Cricket McRae - Spin a Wicked Web

"Those two haven't been hanging out as much this summer," I said.

"I think it's the math camp," Meghan said.

"I didn't even know you knitted."

"My mother taught me. I haven't done it for a while, but all your talk about spinning and fiber inspired me. It is kind of fun."

Well, of course Meghan would already know how to knit, would be able to pick it up after years and years and create something totally funky and cool like that little bag. I sighed, thinking about how I struggled with the twin needles, preferring a simple crochet hook and only a few loops of yarn to worry about at a time.

"I called Barr," she said. "He told me you'd already invited him to dinner."

I finished the last leaf of lettuce, tossed it in the drainer and turned around with the dishtowel in my hands. "Do you know what he did today?"

"Uh, no."

"He pulled me over on Cedar Street. Lights, sirens, the whole bit."

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.

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?"