Last Wool and Testament: A Haunted Yarn Shop Mystery Read online

  “I was provoked.” He hadn’t asked, but something about his eyes and his beaky nose compelled me to explain my action against Clod.

  “And possibly out of your mind.” Unfortunately, it didn’t sound as though he was suggesting that as a defensible excuse.

  “I was provoked.”

  “You should have your hand looked at.”

  I looked at it, slowly spread the fingers, curled them in, spread them. What an amazing little weapon.

  “I meant you should have Dr. Keene look at it.”

  “It’s okay. A little sore.” It really was only a little sore, which surprised me, considering the damage I’d done. I’d hit Clod from the side, though, with more of a glancing smack than a full frontal fist-slam into anything solid like a cheekbone or his stupid, mulish jaw. But who knew a nose would break so easily? Or with such a sickening, wet crunch? “I was provoked.” The words sounded wobblier each time I said them.

  “He’s an irritating man,” Ardis said, bustling back into the room. She handed me a bag of frozen peas. “There was only the one tray of cubes. The peas are more like an ice pack, anyway. Homer, I want you to know that I was about to kick Cole Dunbar, myself, if Kath hadn’t saved me the trouble of crossing the room to get at him. He was being deliberately rude. He is an irritating man. And I want to testify to that in open court.”

  “Deputy Dunbar won’t be pressing charges,” Homer said, getting up and brushing at the cat fur that left the chair with him.

  “Why ever not? She popped him a good one.” Ardis demonstrated on an imaginary deputy with a right and a left and another right and some quick footwork between jabs.

  “Good Lord, how many times did you hit him?” Homer looked up from his battle with Maggie’s fur.

  I held up one finger.

  “I think we’re all right, then. Ms. Buchanan, your civic-mindedness is admirable and duly noted and Kath is lucky to have such a good friend. Do you hear that, Kath? You are lucky.” He waited until I nodded. “You’re also lucky that Cole Dunbar has anger-management issues of his own. I’ve had the opportunity to smooth things over for him on one or two occasions and I feel confident he’ll see this as an opportunity to reciprocate the favor.” He swiped a few more times at the fur on his dark trousers but recognized it for the lost cause it was and gave up. Maggie had never been so clingy in real life.

  “Granny has a lint brush here somewhere,” I said. Anger-management issues? Me?

  “That would be useful, but only if it’s no bother.”

  “She keeps it in her bureau, although I don’t remember seeing it.”

  “I’ll look,” Ardis said. “You hold on to your bag of peas.”

  “Try the top drawer, right-hand side.” I looked at my right hand again, opening and closing the fingers.

  “One more thing, Kath,” Homer said.

  “I don’t think I have anger-management issues.” I made my hand into a hard fist, winced, and put it back on the bag of defrosting peas, then looked up at Homer.

  “Perhaps not,” he said mildly. He might even have looked bemused, if it’s possible for a hawk or an eagle to look bemused. “Nonetheless, I think you should avoid further contact with Deputy Dunbar, if possible. Agreed?”

  “Definitely.” That might have come out fraught with more issues than I expected. I put the fingers of my nonaching left hand to my lips for a moment and recomposed myself before speaking again. “Thank you for coming, Homer. I’m sorry to be taking up so much of your time. That’s twice you’ve had to fly to my rescue this morning.”

  “So far. No, now it’s my turn to apologize. That was a poor joke at your expense. I’m happy to come to your rescue. That’s what a good lawyer does. And the good client pays the good lawyer for his time, so it all works out. But even apart from the fee, I’m happy to do it. You add an unquantifiable level of je ne sais quoi to my day.”

  “If you’re so short of entertainment, maybe I should be charging you.” He didn’t take me up on the offer, so I took a chance on further entertaining him with one of my blackmail questions. “Homer, if there’s proof that Emmett got hold of the house illegally, does it revert to Granny’s estate?”

  “If there’s proof, yes, a good chance. You agreed to leave this exploration to me, but have you found something?”

  “More like a lack of something. Odd things missing from the house.”

  He looked at me, his head tipped a fraction to one side, as though he were sizing up that piece of information and wondering whether to swallow it. “You didn’t tell me there was anything missing when we walked through the bedrooms and basement.”

  “No.” I went ahead and told him about the missing memory cards and thumb drive. Told him about the tapestry and cartoon, the possibly missing notebooks. Didn’t give him a laugh by telling him there wasn’t any cat food in the house.

  “You told Dunbar?”

  “He doesn’t think it amounts to much. But, he doesn’t think Granny amounted to much, either.”

  “And therein lies the problem between you two. I think I might take a swing at a policeman who maligned my grandmother, too. Did Dunbar explain to you how hard it is to trace small items? In fact, I’m sure he did, though perhaps not so delicately. He probably also pointed out that, without knowing Ivy’s habits exactly, you can’t be sure they’re missing. She might have a special place she keeps them and you’ll find them tomorrow or next month. And, then, I hesitate to belittle your concerns by using the word ‘inconsequential,’ but do you know what might be on the devices that would make them worth taking?”

  “No.”

  “It’s a shame about the unfinished tapestry and the—the cartoon, is it? I understand their personal value. Do you know why anyone would find either worth stealing?”

  “No.”

  “You’re guessing there’s proof of something on or in one of these items—is that right? But it certainly wasn’t Emmett who took the tapestry. You said you saw it here yesterday.”

  “I kind of wondered if Max was taking over where Emmett left off.”

  “If that’s your worry, then you’re safe. Max is gone.”

  “But if there’s someone else?”

  “Well, again, not to belittle your ideas, but you do see that you’re getting further and further fetched, as it were, don’t you?”

  No, I didn’t. But Homer obviously did and if that was his attitude toward something that might prove important, then I definitely wasn’t telling him what was missing from the corner near the utility sink in the basement.

  “Far-fetched or not, though, Kath, you need to leave this with me for two very good reasons. One, my judgment is not infallible. Two, someone murdered Emmett Cobb. That unknown person is dangerous. Now, may I assume that, even in the heat of your moment of glory with Deputy Dunbar, you remembered the agreement about zipped lips from our earlier conversation?”

  “Yes. Of course. I hit him, but…”

  “Kath, you broke his nose.”

  “Yeah. I did.” I swallowed. “But I’m not totally hopeless. I didn’t say anything about blackmail.”

  Ardis returned, just then, from her hunt for the lint brush. “Blackmail?” She looked from my face to Homer’s, then zeroed back in on mine. “I couldn’t find the brush, but blackmail is much more interesting. So, tell me, who, what, when, where, why, and how?”

  Oops.

  Chapter 26

  If someone put together an illustrated encyclopedia of facial expressions, Ardis could be the model for “agog.” Homer’s version of “there is nothing to discuss” was a winner, too. “Oops,” though, was all mine.

  We left the house together, Homer politely stonewalling Ardis and Ardis angling for a chink in his masonry. I tuned them both out, reluctantly turning the lock button on the inside doorknob and pulling the door shut behind us.

  The keys were still AWOL, either with Max or with his effects. I thought about waiting around the corner until the coast was clear and then climbing back in t
hrough the broken window. Maybe no one else would see a twice-burglarized house as a place of safety. But I could see myself scrambling through the window, seeking the shelter of my bolt-hole. I would burrow into my bed in the spare room, pull Granny-made quilts over me like so many deep leaves, and fall asleep until danger slunk past.

  I wasn’t so deep into that daydream, though, that I didn’t appreciate the pattern of my recent emotions. Shout or cry; arm myself or run away; punch the nearest nose or crawl into a hole. Vulnerable yins engulfed me, pulling me under in one direction. Violent yangs caught me in their jaws and dragged me in another. “Balanced” wouldn’t be the best word to describe my mental state, but something in my wild mood swings stirred my creative juices.

  Instead of burrowing or hiding, I should re-channel my emotions and design the weaving pattern I so clearly saw. It would be a variation of Tennessee Trouble, where the geometrics represented wings and hidey-holes intertwined with fireplace pokers and running chain saws. I’d call it Fight or Flight and use it in a border around my own version of a Blue Plum tapestry. In Granny’s honor.

  Homer interrupted my design plans with a dose of practicality. “Aaron Carlin will be around to board up the window.” I hadn’t even noticed him pull his phone out. “Did Ernestine give you his number?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hold up there,” Ardis said. “Do you know him, Kath?” She didn’t give me a chance to say I’d almost met his wrench. “Because I do, as who doesn’t who ever reads the paper? He’s one of the Smokin’ Smoky Carlins from down by Newport—am I right? Wonderful, upstanding citizens, all of them.” She turned to me. “They like to set fires in the national forest.”

  “He was acquitted, Ms. Buchanan,” Homer said.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Found innocent of all charges. What’s more, I believe he actually was innocent, and that isn’t always the case.”

  “And now he’s working for you,” Ardis said.

  “It’s a fair trade. People should be convicted for the crimes they commit, not because they can’t pay a good lawyer.”

  “And you are an excellent lawyer, Homer. I’m sure you’re a great comfort to the family.” I hadn’t seen them side by side before. Solid Ardis was a hair taller than the raptor. She looked very much as though she’d like to pat him on the head, but she didn’t. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find the lint brush for you,” she told him. “You should stop by the Western Auto and pick up a roll of masking tape. Makes a good substitute in a pinch.”

  Homer looked down the length of his trousers and took a few more swipes at the sides of his knees. “I think I conquered the worst of it. A little cat fur goes a long way, but it isn’t the end of the world and I have other clients waiting. Kath, a word before I go? You’ll excuse us, Ms. Buchanan?”

  Homer and I walked to the end of the front walk, where he repeated his instructions not to communicate with Deputy Dunbar and not to let the word “blackmail” pass my lips, not even to Ardis. Especially not to Ardis. The house keys, he once again promised to track down. In the meantime he had a suggestion.

  “I sense yours is a sunny personality and that these last few days have done their damnedest to drench you and bring you down.”

  I wanted to ask him how that sense fit in with his other sense about my anger-management issues, but he wasn’t finished being solicitous.

  “Don’t spend the rest of the day alone with your anxieties and frustrations. In fact, I’ll call Ruth and see if she has luncheon plans.” He was quick on the draw and already had his phone in one hand, the other hand up to stop my protest. Ruth didn’t answer, though. He left a message asking her to call me later if she was free, and told her he’d be home at the usual time. “I’m sorry that won’t work out,” he said.

  “Thanks, anyway, Homer. I’ll be fine. I’ll go to the Cat.”

  “The Cat? Oh, the shop. That’s the perfect solution. Ardis can drive you there and you can indulge in some ‘me’ time, as they say. Make a pot of herbal tea. Spend time being creative with all those wonderful, er, strings.”

  “Fibers.”

  “Fibers, yes—a much better word. Create, relax, chat with those wonderful ladies, and you should be able to face the next few days refreshed and revived.”

  I smiled and nodded. His idea that creativity erased frustration and anxiety and produced tranquillity showed an interesting lack of insight into the creative process. But I thanked him and didn’t quite promise anything. I held out my hand on its bed of thawing peas and that gallant man took them together in both of his, shook them gently, and wished me an uneventful remainder of the day. When he turned to walk away I saw he still had enough cat fur on the back of his coat and trousers to make a whole new cat.

  “Not his usual look,” Ardis said, coming up beside me, “but it makes him more human, don’t you think?”

  We watched him get in his car. She waved good-bye, then hit me with the opening salvo of her third degree.

  “Blackmail? Please do tell Dr. Buchanan everything.”

  “I’ve been advised not even to breathe that word.”

  “Why not? It’s a perfectly good word. Full of that other thing. You know, intrigue. Let’s find a substitute for ‘blackmail,’ then. I do that a lot these days, anyway, when I can’t think of a word. So, tell me all about the shakedown.”

  “Walk toward my car and open the passenger door for me. Homer thinks you’re taking me to the Cat and I get the feeling he won’t pull away until he sees we’re leaving.”

  Homer’s sleek sedan was parked on the street. My nondescript rental was in the drive. When we reached it, Ardis made a show of rooting in my purse for the keys, pulling them out, dropping them, then unlocking the passenger door and opening it.

  “Founding member of the Blue Plum Repertory Theater,” she said as she handed me in and pretended to fuss with the seat belt. “You should have seen me as Aunt Eller in Oklahoma! Would you like me to sing? Never mind, there he goes. Don’t get out yet. I’ll close the door, in case he looks in his mirror.”

  In her exuberance, she slammed the door, then started around the front of the car. I looked out the back and watched Homer head down the street. Ardis waved again as he turned the corner. Then she came back, laughing, and I climbed out.

  “Most fun I’ve had in years. What’s next?”

  “Can you read and take a few more notes while I drive, or will you get carsick?”

  She thumped her midsection. “Iron Stomach Buchanan.”

  “Good. I’ll drop you back at the Cat and fill you in on the way.”

  “You’re sure you can drive with your hand?”

  I tossed her the bag of peas. She caught it and held it by one corner while I gingerly ran my fingers through a few agility tests. “As long as I don’t have to punch anyone else, I think I’ll be fine. What do we do with the peas now?”

  “I have a recipe for green pea hummus from the Bugle. So, how does this sound for supper tonight? The hummus, toasted pitas, goat cheese, fruit salad, and you’re invited. Daddy won’t know who you are, but he’ll enjoy meeting you over and over. In the meantime, I’ll put the peas in the fridge at the Cat.”

  “Can I let you know later? I might have a subsequent engagement.”

  “Working on the case?”

  I wasn’t sure how to answer her. Partly because I wasn’t sure I wasn’t out of my mind. Again. But seeing and hearing ghosts was one kind of crazy, a loony kind. This other thing, playing detective, if that’s what I was planning to do, was maybe just an ill-advised, imprudent kind of crazy. And because I was handling the loony so well, it seemed logical to think the ill-advised should be a piece of cake. Unless I made myself even crazier thinking about it.

  “Hon?” Ardis waved the bag of peas to get my attention. “You’re working on the case tonight?”

  “Can I get back to you on that, too?”

  “Mysterious doings and blackmail and more notes? Very exciting. Drive slow so I get everything down.
”

  We did go slow, taking the scenic route, thanks to distracted driving. Given the size and simplicity of Blue Plum, we should have been able to point the car in the right direction and let it take itself. Or maybe we did and that’s why we went around the corner at Hillside and Maple twice from two directions. I was too busy trying to keep straight what I had and hadn’t told Homer and Clod and what I would and wouldn’t tell Ardis. It was enough to send anyone around the wrong bend. Ardis, taking notes, wouldn’t have known, or cared, if I’d peeled off and headed for Timbuktu.

  We still arrived at the Cat too soon to suit her. She urged me to keep going, saying it might be her only chance to live her fantasy of being in a buddy road trip movie. I convinced her we shouldn’t take the chance that Homer would see us and ground us, or the chance that Ernestine was on her way back from Dr. Keane’s and wouldn’t see us and would put us out of commission altogether by plowing into us with the patrol car and a really cranky deputy.

  I pulled into the alley behind the Cat and parked. To placate Ardis, I told her she could pretend we were on a stakeout. She told me in that case I owed her a doughnut.

  “Not one of those namby-pamby things filled with air, either. A good old-fashioned cake doughnut. Chocolate. With chocolate icing. Nuts on top for protein. Mel has the best. So,” she said, scanning her notes, “I won’t ask why you didn’t tell Cole or Homer everything you think is missing. And I won’t ask if you told me everything that’s missing. I will be your loyal recording secretary and leave questions of legality or sanity to bother your conscience, not mine.”

  I hadn’t told her everything. It felt right to keep some of it quiet. Safer. Safer for whom, I wasn’t sure. But she’d turned colors suitable for embroidering a tropical sunset when I told her Emmett and Granny’s respective roles in the shakedown. That couldn’t be healthy for someone who liked doughnuts as much as she did. I did tell her I was going to fetch my laptop from the cottage, telling her I was used to thinking with electronic organization. She offered me use of the office computer, but using my own was part of keeping things quiet. Safe.