Knot Guilty Page 10

  “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 sa
id, 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.

  I was surprised to see Audrey Stewart march into the booth and stop next to Thea Scott. I checked to see if Mason was behind the alleged shoplifting actress, but she was alone. I was curious what was going on and moved to the bench outside our booth to get a better chance at overhearing. The actress had a pixieish look with her short chopped haircut and slender build, but she seemed all business.

  Delvin joined them, and then K.D.’s daughter Lacey came into the booth as well. Now I was really curious about what was going on.

  Audrey first gave her condolences to all of them on the passing of K.D., and I wondered if passing was the right term when someone was murdered. Wasn’t that more like being pushed? Then the actress got down to the real reason she was there.

  “I’m sure at a time like this, the last thing any of you want to be dealing with is the whole fuss about the silver knitting needles. I got the impression that it was K.D. who was so insistent about pressing charges, anyway. I think I’ve come up with a good solution.” She made sure she had their attention.

  “It doesn’t matter how I got the needles, even though it was really a mistake. Why not turn this into something positive?” Her audience nodded at the idea. “So, here it is. I’ve donated the silver needles to the auction. With all the attention they’ve gotten, they will probably go for more than the selling price, and all that money goes to charity. At the same time, I will pay the store for the needles. And as a little something extra, I’ll hang around for the weekend. We all know how celebrities attract attention. I can do autographs, take pictures with people, even help them with their knitting.” She paused for it all to sink in. “Then at the end of the weekend, the slate is clean.”

  The store manager stepped forward. “You’re right that at a time like this the silver needles hardly seem important. Why not keep it simple and you just pay the store for the needles.” Thea Scott looked to Delvin and Lacey for agreement.

  “It’s too late for that,” Audrey interrupted. “I already donated them to the auction.” She pushed a check toward the manager saying it was for the needles.

  Delvin turned to Audrey. “I think that is a great idea.” He glanced at all of them. “Since I’m in charge now, I’m giving her the okay.” In case they’d forgotten, he brought up that there was something in writing that if K.D. was incapacitated, he was to step in. Lacey argued that it was only meant to be temporary.

  Delvin disagreed. “Your mother probably didn’t tell you, but I know she wanted to step back from the business. Once everything is settled, I expect to be permanently in charge. I’m sure that was what the announcement K.D. was making was all about, and I’m sure she left it in writing with her attorneys.” He looked very self-satisfied. “I’ve been covering for her for years. All the pieces supposedly written by her were done
by me. I supervised the photo shoots. She was the face of the business, but I did all the work.”

  Lacey jumped in. “Delvin, if my mother was going to turn anything over to anybody, it would be to me.”

  The trendily dressed man appeared shocked. “You must be kidding. You have no interest in yarn. You don’t even like to wear sweaters. I have been your mother’s right-hand person for years. I know the ins and outs of everything. All you know is how to post tweets and manage a Facebook page.”

  Lacey gave him a haughty stare. “I have a degree in business. I don’t need to know about yarn to run things.” She turned to Audrey. “I think your suggestion about the needles is an excellent solution.” Lacey took out her phone and began to compose a tweet. “I’m going to let everybody know about your donation to the auction. It will generate a lot of attention. There’s nothing like a story to go with a donation to make it seem more valuable.”

  But something in Audrey’s proposal didn’t seem right to me. After watching how Mason had accompanied her the day before and spoke for her to K.D., I couldn’t believe he would tell Audrey to come make this deal herself. Unless he didn’t know what she was doing. I felt a little like a tattletale, but I called his office anyway.

  “Miss me, huh?” he teased when he came on the line.

  “Well, yeah,” I said, meaning it. Seeing him just for the few minutes at a distance had made me long for more time with him. But this wasn’t the time to get all gooey and romantic. I told him about his client, and I could hear his breathing change and could tell he wasn’t happy.

  “I just hate it when my clients think they can handle something themselves and end up making a mess that I have to clean up. Sorry I can’t say anything specific. But there’s nothing wrong with you talking.”