Yarned and Dangerous (21 page)

Josie noticed the cop had said “he.” “Do you have a suspect?”

Detective Potts eyed her. “Where'd you hear that?”

She thought fast. She didn't want to get Sharla into trouble. Maybe Sharla wasn't supposed to reveal even that much. “At the general store. Isn't that where all the gossip in this town collects? Nobody's throwing around any names, though.”

His face was impassive. “I'm not about to throw out any names, either.”

“Of course not.” Drat.

“Let's go back downstairs. Was this all you wanted to tell me? You said you had information about the Woodruff murder. And,” he looked pointedly down at his watch, “we need to get a move on. I only get a short lunch today.”

A couple of minutes later they were back in the seating area of the shop. Josie took a deep breath, then told him her theory.

He stared at her for a moment, then the corners of his mouth began to twitch. He was trying not to laugh at her. She was trying not to be insulted.

“So let me get this straight,” he said. “You think one of the old ladies in this town is bumping off other old ladies who might be standing in the way of a romance with”—he worked to suppress a snort, but didn't quite succeed—“Eben Lloyd.” Potts stowed his flashlight somewhere in the interior of his thigh-length topcoat. “Eben Lloyd, the crotchetiest SOB that ever lived, other than maybe Roy Woodruff. No offense to your uncle, of course.”

“None taken.” She'd known the detective would be skeptical, but she hadn't expected him to dismiss her outright, either. “I admit he has his moments. But he's also come into a lot of money since Cora died.”

Potts looked thoughtful, then let out a sigh. “I'll review the evidence again, see if anything fits your theory, but that's the best I can do. I'll tell you right now we
do
have a suspect, and evidence, and an arrest is going to be made any day now. So I'd advise you to put this idea out of your head. It's interesting. It would make a good television movie. But it's wrong.”

She should have felt relieved. So why did she feel so unsatisfied?

J
osie locked up the shop behind her, careful to close the door with her sleeve rather than her fingers, the way Detective Potts had showed her. Although if there were fingerprints on the front door, it was likely she'd smeared them already.

Mitch pulled up out front just as she stepped onto the sidewalk. He rolled down the window. “Perfect timing?” he said.

“Perfect timing.” She took the big step up into the SUV, closed the door, and buckled up.

“You weren't alone in there, were you?” His tone somehow managed to admonish and show concern at the same time.

She shook her head. “No, I had Detective Potts with me. He's going to have the place dusted for fingerprints again.”

“Good. I'd hate to have to yell at you for doing something dangerous.” He flashed her a smile that showed a lot of white, even teeth. He either had excellent genes, or had had excellent orthodontic work as a kid.

“Danger's my middle name,” she said, putting on a cheesy British accent. Ugh. Why had she done that? It was so lame. But Mitch just laughed.

“Ready? Let's go see Eb.”

It was a beautiful day for a drive. The sky was blue and nearly cloudless, and enough snow had melted off the lawns and fields that patches of brown grass were visible. Maybe spring really would come to Dorset Falls, someday. Josie closed her eyes and leaned back in the seat. She dozed off.

When she woke, they were pulling into the parking lot of the hospital. Her head jerked up. “Oh, I'm so sorry. I guess I'm not very good company.”

Mitch moved the gearshift into park. “Don't worry about it. You said you didn't sleep well last night. And I'm not surprised, with everything you've been going through.”

“Well, I hope, at least, I didn't snore.” That would be embarrassing.

“Nope. You sleep pretty as a picture. Not that I noticed. I was keeping my eyes on the road, I swear.”

Warmth crept up her neck and over her cheeks. She opened the door and stepped out, grateful for the cooler air. “All right, you charmer, come on,” she said across the hood. “Let's go see the other charmer in my life.”

A different receptionist was on duty today. She raised her eyebrows when Josie told her whom they were visiting, but she was too much of a professional to say anything more than, “He's been moved to Room 216. Elevators are down this hall and to the right.”

They found Eb sitting up in bed. Someone, a nurse probably, had found him the newspaper, and he was dutifully filling in boxes on the daily crossword. Josie felt a stab of guilt. She should have remembered to bring him the paper. He didn't look up as they came in, even though he couldn't have failed to see them.

“Eb?” Josie said. “How's it going?”

He made one more notation, then finally deigned to acknowledge their presence over the tops of his cheaters. “Did you bring my cookies?”

She felt worse about the cookies than about the paper. She'd completely forgotten. “Uh, no. Sorry.”

He pursed up his lips. “Did you remember to feed the dog?”

“All taken care of,” Mitch said. “So. What does the doctor say?”

“Not a heart attack. I've got the ticker of a teenager.”

Josie felt a surge of relief. “What else did she say?”

Eb was prevented from answering by the arrival of the cardiologist, Dr. Andersen. “I'm glad you're here. Let's pull up a chair, shall we?” Her tone was friendly and efficient, same as it had been yesterday.

“Uncle Eb says it definitely wasn't a heart attack,” Josie said.

Dr. Andersen smiled. “No. His heart is quite healthy. We did a number of tests to rule out things like angina. I'm glad to say that Eb is in extremely good shape for a man of his age.”

“Which I told you when I first came in, Doc.” Eb folded his arms across his stomach.

“Yes, you certainly did.” The doctor cut her eyes to Josie. “He's quite articulate about his needs and wants.”

“No argument there,” Josie said. “So if it wasn't a heart attack or angina, what was it?”

“Heartburn,” Eb piped up, triumphant. “Could have just taken a spoonful of baking soda mixed in warm water instead of being poked and prodded for the last twenty-four hours.”

Josie turned to the doctor. “Really? That's it?”

Mitch was smiling broadly in the chair next to her.

“That's it,” Dr. Andersen said. “What's he been eating lately?”

Evelyn's never-ending casserole, that was what. “So you're telling me that green peppers and tomato sauce cause heart-attack-like symptoms?”

The doctor nodded. “Severe indigestion certainly can. I don't recommend the bicarbonate of soda remedy, though. There are better choices.” She wrote down the name of an over-the-counter medication on a slip of paper and handed it to Josie. “You can get this at any drugstore. Just keep it on hand.”

“So can we bring him home?” Josie asked.

“Well,” the doctor responded, “since we have him here, I thought we could have his leg x-rayed. It's been six weeks since the accident, and we may be able to get him out of that cast sooner than his next appointment.”

Eb sat up straighter. “Where's the machine? Take your picture and bring in the saw and let's get it done, Doc.”

Dr. Andersen chuckled. “I'm a cardiologist, Eben. The orthopedist won't be in until tomorrow. So if you'd like to be our guest for one more night, you won't have to come back next week as long as Dr. Robbins gives you the okay.”

Eb leaned back against the pillows, considering. “Fine. Bed's comfortable. There's Jell-O and mashed potatoes at every meal. Even at breakfast if you want it. I'll stay.” He leveled a stare at the doctor. “But this block of cement”—he indicated his cast—“better be off tomorrow.” His tone was ominous.

The doctor seemed slightly amused. “Well, I can't promise anything. That'll be up to Dr. Robbins to decide.”

“Hmmph.” Eb was obviously done talking. But he made no move to get out of bed, so Josie thought it was safe to assume he planned to stay.

Unfortunately, that also meant that she'd be staying alone at the farm tonight, a thought that did not exactly thrill her. Maybe she could get Jethro to sleep in her room. She certainly wasn't going back to Evelyn's. No matter what Detective Potts thought about the other ladies of the Charity Knitters, Evelyn was hiding something. And until Josie found out for sure that it wasn't murder, she was going to stay on her guard.

The doctor rose. “That's settled, then. Dr. Robbins will see you on his rounds tomorrow.” She turned to Mitch and Josie. “I'll look in on Eb again in the morning, but as long as he doesn't have any further problems, I won't need to see him anymore. Just watch what he eats. Avoid greasy and high-acid foods if possible.”

When the doctor had gone, Josie turned to Eb, who had picked up his crossword puzzle and was studiously filling it in. “We're here to visit, Eb. You wanna play cards or something?” Of course, the only card game she could remember how to play was Go Fish, but she might be able to manage rummy or Crazy Eights, if someone gave her a refresher.

He didn't look up. “Nope. Don't want to play cards. Do want you to go home. You got the stuff in the shop sold yet?”

Nuts. She'd forgotten. Monica hadn't texted her back with the buyer's contact information. “Uh, I told you there was an offer.”

“An offer ain't money in the bank.”

“I'm working on it, okay?” She felt her hackles rise. She hadn't asked for this job.

“Eb,” Mitch cut in. “I'm going to take her home now. We'll call in the morning.” He took Josie's arm. “Let's go and leave Eb to the nurses.”

She took a deep breath.

“I'll see you tomorrow, Eb. And I'll make sure we have cookies at home.” But her uncle had already gone back to his puzzle. He didn't look up as she and Mitch left.

 

Josie looked at the set of keys in her hand. Mitch had dropped her off at home to pick up her car, then she'd driven to the general store, where she tried to work on her drawings. But it was impossible to concentrate. Detective Potts had dismissed her theory about a lady of Dorset Falls bumping off other ladies in an effort to get at Josie's great-uncle's new fortune. Potts had all but confirmed that the suspect about to be arrested was a man. And yet, she was not going to be able to dismiss her theory herself until she found out what was going on in that building across the street from Miss Marple Knits.

There was no time like the present. She'd just stick each key into the lock in turn, and see if one worked. If it did, she'd go upstairs, quickly find out what was going on up there, and the mystery would be solved. Her implied promise to Mitch that she wouldn't go anywhere alone would only be bent, not broken, if Evelyn or Helen were upstairs. Josie's ever-present canister of Mace was in her purse in case she got into trouble.

If none of the keys worked, she'd give it up, do her best to forget about it. Either way, maybe she could get some closure.

A rare car drove down Main Street, causing her to step back out of its path. She checked both ways, gave a glance to the shaded third floor window, and crossed the street.

Some of the keys didn't need trying. The key to Cora's wrecked car. The keys that she knew fit the front and back doors of Miss Marple Knits. The ones that went to Eb's farmhouse. She pressed the next remaining key to the lock. No luck with that or the second one. On the third try, the metal slid in, causing her to gasp softly. Honestly, she hadn't really thought this would work.

The key turned, and the tumblers clicked. Dropping Evelyn's travel mug, Josie's excuse for barging in, into her bag, she tried the door's old-fashioned knob. The door swung open.

Breathe, Josie. Here you go
. She stepped inside.

She found herself on a tiny landing, only a few feet square. A metal light fixture hung from a chain overhead, illuminating the space with a dim light. She put a clog on the first riser, then put one foot in front of the other, ascending the stairs. At the halfway point, she grabbed the railing and looked over her shoulder. It wasn't too late. She could turn back. But she didn't.

Josie stepped off onto a landing on the third floor, not as large as its counterpart across the street. This one was ringed with doors, each bearing a metal number from one to five. Door number four was ajar. She approached it.

Through the crack, she could see what appeared to be a living room. Perhaps these were efficiency apartments. None could be terribly large if there were five units in this smallish space. She gave the door a push with her foot, and it swung open. Feeling like Goldilocks, and wondering what she was walking into, Josie went in.

A floral-upholstered living-room set, each fabric surface fitted with a clear plastic covering, took up the center of the room. Two 1960s-style end tables in a blond wood, with a matching coffee table decorated with a bowl of plastic sequined fruit, completed the grouping. Was someone living here? If so, it was someone with a taste for kitschy furniture, or someone with a tag-sale budget.

To the right, through a pass-through cut into the wall, she could see a tiny kitchen. Even for a noncook such as herself, the space would have been tough to use. Only a couple of cabinets were visible. She trained her ear toward the kitchen, where she could hear a faint burbling noise, followed by a hiss, as of steam. The coffeepot was on.

If the coffeepot was on, someone was home.

A fact that was confirmed by a gray herringbone wool coat hung neatly on a peg on one wall, a cherry-red scarf draped under the lapels.

Evelyn's coat.

Josie wasn't sure why that surprised her. Evelyn's car was parked outside in the alley.

A laptop computer sat on a small, Formica-topped table with chrome trim. The screen was on. She glanced at it, then back again, frowning. It seemed to be some kind of video feed. Examining the image more closely, she realized it was being transmitted from a security camera trained on the waiting room of a business of some kind.

A business that looked familiar, because she'd been inside it only a few days ago.

Rusty's car repair shop.

Josie wasn't sure what she'd expected to find, but it wasn't this. She watched as Rusty came into the picture behind the counter, his tall, bulky frame clearly recognizable. A woman approached the counter. All Josie could see was the woman's back. There was no audio, but she didn't need sound to know whom she was looking at.

It was Josie herself.

The loop repeated, and Josie walked back onto the screen.

The realization slammed into her with the force of a meteorite hitting the earth and shattering into a thousand pieces. Evelyn had been spying on her. The older woman had been pretending to be her friend, but had somehow been keeping tabs on her. Was she afraid Josie was getting too close to the truth about Cora's and Lillian's deaths?

Josie backed away, stunned. This couldn't be right. How had Evelyn gotten hold of Rusty's security footage? Evelyn couldn't have known that Josie would visit Rusty's that day.

Or could she have? Josie's fingers closed around the can of Mace.

Was it possible Evelyn had fiddled with Josie's car, causing the wonky ignition, knowing that Josie would take it in for repair? The vision of Evelyn in a mechanic's jumpsuit, applying a greasy wrench to Josie's Saab, flashed across Josie's brain. Ridiculous.

What reason could Evelyn have for keeping tabs on Josie? Not a single thing came to mind.