Purls and Poison Read online

  Ruth handed her back the phone. “You’ll have to do that yourself. My skills in that area are limited,” she said with a small smile.

  “I hear you.” Maggie didn’t see how photos of yarn could help, but Lucy was smart to get copies. One never really knew how the pieces might eventually fit.

  Maggie didn’t have any more questions and wondered if they were really helping Suzanne, or just causing Ruth more distress.

  Lucy had served Maggie a cup of tea, too, and she took a sip, then set it down. “I’m sorry for all these questions. I don’t mean to bring you more sadness. Honestly. You must think it was very duplicitous of me to come here today.”

  Ruth’s expression was half hidden by her cup. “Now that you mention it . . . I suppose I do.”

  “I apologize for that. Sincerely.”

  “You promised to knit with me. And so we did,” Ruth acknowledged. “That wasn’t a lie.”

  “Yes, but . . . all the questions . . . For a good cause,” she added.

  “I understand.” Ruth set her cup down on the side table. “I could be angry at you. But I also want the real killer to be caught, as you say. The detectives seem to think your friend is guilty. If she is innocent, as you claim, it will be proven in court. Hopefully. But by then, the real killer may get away.” Maggie felt relieved that Ruth saw their point. “Trouble is, I doubt anything I’ve said has furthered your cause.”

  “We can’t say yet. You may have helped a lot,” Lucy replied.

  “I’ve heard around town that you and your friends have solved a few cases for the police.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far. We’ve helped a bit.” Maggie shook her head, wondering what Charles would think if he ever heard that. Did people really say that about them?

  “The police will never admit it,” Lucy added.

  “I’m sure they wouldn’t. If I were in your shoes, I’d be doing the same. We need to protect the ones we love. I feel so frustrated, wondering if there was something I could have done for my daughter. Some way I could have helped, or protected her from this tragedy.” Ruth shook her head, looking as if she might cry again. “Now I’m stuck in this chair and there’s so little I can do about anything.”

  Maggie reached over and covered her hand. “There, there . . . We didn’t mean to upset you.”

  Ruth wiped her eyes again and sat up straight. “To be honest, I’m glad you came. I want to help find the awful person who killed Liza. Now I’m wondering, too, if the police overlooked something. Or someone. I know how competitive my daughter was. Always pushing herself to be the best. But she’d never kill someone over it. Your friend probably wouldn’t either. I find the motive weak, even if the police are sold on it. But what could the reason be? Maybe we’ll never know.”

  Ruth sighed. She pushed the brake off her chair, hit a button on the armrest, and it started rolling toward the front door.

  Maggie thought Ruth was abruptly showing them out. She stood up quickly and grabbed her belongings. So did Lucy. They glanced at each other, not knowing what to do.

  But Ruth bypassed the door and ended up at an antique secretary. She opened a small drawer below the pigeonhole compartments and took out a key on a metal ring, then turned toward them.

  “This is the key to my house. Liza’s bedroom and study are on the second floor. Maybe if you look around, you’ll find something the police missed. That’s all I can think of doing to help you.”

  Maggie took the key and stared down at it. Technically, Ruth still owned the property and was giving them permission to go inside. But her daughters had been living there for some time and such a visit would be an invasion of privacy.

  “I appreciate that you want to help, Ruth. I really do. But I’m not sure I feel comfortable taking your key. What about Kira? Maybe we should just stop by and ask her to let us look around. You could give her a heads-up and smooth the way?”

  “Kira isn’t home. She took Emma up to Maine for a few days to visit friends. It’s been a very stressful time for her. She needed a rest.”

  Maggie glanced at Lucy. That was convenient. And made the offer all the more tempting.

  “She’s very private, just like her sister. I doubt she’d ever speak to you about this—or let you look around,” Ruth added.

  Maggie still didn’t know what to do. But Lucy did. She leaned over and took the key, then slipped it in her pocket.

  “Thank you so much. This could help a lot. Maybe you can let Kira know you said it was all right for us to go in for a few minutes?”

  The solution seemed reasonable to Maggie. Well, not entirely. But at least Kira would know that strangers had been snooping around her residence.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll smooth things over for you. It’s still my house,” Ruth reminded them.

  Maggie and Lucy gathered their belongings, and Ruth followed them to the door. “Thank you again for hearing us out. Someone else would have shown us the door,” Maggie said.

  “I was tempted. But I don’t get many visitors who will sit and knit. For that pleasure, I’ll put up with a lot.”

  Maggie was surprised by the humorous reply. “I’ll come again. Very soon. Under better circumstances. And without a hidden agenda.”

  “I hope so, too,” Ruth said.

  Maggie didn’t say more until she and Lucy were in her car. She clipped her seat belt, but didn’t turn the engine on.

  “I hope we didn’t stay too long. Once I was there, I wondered if we’d done the right thing, asking her to help us.”

  “I did too,” Lucy admitted. “But she seemed persuaded that Suzanne is not the killer. At least, she’s willing to entertain the possibility that it might be someone else.”

  “It was good of her to answer all our questions and give us that key.”

  “I feel like it’s burning a hole in my pocket.”

  “I smell the smoke from here,” Maggie murmured. “Do you think we should really go there? It seems like crossing a line of some kind.”

  “I know what you mean. But it is Ruth’s house, at least technically, and she gave us permission. It’s not as if we’re breaking and entering.”

  “Not really, but . . . that term reminds me of Charles, and he’d have a fit if he knew I even entertained the idea.”

  Lucy touched her arm. “I took the key. You had qualms. I can go there tomorrow. I’ll ask Dana or Suzanne to come with me.”

  Maggie considered the plan. “By tomorrow, Kira might be home. And Ruth gave us permission to go inside. Not Dana or Suzanne. And if the police ever caught Suzanne there . . .”

  “Good point,” Lucy conceded. “What now?”

  Maggie started the engine and turned her head to back out of the space. “Let’s go to Hickory Hill and get it over with. We won’t stay long. In for a penny, in for a pound?”

  “I had a feeling you’d say that. And who’s going to tell Charles? You know I never would.”

  Maggie offered Lucy a small smile. She had plenty of misgivings but felt she couldn’t give up now. If Suzanne was convicted of this crime and she could have done more to vindicate her friend, Maggie knew that she’d never forgive herself. She knew that Lucy felt the same.

  * * *

  Night had fallen by the time they returned to the village and reached the Devereaux home. Maggie parked on the street, though the driveway was empty. She didn’t feel she should take that much liberty. She got out of the car and pushed up the collar of her thick sweater jacket. It was going to be a cold night, maybe the first frost. A brisk wind blew white, wispy clouds across the dark blue sky.

  The house was a grand Victorian, three stories high, with big bay windows, two turrets, and several chimneys reaching up from the peeked roof. Maggie could see why Ruth’s voice was tinged with pride when she referred to the house and also, why it had sat months on the market without selling to a new owner. It was a beautiful old home, but not the type young families were looking for these days.

  With dried leaves blowing aroun
d Maggie’s feet and bare branches swaying in the wind, the dark, empty house seemed ominous.

  As they headed toward the gate, a slinky gray cat darted out of the shrubs and ran across the lawn. Startled, Maggie grabbed Lucy’s arm. Then laughed at her reaction.

  “Sorry. I didn’t expect that.”

  “Not a big fan of felines, as you know,” Lucy replied. “They usually sneak up on me.”

  Maggie did like cats. But this one seemed like a bad omen. Or a warning of some kind? She pushed the silly notion aside and kept walking.

  “This house is awesome,” Lucy said in a hushed tone.

  “What we can see of it. Watch your step. We don’t want to break anything out here. That wouldn’t serve our cause at all.”

  “Good point.” Lucy took her phone out and turned on the flashlight. “This should help.”

  Maggie did the same, helping to guide their path up the steps, toward the front door, where Lucy took the key out of the front pocket of her jeans.

  She glanced up at Maggie. “What if Liza and Kira changed the locks and we can’t get in?”

  “I’ll be greatly relieved and will enjoy the sleep of the just.”

  Lucy slipped the key in the lock and turned it. The door easily opened. “Sorry to dash your last hope, Mag. There’s still time to go back to the car. I won’t be offended.”

  Maggie gave the offer some thought. “Since I made it this far, I am curious.”

  They stepped inside and Lucy found a light switch. A beautiful crystal fixture that hung from the foyer ceiling filled the space with light. Maggie looked down to see classic black and white tile on the floor and ornate white molding on the pale yellow walls and even on the ceiling.

  Lucy walked through the foyer and peered into the entrance of the living room, which was framed by large white columns. Maggie looked in the room, too. The shadowy outlines of furniture looked like large sleeping animals.

  “Where should we start? This place looks immense.”

  “We can’t stay all night. I think our best bet is to look around Liza’s personal space, her bedroom and study, as Ruth suggested.”

  “That makes sense to me.” Lucy turned and started up the long staircase, which had a landing and balcony in the middle, where it curved around toward the second floor.

  Paintings on the walls caught Lucy’s attention, and Maggie saw her stop to appraise them. “Lucy, please. It’s not a museum tour. Let’s keep up the pace.”

  “Right.” Lucy turned and took the last steps with more focus. “Let’s try this way,” she said at the top of the stairs. She turned to the right and Maggie followed. Lucy began peering into doorways all along the hall as she came to them.

  “Guest room . . . library . . . some sort of art studio?”

  “Kira paints, remember?” Maggie said.

  “Oh right. Must be her work space . . . And this must be Kira’s bedroom.” Lucy stepped aside and Maggie saw a rather messy room, decorated with wall hangings of painted fabric they’d seen in the studio and large paintings in the same style on the walls.

  Small tables held an abundance of random objects, seashells, feathers, rocks, African carvings, candles, incense burners, and abstract pottery. The bed was covered with a canopy of more painted fabric and the mattress covered by a tapestry quilt and multicolored pillows.

  “Definitely not Liza’s space. Keep going.”

  “Here’s Emma’s room.” Maggie glanced in the next doorway and saw a small bedroom decorated with pink and yellow flowers on the walls, a shelf that held big fluffy toys, and more plastic toys and puzzles on the floor. Against one wall stood a small white bed with rails on each side.

  Lucy opened the next door. “Here we are, this one must be Liza’s.” Maggie followed her in, quickly surrounded by a sophisticated, spare decor, the color scheme shades of blue, gray, and white.

  The cream-colored dresser tops and bedside table were knickknack free, except for a few family pictures, a lamp, and a crystal jewelry tray.

  Maggie’s gaze came to rest on two stuffed animals that sat near the pillows, a large white bear and a smaller one. Totally out of synch with the rest of the decorating.

  She glanced at Lucy. “We can look through the dresser drawers. But that seems so . . .”

  “I know what you mean. Let’s skip that for now.” Lucy turned. “There’s her study. Let’s check the desk. That could be helpful.”

  Maggie saw a small, adjoining room, where a desk and bookshelves were arranged under an eave-slanting ceiling.

  Lucy was already at the desk and Maggie browsed the bookshelves. “She liked novels and poetry, literary stuff. I thought we’d find a lot of books filled with tips for being a super saleswoman,” Maggie said.

  “Liza had hidden depths, that’s for sure.”

  “Oh, here’s one, Mover, Shaker, Deal-Maker. I stand corrected.”

  Lucy was crouched down, next to a drawer filled with files. She was rifling through the pages and didn’t look up. Maggie stepped over to help, but not before noticing a bottom shelf filled with child care titles. What to Expect When You’re Expecting, followed by what to expect at various stages a child would go through. All the way to college.

  “A lot of child care books here, too,” Maggie murmured.

  “Must be Kira’s.”

  “Yes, must be,” Maggie agreed. She stood by the desk and picked up a photo. It looked like it had been taken the past summer, at the beach. It was either Kira or Liza, who sat in the sand with the little girl, surrounded by plastic shovels and buckets. Emma wore a red bathing suit and held her sand-covered hands toward the camera, looking very pleased with herself.

  “She is cute. She has the same blue eyes as Kira and Liza. Did you notice?”

  “Runs in the family. Lucky girls.” Lucy stood up and brushed off her hands. “It’s just a lot of bills from the house, utilities and plumbing. Some records from her mother’s move to Brookside. There’s a file that says ‘Emma.’ ” Lucy took it out and leafed through. “Medical records in here, mostly.”

  Maggie looked over her shoulder at the papers. “Why does Liza have her niece’s medical records?”

  “Maybe Kira doesn’t have insurance and Liza paid the medical bills. Didn’t Suzanne hear that Liza was supporting her sister and niece?” Lucy replied.

  “Yes, that’s right. I forgot,” Maggie said.

  “And maybe Kira is just plain bad at record keeping. If her bedroom is any indication of her organizational skills, I’d go with that guess. Liza must have kept track of things for the family. She also has all the papers from their mother’s move to Brookside and Ruth’s medical records, too.”

  “That makes sense,” Maggie agreed. “She was obviously the responsible one. Should we look through the files and see if there’s anything that jumps out? Her bank statements, for instance. Follow the money and all that?”

  “Maybe.” Lucy didn’t seem keen on that idea. The task of sifting through all of Liza’s papers was daunting and they couldn’t stay here all night. A neighbor was likely to see lights on and know that Kira was away.

  Lucy looked up at her. “The problem is, there aren’t any bank records here or even credit card bills. Most people do all that online these days. We can’t follow the money if there’s no paper trail.”

  “Right. Hadn’t thought of that. I’m still in the Dark Ages with invoices, envelopes, and the US Postal Service,” Maggie admitted.

  Lucy laughed. “It’s a long buggy ride into town to mail your bills. But it’s only once a month, right?”

  “Right . . . Well, what should we do now? I’m starting to think this wasn’t a good idea. How would you feel if some stranger came into your bedroom and started sifting through your private papers?”

  Lucy frowned. “It is sort of creepy.”

  “Exactly. We aren’t creeps, are we?”

  “I try not to be. If I can help it.” Lucy took the photo Maggie was holding, glanced at it a moment, and set it on the desk.
Then leaned over and pushed the heavy drawer of files closed. “It’s stuck, blast.”

  Lucy gave the drawer a harder shove and the picture of Emma at the beach flew off the desk and fell to the floor.

  “Oh dear.” Maggie watched as Lucy gathered up the pieces.

  “The frame burst apart. But I don’t think anything is broken. Let me see if I can fix it.”

  “I hope you can.” Maggie watched over her shoulder.

  Lucy placed the pieces on the desk—the frame, backing, the square of glass and the photo.

  “What’s this?” She picked up a piece of folded paper from the collection and a small brown envelope.

  Maggie thought the paper might have been stuck behind the photo to fill in space. But the envelope definitely looked suspicious.

  Lucy carefully unfolded the sheet, handling it by the edges. Her eyes widened.

  “Look at this.” She showed it to Maggie.

  Maggie read the letter aloud, “Keep your mouth shut or you’ll be sorry. Think of Emma.” She looked up at Lucy. “Someone was threatening Liza.”

  “Looks like it.” Lucy carefully set the note on the desktop. She fished through her knapsack and came up with a plastic bag. “I don’t think we should handle it. Fingerprints.”

  “Yes, right,” Maggie said.

  Covering her fingers with the plastic, she folded the paper again and put it in the bag. She turned the page over to the blank side. “Look at that.”

  Maggie wasn’t sure she saw anything except for a thin black smudge along the crease of the note. “Someone stepped on it?”

  “It was under a windshield wiper. I’m almost sure of it.”

  Maggie smiled. “Clever girl.”

  “Not really. I get a lot of parking tickets.” Lucy looked up at her. “Maybe this note was left when her car was vandalized. That’s what upset her. The threat, not the damage.”

  “Whether it was on the car, or she got it at some other time, she was definitely threatened. Why didn’t she tell the police?”

  “Maybe she did but the police didn’t tell Suzanne?”

  Maggie considered the possibility. “I doubt that. I think they assume Suzanne vandalized the car. What’s in the envelope?”