Till Death Do Us Purl (20 page)

She glanced at him, lifting another box. “You know you’ll get one anyway, and a nice dinner, too. Hate to say it, but you’re spoiled worse than the dogs now, honey.”

Matt made a hurt face, then had to laugh with her.

“Yeah, you’re right. And who’s fault is that?”

Lucy smiled back but didn’t answer. He had a point.

The last of the boxes was loaded in the pickup and Lucy brushed her hands off on her jeans.

“Okay, pal. Once you move
it, it’s a whole new ball game. Since you brought it up, I think it would be wise to set some ground rules. Cooking, cleaning, laundry. Division of labor? That sort of thing?”

“Division of back rubs?

“Yup, that’s on the list, too. Maybe we should get one of those chore charts and hang it on the fridge. Like my sister has for her girls?”

“I’m good with that.”

He nodded again. Then put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. He was smiling but still looked very serious.

“Was this a good idea? Tell me honestly.”

She nodded and smiled. She felt nervous, too. But underneath that, happy. Incredibly happy, she realized.

“Absolutely. It’s the best idea we’ve had in a long time. Honest,” she said. She hugged him and he hugged her back even tighter.

“Glad you said that. I think so, too.”

It did feel a little different Monday morning, waking up with Matt in the house, Lucy noticed. Not that he wasn’t often there in the morning. But with all of his belongings around, most of it still in boxes, it just felt more . . . permanent.

Lucy knew this living together situation was going to take a little getting used to. It was nice to kiss him good-bye and know for sure that he’d be coming back at the end of the day to be with her. But she did feel secretly relieved when he left, so she could ease into her usual morning routine.

After a quick shower,
she made her way down to the village with Tink. Her friends had agreed to meet for coffee and get the full report on Lewis Atkins.

Maggie was waiting for them, coffeepot in hand as Lucy walked through the door. “Come on back. Suzanne brought some horribly fattening crumb cake from the bakery. She just wants to torture us.”

“And I brought some fruit and yogurt smoothies,” Dana said, walking in right behind Lucy.

“If I drink one of those, will it cancel out the cake?” Maggie asked.

Dana shrugged. “I’m not sure. It couldn’t hurt.”

Phoebe wasn’t up yet, Maggie reported. The rest of the group filled their mugs and gathered around the table. “So, tell us what happened, Maggie. You were very circumspect in your e-mail,” Dana noted. “What convinced you that Atkins wasn’t involved?”

“He has a strong alibi for the night Jeremy was killed, for one thing,” she began. “He was in Boston at the opera.”

“Right. Opera lovers can’t be murderers. Everyone knows that,” Suzanne teased. Lucy watched as she helped herself to a small piece of crumb cake, then sliced off the cake and ate just the crumbs.

“That’s not why. But opera lovers probably comprise a very low percentage of violent criminals compared to other groups. To hockey fans, for instance,” Maggie quickly added. “And he didn’t deny that he’s still trying to figure out the formula. But he believed Jeremy may have been, too. He didn’t trust Jeremy to sell him the real thing.”

“That’s a good
point,” Lucy agreed.

“Even if he somehow got the information from Jeremy by force,” Maggie continued, “or knew where it was stashed in the motel room and stole it, I still don’t feel he has it in him to have ended Jeremy’s life. I think Atkins felt too attached to him.”

They all listened quietly, eating their unbalanced, balanced breakfast.

“You might be right, Maggie,” Dana said finally. “Jeremy was killed in a very close, personal way. Strangled with a scarf around his neck. Not everyone would be cable of that act, especially with someone they knew so well. And had parental feelings for, which I think Atkins has expressed from time to time.”

“Exactly my take,” Maggie answered. “He did say something more before he left. He warned me to stay out of it. To stop snooping around. How did he say it again? Oh, right . . . he said there were some unstable chemicals and unstable personalities mixed up in the situation and it might all blow up in my face.”

“Interesting.” Dana sipped her smoothie. “Sounds like he’s on some inside track, while still denying he had anything to do with the murder.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Maggie paused for a moment. “I also had to wonder later how he even knew I was snooping . . . and why he really came here. We did exchange business cards at the memorial service. But his visit seemed prompted by something else. I think he has some connection with Erica Ferris and she told him about my raffle prize trick. Which I’m a little embarrassed about now.” She laughed and took another sip of coffee.

“Hey, it worked, right?” Suzanne reminded
her. “Don’t argue with success. But you’ve got a point. Those two have a lot in common. She’s still on the inside of At-Las and even worked with Jeremy. Maybe Atkins persuaded her to come over to his side of the glue wars and help him figure out the formula.”

Lucy suddenly sat up in her seat, feeling the coffee kick in and her achy spots fade a bit. “I think you’re on to something, Suzanne. They do make a good glue duo now. Maybe Atkins has been trying to win her over for a while. Ever since Jeremy dumped her, thinking she’d want to get back at him.”

“But she turned out to be the loyal type, if nothing else,” Maggie agreed knowingly. “But Jeremy’s gone now. No reason to be loyal to At-Las or the Lassiters. Nobody there seems to like her. Claudia would have fired her given half a chance. Erica probably knows that.”

“So . . . let’s sketch this out. I’m getting a little confused,” Lucy admitted. “We have Atkins and Ferris teaming up to figure out the formula. At-Las may have the complete formula, but they can’t find it. They need to put it together from Jeremy’s records, which are scattered.”

“That’s what they claim,” Maggie added. “I’m just thinking back to the conversation I overheard at the memorial service. Claudia sounded very sure they could find Jeremy’s lab notes and records and put it all together. Alec however wasn’t nearly as sure,” she added.

“I wonder where they’re at with it now. It’s been exactly two weeks since the fire,” Suzanne pointed out.

“Wait . . . did any of you see that article in the newspaper about At-Las Technologies
? Edie showed it to me Saturday morning. I have a copy somewhere in here. . . .” Lucy quickly dug through her knitting bag, a large, disorganized tote. As most of her purses and totes tended to be.

“I was so busy over the weekend, I forgot to tell you guys about it.” She finally found it and pulled it out. Then passed it around and they all quickly read it.

“So Philip Lassiter is in big trouble. A Ponzi scheme with investors? That’s heavy-duty.” Suzanne nodded, licking cake crumb off her fingertip.

“Yes, looks like he’s a regular mini-Madoff,” Maggie suggested.

“I’m sure his attorneys are telling him it would help his case if he could produce the finished product,” Dana said.

“That’s just what I was thinking,” Suzanne agreed. “I mean, ‘Got glue?,’ Philip.”

“Good question, Suzanne. I’m sure all the Lassiters are wondering the same thing. If only we could talk to Claudia and Alec,” Maggie mused.

“Or sit behind them again at some event and eavesdrop,” Lucy reminded her with her grin.

“Oh, that would be even better, wouldn’t it?” Maggie agreed.

Her phone rang and she rose to answer it. “Phoebe probably,” Maggie said in a softer voice. “Calling from upstairs to say she’s still sleeping and we’re making too much noise,” she joked.

They all laughed. Though Phoebe had actually done that once or twice, when she’d been up way too late and wasn’t due in to the store or at school until the afternoon. No wonder their punky little mascot was so thin
and pale. She didn’t get enough sleep, Lucy thought.

“Good morning. Black Sheep Knitting Shop. Can I help you?” Maggie answered sounding like a parody of a shopkeeper. “Oh . . . hello, Nora. I thought you were someone else.” She laughed, returning to her normal tone. “How are you? How’s Rebecca? Oh . . . really? That’s awful . . .”

The sudden note of alarm in Maggie’s voice alerted Lucy and her friends to turn to her.

“What’s going on? What happened?” Suzanne called out. “Is Rebecca okay?”

Maggie glanced at them, holding up her hand like a crossing guard, still listening to Nora’s conversation on the phone. She looked very distressed, her eyes wide with concern.

“. . . yes, I understand. I’ll let you go. I’ll try to stop by later. This afternoon or tonight.” Maggie said good-bye to Nora and ended the call.

She stood by the counter, facing them, still holding the phone. “Rebecca’s apartment, the one she and Jeremy lived in, was broken into last night. Just about everything was stolen. Or torn apart.”

“Oh, my . . . that’s awful. That poor kid. What’s going to happen next?” Suzanne pressed her hand to her face.

“I assume she wasn’t home at the time?” Dana asked. Lucy and her friends had already started clearing away the coffee and breakfast dishes, so they could all get to work. Maggie walked over and joined in.

“No, she wasn’t there. Thank goodness. She’d been staying a lot at Nora’s off and on. But went back to her own house after the second funeral, the
private one. Last night she just happened to be out with a girlfriend and found the place wrecked when she got home.”

“It’s awful to have someone break into your house. Some creepy stranger, touching all your stuff.” Suzanne shivered, transporting the creamer and sugar bowl to the storeroom. “It happened to me once in college. I’ll never forget it.”

“Sounds like the creepy stranger did more than touch stuff. Nora said they hauled away a lot of her belongings. Books and CDs. Even Rebecca’s knitting supplies, some bags of yarn and needles.”

“How odd. You can’t do much with someone’s old books and CDs,” Suzanne said. “Is there a big call for stolen yarn on the street these days?”

“That’s what she said.” Maggie shrugged.

The table was cleared and cleaned. Suzanne slipped on her jacket and grabbed her briefcase and knitting bag.

“Luckily, her wedding gown wasn’t there. Nora said she wouldn’t have been able to stand it if the gown was taken, too.”

“That was lucky. Where is it?” Lucy asked.

“It’s here, in the storeroom. Nora gave it to me the day after the wedding so I could put it up in the front window. I told Nora I’d bring it over tonight. I’ll take some knitting supplies, too. The poor thing. The thief took her bag, all the needles and paraphernalia. I don’t think anyone could have hauled away her entire stash. He would have needed a moving van. Rebecca has the Mother of All Stashes, believe me. It was epic.”

Maggie knew of epic
stashes. Her own personal stock of yarn at home took up most of the second floor. Lucy could only imagine Rebecca’s.

“Maybe this despicable person plans on opening a knitting shop. Sounds like you might have some competition, Mag.” Suzanne checked her phone, tapping back an answer to a text while she continued to talk to her friends.

“It does sound like that,” Maggie agreed. “I wonder what the police think of all this. I guess I’ll hear more about that from Nora tonight.”

The others were ready to go, too, and Maggie walked them to the front of the shop.

“I might be able to come if you’d like company,” Dana offered.

“I would like some company. Thanks for the offer,” Maggie replied.

“I’d like to see Rebecca and Nora, too . . . but it’s Matt’s first real night in my house . . . our house, I mean,” Lucy said, quickly correcting herself.

And nothing short of a house fire was going to keep her from welcoming him home and spending the evening with him.

“He finally moved in? I totally forgot this was the big weekend,” Suzanne confessed.

“That’s all right. I was being low-key about it.” Just in case one of us got cold feet at the last minute, she added silently.

“For goodness’ sake . . . you could have mentioned something. How was the move? Is it going all right?” Maggie touched Lucy’s shoulder, genuinely sorry to have missed the milestone.

“The move went fine.
I’m just a little sore in places. As for the rest, so far, so good.” Lucy shrugged and glanced at her watch. “And it’s been a whole . . . eighteen hours?”

“I’m sure it will be great,” Dana said sincerely. “A little tip—after the first twenty-four, best to put the watch away.” She smiled and winked.

Maggie and Dana decided to get in touch later in the day, to figure out a time for the trip to Nora’s, and the friends parted on the sidewalk in front of Maggie’s shop.

News of the break-in at Rebecca’s gave Lucy plenty to think about on the long walk home—aside from what she should make for dinner.

The robbery must have something to do with Jeremy’s murder. The thief must have been looking for something that had to do with the glue formula. Some scribbled notation, or hidden, computerized record. He—or she—didn’t have time for a close search, so they grabbed whatever they suspected might hold the buried treasure.

Including the knitting paraphernalia, as odd as that seemed. She also wanted to know what connections the police were making between this event and Jeremy’s murder.

Though she wondered if
they had any more insight into this sticky mess than she and her friends did.