Chapter Twelve

My list of suspects is long, too long, considering that Frannie seems to have ticked off most of Stonebridge’s small business community. Navy training comes to my rescue again as I recall how I memorized the litany of flight rules for a helicopter.

Knock off the bigger suspects off first.

Er, maybe knock off isn’t the right term here. I’ve already visited Ken, and I’ll have to circle back to him after his initial period of shock passes. When it won’t feel so much like I’m being an opportunist.

Since she came up in two separate conversations with two different people, Eloise is my next target. Lucky for me a quick search on my phone reveals her yoga studio is open today. Even better, a class is about to let out. The studio is only two blocks away, so I burrow into my coat and lean against a sycamore tree while I answer some texts. I’d like to meet with Frannie alone, sans her yoginis.

My stomach plummets when I see all the missed texts from Ava and Lily. They tried to call my for our weekly Sunday video chat. Since I’d put my phone on do not disturb while I was with Ken, I’d missed them. Two hours ago, their gentle reminders were typical.

From Ava: “Mom, we know you’re busy setting up the first glimpse of global living that Stonebridge has ever seen, but we’re your daughters. Call us.”

And from Lily: “Speak for yourself, Ava. I understand that you’re under the gun, Mom. If you can’t talk now, we can call later tonight.”

But only fifteen minutes ago, both girls were clearly uncomfortable.

From Lily: “MOM ARE YOU OUT THERE? SEND PROOF OF LIFE (a photo of Ralph works)”

And then, Ava: “Mom, don’t worry, we’re not freaking out but we would like to know you’re okay.”

As I stare at my screen, it indicates an incoming video call from Ava. Eldest by seven minutes is eldest no matter what.

I connect. A few seconds later Lily connects, and all three of us are grinning at each other.

“Mom, where are you?”

“Me? Oh, I’m standing outside. It’s a beautiful day here.” Cold rain hits my cheeks and I smear a drop off the screen.

“You’re going to get the cold front we had here last night. Lily you’re next, so no more crop tops.”

Lily sticks out her tongue, making Ava roll her eyes before they both explode into peals of giggles. An entire state between them, with Ava in Pittsburgh and Lily in Philadelphia, and their bond is only stronger.

Their constant joking and twin telepathy can be downright annoying, but today it sounds like the most beautiful symphony. I blink back tears, wipe my eye.

“Mom? What’s going on?”

“Nothing. It’s the wind, it’s picked up a bit.” I don’t have to fake the shiver that rattles my shoulders.

“Why don’t you like, I don’t know, go inside?” Lily is a very helpful eighteen-year-old.

“You’re not her mother, baby sis.” Ava peers at me. “But Lily is right. Maybe you should take the call inside. Do you want to call us back in a few?”

“Ye—um, er, no, I can’t. Lots going on.” I’m relieved that Frannie’s death hasn’t hit the news outlets yet. Not that it matters. Local news, Stonebridge news, isn’t something the girls follow. If it doesn’t come through their social media feeds or scrolls, it didn’t happen in their world. But I don’t want them shocked when they find out, which they will. They like to call Bryce, and he has a hard time keeping anything a secret when it comes to his nieces.

I listen as each daughter fills me in on her studies, extracurriculars. I get that they’re not telling me everything they do, but do I really need to know? Do I want to know? I’m relieved to hear their voices, to know they’re both doing so well.

Their Mom, not so much.

“Look, girls, I don’t want to worry you but I’ve had an incident in the shop.” Before either of them can interrupt me, I fill them in, leaving out grisly details.

“OMG Mom!”

“Whoo hoo, Mom’s a badass!”

Well. That went better than I’d hoped.

“When can you go back home?”

“By the end of today. Look, I need to go. I love you both and can’t wait for Thanksgiving. We’re going to have the best time ever.”

“Can you leave the tape outline of the body for us to look at?” Lily, already declared a Criminal Forensics major, has been taking notes the entire time, I’m certain.

“Doubtful, dumb a—”

“Ava!”

We finish up with promises that I’ll keep them informed, and they won’t talk about it at school. It’s an ongoing investigation, after all.

I disconnect and note that it’s exactly fifteen minutes since I stopped to gather my thoughts. And the perfect time to catch Eloise alone, with an hour between her Sunday yoga classes.

“Bring it in, girlfriend!” Eloise opens her arms wide and all at once I’m engulfed in her namaste embrace and a cloud of patchouli. It’s like hugging serenity. I hug back, thanking the yoga goddesses that my plan worked and Eloise is indeed alone. “You must be a wreck! I heard what happened.”

“What have you heard, exactly?”

“That Frannie was found murdered in your shop.”

Wow. So much for keeping anything quiet for more than a nanosecond in this town.

“Yeah, that about sums it up.”

“But you’re not a suspect, or you’d be locked up, right?”

“Uh, no, I don’t believe I’m a suspect at this point. I wasn’t there when it happened.”

Eloise shakes her head. “It’s a damn shame, a shock. But…”

“But?”

“Never mind. You’ve caught me at a good time. I’m in between classes.” Eloise is the picture of yoga exuberance with her lotus-imprinted headband, long single braid, and coordinated tank top, sweater, and tights. Her toes are painted in the same hue of violet as her clothing.

“Oh, well, I don’t want to take up your break.”

“You’re not! Come on back and I’ll make you a green tea. You drink tea? Or I have water if you’d prefer.” We cross the spacious studio to a nook defined by an ornate room divider. Teak, if my eye is correct.

“Tea’s fine. Thank you.” I’m going to be swimming in coffee and tea by the end of the day, but if I get some answers it’s worth it. Does Trinity need to drink a lot of coffee or tea, too, to stay alert through her investigations?

Eloise carefully measures leaves into a handless mug and pours hot water from a water cooler unit over them, a very Pennsylvanian take on the ritual.

“Have a seat.” She nods at a beanbag chair, and I shrug out of my coat, sink into the kind of seat I haven’t used since I was in middle school. I hope I can get out of it gracefully when I need to. “Here.”

The mug is warm but not too hot, and the tea, delicious. Eloise sits in a low-slung canvas folding chair kitty-corner from me.

“What a beautiful space, Eloise!” No effort is needed to compliment the large, high-ceilinged room. “How did you get the sky lights in there?”

“You mean after we removed the entire second floor? It was a process, let me tell you. We had to put the loft in afterward, as a whole new structure. I was so excited to be able to buy this, right here on Main Street, that I underestimated the renovation costs.”

“I’m going through my own renovations, but nothing this extensive.” I watch her, try to do what I think a detective would. Observe. Her perfectly messy bun shows off her golden highlights, which in turn accent her sable eyes. Eyes that laughed with me through plenty of Stonebridge High School cross-country meets. “Who’d have thought that when we were running through the hills around town we’d ever own businesses on Main Street?”

Her eyes widen. “It’s no coincidence, if you ask me.”

“Oh?”

“There’s a special kind of energy here. Our town rests atop the remains of an ancient civilization, after all.” She holds her arms out to her side, palms out, as if she’s a human whirligig. “The chakra pulses aren’t old, or new, but eternal.”

“Do you mean Native American?”

“Of course. You’ve heard about the brouhaha over the eel weir in Jacob’s Run, haven’t you?”

It’s why I’m here. And why I’m wondering why she doesn’t seem to want to talk about Frannie anymore. “Yes but I’m under the impression that the grad students from Penn State haven’t determined if it’s truly prehistoric, or built by the colonists, or more recent.”

Eloise’s brow disappears under her headband. “Tell me you don’t feel it, Angel?”

Oh no. She’s mistaken interest for some kind of chakra enlightenment. It’d be flat-out rude to stop her narration, though. She’s throwing herself into it full throttle.

“The weirs, our weir, predates the pyramids, Angel. I know you sense the energy they’re still sending us.” She waves her hands around her body, as if spirits of the past will materialize at any moment.

I consider myself an open-minded person. Especially for someone who’s spent half of her life following very definite rules, regulations, and procedures. Do I believe in what Eloise is describing? Energy fields, for example?

Well, I don’t disbelieve, let me put it that way. No sailor or pilot is being honest if they don’t admit to at least a little bit of believing in something greater than themselves. We’re a notoriously superstitious lot. But it’s not something I really want to spend time discussing when I’m under the gun to solve a murder or face business failure.

“I heard that Frannie was excited about the weir. She thought it would triple our tourism.”

Eloise’s mouth twists into a sneer. No hint of serenity. “Frannie was an opportunist. That’s okay, it was always her calling to be a businessperson. But there has to be a line when profit motives overreach.”

My heart stops then kick starts into overdrive. Was Frannie admitting something here? As in, murder?

“I take it you and Frannie didn’t agree.”

“Don’t play coy, Angel. We’ve known one another a long time, and it’s clear to me we’re both following our hearts with what we’re establishing on Main Street. Trust me, you would have been fighting Frannie’s strong-arm tactics along with the rest of us. If she’d lived.” Eloise shakes her head. “I said I wasn’t surprised by her death, the murder, because she’s stirred up so much trouble over turning Stonebridge into Frannietown. The weir was but one symptom of her obsession. I am sorry, of course, that she suffered, that it came to this.”

“So you believe someone in town killed her? A business owner?”

She blinks as if registering what I’m saying. “Honestly? I highly doubt anyone here would have wished her dead. But if she was that forceful with folks she knew, people she’d made a lot of money from over the years, how brutal must she have been with outsiders?”

“Outsiders?”

“Investors from out of state, out of country. Schrock Real Estate handled both residential and commercial properties, and Frannie was always in the business of enticing investors for her pet projects like the Stoppe and Shoppe.”

“That’s a lot to consider, Eloise. I appreciate your frankness. I’m a bit at a loss, being new. Sure, I grew up here, but I’ve been out of the Stonebridge loop.”

Eloise stands up, and I try to. Except the beanbag has my bottom feeling like it weighs a ton. I hand Eloise my teacup and roll onto all fours, then stand.

“I guess I could use some yoga practice.”

Eloise has the grace to smile without judgment. “My next class is due in soon, but we should plan time together.” She places the mugs in the tiny sink then walks to another counter and reaches for a large phone. Its protective case sports yet another lotus flower. “Let’s share numbers.”

“Uh, okay, sure.” I reach down for my purse, grab my phone. We exchange contact information in silence.

As she walks me to the exit, Eloise hands me a business card that’s a coupon for a free class. “Next week, the Tuesday-Thursday ten o’clock is for yoga newbies.” She gives me another quick hug before I slip out the door. The cold November wind slaps my cheeks and any warm and fuzzy comfort Eloise and her yoga studio offered is scrubbed clean. I’d be happy to reconnect, especially if it turns out Eloise didn’t murder Frannie. I don’t get a sense that she did, or is capable of it, but what do I know?

Not a lot, except that Frannie’s possible murderer list remains overwhelming. I look over my shoulder as I start walking toward Skeins and Baahls and catch Eloise standing at the large picture window of her studio, the artistically lettered ELOISE’S ENERGY YOGA arced over her head, GIVE US A WHORL stenciled at her feet. When our gazes connect, it’s with none of the warmth of her welcome.

I’ll hold off on the yoga for a bit.

Fifteen minutes later I’m at the other end of town, a couple blocks off Main Street. I’m grateful that the guys convinced me—okay, pleaded via multiple texts since breakfast—to stop in for their trunk show. I know they’re worried about me, and instead of annoying me as Bryce often can, it feels good to be close to family for this very reason.

Skeins and Baahls is a respite from the busy street outside, symbolic of how knitting gives me a break from the constant hamster wheel otherwise known as my mind. It’s funny how I could always focus on a Navy mission but take me out of the cockpit or now, out of my shop, and I flounder. Having needles and yarn in my hands helps. But my hands are so dry and nicked with paper cuts from the constant unpacking of merchandise that the mere thought of doing something with them makes my raw skin hurt. And truth be told I can’t allow myself to numb out with anything right now. Not while a murderer lurks in my town.

Bryce arranges their stock by color instead of weight, so no matter what you want to knit, you simply find the hue you want and match it to the fiber you need. The wall of rainbow-ordered skeins lifts my spirits every time I walk in.

I meander around the shop while Bryce and Nico attend to customers. When they leave I stop pacing, take my coat off, and sit down at the communal crafting area.

“This is the perfect yarn for you, sister.” Bryce holds up two balls of bulky, as in really thick, yarn. One skein is navy blue and the other, gold. We’re in the coziest part of the yarn shop, and I’m sitting on the bright lime green love seat while Bryce shows off the mound of fine fibers displayed on a live-edge coffee table. Nico’s in the far corner, brewing up espresso for all three of us. “Or try the new Angora-cashmere blend. Here, this is your color.” He holds a rosy pink up to my cheeks. “And we have a new selection of ergonomic needles you have to try. On us.”

“Mmm.” I don’t want to admit that Ralph gnawed another pair of bamboo knitting needles. I keep meaning to switch to metal needles but I like the comfort of wood if I’m going to take the time to sit and stitch. A rare event these past several weeks, and now, forget it. “I don’t need more yarn, not until I get into a regular routine, after the shop opens. Besides, what would I make for myself with that?”

“You’re back in North America, honey. Pennsylvania, no less. The winters are rrrr cold!” Bryce’s trying too hard but I know his motive. He’s always considered it his job to make me laugh when I’m bummed. I wish it could be over an unrequited middle-school crush instead of a murder.

“It’s no colder here than Belgium was. You get more snow, sure.”

“Pulllleeeze. Does polar vortex mean anything to you?” As Bryce pontificates, Nico hands me a tiny white porcelain cup with matching saucer, as there’s no room on the table.

“Polar what?”

“It’s the weather pattern that brought below zero temps last year.”

“You mean wind chills, right?” The espresso is hot and has the bite I need. “Nico, this is so good. Just what I need to fuel my work tonight.”

“You can’t be serious. You are not going to work alone in that shop while there’s a murderer on the loose!” Bryce claws at his throat and takes a seat into the faux-fur easy chair. “I still can’t believe you’re willing to stay in your building at all, frankly.”

“Trinity’s cleared it. My biggest threat upstairs is Mom breaking in unannounced. The police are watching the building 24/7, and I’m having a full-blown security system installed tomorrow.” It’s going to cost thousands more than I originally budgeted for a security system, which was zero. Sure, I’d planned put in one of those basic systems with a few cameras, one on each door and one for the retail space. Someday. It wasn’t a priority when I thought I was moving back to the Stonebridge I grew up in.

“Well, whoever killed Frannie, God rest her soul, wanted to implicate you. Don’t forget that.”

“Why do you think I’m doing some of my own investigating? I’m very aware that I’m not a professional investigator or detective, but the sooner SPD solves this, the better.” I finish the coffee. Bryce and Nico exchange exasperated looks.

“Stop it, you two. I’m a grown woman. I’m smart enough to not step on Trinity’s toes with my snooping.” And I’m going to tell Trinity all that I find out. Which isn’t a whole lot so far.

“Angel darling, have you given any further thought to attending the Stonebridge Small Business Buddies meeting Tuesday night? It’s the quickest way to get you plugged into the community. You know, to cement the roots you’re putting down.” Nico sits beside me, resting his arm along the back of the loveseat.

I try to not physically squirm as my internal alarm bells, already jangled by finding Frannie, rally to yet another crescendo. What I haven’t mentioned to my family, to anyone, is that joining anything local feels constricting. If Shop ’Round the World doesn’t work out, if Stonebridge doesn’t work out for me, it’ll be easier to pick up and find another place to start over. No, I’ve no intention of moving again. Yes, I know this is a major holdover from moving every two years for the last quarter of a century. No, this isn’t the time to psychoanalyze myself.

Both men’s gazes are steady on me.

“I was going to wait until the shop opened. I’m so far behind my schedule after losing last night and all day today.” Although, now that I needed to figure out who the last people were to see Frannie alive, it might not be a bad idea to go.

Nico takes my cup and walks it to the small counter on the wall behind the cash register. “It starts at seven P.M., on the dot. Of course being on time isn’t a problem for you.”

Nico’s assumption is a common one. That my military background means I’m a stickler for details and promptness. In truth, I suppose I am.

So why haven’t I unearthed any details on Frannie’s killer yet?

Back in my home after getting the okay from Trinity, I go to bed early, hoping that sleep will release me from the awfulness of Frannie’s murder. Lying under my down comforter, I listen to Ralph’s gentle breathing. I rolled his cage into my bedroom, my only acquiescence to feeling a bit unnerved. Plus my phone resting next to my pillow, with Trinity, SPD, and Cumberland County Emergency Services all on speed dial.

I’m exhausted and not surprised that I start to drift off within minutes. But not before I imagine the intense anger it had to have taken to shove Frannie against the storage shelving hard enough to kill her.

If I can figure out who was angry enough to do that, I’ll find her murderer.