she finally said. “I know that group meant something to you.”

Evelyn shook her head, as if willing herself back to the present. “Seasons change, and people die. It was naïve of us to think that we'd all go on forever.” She stuck her hands back into the pile of yarn, and Josie saw her shoulders relax, as if the fiber calmed her. “Still, I will miss getting together and talking and knitting. I guess Helen and I can still do it, of course, but there's an energy a group puts out that we'll be missing.”

“You know,” Josie said, thoughtful, “the chairs and couch are still here. Why don't we see if Helen can come over tonight? I'll get some coffee from the g.s., and you two can have a knitting session here. If you don't mind my hanging around, that is.”

Evelyn looked pleased. “That is a lovely idea. And we'll sit right here in the front window with the lights on, just in case Diantha or Courtney drives by. Cora would approve.”

“Super. Seven o'clock.” Josie would go home for a while and get Eb settled, then come back. If downtown Dorset Falls was a ghost town during the day, what would it be like at night? Well, she supposed she'd find out.

 

Eb just shrugged when she told him she was going back out. “Been a bachelor most of my life. Got my dog and my workshop. Don't need you.”