Spin a Wicked Web: A Home Crafting Mystery Read online

  She laughed. I scowled.

  "Then what happened?" she asked, sounding far too delighted and knitting away faster than anyone who hasn't done it for years has a right to. She didn't even look at her hands while she was doing it.

  Suddenly, I remembered the image of Barr's palm against the truck window, and a wave of emotion washed through me.

  "Sophie Mae?"

  I waved the dishtowel and took a deep breath. "He was just checking in."

   

  She laughed. "What, he can't call your cell phone?"

  "Oh, gosh. My cell phone. It's still in the truck. I'd better go get it." After finally joining the rest of the wireless world, I kept forgetting I had the dang thing.

  As I came back in the door the hall phone was ringing. "I've got it," I called to Meghan. Twisting my mouth at the irony, I put my cell phone down and answered the land line.

  "Is Sophie Mae Reynolds there?"

  "Speaking," I said.

  "This is Cassie Ambrose. Barr's mother. My knucklehead son's told me quite a bit about you. Sounds like he's really stepped in it, and I thought perhaps I could help."

  Ohmygod. "Mrs. Ambrose. How nice to hear from you. Barr's told me a lot about you, too."

  "Oh, has he now." She laughed. "That's not what I heard. I heard he's been a regular horse's patootie about telling you about his family and his past. And please, call me Cassie." Her voice was strong and deep, with a homey inflection I took to right away.

  "Did he ask you to call me?" I asked.

  "He did not. In fact, he asked me not to. But I thought it was high time we got ourselves acquainted. After all, he said you two are talking about living together."

  Oh, dear. "Does that bother you?"

  "Not at all. Much better than jumping into a marriage like he did with Hannah. It would have been better for all concerned if they'd found out ahead of time that they disliked each other so much."

  "Disliked? Then why did they get married in the first place?"

  She snorted. "Lust. Pure lust."

   

  I coughed. "I see."

  "It happens to all of us, of course. The question is what do we do with it?"

  I couldn't believe I was having this conversation with Barr's mother. "So you think living together is a good idea?"

  "Sure. Especially if there's still all that lust. You can't make a good decision about the rest of your lives if your brain's all clouded with love chemicals."

  "Ah," I said.

  "And I don't think you're interested in my son because he's loaded now. Right?"

  "Uh, no. Of course not. I only found out about the inheritance from his uncle yesterday. Was it your brother who passed away?"

  "My oldest brother. He was a clever sort, played his cards right in the oil fields."

  "Well, I'm sorry for your loss. Barr didn't tell me."

  "See, there you go. He's a knucklehead, thinking you wouldn't be interested in knowing a relative had died. You're a nice girl, I can tell."

  "Urn," I said.

  "Hannah isn't being too much of a pain, is she?"

  "Well," I said.

  "Because she's really a very nice girl, too, only you know, kind of crazy."

  "What?" Crazy? What kind of crazy?

  "Not crazy crazy. Just, a bit unpredictable. Don't you worry. She'll come on home here in no time. Barr will see to it."

  Right. So far that hadn't worked so well, but I refrained from mentioning that to Cassie Ambrose.

   

  "Well, dear, I'm glad we had this talk. I sure feel better, and I hope you do, too. The dudes are coming in from a ride and will be wanting their dinner, so I'd better go light a fire under the kitchen staff. You take care now, bye."

  And just like that, she was gone.

  Holy cow, I thought. So that was Barr's mother. I wondered what his father was like. Probably quiet. How could he not be, if that was any example of Cassie's conversational style?

  Knuckles rapped on the frame of the front screen, and I looked up to see Barr standing on the step.

  "Your mommy called," I said, opening the door for him. "She thinks you're a knucklehead." "

  Shaking his head, he glanced skyward as if invoking the heavens. "I told her not to." "

  I got the feeling that wouldn't make much difference," I said.

  "Obviously."

  I like her"

  "Good, because you're stuck with me, and that means you're at least partially stuck with her. Now, where's my grub, woman?"

  I laughed and led him into the kitchen.

   

  TWELVE

  THE LAMB WAS RARE, the stuffed squash blossoms delicately crunchy on the outside and creamy good on the inside, and the wilted lettuce savory and sour and sweet and salty all at once.

  Taking advantage of the warm weather-the rain would return soon enough-we once again ate at the cedar picnic table in the backyard. Erin was having dinner at her friend Zoe's house, so we could talk freely about Ariel's murder.

  "Chris told me she thought she had an alibi," I said. "She said that Robin asked her about a specific time the night before the funeral when the murder probably happened."

  Barr nodded. "I wish Robin hadn't given that away up front, but yes, Chris says she was with at least two other people during that time."

  "You don't sound convinced," Meghan said.

  "Well, at least one of them had a dislike of Ariel that bordered on hatred, from what I can tell."

  "Irene Nelson?" I asked.

   

  "That's the one." He took a bite of squash blossom. "Say, these are pretty good."

  "But the other person was Ruth, right? She never seemed to feel one way or the other about Ariel," I said.

  "So it looks like Chris is clear," he said. "Especially because there are two people who vouch for her, and not just one."

  "What about Jake?"

  "He was also at Chris' home that evening, but he left before the time of the murder."

  "Which was between eight and ten at night?"

  He nodded. "See, you do find things out."

  "Well, here's something else I found out. Ariel's roommate told me today that a woman called the house and threatened Ariel, told her to stay away from her husband."

  "You think it was Chris?" Meghan asked.

  "Probably. Daphne-that's the roommate-answered the phone. The caller hung up as soon as she realized she wasn't talking to Ariel."

  Barr looked thoughtful. "Any idea when this might have been?"

  I finished chewing a mouthful of wilted lettuce and swallowed. "Last week. I couldn't narrow it down further without being obvious."

  "That's good enough. Nice job"

  Meghan grinned at me.

  I tried not to fluff my feathers. "I'm going to La Conner to see Ariel's brother."

  Barr paused with a forkful of lamb halfway to his mouth. "I don't know about that."

   

  "CRAC has to do something with all her art. I might as well take it up there. At least I assume he'd want it. I'll call first and find out. But cross my heart and hope to die, I won't step on your toes or do anything to hurt the investigation."

  He rested his elbows on the table, long fingers dangling a goblet of wine. "Robin is going tomorrow. Can you wait a day?"

  "Sure. I have to get all the canvases packed up anyway." I turned to Meghan. "Come with me. We'll shop in all those kitschy little shops along the waterfront. I'll buy you dinner."

  "I have clients scheduled." "

  I have work, too. Rearrange some things."

  "There's Erin."

  "Bring her with."

  "Math camp."

  I still couldn't believe Erin was spending two weeks of her summer attending math camp on purpose. "Have her stay at Zoe's," I said.

  "Sophie Mae, I can't just pick up and leave like that."

  I sighed. "Neither can I, usually. I really need to get away for a little while."

  Barr
frowned. "Does that have anything to do with Hannah?"

  "Honestly? I don't like her following me around town."

  Meghan looked alarmed, and I hurried to reassure her. "Don't worry. It was only one time, and she was probably just curious about me. After all, I'm curious about her."

  Next to me, Barr looked uncomfortable. "I don't know why women are like that."

  "Well, we are. And I bet in the same situation, you'd be like that, too."

   

  He shook his head. "She's probably already on her way out of town. I called Horse Acres again after you said you'd seen her, and she'd already checked out."

  "Just because she's left the bed and breakfast doesn't mean she's left town." I clamped my mouth shut, ashamed of how shrill my voice had become.

  Meghan, bless her heart, quickly changed the subject. "The members of CRAG should put together something for Ariel's brother. Maybe some nice flowers." "

  I like it. But how about a gift basket? I could give him some toiletries, and ... oh, I don't know. Maybe he wouldn't want any of that stuff."

  Barr said, "He's married, you know. And has twin boys. They live on a tulip farm outside of town. They seem more rural than arty."

  "Do your parents like art?" I asked. "Or do they prefer to decorate with dead animal heads?"

  "I don't think you want to know the answer to that question."

  "Oh"

  Meghan laughed.

  "But yes," Barr said. "There is some very nice art in the lodge, wedged in among the elk antlers and Indian blankets. Point made. I'm sure Rocky Kaminski and his family would appreciate anything the CRAG crew wants to give them."

  I laughed.

  "What?" Meghan asked.

  I shook my head. How could I explain the image of one of Irene Nelson's menopausal ladies that had danced across my mental screen? No doubt Ariel's brother would just love one of those sculptures.

   

  Better to stick to soap and the most ubiquitous comfort offering of all: food.

  I was fast asleep the next morning when my cell phone began blaring "Sympathy for the Devil" on my bedside table.

  "That's it," I mumbled as I groped for the offending noise. "I'm getting a mellower ring tone. Hello?"

  "Get up, get out of bed. Get up, you sleepyhead," Barr sang into the phone.

  I peered at the clock. Seven a.m. "Don't you know it's impolite to call before the civilized hour of nine a.m.?"

  "That's why I didn't call the house phone. Besides, you're always up this early."

  "Make a note: not always." I didn't mention that the evening before I'd begun reading a mystery by Jane Isenberg and couldn't go to sleep until I'd finished it.

  "Okay, grumpus. You want me to call back later? Or do you want to know what I found out about the nasty phone call Ariel's roommate told you about?"

  I pushed back the covers and swung my bare feet to the floor. "You've already checked phone records?"

  "Hey, the cadets have to have something to do during the graveyard shift."

  "What a resourceful man. So? Was it Chris?"

  "No. She didn't call Ariel's cell phone, because we already checked that. And she didn't call the house, either. At least not from her cell or home."

   

  "Hmm. Well, a negative isn't very useful."

  "However, there was a call to the apartment last week which is curious."

  I perked up at that.

  "And this is where you come in," he continued. "The call was from Felicia Beagle's cell phone."

  "Oh, wow. Ariel really got around. I suspected something was going on from the way Jake acted."

  "Maybe you're not the only one who suspected something was going on. And maybe someone else at CRAG knows for sure. You're going over there today to pack up Ariel's art, right?"

  "I have to call some people, but that's the plan."

  "Well, my dear, I will await your report."

  "You know you're getting downright scary about asking me to do your snooping, right?"

  "We talked to Jake and Felicia, and got nothing. Complete stonewall. A few rumors here and there never hurt a police investigation." His voice changed then. "I want this killer, Sophie Mae. So does Robin."

  I thought of Ariel, small and broken and lifeless. I didn't even like her, and it turned out a lot of other people didn't either. But I had to agree with Barr; I wanted her killer brought to justice, too. No one deserved what had happened to her.

  "I'll call if I find out anything."

  I used to dream of traveling. I used to, at the very least, go hiking in the Cascades a couple of days a month in the summer. Now, with my own business to run, there wasn't time. At some point work had simply taken over my life.

   

  And, of course, I fell in love with a man who worked even more than I did. Was it possible that Barr and I hadn't spent enough time together in the last eight months to really get to know each other? In my basement workroom, I shook my head, resisting the notion. I did know him, despite the mix-up about his having an ex-wife.

  Enough. I had things to do.

  I called my teenaged helper, Cyan Waters, and told her to take the next day off. She didn't mind a bit. Then I googled Rocky Kaminski and found the website for the tulip farm he and his wife, Gabrielle, owned near La Conner, Washington. I printed out the directions on how to get there. The phone number was on the website, so I copied that down, too.

  Gabrielle Kaminski answered the phone when I called. I explained who I was and that I'd be in La Conner the next day. Would she and her husband like for me to bring Ariel's art up with me?

  "That'd be awful nice of you, if it's not too much trouble." The shouts of children in the background then, and she said, "Hang on a sec." Muffled voices and the distortion of a palm over the receiver. "You boys take your lunch outside and eat on the porch. And no throwing food, you hear?" A pause, and then to me, "Okay, I'm back. When do you think you'll be here?"

  "In the early afternoon, I should think. Is that convenient?"

  "That'll be just fine. We'll see you then."

  Then I called Ruth, Irene, and Jake. Ruth assured me that the police had given her permission to go back inside, and the co-op would reopen the next day. Apparently Chris had influence with someone who pulled a few strings with the police, hurrying things along. Not surprising; after all, her husband had been a cop and she had an alibi for Ariel's murder. When I told everyone what I wanted to do they agreed to meet me that afternoon at CRAC- even Irene said she'd come. We'd all sign a card for the Kaminski family, and they'd help me load Ariel's paintings into the covered bed of my small pickup.

   

  Before heading over to the co-op, I filled a gift basket with soaps that looked like quartz crystals and smooth river rocks, a few lip balms and lotion bars, an eye pillow filled with flax seeds, two jars of homemade raspberry jam and a jar of pickled asparagus. It was a bit much, but I wanted to do something nice.

  The gift basket took longer than I'd anticipated, so I got there late. I rushed in to find Ruth and Irene, hands on hips, silently looking at the big stark canvases that leaned against the front counter. Empty spaces gaped on the wall where they'd hung.

  Ruth greeted me, smiling with her eyes. She held out a sympathy card. "We've all signed it. Did you bring the blankets?"

  I took the card and uncapped a pen. "Thanks for picking this up. The blankets are in the bed of my truck."

  "Zak," she called. "Jake?"

  "She's here?" They clomped down the stairs.

  "Hey, you two. Thanks for helping out," I said.

  "No problem." Jake said. Beside him, Zak nodded silent agreement. "We'll just take these out for you, pack them up."

  "Okay, thanks," I said, and bent over the card. "Mine is the gray Toyota with the topper. The back is open, and there are blankets to pad the paintings."

  Each took a big canvas and carried it out the door. I turned to Irene and Ruth. "Do you think we should do something mor
e than just pad them in blankets? Something a little more professional? And I was going to keep them in the truck overnight, leave first thing in the morning."

   

  Irene scowled. Ruth said, "The paintings will be fine. I'm sure her brother will be grateful."

  "Yeah, I guess they'll be all right. As concerned as Jake was about Ariel's art, I'm sure he'll pack them well."

  This time Irene snorted. I raised my palms. "What? Did Jake have a thing for her or something?"

  She stared at me for several seconds, then without a word turned and strode to a display of her sculptures on the other side of the room and began rearranging them.

  Ruth watched her with sympathetic eyes.

  Zak and Jake came in and grabbed a couple more paintings. When the door had closed behind them, I turned to Ruth, "Did I say something wrong?"

  "Not really. You see, Jake did have feelings for Ariel, but I think they were of a fatherly sort more than anything."

  I'd seen how he looked at her. Fatherly, my ass.

  She saw my expression and insisted, "He was very protective of her."

  "What did Felicia think about that?" We were talking in low tones, and Irene steadfastly ignored us, fussing with a statue of a squat dancing woman with flowers in her hair.

  Ruth hesitated. "Felicia may have misunderstood. Apparently she found some e-mails Jake had sent Ariel, and found their tenor a bit too, er, intimate."

  "Ah," I said. "But his motives were pure, eh?"

  "I like to think so," Ruth said, holding my gaze.

   

  "So do I," I said, since that seemed to be what she wanted.

  She nodded, and I had to wonder if Felicia's possible motive for killing Ariel was lost on her. It was the same motive Chris supposedly had, after all. But did Felicia have an alibi?

  In no time, Jake and Zak had loaded and wrapped the paintings. I thanked them again, and Jake left, saying he had to get back to the office. I'd been surprised he'd been able to get away from his practice at all on such short notice; more evidence of his feelings for Ariel.

  We all went outside. Irene stalked over to Zak, who was standing in the parking lot by my truck, and pointed to her car. He shook his head. She said something, and he shook it again. She opened her mouth, then snapped it shut again. Yanking her car door open, she got inside without looking at any of us and roared out of the parking lot.