Knit Fast, Die Young Page 2

  “Who?”

  “Felicia’s last assistant,” Ari said. “It got her fired.” Debbie trailed in Felicia’s wake, and while her gaze was sharp, there was a half smile on her face. Like her employer she wore black, but there all resemblance ended. Debbie was tall, with flame-colored hair that spilled over her shoulders. She was also much younger. “I’ve heard Debbie doesn’t take much from anyone.”

  “I wonder how Felicia handles that.”

  “Who knows? She seems to be spreading her usual joy,” Ari added. Felicia was continuing her progress around the barn, leaving in her wake many angry and disgruntled vendors. “I wonder whose reputation she’s going to slay this time.”

  “You think she will?” Diane asked. “This is a small festival.”

  “I don’t think it will matter. Brace yourself.”

  Felicia was nearing Diane’s table. Reaching down, she pulled out a skein of yarn Diane had spun, a rich teal blue, and frowned. “Chemical dyes,” she said, as if that mattered.

  “Yup,” Diane answered cheerfully, like a typical New Englander. She never had been one to let people push her around. Besides, she had nothing to lose, Ari thought. Her yarn sold well in the area, and Felicia couldn’t change that. “I find the natural ones too much work.” Diane’s gaze went to Felicia’s expertly highlighted hair, styled in a French twist. “Chemicals can work miracles.”

  Ari let out a sound that was something between a snort and a laugh. It drew Felicia’s attention to her. “What sort of work do you do?” she demanded.

  Ari only smiled. In spite of her experiences in New York, she had never been intimidated by Felicia. “Hello, Felicia,” she said.

  Felicia looked at her more closely, and then recognition came into her eyes. “Ariadne Jorgensen, isn’t it? I’d heard you live in the sticks now.”

  “Ayuh,” Ari said, going Diane one better with her New England colloquialism. “I like it here.”

  “New York scared you,” Felicia said flatly. “You ran away.”

  “Oh, give it a rest, Felicia,” Ari said. In the past months she’d regained the confidence she’d lost during her divorce from Ted. Solving a murder tended to have that effect, she thought. “How have you been doing?”

  Felicia looked vaguely surprised by this greeting. “Well enough. And you?”

  “Happy. I like being my own boss. You should come by the shop. I think even you’d like it.”

  “I’ve seen some of your designs. They’re not bad,” she said grudgingly.

  “High praise, Felicia,” Ari said.

  “Humph.” In spite of her apparent annoyance, a smile lurked in Felicia’s eyes. “It’s more than can be said of most of the stuff here.”

  “Oh, come on. That’s not true.”

  “There’s not an original design in the bunch.”

  “Then why did you come?” Diane asked.

  Felicia looked Diane up and down, frostiness in her manner again. “Do I know you?”

  “No,” Diane said, still cheerful.

  That seemed to put Felicia off-balance, if only temporarily. After giving Diane another look, she turned back to Ari. “I understand you live near here?”

  “Yes,” Ari said.

  “We’re staying at a dreadful motel. Not at all homey.”

  “Maybe you should find a bed-and-breakfast,” Diane said.

  “I can help you find one if you want,” Ari said.

  “Thank you.” Felicia looked anything but grateful. “I suppose I must inspect the rest of the place.”

  “Are you doing an article on the festival?”

  “Maybe,” Felicia said vaguely, and with a brief wave, she walked away.

  “Whew!” Diane said. “What a bitch. Do you think she was trying to get you to invite her to stay at your house?”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe.” Ari looked after Felicia, now stopped at the table covered with yarn from llamas. “She’s really not that bad, you know.”

  “Could have fooled me.”

  “No, really. You have to stand up to her. When you do, she backs off. You saw that. Most people let her boss them around.”

  “How to lose friends and influence enemies,” Diane muttered.

  “Maybe—oh my God.”

  “What?”

  “At the door.” She indicated the woman who had just entered the barn. “It’s Beth Marley.”

  “Felicia’s former assistant?”

  “Yes. This should be interesting.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. She worked for Felicia?”

  “I know.” Ari studied Beth, who could not have been more of a contrast to the elegant Felicia. Small and plump, she had evidently tried to emulate her former boss, but without much success. Her driving coat was well cut, but even from here the cloth didn’t look as fine as Felicia’s, and the length was not flattering to her figure. She also wore boots, but under jeans rather than expensive slacks. The entire effect was undercut by the pink crocheted beret pulled down on her head instead of at a jaunty angle. “Hard to believe, isn’t it?”

  “I can see why Felicia fired her,” Diane said dryly.

  “Mm. I’m sure her appearance didn’t help matters.” Ari sat back. “Beth’s never been able to get a job with a decent magazine since.”

  Diane looked at Ari. “Where’s she working?”

  “For Knit Knacks. In New Jersey, no less.”

  “I’ll bet that’s where she got the pattern for the hat.”

  “Probably,” Ari said. Knit Knacks was not known for original, or particularly stylish, designs.

  “She must hate Felicia’s guts.”

  “Probably. Uh-oh.” She leaned forward, riveted by the scene unfolding in front of her. Across the length of the barn, Felicia and Beth had spotted each other.

  Diane followed her gaze. “Trouble?”

  “I think so.”

  “Jeez,” Diane said as the two women slowly, warily approached each other. “High noon.”

  “Or a duel. Needles at ten paces.”

  “Well.” Felicia’s voice, as high and commanding as ever, echoed through the barn. If people hadn’t noticed the coming confrontation before, they had now. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

  “Not particularly original, Felicia.” Beth stood her ground, not appearing the least cowed, and her voice was unexpectedly deep for someone her size. “I suppose that’s to be expected,” she said, stopping a few feet away from Felicia.

  “You should talk.” Felicia looked Beth up and down. “Where did you get that appalling hat? Oh, let me guess. You made it.”

  “I did.” Beth seemed to stand a little taller. Whatever else she was, she wasn’t a coward.

  “And proud of it? Dear, dear.” There was a slight smile on Felicia’s face. “How the mighty have fallen.”

  “Not yet.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Your day will come, Felicia. When you fall you’ll have a long way to go.” Her smile was almost evil. “I can’t wait.”

  “Oh my God,” Ari, watching in fascination, gasped.

  “Was that a threat?” Diane whispered.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Wow. I never thought a wool festival could be so exciting.”

  “Talk about falling,” Felicia was saying. “Contributing editor. Your reputation precedes you.”

  “I do a lot for that magazine,” Beth said defensively, because her current position was lower than her previous one.

  Again Felicia looked at her hat. “It shows.”

  “At least we don’t steal people’s designs,” Beth shot back.

  Felicia gave her a hard look. “Let’s go, Debbie. I don’t care for the odor in here,” she said, and, to everyone’s surprise, stalked out into the rain, Debbie scurrying behind her.

  “Wow,” Diane said.

  Ari nodded. She was watching Beth, who was staring in openmouthed surprise toward the door. “I’m amazed they didn’t beat each other up.”


  “Is what Beth said true?”

  “I doubt it,” Ari said. “Felicia can be harsh, but I’ve never heard of her stealing anything. She seems to have some integrity.”

  “I thought she praised people if they bought advertising, and criticized them if they didn’t.”

  “I don’t know. She was complimentary to me, and I never advertised with her. I’m not sure she deserved that.” Beth was now strutting around the barn. Ari thought much of her attitude was bravado. “Her articles about advertisers are a little more tactful, though, even if she doesn’t like their work.”

  “Well, that woke everyone up.” The atmosphere in the barn was almost back to normal, though the buzz of conversation was louder than it had been. “Speaking of which, I could really go for that coffee now.”

  “Go, then.”

  “Out in the rain? I don’t think so.”

  “Oh, all right.” Ari stretched and rose. “I could stand to get out of here for a little while. What size coffee?”

  “As large as possible.”

  “Okay. See you in a minute.” Ari walked across the barn, tugging up the hood of her parka as she went. The rain, windswept and strong, hit her full in the face as she stepped out. She could just make out the shape of Barn A, even though it was only a few yards away, and the parking lot to her left was a blur. Her wool slacks were immediately soaked from the water running down off her parka, and the mud pulled at her feet. Thank goodness she’d had the foresight to wear low boots, although even they were beginning to feel a little damp.

  It was a relief to reach Barn A, its blast of warmth welcome indeed. She looked around with interest at the demonstrators and vendors who were crowded into the small space. The wares here tended to be notions such as hand-turned wooden knitting needles or brightly colored rovings. Reluctant to go back out, Ari browsed among the tables, stopping here and there to talk to people. She’d half expected to see Felicia here in the warmth, but there was no sign of her. She probably left, Ari thought, moving over to the snack bar at last. But how had she managed in the mud on her high heels?

  Finally, with two coffee cups firmly wedged into a cardboard holder, Ari walked out of the barn and stopped under the eaves in dismay. In the short time she’d been inside the rain had intensified, and it showed no signs of letting up. She waited for a few minutes, but when water started splashing down on her from the gutters, she gave up. She was already soaked. Better to get it over with.

  Head down against the weather, Ari moved toward Barn B as quickly as she could, without spilling the coffee. She scolded herself as she hurried. No one else was stupid enough to be outside. At least, she couldn’t see anyone, though with her head down against the rain there could be a huge flock of sheep twenty feet in front of her and she wouldn’t know. Maybe that was why she stepped into a puddle so deep that the water sloshed over her ankles into her boots, making her curse. That did it. She was going home.

  At first, looking down as she was, all she saw were boots approaching. It took her a moment to identify them as expensive Italian boots, a second more to realize that they could belong to only one person. Ari looked up to see that she wasn’t alone in the rain after all. Felicia was coming toward her, her gait uneven. The black wool slacks that had been so pristine were now soaked; her boots were mud bespattered. And she wasn’t wearing her coat. “Felicia?” Ari said, startled.

  “Mud,” Felicia gasped, and stumbled. Instinctively Ari put out a hand to steady her, going off-balance herself when Felicia grasped her arm.

  The coffee flew everywhere, splashing Ari’s parka and hands. “Ouch!” she exclaimed, and let go. Without Ari’s support, Felicia lurched forward, and before Ari could move, Felicia collapsed against her.

  “Felicia,” Ari said, startled. “What in the world?”

  “I—tried to get—the mud—”

  “What?”

  “Help,” Felicia said, and sagged. Ari grabbed at her arms, too late. Felicia slipped away and crumpled to the ground, pulling Ari off-balance again. This time she dropped the coffee, but that wasn’t what made her stumble back. There was, Ari realized with horror, a knitting needle sticking out of Felicia’s back.

  Chapter 2

  “Felicia!” Ari exclaimed, and, heedless of her own comfort, fell to her knees on the ground. Where was Felicia’s coat? she wondered. It would have afforded her some protection against the needle, which, Ari now saw, was in deeper than she’d realized. Unless it’s a teninch needle, she thought. Because if it were a long one…

  “No, no, not again,” she gasped. She didn’t dare turn Felicia over, not with that needle in her back, but she could at least get her face out of the mud. She tipped Felicia’s head to the side, but, to her horror, blood trickled from Felicia’s mouth. She felt frantically at Felicia’s throat for a pulse. It was there, weak, barely perceptible, and then it was gone. “Oh God! Help!” she screamed.

  The wind and the rain took her words and blew them away, but she kept yelling. Someone finally heard her. The sucking sound of someone struggling through the mud reached her. A woman dropped to her knees beside Ari. “I’m a nurse,” she said briefly as she reached to steady Felicia’s head. Across from her, a man Ari vaguely recognized as a vendor had started performing CPR on Felicia. Someone else had a cell phone in hand. It was all a blur to Ari, who knelt back, as far out of the way as she could get. It seemed an eternity before an ambulance came screaming onto the fairgrounds; a brief moment before the EMTs, taking charge, gave each other quick, grave looks. It confirmed what Ari already knew. Felicia was dead.

  Joshua Pierce, a detective with the Freeport police, looked down at Felicia’s body. She lay as she had when the EMTs had finally given up all attempts at resuscitation; partly on her side, with the knitting needle visible. Not quite an hour had passed since the initial 911 call had come in. “How do you get yourself into these things, Ari?” he asked.

  “Do you think I do it on purpose?” Ari said crossly. She was huddled against the barn, about twenty feet away, and was swallowed up by the long black slicker a patrolman had given her. Even so, she looked like a drowned kitten, with her hair plastered to her head and her pants thoroughly soaked. A wet, rather annoyed, and thoroughly miserable kitten.

  “This takes it all.” Josh looked away, past the yellow police tape that cordoned off the area, toward another cluster of barns. “Fifty more feet,” he said softly. Fifty more feet, and this would have happened on the Acushnet side of the fairgrounds. It would be Acushnet’s problem, not his.

  In fairness to Ari, he knew that she didn’t want to be involved with this any more than he did. He’d become used to the sight of violent crime as a detective in Boston, but this was different somehow. The victim’s clothes had been expensive, he noted, and yet that didn’t matter. In death she looked as small and vulnerable as any body he’d ever seen.

  Charlie Mason, the chief of police, ambled up beside Josh. He, too, wore a long black slicker covering his burly form and balding pate. “I’m calling in the state police,” he said, drawing Josh aside.

  “Why?” Josh said, startled.

  “This is a county fairgrounds, remember? It straddles two towns.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he said, gazing toward those distant barns again.

  “Can’t be just us involved. Besides, look at this place.” The wave of his hand encompassed the entire fairgrounds. “There’ve got to be a hundred people here, at least. We can’t question them all ourselves.”

  Josh nodded in reluctant agreement. It would take days for Freeport’s small force to talk to everyone, and they didn’t have that long. Too many of the participants were from out of town, with plans to leave tomorrow. Beyond that, the state police had resources that Freeport didn’t, including skilled technicians to process the crime scene. “What about Ari?”

  Charlie glanced toward her. “Damn. She doesn’t have to be out in this mess. What were you thinking?”

  Josh drew himself up. “That she’s a witness.�
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  “Not much of a crime scene. Eileen’ll kill me,” he added.

  In spite of the situation, Josh almost smiled. It was no secret that Charlie was interested in Ari’s mother, Eileen, who so far was running shy. “She did see what happened.”

  “Yeah, well, not much to see now.” He looked morosely at Felicia’s body. “Someone from the ME’s office is on the way, so we can’t move her yet. We won’t find any evidence in this mud,” he added.

  Josh nodded. Any physical evidence that might have helped them figure out what had happened had likely been washed away, or trampled into the mud. There was a chance they’d find something, but it was small. This wasn’t television, after all. “Okay, I’ll tell Ari to go in,” he said.

  He walked over to her. “There’s nothing more for you to do here.”

  Ari looked up. “Then I can go?”

  He shook his head. “Yes, back in the barn.”

  “But I’m soaked,” she protested. “I want to go home and get dry clothes.”

  He noticed that she carefully avoided looking at the crumpled figure on the ground. “You know better than that. Has it occurred to you that someone here is probably a murderer?”

  That stopped her. “Not me.”

  “No, I know.”

  “She fell against me. That’s all.”

  “I know. Still, you might have seen something—”

  “I told you when you first got here that I didn’t.”

  “—without realizing it,” he finished.

  “I told you, no. It happened too fast. Could I at least have someone bring me something dry to wear?”

  “Yeah, I don’t see why not. Just let me know who’ll be coming, so we can tell them at the gate.”

  “Thank you. I’ll call my mother.”

  That made him smile again, thinking of Charlie’s reaction. “Okay, no problem. We can’t let her in, but she can drop off your things at the gate. But, Ari,” he said, touching her arm.

  She turned. “What?”

  “Be careful. Don’t tell anyone what you saw.”

  Ari frowned. “They’ll know already.”