Silence of the Lamb's Wool (A Yarn Retreat Mystery) Read online

  The Lodge came into view and I was already reaching for the door handle, thinking I was home free. I had the door open the minute the van stopped.

  “Where should we put the wool fleeces?” Tag said as we began to get out. Before I could say anything, he continued, “I hope you find somebody to—”

  “To help you take in the wool,” I said, interrupting him before he could bring up Nicole again. I looked at the three pre-retreaters and told them everything was under control and they could go off and enjoy themselves.

  I just hoped that Nicole had left a lot of good instructions.

  10

  “There’s no reason for you to feel strange. Will gave you the key and told you to take whatever you needed,” Lucinda said as we stood in front of The Bank. What she said was true, but I was still uneasy about going into the closed store. I was glad Lucinda had said she would come along.

  The early birds had gone off to have lunch and Tag had gone on home after helping to get the fleeces to the Cypress meeting room. Just before he left, he pulled Lucinda and me aside and said he could research the wool-to-yarn process. Lucinda and I had shared a roll of our eyes.

  Lucinda had sent him home and she’d driven into downtown Cadbury with me. “Tag needs to do his exercise walk,” she said, shaking her head. “He always walks in the morning on the same route along Grand Street. You should take it as a high compliment that he chose to help you out this morning and delayed his walk.” I did appreciate what he’d done. Tag was such a habitual person, making an alteration like that had to have been very difficult.

  “I never noticed how ornate this building is,” Lucinda said, touching one of the columns outside the front door of the corner building while I fished around for the key.

  The leather strap with the bells attached let out a loud jangling sound as I opened the door. Lucinda jumped and then laughed at her nerves. “It’s not like there are ghosts in here.”

  “Look who’s feeling strange now,” I joked as we went inside. The whoosh of air from the door opening had sent some papers sailing across the floor. I scooped them up, afraid we’d slip on them. Figuring they were just advertisements that had been slid under the door, I stuffed them in the canvas messenger bag I’d taken to using as a carryall. I looked around the interior. Even with all the windows, the light was low inside the old bank. This was so different from when I’d been there before. Now it felt eerie and quiet.

  I found a light switch and turned on the inside lights. When I looked around I expected to see a fiesta of colors and textures, but instead my breath caught. Something was wrong. All the textiles hanging on the old tellers’ cages were askew. Lucinda followed close behind as I took stock of the place.

  The first things I checked were the glass cases in the middle of the shop. No surprise, the doors to the counters had been opened. The silver pieces were still there, but when I checked the pink velvet backdrop for the jewelry pieces, it was empty.

  The spinning wheels were all in place, but a basket of yarn was dumped. I went behind the half partition and found what Nicole must have used as an office. The drawers on the desk were all open a touch, as though someone had pulled them open and been in too much of a hurry to close them completely. I went right past two cubicles and looked at the vault.

  The thick metal door was open and I got up my courage and went inside. As Nicole had said, she’d made it into a meditation room. A forest green cushion sat near a small low table with an incense burner. Not my idea of a place to meditate. The room felt claustrophobic as I looked at the gray metal walls, which I realized were actually rows and rows of safety-deposit boxes. Each had a round hole in the middle where the locks had once been. I noticed that several appeared to have been opened and carelessly shut, like the desk drawers. Lucinda had come in behind me and backed out, obviously reacting to the close feeling of the space. I walked farther into the vault and pulled out the ajar boxes and opened the tops, looking inside. Nothing. Not even lint. I guessed that whoever had checked those three and found nothing there had assumed the rest were also empty and given up. I considered looking through them all, but after opening another three and finding nothing, I gave up. But at least I shut them all the way.

  I went back into the main area and took out my cell phone. “I’m calling the cops,” I said, putting in the number. I explained to the dispatcher that it wasn’t an emergency.

  I was relieved that the dispatcher must have passed along the information because there were no flashing lights or sirens when the blue-and-white cruiser pulled in front of the store. A moment later Dane walked in, or should I say Officer Mangano, because he was in his midnight blue uniform with a canvas cop jacket on top.

  Dane’s demeanor softened when he saw Lucinda and me. “What’s up?” He looked around the place as I explained Will had given me the key.

  “But when we got here, it looked like this.” I pointed out the blanket and quilt hanging askew on the tellers’ cages and walked him to the glass cases.

  “Is anything missing?” he said, looking inside one of the cases.

  I explained about the jewelry made out of hair I’d seen the last time I was there.

  Dane tried to keep his cop face on, but he couldn’t help it, he wrinkled his nose with distaste and then asked me if it was valuable.

  “The pieces weren’t anything that I’d want,” I said. I added that Nicole had mentioned that some of them were made out of dead people’s hair as a remembrance of them.

  After taking him into the vault, we all checked the back door. “This isn’t the original door,” Dane said. I remembered there was a fuss when Nicole had it installed, saying she wanted something to let in light.

  He shook his head at the quality of the lock and pointed out that the door seemed to have been carelessly closed. What he said next came as a complete surprise.

  “From the looks of things, I’m guessing Nicole made a last stop here. Maybe she was looking for something or wanted to wreck the place and gave up. In her mental state she probably didn’t care about locking the door.” I mentioned the missing jewelry.

  “She might have just sold it between the time you were here and now,” he said, gesturing toward the glass cases. “All those silver pieces are still there. If somebody was looking for valuable stuff, they’d have taken those.”

  Lucinda walked over to the glass cases and nodded with agreement when she saw what was still there.

  “Even so, I think Will should be notified,” Dane said.

  I reminded Dane about the lack of cell service and offered to try to reach him. I called the café. Jane said he’d just been in and she’d try to catch him. A few moments later, he picked up the phone and I handed mine to Dane.

  Dane didn’t hide his emotions behind a blank expression and flat tone. He knew Will and began by telling him how sorry he was about Nicole and then eased into giving Will the reason for the call. When he finished the call, he handed my cell back. “He doesn’t seem concerned about a break-in and agreed that Nicole probably just left it this way. Poor guy,” he said with a sad nod of his head. “There doesn’t seem to be any reason to write up a report.”

  He appeared to be getting ready to leave, but on second thought asked why exactly we were there. I reminded him about my upcoming retreat and that Nicole had been the center of it. “I came to look for some kind of playbook of the program and to look at the spinning wheels.”

  When Dane heard I was taking them to Vista Del Mar, he was concerned how I’d get them there.

  “I was going to take them in the restaurant van,” Lucinda said.

  “I have a better idea,” he said. “I’ll pick them up later in my truck.” He looked at me directly. “You’re baking tonight, right?” When I nodded, he continued. “I’ll stop by the Blue Door and we can come back here and you can show me what you want moved.”

  I almost said, “Are you s
ure your girlfriend won’t mind?” but I smiled and agreed.

  “It’s the least I could do for a neighbor.” His angular face lit up with a warm smile. After rechecking that the back door was shut tightly and reminding us to lock up, he got ready to leave. Just before he got to the front door he turned back. “About last night,” he began.

  I rushed in before he could say anything else. “You don’t have to explain. I got it.”

  Lucinda and I went through the place, straightening the quilts and blankets hanging on the tellers’ cages, closing the back of the glass cases and even straightening the stack of old ledgers that had fallen over next to the fireplace. At the same time, we kept an eye out for something describing Nicole’s plan for the wool. She must have had it all in her head because we found nothing.

  “It looks a lot less creepy this way,” I said, admiring what we’d done. “Now let’s get out of here.”

  “I don’t know about you, but I need a nice cappuccino,” Lucinda said as I flipped off the lights and led the way to the front door.

  “Just what I was thinking,” I said, suggesting where to go. Cadbury didn’t have chain restaurants, big-box stores or Starbucks. But with the chilly cloudy weather, Cadbury was still a coffee town and the brew was dispensed in a number of small shops. My personal favorite was the Coffee Shop. In typical Cadbury by the Sea fashion, the name said what the place was without any fancy flourishes. My understanding was Maggie had been the first to serve gourmet-quality coffee.

  The shop was located in one of the Victorian-style buildings and had such a deep fragrance of coffee it was as though the years and years of grinding beans like Sumatra, Costa Rican and Kenyan had been absorbed by the burlap-coffee-bag-covered walls. The walls that weren’t covered in burlap were windowed and looked out onto a small courtyard next to the place.

  Lucinda went to snag one of the small round tables. Several of the other tables were taken and there was a low hum of conversation. “Drinks are on me,” I said. Lucinda had a hard time accepting, but after her help with the fleeces and dealing with Nicole’s place, it was the least I could do. I held strong and she finally relented with a thank-you.

  * * *

  It was a slow time of day and Maggie was working the counter alone. She was finishing up with the customer ahead of me. She popped the lid on one of the red paper cups with Coffee Shop in white writing and set it next to another cup in a cardboard carrier. As I stared at the cups, I had a flashback to the cup lying on the ground with Nicole. Of course, the cup had come from here. I wondered if Maggie was aware of it. I knew how uncomfortable and somehow connected to Nicole’s death I’d felt when Dane had mentioned that one of my muffins had been found on the ground. And Nicole hadn’t even eaten any of the muffin. I wondered if I should bring it up. I was afraid my thoughts showed on my face and I did my best to erase the clouds from my expression.

  “This ought to do it.” Maggie took a half straw and squeezed it before sticking it into one of the cup’s sip holes and handing the man the carrier. He offered her a hearty thank-you before walking away.

  I stepped up to the counter and her face broke out into a friendly smile. “Casey, I didn’t see you hiding behind that guy.” She leaned across the counter and gave me a hug. “What’s your pleasure?” she said. She saw Lucinda and waved.

  I’d barely said “two cappuccinos” when she said, “One with an extra shot, both with two-percent milk, am I right?” It was more of a statement than a question.

  “Exactly right,” I said in an amazed tone.

  She seemed amused by my surprise. “I pride myself on knowing how my customers like their drinks.” She saw me looking at the case of goodies. There was an empty basket where my muffins went.

  “Nobody seems to remember that there are no muffins on Wednesdays,” Maggie said, working her magic with the espresso machine. “You know, if you ever change your mind about baking Tuesday nights, my customers would be thrilled.”

  The Coffee Shop had been the first place in town to take my muffins and I was forever grateful. It was all thanks to my aunt, but then so much of my life in Cadbury was thanks to her. We talked for a moment about my aunt and how much we both missed her.

  It turned out to be meaningless that I’d offered to buy the drinks because Maggie wouldn’t take my money. “Consider it professional courtesy,” she said, giving a nod to Lucinda, who mouthed a thank-you.

  I set down the foam-covered drinks as Maggie attended to a new customer. The Coffee Shop proprietor was definitely striking looking, with glossy black hair she always tied with a red scarf. Red was her trademark color. She wore lots of it and even had cups that color. She was outgoing and vivacious and gave no hint to her own personal sadness. My aunt had told me that Maggie’s daughter had died when she was in her early twenties. It had been some kind of accident. And then recently she’d been widowed. I think one of the reasons she always wore something red was to keep herself cheerful.

  When Maggie finished with the customer, she grabbed a mug of her own brew and came to our table. “Mind if I join you?”

  “As if you have to ask,” I said, pulling a chair from another table. Maggie sat down with a sigh and said something about how all the years of being on her feet were getting to her.

  Maggie wasn’t a gossip as much as a news exchanger. The cheerful expression had faded from her face. “I suppose you’ve heard about Nicole Welton. So sad,” she said.

  Lucinda and I nodded in agreement. Maggie seemed upset. “I was horrified when I heard she put the poison in a cup of coffee from my place.”

  “Then the police talked to you?” I said, relieved that I didn’t have to be the one to tell her.

  “It seemed to be the customary type of investigation in the case of a suicide. They wanted to know if she seemed despondent when she came in.” Maggie stopped to drink from her mug. “The thing is, I don’t remember seeing her Tuesday morning. It was pretty busy and the girl I have helping probably waited on her. Poor Carol was so upset at being talked to by the police, she could barely remember her own name, let alone if she’d seen Nicole.” Maggie paused and sighed. “I wish I had waited on her. Maybe I could have said something that would have made a difference.”

  “So then Lieutenant Borgnine told you it was suicide?” I said, thinking how he’d never divulged that when he was talking to me or my people. I was beginning to think that he just didn’t like me.

  Maggie nodded as an answer and I asked if Nicole came in often. “Her shop is just down the street. Not every day, but often enough that I knew she drank lattes with a double shot of sugar-free vanilla syrup. It’s a wonder she even knew she was drinking coffee with all that milk and sweet syrup.”

  Even though I’d only done temp work for the detective agency, it had forever changed me and I automatically tried to gather information. I asked if Nicole had seemed unhappy.

  “You know everybody who comes in here talks to me. I think of myself as being a coffee version of a bartender. She never said anything specific, but I think she was bored with Cadbury.”

  “She and Will seemed a little mismatched,” I said. “Do you know how they met?”

  “I think that was part of the problem. It was what they call a ‘cute meet,’ practically out of a romantic comedy. Nicole was living in Cadbury for the summer while she worked at the aquarium. She collected old textiles and used to hunt the local garage sales on weekends. Will had just gotten his own place and he was looking for cheap furnishings. They kept running into each other and then their hands touched when they both reached for the same Indian basket. He invited her out to breakfast and it went from there.”

  I was surprised at how many details she had, but Maggie reminded me it was a small town and she was in the center of it. “At the end of the summer, Nicole went back to school in San Francisco, but came back to Cadbury on weekends. Will’s parents had just moved to Oregon and he
was ripe for the picking, as the saying goes.

  “They had a lovely wedding and made such a lovely couple. I think he wanted to start a family, but she seemed restless. I think when she opened the shop, he thought she’d calm down. But frankly, I always thought The Bank was too sophisticated for Cadbury. I can’t imagine she had much business.” Maggie rolled her eyes at herself. “Will you listen to me. I sound like an old busybody.”

  The door to the store opened and Maggie got up, anticipating a customer. A woman came in, but instead of heading toward the counter, she marched over to our table. The small stout woman looked familiar and I was trying to place her, but she saved me the trouble by sticking out her hand and introducing herself.

  “Wanda Krug,” she said, almost sounding like a drill sergeant. “I was walking by and saw you in here. I’m here to offer my services.”

  When I didn’t respond right away, it must have occurred to her I had no idea what she was talking about. “We met before. In Cadbury Yarn. I’m here to offer to take over for Nicole Welton. For your retreat,” she said, beginning to sound a little snippy that I wasn’t picking up on who she was.

  “It was just terrible about Nicole.” The short woman said the right words, but they came across as hollow. “I told you I was a spinner and I know what to do with wool.” She seemed to be getting frustrated. “I’m here to help you,” she said finally. “So, what’s the story? You want me to help you or not?”

  Now all the pieces fell into place and I realized Wanda was the answer to my prayers. She was better than any playbook describing the process, even if it was going to cut into my profit since I had paid Nicole half the money in advance.

  “We have a deal,” I said, shaking hands with her. The stern-looking woman’s face brightened with a smile as I arranged for her to come to Vista Del Mar Friday morning.