Knot Guilty Read online

  “She sort of admitted to taking the needles,” I said, and I heard him groan. “But she seems to have come up with a plan they’re all happy with in exchange for dropping the charges against her.”

  I described the plan to Mason, and he made more upset noises when he heard that the people who agreed to Audrey’s plan probably didn’t have the authority to drop the charges against her. “And she’s going to be there all weekend?” he said.

  “That was her offer.”

  “It looks like I’ll be seeing a lot of you this weekend, Sunshine, from across a crowded room.”

  Around midday, the crowd swelled as the classes finished and the newly inspired students went looking to buy more yarn. As if any crocheter or knitter ever needed a reason to add to their yarn stash. Most of the people coming into the marketplace made a stop at the wreath and picture of K.D. The usual reaction was a concerned head shake and a worried look around. Once Kimberly Wang Diaz had mentioned murder on the newscast, it changed everything. The questions on everyone’s mind were probably something like, who did it and were they still there? I suppose there might have been a third one—would the killer strike again?

  Thanks to our primo position, the Shedd & Royal booth was their first stop after that. And thanks to Mr. Royal’s great design, everyone wanted to wander inside the booth. I snapped some photos with my BlackBerry and sent them to Mrs. Shedd. I knew she was worried about the cost versus profit for our presence at the yarn show, and I wanted to reassure her we were getting lots of customers.

  At first, I’d just given out cards to anyone interested in the crochet parties, but then I’d set out a sheet where people could leave their information and I’d contact them. We were already on the third page.

  Adele had wandered off, mumbling that she had to take care of something. I was certainly glad when Rhoda reappeared and took over the crochet lessons. With her New York accent and slight bite to her voice, people were a little hesitant at first, but her no-nonsense manner turned out to work very well for teaching. The best part—there was no lecture about the wonders of crochet that Adele always gave out with her lessons. Elise arrived without her husband but with a fresh batch of her vampire kits. She joined Rhoda to help with the lessons, but her first priority was moving the kits.

  Since Dinah wasn’t there, I’d shut down the granny square pin making. I was left to help people with yarn, tools and books and doing the cashiering. It didn’t take a whole lot of thought to handle it, and my mind started mulling over who could have killed K.D. Kirby. Apparently lots of people. Even Rain had mentioned how the knitting mogul rubbed a lot of people the wrong way. Including Audrey Stewart, I thought with a start. Her pixieish appearance could be deceiving. I viewed her as a headstrong actress who thought she could handle things better than her lawyer, who was an expert at fixing messy situations. But now the timing of her appearance struck me. Of course . . .

  My train of thought was interrupted by something coming over the loudspeaker. I’d gotten used to the constant flow of announcements and descriptions of knitted items in the numerous fashion shows, so I’d mostly tuned it out, but this time something cut into my attention. Or someone.

  There were no customers at the moment, so I ventured out of the booth and walked to where I could see the catwalk. Adele was standing in front of Delvin, holding a large turquoise plastic crochet hook that I recognized as a size Q. She grabbed a strand of thick yarn that I saw was coming from the bag on her shoulder. She held it up over her head and made a slip knot. She gave a nod and music began—something that sounded like an Irish jig. And then Adele began to rock back and forth to the music as she made a short foundation row of chain stitches. Thanks to the big hook and thick yarn, it was easy to see what she was doing. She joined the row of chain stitches and formed a circle. I was pretty sure I knew what was coming next. She turned single, double and triple crochet stitches into the petals of a flower and then they exploded into crazy shapes that had no name. The music quickened and Adele with it.

  “What’s that?” a woman next to me asked her companion. “It looks like fun.”

  I butted right in and answered her question. “It’s freeform crochet. Sometimes called scrumbling.” I didn’t mention that the addition of the music was all Adele’s idea. More people joined them, and I heard the women repeating what I’d said Adele was doing. I saw several women heading to our booth and rushed back to help them. There seemed to suddenly be a lot of interest in the big-size hooks.

  “Hey, Sunshine.” I looked up just as Mason stopped by the edge of the front table. “Thanks for calling me,” he said, going past the crochet lessons in progress and coming into the booth. The women left with their crochet supplies, and there was a lull in customers. Mason took the opportunity to put his arms around me. The familiar scent of his subtle cologne filled my senses, and despite where I was, I settled into his embrace and hugged him back. Very simply he felt like home. It was our first physical contact in months, and neither one of us wanted to let go.

  But we both had things to attend to and reluctantly separated as I heard someone clearing their throat rather loudly. It was the kind of throat clearing someone did when they wanted to be noticed. Both Mason and I looked up at the same time. Rhoda and Elise glanced up from their lessons, too. Barry Greenberg was standing in the aisle, shifting his weight, seeming impatient.

  “What’s he doing here?” Mason said in an unhappy tone. It probably wouldn’t have mattered if I’d reminded Mason that not only had Barry walked out of my life, but he’d actually encouraged me to go with Mason. Even if they hadn’t been vying for my attention, the fact that Barry was a homicide detective and Mason was a lawyer made them natural adversaries. Me being in the mix just stirred the pot a little more.

  I was going to answer, but Barry spoke before I could. “I’m investigating a homicide. And I’d like to speak to Molly. It’s official business.” Mason looked to me, and I reminded him that I’d found K.D. and that Barry had already questioned me once.

  “Do you want me to stay as your lawyer?” Mason asked. I was sure the best chance for peace was for him to leave. I assured him that I wasn’t a suspect. “I’m one of the few people who doesn’t have a motive. I had no problem with K.D.”

  Mason reluctantly left, but not without saying that he’d try to stop back later. I followed him outside the booth and stopped next to Barry.

  “What’s he doing here?” Barry asked. He was trying to sound like it was just an informational question, but he couldn’t quite hide the edge in his voice. I mentioned one of his clients was at the yarn show. Barry knew the kinds of clients Mason had and also that if Mason was there, the client must be in some kind of trouble. He asked for details. I had no attorney-client situation to keep me from talking, but I didn’t want to get in the middle, either, so I only gave her name.

  We were still standing in the aisle. Barry was staring at the administration table, and I followed his gaze. Mason had just caught up with Audrey Stewart. He hugged her in greeting and then put his arm around her shoulder and led her to the back wall.

  Barry smiled. “And you’re not jealous?” I shook my head, and he stopped to think for a moment. “Right, I did hear something about Audrey Stewart. There was a fuss about some knitting needles she shoplifted. Mason’s clients certainly know how to make a mess out of anything.” He turned to me. “Are you sure it doesn’t bother you that he has to spend all kinds of hours with women like her? All that hugging doesn’t look that professional to me.”

  “I gather you’re here for a reason,” I said, ignoring his comment. Barry had said it was official business, and I was more comfortable dealing with details of a murder than comments on my personal life.

  “Right,” Barry said. He pointed to a quiet corner in the back of the booth and suggested we go there. “I have something to show you,” he said. He waited while I cleared a spot on a display table before layin
g the file down and opening it. He extracted a photograph and set it down on the closed file. “I wondered if you recognized this.”

  I did my best to appear neutral, but I certainly did recognize the subject of the photo. The wooden hook was thick around the bottom and was clearly handmade—and—the hook Adele had been frantically looking for.

  “Where was it taken?” I asked. Barry let down his cop face and smiled while shaking his head. “Some things don’t change. You can’t answer my question with a question. Molly, this is serious business. I’m investigating a homicide. Now, just tell me anything you know about this hook, like who it belongs to.”

  I took a moment to consider what to say. The fact that he was asking about the hook meant it was somehow connected with K.D.’s death. Adele had been angry with K.D. and said she was going to talk to her, and throwing a hair dryer in a bathtub probably was the kind of thing Adele would do if she was going to kill somebody. But I still wasn’t going to hand her over to Barry.

  “It’s obviously a rather large crochet hook,” I said. “It looks like it’s made out of wood.”

  Barry groaned and was all serious cop now. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. I know you know who it belongs to. I could arrest you and take you down to the station.”

  “For what?” I said.

  He narrowed his dark eyes. “For not talking, ah, withholding evidence. Something like that.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’d really do that, all that time and paperwork? And you know that charge would never stick.”

  “What’s going on?” he said. “You used to tell me stuff.”

  “And you used to tell me stuff,” I said. “You clammed up first.” I reminded him that I’d asked him unanswered questions when we’d spoken before.

  He seemed totally frustrated, and I thought he was going to drop it. Elise left to take a break as Adele came barreling back in the booth, exuberant from her performance. She even had a following of people.

  “Pink, I’m so glad it occurred to me to talk to Delvin. It was so much easier dealing with him. He completely got why they should include crochet demos. Not like some people.” I tried to be like Barry and do the cop face thing, but I don’t think I succeeded. It might have been the little gasp that escaped my lips despite my best effort to keep it in. Or it might have been the way I rushed to block Adele’s view of the photo and tried to move her away. One look at the picture and she’d be sure to shriek something about it being her hook. Barry was a master at reading people’s reactions, and there was a triumphant glint to his eyes. I knew he was up to something. I wanted to warn Adele, but that was too much of a giveaway.

  “Adele, could you hand me a copy of the first Anthony book?” he said. I yelled, “Don’t!” but she just looked at me like I was nuts and picked up a copy out of the freestanding case.

  “How about I get a picture of you holding the book,” Barry said. Adele was clueless there was anything up and naturally just liked the attention. She even posed. When he was done she brought the book over and started to hand it to him, but he started fidgeting with something and asked her to leave it on the table. Without a second thought, she set it down and picked up one of the large hooks we had for sale and went back to show it to her group of followers.

  “Ring me up,” he said to me, handing over his credit card. There was nothing I could do but take his card and run it through the thing on the computer tablet. Adele had gone back to showing off the freeform crochet piece to her followers.

  “Do you want a bag?” I said after he signed the screen with his finger.

  He was all cocky smiles now. “Just give me the bag and I’ll do it myself.” I handed over one of the paper bags with “Shedd & Royal” on the front and could do nothing but watch helplessly as he took his pen and pushed the book into the bag without touching it.

  “Did I forget to mention that we found the hook in the victim’s room and it was covered with fingerprints?” He looked at his package. “And now we have something to try to match them with and even a photo to show whose prints they are.”

  Poor Adele had no idea that she’d just contributed to cooking her own goose.

  I waited until he was completely clear of the booth and Adele’s crew had moved on before I went over to her. “What’s up, Pink?” she said, looking at me with a wary eye.

  “I need to know. Did you go up to K.D.’s room and talk to her?” Adele seemed surprised by the question.

  “I was going to, but then I decided why bother, I’d just put the blinking logo back out and rehang the banner. If she came back to the booth and fussed, then I’d talk to her.” Adele stopped and suddenly seemed suspicious. “Why are you asking?”

  “So, you’re saying that you didn’t take your special hook and yarn and go up to her room?”

  “No way.” Adele put her hand on her hip, and then I watched as a cloud went through her mind and her expression dampened. “What are you saying—that the hook I’ve been looking all over for was in K.D.’s room?”

  I didn’t say a word, but my expression must have told it all, because Adele kept on going. “It couldn’t have been there. It must have been an imposter hook. I wasn’t anywhere near her room. How do you know the hook was in K.D.’s room?” Then the pieces began to fit together. She glanced toward the aisle and her eyes moved back and forth as she thought. “The cops have it, don’t they? And now they have my fingerprints, too.” She suddenly looked totally dejected.

  We were interrupted by the arrival of Paxton pulling a cart with several big plastic bins on top. He wheeled it right to the back of the booth and had me sign for the order of yarn. “Please don’t mention this to my grandmother. I can’t see why she would mind, but she’s been so jumpy, I don’t want to take a chance on upsetting her.”

  When Paxton left, Adele came up to me. “Pink, you have to do something. I can’t be accused of anything. That would be the final straw with Mother Humphries. I know I’ve teased you about doing the detective thing, but you’ve got to find out who really killed K.D.”

  “There you are,” Dinah said, catching up to me as I threaded through people in the aisle between a booth featuring gorgeous handspun yarn studded with sparkle and one that had a display of little shopping bags with kits of organic cotton to make small items like washcloths.

  “You made it,” I said. The agreement had been that she would come after her day’s class and help out with the booth. I was thrilled to see her, not only for the help she offered, but also for her understanding ear. I held up my coffee cup. “I just got this, but if you want we can go back and pick up a drink for you.” She shook her head and we continued up the aisle together.

  When we got to the front of the aisle, we walked to the area near the stage and catwalk. For the moment it was quiet, and it seemed like a good place to talk away from the others. From there we had a good view of the administration table. Audrey Stewart was leaning over, talking to a little girl who had some knitting in her hands. The girl’s mother was capturing the moment of her daughter talking to the actress on her cell phone camera. Mason was propped against the wall. CeeCee was watching from the end of the table and appeared annoyed.

  “So fill me in on what I missed,” my friend said. I brought her up to speed on the shoplifting actress’s arrival and attempt to get herself off the hook, along with my reporting it to Mason. “We just had a moment together and Barry showed up.”

  “Barry and Mason both here,” she said with a laugh. “It sounds like a handful.”

  “But I haven’t gotten to the important part,” I said. And then I brought up Adele and how Barry had set her up.

  “She must be hysterical,” Dinah said.

  “You would think so. But it’s Adele we’re talking about. She dropped it in my lap and told me to find out who killed K.D. Then she went on like it was problem solved.” Just then Delvin stepped up to the micro
phone.

  “And now we’re having an audience participation fashion show. I know it is a tradition to wear something you’ve made. This is your chance to show it. Do we have any volunteers?” The words were no sooner out of his mouth than a line of women and two men formed near the staircase that led up to the stage.

  I nudged Dinah and pointed. “See what I mean.” Adele was the fourth person in line and was adjusting her stash buster shawl as she moved up. Delvin had repositioned himself and his microphone near the short staircase. He questioned the first person in the line and then turned to the crowd. “First we have Becky from Chatsworth wearing a knitted mohair blend scarf.” He gave a few more details about the design used as Becky made her way down the catwalk. I was sure Becky wasn’t really a model, but it was amazing how quickly she picked up the swirling and holding out the scarf to show off the intricate stitches.

  “That’s the woman who thought we were in her space,” I said as the second model stopped next to Delvin.

  “I’m not sure if this is really fair,” he said with a wink in his voice. “Rain is one of our vendors, and she’s modeling one of the pieces she has for sale.” He described the luxurious gray shawl as she walked the length of the narrow walkway. “Rain wanted me to be sure to mention that this was only the sample and that it comes in other colors.”

  “Maybe we should go up there,” I said. I looked down at the multicolored cowl I’d added to my outfit. Dinah had on a long skinny scarf crocheted in pale yellow cotton. We traded glances and both shook our heads. “And maybe not.”

  We hung around the spot until Adele had her turn. “See what I mean,” I said. “She doesn’t seem worried at all that the cops have her hook and her fingerprints.”

  Dinah nodded in agreement. “If it was me, the last thing I’d be worrying about was showing off my crochet.” We both rolled our eyes.

  It took her quite a while to tell Delvin about her wrap, and he seemed a little uncertain as he began his patter. “And now we have Adele who belongs to the Tarzana Hookers.” He paused long enough for the titter of laughter to subside. “I’m sure you all realize that is hooker as in one who crochets. She’s modeling her own crochet design of a stash buster wrap. Adele wanted me to mention that this is the first year that we’ve included crochet in the show, and she is teaching a class in how to make her stash buster wrap tomorrow afternoon.”