Inherit the Wool Page 11

  Elizabeth was only too happy to fill him in based on what she knew, which wasn’t much. I stepped in and assured them there was absolutely no danger involved with it.

  “But Vanessa didn’t know that,” Elizabeth protested. “She still could have gotten so scared that she had a heart attack.”

  “Instead of thinking about her death, I think we should think about Vanessa’s life and what she meant to all of us,” I said, amazed that I’d come up with something that sounded so saccharine. But it worked and they all started saying nice stuff about our teammate. In the discomfort of telling them about Vanessa, I’d forgotten all about checking their faces for a tell. And now it was too late.

  Courtney was dressed in the same classic casual as the day before. She had started gathering up her papers and pushed away her plate of half-eaten food. “I’m so sorry about Vanessa, and I guess that ends our reunion. I’m going to go to the Lodge and call about getting a flight.” She glanced around at the group and they all seemed to agree.

  I froze. I hadn’t considered that they would want to leave. I had to keep them there until we, well, I figured out which of them was . . . responsible—it was hard for me to even mentally say that one of them was a killer. If Lieutenant Borgnine heard the group was scattering, he’d be forced to show his hand and insist they stay. They’d all clam up then. Courtney wasn’t a criminal attorney, but I was sure she knew enough legal stuff to tell none of them to talk.

  “You know that Vanessa wouldn’t want that,” I said, looking over all of their faces, hoping they wouldn’t pick up that I was doing a total bluff. Vanessa had seemed like she had one foot out the door from the moment she saw the inside of the Lodge. If the situation was reversed and one of the others had died, there would have been no keeping her even though she was the one who suggested the retreat in the first place.

  Courtney put her papers back down and let out a sigh. “When you put it that way, I see your point. It’s important to value what you have when you have it.” Her voice had lost its usual sharpness and she sounded almost wistful.

  “And to help us at this difficult time, I’ve added a new activity. Maybe activity is the wrong word. A local policeman I know has a new mission. He’s wants to teach the world to meditate and he’s offered to give each of you a private session.” It seemed a little odd to call him Lieutenant Borgnine to them, but it felt weird to me to call him anything else. Finally, I just left off his title. His name is Theodore Borgnine,” I said, trying to let the name roll off my tongue.

  My gaze went toward Lucinda, who was fighting to keep in a laugh. I couldn’t look at her or I would have lost it. I focused on the rest of them. “He’ll be coming by and taking you one at a time for a private session on the beach.”

  I sensed someone had come up next to me and turned to see Dane had joined us. How did he manage it? He’d had less sleep than I had, and yet he appeared all bright-eyed, decked out in his midnight blue uniform. He managed to combine hot and cute in his own unique way.

  “I’ll go first,” Elizabeth said, raising her hand. She was already starting to get up.

  I realized that with what I’d just said and then Dane showing up, she thought he was the meditation guru. “This isn’t Theodore,” I said. Lucinda had put her hand over her mouth to shield her expression, but I could see by her eyes that she was having a hard time keeping the laugh in. Dane heard the name and gave me a quizzical look.

  “I was just telling them about Lieutenant Theodore Borgnine’s new mission in life. To teach people to meditate.” I was trying to signal Dane with my eyes that something was up, but he mistook it for an effort to flirt on my part and rolled his eyes in response.

  “Then what’s he doing here?” Courtney said.

  I was struck silent but Dane wasn’t. “I’m Casey’s neighbor,” he said. “I wanted to make sure everything was okay after last night.” Only I knew what he really meant and I offered him a grateful smile. Elizabeth was still giving him the once-over. Zak seemed to be checking him out, too, but Courtney and Lauren just nodded and smiled.

  Lucinda circulated around the table offering refills of coffee, and I pulled Dane off to the side. As soon as we were out of earshot, his eyes got a teasing glint. “Lieutenant Borgnine is giving meditation lessons?”

  I explained the situation and Dane’s expression changed to admiration. “You have amazing powers if you got him to do that, which makes up for your lack in the flirting department. That was what you were doing back there, right?”

  “No,” I whispered. “I was trying to signal you to go along with what I said.”

  He shrugged. “Really, that was what that was? We need to work on our signals.” My back was to the group and his eyes narrowed as he looked over my shoulder at the table of my friends. “So you think one of them did it?” I nodded in answer. “Maybe you need a bodyguard then,” he said, looking hopeful. “Better than my current assignment.” I saw a roll of plastic bags coming out of his pocket. “I’m on doggie detail. Making sure everyone picks up after theirs.”

  “But you do it with such finesse,” I teased. Dane was like the old-fashioned beat cop who helped work things out rather than slapping on cuffs and hauling someone into a cruiser. “I don’t want to keep you from your work,” I said, trying not to laugh.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The dining hall had emptied by the time my group finally vacated their table. They all needed time to let the news about Vanessa sink in. Lucinda had to get the coffeepot refilled, but their plates of food had been abandoned once I shared my news. As we all finally headed to the dining hall door, Elizabeth caught up with me.

  “Someone should call Blair and tell her what happened,” she said. I got the message that the someone she meant was me. Elizabeth had her own sense of what was proper and who was supposed to do what. I bet she was the one in her class who told the substitute teacher that they were supposed to get homework. I added it to the things I had to take care of during the free time until the morning workshop.

  It was so different putting on a workshop for a group who didn’t knit. Instead of hearing that they’d be gathering during the morning free time to work on projects they’d brought with them, this group had other plans.

  Elizabeth wanted to send off some postcards. Zak didn’t say what he was going to do and took off alone. Lauren went back to her room and said something about a nap. I assumed Courtney was going to continue what she’d been working on at breakfast. Lucinda and I finally got a moment alone. I began by profusely apologizing about not baking the desserts and explained I’d already talked to Tag.

  “If you worked things out with him, you’ll get no problem from me. And after all that went on last night, it’s not a surprise you forgot to bake,” she said. I debated telling her the whole story about Vanessa, but decided that it was best to have just one version of what happened out there for now. I told her that Tag needed to hear from her and she nodded. “I was already planning to call.” She offered to help me after that, but I told her this was supposed to be her time off. “Well, then, I’ll be in one of those chairs in the Sand and Sea lobby with my feet up and a good book.”

  My plan had been to go straight to our meeting room and try to fix the mess the yarn and needles were in. Dane had been nice to retrieve them for me and I was sure that meant just scooping everything up, which would have tangled everything even more. But now that Elizabeth had brought up calling Blair, I wanted to get the difficult call out of the way first. Rather than take the time to go across the street, I decided to stop in the Lodge and use one of the phone booths.

  The last time I’d been inside the Lodge, it had been in disarray from the bomb scare evacuation, and I wasn’t sure what to expect as I went up the stairs to the deck and pulled open the door. I was surprised to see how regular it appeared. I noticed a couple at the registration desk. I heard the noise of a table tennis game in progress. Some teens were busy with the pool table. The seating area looked normal and several peop
le were on the couches and chairs arranged around the large stone fireplace. There was no hint now that anything had happened. I stood staring at the seating area, thinking over what I knew about the previous night, and the order of things clicked in my mind and I understood exactly how the bomb scare worked as a diversion. Someone had dropped something in Vanessa’s drink to knock her out. Once the bomb scare emptied the Lodge, the person pumped her with the air.

  The phone booths were all occupied, so I wandered further into the large room to where the fake bomb had been. There was nothing to mark the spot and the only reason I found it was that I remembered the bag had been right below the window that looked out on the driveway.

  If only I’d known it was really a diversion and not a prank, I thought with regret, I would have looked at that shopping bag more closely. As I glanced around I realized how easily someone could have dropped off the bag unnoticed. There were no chairs or tables close by and the way the seating area was arranged, we had our backs to the spot.

  There had to be clues attached to the shopping bag. I wondered what had happened to it, since the whole episode had been written off as a prank. Though I imagined by now Lieutenant Borgnine had connected the dots between the bomb scare and Vanessa’s death.

  I started back toward the front and saw that the phone booths were still all occupied. As I got near the couches and chairs by the fireplace where we had sat, I recognized one of the women I had checked in. It was easy to remember her name since I’d associated it with pasta. Her last name was Noodleman. It gave me a shiver to realize she was sitting just where Vanessa had been sitting the night before. Her coffee was on the end table in the vicinity of where Vanessa’s wine had been. I was going to call out a greeting but then had another idea. I went up to the end table and touched her coffee cup, curious to see if she noticed. She never looked up from her book and I realized how easy it was for someone to have dropped something into Vanessa’s wine.

  I looked toward the front and saw that someone was just exiting one of the phone booths and I rushed to claim it before someone else grabbed it. The booth might have been vintage, but the pay phone was brand new and took credit cards. I punched in the number and waited for an answer without a clear idea of what I was going to say. It turned out not to be an issue, as it went to voice mail. There was no way I was going to leave a message saying that Vanessa was dead. I finally just identified myself and said I had something important to tell her and that I would try again later.

  When I came out of the booth I saw Kevin St. John coming out of the door that led to the back area. Cora and Madeleine Delacorte and a man I didn’t recognize were with him. The man was dressed in business attire and headed directly to the door on the driveway side. Kevin spent a moment talking to the Delacorte sisters before they parted company, and my detective radar said something was up.

  Cora was overdressed as usual in one of her Chanel suits and low heels. Her bubble of brownish hair seemed recently done and I could see the green eye shadow from where I was standing. She looked perturbed, and after saying a few words to her sister, she also headed to the door. Madeleine saw me and offered me a weak smile.

  Whenever I saw the two sisters together I was struck by how different they seemed now. Cora was actually the younger of the two, but with her stiff hairstyle and formal clothes she looked so much older and less fun than Madeleine did in her skinny dark-wash jeans and black turtleneck. It wasn’t just the clothes—Madeleine’s attitude seemed more youthful, too, as she tried to make up for all the years of living a sheltered proper existence. All was not peaceful between the sisters since Cora had always been the one in charge and completely disapproved of what Madeleine was doing. It bothered the younger sister no end that there was nothing she could do to stop her.

  It was obvious they’d had some kind of powwow and the timing made it seem likely it had been about the events of the night before. Madeleine’s smile had faded by the time she crossed the space between us and she appeared upset.

  “It’s such a shock about Vanessa,” she said. “You don’t think that Kevin is right, that her family might sue us?”

  I led her off to the side and asked her why Kevin thought they might sue. “He told us and the attorney said that they might claim we were negligent for not making sure she’d gotten out of the Lodge.” Madeleine shook her head sadly. “And that it had something to do with why she had a heart attack.” She seemed uncomfortable as she looked at me. “Kevin tried to tell him it was your responsibility to look after your retreaters.” She went from uncomfortable to annoyed as she continued. “Kevin said we were only there as a formality and that we shouldn’t worry our pretty little heads over it because he’d handle everything.” Some people passed close to us and I stepped even closer to keep our conversation private. “Cora and I have always let him run things, but are we really doing the right thing? It’s all a little overwhelming.”

  It figured that Kevin St. John would try to blame me. I wanted to assure her that it wasn’t my fault or Vista Del Mar’s, but that would have required me telling her that it didn’t appear that Vanessa’s heart attack was natural. I felt bad that she and Cora had to put up with Kevin’s demeaning comments, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from spilling the beans that there was help available in the form of family she didn’t know she had. But I couldn’t be the one to tell her that Gwen Selwyn was really her niece and that my helper Crystal was her great-niece. Too bad because I could just imagine how Gwen and Crystal would take that pretty little heads comment.

  “When everything settles, I don’t think there will be a problem,” I said, trying to be reassuring without giving out any information. Her expression lightened.

  “I told Cora that you would figure everything out.” She reached out, seeming to want to make some kind of physical contact, but she seemed at a loss to know what to do. “Mother always insisted that we behave in a proper and reserved manner. I see people hugging and doing arm squeezes when they want to show their connection to someone. How do you choose what to do?” She looked to me for an answer. Madeleine was trying so hard to do catch-up and she somehow had taken me as her guide.

  I figured a hug would be too much of a stretch for her and suggested that a squeeze of my forearm with her hand would be a nice gesture. She followed my directions and it was apparent that she felt awkward, but she managed to do it. She let out her breath. “Mother would be turning in her grave if she saw me do that.” She let out a little chuckle. “Cora wouldn’t like it either.” To punctuate her comment, Madeleine gave my arm another little squeeze. I reminded her of the workshop and told her she was welcome to come.

  “It’s always nice to see Crystal,” Madeleine said. “She’s so colorful.”

  And a whole lot more.

  She went out the door to the driveway and was no doubt headed for the golf cart she used as transportation. I went out the door on the other side of the building. There were a few people sitting out on the deck as I went to the stairs. The clouds were like a thin veil and a hint of blue sky showed through, giving the hope of some sun. I followed the roadway to the Cypress building. As before the door to the other meeting room was closed and only ours was open.

  A fire had been laid in the fireplace but not lit. The coffee and tea service hadn’t been brought in and the counter was empty except for the tin I’d brought over the day before. I checked the contents and saw that there were cookies left.

  Dane had left the bin on wheels next to the table and I dreaded opening the lid. The yarn and needles had been a mess on the table in the Lodge and I imagined it could only be worse now.

  I ordered myself to be brave and popped open the top. It was like looking at a sea of black yarn with some silver highlights mixed with the giant red needles. I lifted it out as one mass and put it on the table. The needles slipped out and fell on the table with a loud clack. Some of them rolled off and hit the floor. It was going to be start-all-over-again time once I got all the yarn separated.
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br />   I felt through the mess and pulled out a skein of the black worsted and began to rewind it.

  “I thought you might need some help,” Lucinda said, coming into the room. She saw the mess of yarn on the table. “Wow, it looks like I’m right.”

  “You’re supposed to be off enjoying some time to yourself,” I said.

  “I had enough reading. You know me, I’m more of an action person.” She glanced around the empty room furtively. “And I thought you could tell me what’s really going on. A bomb scare, one of your friends has a heart attack, and Lieutenant Borgnine is giving meditation lessons?”

  I hated having to juggle the truth. Lucinda still had no idea that Gwen was really a Delacorte. When I had first found the evidence that Gwen was Edmund Delacorte’s love child I had kept the information to myself—unless you counted telling Frank. Against his advice I’d finally passed the information on to Gwen. From then on I’d stayed out of it, figuring it was up to her if she wanted to make it public.

  But I realized I could tell Lucinda the whole story about Vanessa. The reason for keeping the cause of her heart attack quiet was to help with the investigation, and since I was one hundred percent sure that Lucinda wasn’t a suspect, there was no reason not to tell her.

  I made sure no one was coming up the path and shut the door to outside. “How about we work on the yarn while I talk.” I pulled out a chair and she did the same. I took the skein I’d been working on and continued rewinding it. She pulled out a skein of the silver yarn and began to follow the trail of the strand.

  “The three things you mentioned are connected,” I began. Lucinda was fascinated as I described the fake bomb with more details that I surmised from what I’d seen. “They used an automated pet food dish. The top of it was set with a timer, and when it slid open, the dry ice fell into the water and began to ‘smoke.’ And the ticking sound,” I said with a laugh. “There’s a setup so the pet owner can record a message and it plays when the top opens. Instead of ‘come and get your dinner’ someone recorded loud ticking of a clock. It was all very theatrical.”