Knit Fast, Die Young Page 9

  “Do they look fresh?”

  “There’s still some wetness around the heel, so I’d say yes, fairly fresh.”

  “Humph. OK. Mark off the area and get casts of the prints.” Briggs turned away, his lips set. “Damn it.”

  “She came in with her attacker,” Charlie said.

  “It looks that way,” Briggs agreed. “When we have a suspect we’ll take casts of her shoe, but there probably won’t be any dirt left on them.”

  “Even if there is, it’ll be mixed with the mud outside.”

  Briggs nodded. “So they came in that way,” he said, nodding toward the side door. “Mrs. Barr wanted to get the mud off her coat. She could have gone to the main barn, but maybe this was closer.”

  “To what?”

  “At this point it’s only a guess, but I think the killer lured her in here for some reason. Mrs. Barr hung up her coat, but didn’t brush off the mud.”

  “ ‘I tried to get the mud,’ ” Josh said, more to himself than to the others.

  “What?”

  “That’s what she meant. She tried to get the mud off her coat.” He looked up. “I think she was trying to tell Ari what happened.”

  “And she died before she could.”

  “Yes. She didn’t get the mud off, either.”

  “Maybe she didn’t have time,” Charlie said.

  Briggs nodded. “The attack probably happened too fast. It happened there.” They turned to look at the marked-off space against the back wall, where Felicia’s coat still hung. “The killer attacked Mrs. Barr and she fell there.”

  “Too bad there’s no way to prove that,” Josh said.

  “Yeah. The rain must have washed away any dirt from here off her clothes.”

  “Our killer got out of here damn fast,” Charlie said. “Ari didn’t see anyone.”

  “That only means the killer was out of sight. She could have stayed in here, hiding.”

  “Especially since no one paid attention to this barn,” Briggs put in.

  “If she was in here, she was out of sight. Hell, she could have been one of the people who came out to help when Mrs. Barr collapsed.”

  “I don’t think so.” Briggs shook his head. “The killer was out first.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “If Mrs. Barr fell, I don’t think the killer would have let her up again. No. The killer attacked her, left her for dead, then left the barn. But Mrs. Barr wasn’t dead. She got up, went out the door there, and then died outside.”

  “It works,” Charlie said after a minute. “It gives the killer a chance to get undercover and explains why Mrs. Barr was outside. Yeah.” He nodded. “It narrows the time frame.”

  “Maybe,” Josh said. He had been quiet for a while, puzzling out the sequence of events. “We’re assuming the killer came prepared to kill Mrs. Barr. But a knitting needle’s a chancy weapon, isn’t it?”

  Charlie looked at him. “What do you think happened?”

  “The killer lured her in here for another reason. I don’t know what, and I don’t know why she had her knitting with her, except…”

  “Her knitting?” Briggs interrupted. “What are you talking about?”

  “There was yarn on Mrs. Barr’s back.”

  There was silence for a moment. “It could have come from the killer’s clothes.”

  “It could’ve, but I don’t think so,” Josh said. “You don’t know these people, Detective. Knitters, I mean. I think she was showing her knitting to Mrs. Barr.”

  Briggs frowned. “Why?”

  “Maybe to get it written about in the magazine. Look. If the killer had only a knitting needle with her, don’t you think it would have looked suspicious?”

  “You yourself said it’s a strange weapon.”

  “Yeah, and that’s why I don’t think she intended to kill anyone.”

  “Are you saying it was an accident?”

  “No, it was murder all right, but in the heat of passion. I think they were here awhile, and then Mrs. Barr did something to make the killer angry. Barr bent over to get the mud off her coat, and that’s when the killer struck. I don’t think she meant to kill,” he went on. “But if she was angry enough she probably used more force than she intended.”

  “Wait a minute,” Briggs said. “We don’t know the killer was a woman.”

  “There’s a good chance of it. More women knit than men. And there are more women attending the festival than men.”

  “No assumptions, remember?”

  “Yeah,” Josh said after a minute, though he thought he was right. “I think the killer had something on one of the needles, made of light blue yarn. Maybe the strand was on the killer, but I think it could have come from whatever the project is. Knitters always have scraps of yarn around.”

  They were silent for a moment. “We can’t expect to find the knitting,” Briggs said finally. “If we do, we find the matching needle. Whoever the killer is, she must have gotten rid of both.”

  Josh almost smiled. No assumptions, Briggs had said, and yet he seemed to think the killer was a woman, too. “The needle, maybe, but not the project,” he said. “Knitters value their projects too much to just throw them away.”

  “Maybe,” Briggs said, but he looked skeptical. But then, he didn’t know knitters as Josh was coming to. “We’ll keep the knowledge of the yarn to ourselves for now.”

  “Is that how you think it happened, Josh?” Charlie asked.

  He nodded. “I think so. It explains why the killer had knitting needles with her. Old ones, that is. She didn’t buy those here. It explains the yarn, too. They had to talk long enough for the killer to show Mrs. Barr her project.”

  “We’ll go with your theory for now,” Charlie said, turning to Josh. “Mrs. Barr had her enemies, but I think you’re right. Whoever it was didn’t come prepared to commit murder.”

  Chapter 7

  “Oh, no,” Diane said firmly, after Ari had made her pronouncement. “You’re not getting me into that again.”

  Ari looked at her. “What are you talking about?”

  “Investigating. Last time was really dangerous.”

  “I’m not investigating,” Ari protested. “It’s just that we’re involved again.”

  “Uh-huh.” Diane’s voice was skeptical. “You forget that I know you, Ari.”

  “There are more police here this time.”

  “Yeah, and if they can’t figure it out?”

  “Can you see me outdoing Detective Briggs?” Ari demanded.

  “Well, no,” Diane admitted. “He’s scary, isn’t he?”

  “How did your questioning go?”

  Diane shrugged. “About what you’d expect. Paul asked where I was, I told him, and then he sent me back.”

  “Mm-hm.” Ari suspected he’d been a little more thorough than that, but Diane obviously didn’t want to talk about it. “Come on, get your spinning wheel and let’s go join the others.”

  “Yeah, all right. Spinners and knitters and murderers, oh my.”

  Ari laughed and made her way back to the Suspects Club. “What were you laughing at?” Beth said sourly as Ari sat down with them.

  “Oh, Diane and I are old friends.”

  “You were looking right at me.”

  Ari turned to her, startled. “No, we weren’t, Beth. I was telling Diane to join us.”

  “You were looking right at me,” Beth repeated.

  “I’m sorry,” Ari said, though she didn’t feel the least contrite. “We didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “Humph.” Beth crossed her arms across her chest and glowered at Diane, who’d just put her spinning wheel down. Diane looked from her to Ari.

  “I have to get a chair,” she said, and walked away.

  “Is everybody happy?” Debbie chirped.

  “Oh my God,” someone muttered. Ari didn’t know who it was, but she agreed with the sentiment. This was surreal.

  Nancy leaned forward. “Ari, what’s going on? Do y
ou know?”

  Ari spread her hands. “Not much more than you do.”

  “Well, tell us. Ari has an in with the local cops,” she explained to the others.

  “I do not, Nancy.”

  “No? Aren’t you dating Josh Pierce?”

  “Are you?” Lauren asked.

  “Not really. We’re friends, sort of.”

  “He’s cute.” Lauren’s eyes sparkled. “If he didn’t suspect me of murder I think I’d go for him.”

  Ari rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. “Everyone’s nuts,” she muttered.

  “So, tell all,” Debbie said, leaning forward. “What’s he like when he’s not a cop?”

  “Honestly, Debbie.”

  Diane had set up her spinning wheel and was digging in her bag for the multicolored roving. “Ari’s too modest to admit it, but she helped the detective solve a murder last year.”

  “I’d heard that.” Debbie’s eyes were bright with interest. “Tell us. Inquiring minds want to know.”

  Ari glared at Diane. “Someone was killed in my yarn shop,” she said. “I gave the police some help, that’s all.”

  “I heard you solved it single-handedly.”

  “No. The FBI and postal inspectors were involved, as well as the police.”

  “So are you playing Nancy Drew now?” Beth said.

  “I’m as much of a suspect as you are. Maybe more.”

  “Your cop friend will get you out of it.”

  Ari stared at Beth a moment, and then turned to look at Nancy, who, like Diane, was spinning. “What are you working on?” She changed the subject.

  “Nothing, really.” Nancy deftly fed in the natural-colored, unspun wool through the orifice of the wheel. “I might dye this later. What are you making?”

  “Coat hangers.” Ari held one up, making Nancy laugh. “My mother’s idea.”

  “That would be a good pattern for Knit Knacks,” Debbie commented to Beth.

  “Humph.”

  Debbie turned back, rolling her eyes. “You don’t mind if I don’t ask you to submit the pattern to Knit It Up!, do you, Ari? It doesn’t suit our style.”

  “I taught everyone in the Knitting Guild in New York how to make them,” Ari said coolly. “It was a hit.”

  “Oh.” For once Debbie seemed at a loss for words. “I must have missed that meeting.”

  “In fact, I plan on updating the idea and selling it on my website.”

  Debbie leaned forward. “I’ve checked out your site, you know. I meant what I said this morning. You really should write a book.”

  “Who would be interested?” Ari asked.

  “I think a lot of people might. I know a few people at Leisure Works,” she said, mentioning a large publisher of craft books. “They might be interested in doing a booklet with you.”

  “I’m not sure I have the time.”

  “Sure you do,” Diane said. “You’ve got pictures of everything, and the patterns are already printed.”

  “I took the pictures for the site,” Nancy put in. “And for the patterns she sells, too.”

  “People always like reading about how designers work,” Debbie went on. “Why don’t you submit an article to Knit It Up!? Maybe that’s what your book should be about. How to design a sweater.”

  “That sounds like a big project.”

  “You could do it.”

  “In between solving murders,” Diane said.

  “I’ll think about it,” Ari said, still doubtful. “Thank you for offering.”

  “I’m glad to help,” Debbie said.

  “That’s a switch,” Lauren said from behind them. “Someone from Knit It Up! actually helping someone’s career instead of ruining it.”

  “What, did Felicia screw you over, too?” Beth said.

  “You know she really didn’t,” Debbie said.

  “How would you know?” Lauren demanded. “Were you there?”

  “Yes, I’d just started, and to tell you the truth, Lauren, she was right. You weren’t up to that job.”

  “What happened?” Ari put in, before the tension between the two erupted into something more serious.

  “I was up for a job at Echo Fashions, designing knitwear,” Lauren said, still glaring at Debbie. “I was this close to getting it, and then Felicia slammed my work in the magazine. She said it was uninspired and amateurish. Of course I didn’t get hired.”

  “Was Felicia that powerful?”

  “Humph.” This from Beth, again.

  “She did you a favor,” Debbie said.

  Lauren looked down, and then nodded. “I suppose she did.”

  “Why?” Ari asked.

  “I heard afterward that Echo is a terrible place to work. The head designer takes credit for other people’s work.”

  “I never heard that.”

  “Didn’t you ever wonder how he could design something avant garde one season and then a classic cardigan the next? Never mind. It all worked out.”

  “How?”

  “I got another job, at Weston Knitwear.” She glanced at Debbie. “It doesn’t pay as well, but I’m happy.”

  Ari nodded noncommittally. Lauren might sound content, but the police wouldn’t see things the same way. “Did you tell the police?”

  Lauren looked up from her knitting. “No, why should I? I can’t prove she had anything to do with my losing the job.”

  “What did you do to offend her?” Beth asked.

  “I don’t think I did anything. I knew my work was going to be featured in her column, but I didn’t expect her to do what she did.”

  “Lauren, maybe Felicia wasn’t responsible for what happened to you,” Debbie said.

  “Then who was?” Lauren demanded. “I’d had my second interview. There was only one other person up for the job.”

  “Believe it or not, Felicia didn’t go around telling people who to hire.”

  “People read her magazine. I’ve heard of companies scouting designers in it. I’ll bet it works the other way, too.”

  Debbie opened her mouth to speak, and then sighed. “I’ve heard you’re doing well at Weston, though.”

  “Yes.” Lauren smiled. “I love it there.”

  “What do you do?” Ari asked.

  “I’m assistant to the chief designer. I’m a glorified secretary, but one of my designs is going to be in the fall line.”

  “That’s wonderful!”

  “I know, isn’t it? I’m really learning a lot, and my boss is making sure everyone in the company knows about my work.”

  “So in the long run, Felicia helped you,” Debbie said.

  “I guess.” Lauren concentrated on her knitting. “But it hurt at the time.”

  “Things happen,” Ari said after a minute. “Sometimes they turn out for the best.”

  “Like you and Ted,” Diane said, grinning.

  “Yes, didn’t you have a career starting in New York?” Lauren asked. “You were freelancing.”

  Ari gave Diane a look. Ted wasn’t a subject she wanted to discuss just now. “But then I got married and moved here. As I said, things happen.”

  “I can’t imagine ever leaving New York.”

  “I’m happy here. I have my family and my shop.”

  “I drove by it,” Beth said unexpectedly.

  “Really? When.”

  “This morning. It’s cute.”

  “Thanks,” Ari said, all the while thinking furiously. If Beth had left the fairgrounds, she couldn’t account for her time. That made her a strong suspect. She had motive and, perhaps, opportunity. But where had that piece of blue yarn come from? She glanced speculatively at people’s workbags. Maybe if she asked everyone what they were working on, she’d find the answer.

  “How long are they going to keep us here, Ari?” Rosalia asked, interrupting Ari’s musings.

  “I don’t know. I know they have to interview everyone.”

  “They must have finished by now,” Debbie said. “No one else is here except u
s.”

  “What about you?” Nancy leaned forward to look at Annie. “Why are you here?”

  Annie looked up. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time like the rest of you. I have a long drive home. I don’t want to stay here.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Beth muttered.

  “Oh, stow it, Beth!” Debbie glared at her. “Nobody wants to be here.” She frowned at Annie. “Your name sounds awfully familiar. Oh, I know! Your work is supposed to be featured in Knit It Up! next month, right?”

  Annie nodded.

  “It is?” Ari asked, surprised that Annie hadn’t told her that fact sooner. “Did Felicia like your work?”

  “Oh yes,” Debbie said, but there was something odd in her voice that made Ari look at her. Debbie’s smile was falsely bright. Annie, concentrating on her work, didn’t appear to notice. “That’s a nice shawl,” Debbie added.

  “Thank you,” Annie said.

  “The sweater you were working on this morning is pretty, too,” Rosalia put in.

  And yet Annie hadn’t bragged of a favorable mention in Felicia’s magazine, Ari thought. Was she just being modest? “What time is it?” Ari asked aloud.

  Diane looked at her watch. “Close to four. I should probably call Joe again.”

  “How long will they keep us?” Debbie asked. “This is really getting old.”

  “I don’t know, but I think you’ll be here overnight,” Ari said.

  “Here? At the fairgrounds? You’re kidding me.”

  “No, probably not right here, but at a hotel.”

  “I don’t have reservations anywhere.”

  “Were you and Felicia really going to drive back to New York tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh.” It seemed strange that Debbie and Felicia would take such a long drive just to attend a small, regional yarn festival, even if they planned an article for the magazine. “I’m sure the police will find someplace for you to stay.”

  “We’re locals,” Nancy said. “They’ll let us go, won’t they?”

  “I don’t know what they’ll do,” Ari said, exasperated. “They don’t tell me what they’re thinking. I’m a suspect, remember?”

  “Well, I hope they let us know soon.” Diane had stopped spinning and was sitting stretched out, her arms behind her head.

  “So do I,” Ari began, and then stopped as a man appeared in the doorway, his figure shadowy, indistinct. Ari frowned. He didn’t look like Josh or the chief, and the hat was wrong for a state trooper. Then who…?