A Tangled Yarn, page 13
“Tote bag? I don’t recall any bag on the bed, just some colored folders.”
Again I thought of what T Dot had said about what was there when he saw Don and what he left with him. “Do you recall how many or what color?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you on to something? You know, it’s only fair that you share since I did.”
“Okay. Someone I talked to said he’d gone to Don’s room during the Roast and Toast and he’d seen a tote bag on the bed and two folders, a yellow and a red one. I just thought if there were more it would mean someone else came to the room after the person I was talking to.”
“I’ll have to check. Very quietly. If Lieutenant Borgnine thinks I’m feeding you information, he’ll figure out something worse than the night shift. It’s lucky he doesn’t know about me taking my breaks here.” I had begun to take out the supplies for the muffins. Dane stood by, watching. “Why are you involved, anyway? It’s not like the travel writer has anything to do with your group.”
I hesitated. I was in the same bind with him. I couldn’t tell him it was Madeleine who’d gotten me involved or why. “Oh, you know me. Miss Nosy.”
“That’s the truth,” he said, teasing. “And I get that you’re not going to share.”
“I would if I really knew something, but for now I’m still just checking things out.”
“Okay by me. I’m off duty and I’d much rather talk about other things. Like when are you going to admit that you’re crazy about me?”
• • •
Hours later, when the streets were completely quiet, Dane accompanied me as I left a supply of plain vanilla nut muffins at all the usual spots. He nibbled on one of the sample apple fritter muffins as he helped carry the containers. “I think you should have had me be the taster on those breakfast muffins. I could have saved you some grief.” He held up what was left of the sample muffin. “This is really good. It’s different than your usual muffins, but enough like a muffin so that no one should object.”
“A few more tweaks and it should be ready for the real test: Lieutenant Borgnine,” I said.
When we’d delivered them all, Dane walked me to my car before going to his red Ford F-150 truck. Although I got a head start, he was on my tail in no time. I pulled into my driveway and he stopped the truck. “I could help you with the delivery to Vista Del Mar,” he offered. “Maybe followed by a romantic walk on the beach.”
“Are you kidding? Once I drop them off, all I’m going to want is bed.”
“That could be arranged,” he said. He saw the little shake of my head at the comment. “C’mon. You have to admit that you threw me the perfect setup.” I rolled my eyes and he laughed. I waved him on and said I could manage taking the muffins across the street on my own.
“Fine. Have it your way. I just hope nothing jumps out of the bushes.” His eyes were dancing, and he waited for a moment to see if I’d relent. When I didn’t, he hit the gas and drove down the street.
Whew, if only he knew how close I was to taking him up on his offer.
I unloaded the container of muffins and walked them across the street. The lights on the stone pillars that marked the entrance to Vista Del Mar were like dots in the darkness. I didn’t have my flashlight and had to feel my way down the driveway, but I’d walked it so many times, I knew every crack and bump in the asphalt. It felt like the whole place was asleep, and the sound of the ocean seemed louder with nothing to compete with it. The constant breeze felt refreshing after being inside.
Light spilled out of the window from the Lodge. It was open 24/7 but was completely deserted at this hour. I was surprised to see Gill behind the registration desk. He had a stack of magazines.
“What are you still doing here?” I asked as I crossed the large empty room.
“The night clerk has a stomach bug.” He eyed the container of muffins. “But my stomach is just fine.”
I had some more of the samples of Lieutenant Borgnine’s apple fritter muffins and figured I might as well get another opinion. I’d barely opened the bag when he took one hungrily.
I went to set down the container outside the Cora and Madeleine Delacorte Café and then returned for the verdict.
“Different, but very good,” he said. I offered him seconds. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He took another one from the bag. “I’ve got some tea back here. Want a cup?”
He handed me a mug of tea that smelled of orange and spices. “So, anything happen after I left?”
“No, I’m pleased to report.” He finished off the muffin. “What a day. And having to fuss around with that cabbie on top of everything else.” I must have given him a blank look. “You were here, remember? He had an order to pick up the guy who died.”
“That’s right. How strange.”
“What’s even stranger is that he must have put in the order shortly after he got here. I saw that the time was yesterday afternoon.”
“That is really weird,” I said. “I understood Don Porter was scheduled to lead workshops all weekend. Why would he plan to leave? I don’t imagine Kevin St. John knew.”
“No way did Kevin know anything about it. He was convinced that Don was going to write something about Vista Del Mar and Kevin kept telling me that we had all weekend to wow him.” Every time Gill referred to him as Kevin he got this naughty-boy look. “Kevin wanted him to write something like this about Vista Del Mar.” Gill pulled out one of the magazines and opened it to a two-page spread. I saw that the byline read Don Porter and the article was about a resort on an obscure part of Maui. I read over the beginning, and it went on about the rustic quality of the place and related that the guest quarters were in tree houses. It sounded wonderful.
“Kevin was under the impression that Don was the kind who wouldn’t write anything unless it was good—until he saw this piece.” Gill pulled out another magazine and opened it to a spread about some cabins by Lake Michigan in Indiana. I read lines like overrun with field mice and if you’re going there, be prepared to battle mosquitoes when you use the outdoor plumbing.
“Oh,” I said, imagining Kevin’s expression when he saw it.
“Kevin is so bonkers about this place, I actually heard him tell someone that now that Don was dead he didn’t have to worry what he would write about Vista Del Mar.”
I drained my mug of tea and set it on the counter, left Gill another muffin and headed for home.
14
It would have been easy to sleep in Saturday morning. After a night of not enough sleep, and the murky light coming in the window, snuggling under my comforter felt like the perfect idea. But my alarm went off and kept on making its grating noise. I had deliberately placed it across the room so that I had to get up to shut it off.
Julius was snuggled in the crook of my arm and gave me a dirty look when I pulled back the flower-print comforter. The air was cold and the floor was colder, but at the same time not cold enough to turn on the heat. My feet found their way to my fuzzy slippers and I went across the room to end the annoying noise of the alarm clock.
I looked out the window and saw that the clouds were so low that the tops of the Monterey pines disappeared into a white mist. I had pulled on a warm robe and made it to the kitchen when I heard the banging on the door.
“Madeleine?” I said as I opened the door and saw her. “Is something wrong?”
She rushed inside and told me to shut the door quickly. My eyes were barely open, but they were open enough to take in her continued love affair with jeans. She had turned into quite the fashion plate and wore ankle boots with her skinny jeans and oversize burgundy-colored sweater. The contrast with the Chanel suits and green eye shadow that she used to wear and her sister still did was mind-boggling. Madeleine might be the older one, but with her new look she seemed decades younger than her sister. I would have told her how cute she looked, but she seemed too agitated to care.
“I was just going to have some coffee,” I said and offered her a cup. I think she got it that whatever she had to say ought to wait until I’d had a hit of caffeine. I took the easy way out and boiled some water for instant, and we sat down at my table together.
After a few sips, I felt my mind clear, and my eyes opened wider. “Okay, what is it?” I asked, preparing for some new disaster.
“I’m worried that someone may have seen me talking to Don when we got to Vista Del Mar. What if they remember and mention it to Lieutenant Borgnine?” Her face took on a look of determination. “I really need this case closed.”
I wanted to tell her she was overreacting and not to worry, but then she reminded me how she had helped me. “You know that Cora wasn’t so sure about letting you keep the arrangement we gave your aunt. I fought for you. I told my sister that your retreats were life changing for people and it was a public service to have you putting them on.”
“I have some suspects,” I said, and she brightened.
“Good. How many? Who are they? I need some hope that this will be resolved soon.”
I had to give her something to calm her down. “There’s the man you said threw a fit at the first workshop Don led, but I haven’t been able to locate him. You said he was wearing one of those army jackets and it had something on the front. I think you said it was a decal. It would help if you had any more details.”
Madeleine thought about it for a moment. “Did I tell you there were letters on it?” I shook my head in answer. “I’m sure they were letters, and something about them made me think of you. I just can’t remember why.”
“Let me know if you figure it out,” I said before moving on. “I did talk to someone else who went to a smaller critique group that night. I’m not sure he was telling me the truth, though. But he definitely could be a suspect.” By now I was half talking to myself as I remembered that Dane had said there was no tote bag found in the room. “It sounds silly, but it has to do with whether there was a tote bag in Don’s room or not.”
Madeleine seemed troubled. “How could I have forgotten what he said.” She looked at me. “I was sitting by the door and just before he went outside he said something like ‘I’ll show you.’ That sounds like a threat, doesn’t it?”
“It certainly could have been. I’ll get it figured out. I promise,” I said, hoping to calm her down.
“Do your best,” she said, getting up. “Please do your very best, quickly.”
I sat at the table for a few minutes as I finished my coffee. I looked at my watch. It was early here, but the two hours’ time difference between here and Chicago made it not too early to call Frank.
I had his number on speed dial by now, and the phone began to ring. And ring. And then it went to voice mail. “Geez, Frank. Where are you? Please call,” I said, then realized that was a stupid request. I wasn’t going to be at home to answer, and my cell was useless across the street. “Actually, I’ll call you.” I hung up feeling a little better. At least I had taken some action.
Now I had to hurry. I needed to get across the street in time for breakfast. It was all about the food. Breakfast was my favorite meal at Vista Del Mar. They always had pancakes or waffles, eggs, potatoes, fruit, toast—all the good stuff, and the staff was very nice about my creating my own little buffet and getting a little bit of everything.
The bell had already rung when I approached the Sea Foam dining hall. The smell of hot food and coffee beckoned me. The smell got even better when I opened the door.
Lucinda was acting as hostess to the three tables with my people. I went straight back to the cafeteria line and took a tray. The server recognized me. “I know what you want,” she said with a friendly smile. After making her way past all the containers on the steam tray, she handed me a plate piled with eggs and blueberry pancakes, fruit, potatoes and a piece of raisin toast.
Lucinda had saved the seat next to her for me. She looked put together, as always. It was the touches like the emerald green scarf, the perfectly styled hair and the lipstick that I could never seem to manage. I knew that my hair looked windblown. I was pretty sure I’d forgotten to add lipstick when I’d slapped on a little foundation and eyeliner. And this morning I’d forgotten to add some embellishment from my aunt’s stash—I probably looked pretty dull in my usual black jeans and apricot-colored turtleneck topped with a black fleece jacket.
She waited until I set the plate down and then filled my coffee cup. I nodded a greeting to the rest of the table. “Go on and eat something quickly; you’re going to need the strength.”
“What?” I said. “Is something wrong?” I tried to keep my voice low.
Rayanne was next to me before Lucinda could answer. “Last night while DeeDee and I were at the movie, someone went through all of our rooms.”
“What?” I said incredulous. “What was taken?” I added, figuring I was going to have to replace whatever it was.
“Nothing was gone. Nothing was gone,” DeeDee said. She seemed very nervous to be speaking and her head jerked so much that her hair kept swinging.
Rayanne took back the position of speaker. “Things were just moved around. I think someone must have poked around my yarn because when I got back it was on the floor and I know I left it sitting on my bed.”
Mona stood up from across the table and seemed very upset, or at least I thought so. She was still hidden, with her big hat and sunglasses, but she waved her hands like she was very upset. “It’s like I was violated,” she said in a low voice. “I suppose I should be grateful they didn’t throw things around. You could almost miss that anyone had been in there, but a few things were rearranged. It was as if they didn’t want anyone to know someone had been in there.”
Rayanne took back the floor. “You don’t have to think too hard to figure out who it was. I’m sure it was the police with the help of him.” She pointed at Kevin St. John, who was making the rounds of the tables, asking if everyone was enjoying their breakfast.
“It wasn’t just us,” Lisa said, and I gulped. “Derek said he thinks they may have gone through the writers’ rooms, too. One of them mentioned that something had been moved. The rest of them didn’t seem to notice.”
“Maybe it was housekeeping doing turndown service and they were clumsy,” the woman in the cat T-shirt said. The group considered it for a moment, and then they laughed.
“This place? I don’t think so. That would be like getting mints on your pillow at camp,” the woman with the knitting needles in her hair said.
One by one the rest of the group all said either that they had noticed that things had been moved around or, now that it had been mentioned, that they were sure things had been moved around.
I turned to Lucinda, who shrugged. “I wasn’t going to say anything since nothing was missing and the room seemed the same as when I left it.”
“Oh, no,” Dolly said. “I was so tired after the movie, I didn’t notice. I suppose they went through my room, too. Any idea what they were looking for?”
“I bet they were looking for clues to who killed the travel writer,” the woman with the knitting needles stuck in her bun said. “They must think one of us did it.”
“Why would they look through our stuff?” Bree asked.
“Haven’t they heard of warrants?” Rayanne added angrily. “Are you going to do anything, or is this just more dysfunction?” She glared at me and then turned to the group to rally support. “Maybe we should band together and demand a refund.”
I put my hands up to stop her. It had been bad enough to think about the Difficult Duo asking for their money back, but all of them? My eyes flew skyward just thinking about it. “Let me get to the bottom of this,” I said. I surprised myself by the authoritative sound to my voice, and even more surprising was that I wasn’t was faking it. When I’d taken over my aunt’s business, I hadn’t really been committed. It was like I was just dipping my toe in and could cut and run whenever I wanted. But as I’d put on more retreats, I’d changed and become protective of my people. I was ready to roar when I caught up with Kevin St. John.
He was holding a coffeepot and talking to a table of writers, seeming very much the host.
“I need to speak to you,” I said in a terse tone. Had he really given the cops permission to go through the rooms? And what were they looking for?
He threw me a dirty look and told me he was occupied and would talk to me shortly. I stood there, getting more steamed by the moment. He continued to ignore me as he made the rounds with the coffeepot.
“Ms. Feldstein, you need to learn some self-control. You can’t simply interrupt me and expect me to rudely ignore my conference-goers,” he said finally when he stepped away.
I ignored the reprimand. “Kevin how could you have given Lieutenant Borgnine carte blanche to go through all the guest rooms? I guess you thought your writers wouldn’t notice. What was he looking for, anyway?”
“What are you talking about?” he demanded as his normally placid face went through a cycle of expressions from annoyed to disturbed. I explained what I’d heard from my retreaters and he seemed shocked.
“You should check with your group,” I said. “One of my people came with one of your people and she told me her husband said some of the writers said their rooms had been gone through.”
He gestured for me to lower my voice and then pulled me all the way to the side of the room. I explained again that just about all the people in my group had reported that it looked like things had been moved around in their rooms, but nothing was missing.
“It wasn’t me. I certainly wouldn’t give anyone permission to do that or hand over the master key.” He instinctively glanced in the direction of the Lodge.
“Who had access to it?” I asked.
“It hangs on the side of the wooden pigeonholes where we keep the regular guest keys.” He seemed upset with himself for revealing that information. “That’s classified information.”
