“I’m sorry about all that. But I’m mostly concerned about you. May I come in?”
Belinda looked hesitant, but she stepped aside. Lia headed directly through the large foyer and down the hallway to the kitchen at the back of the house.
“Have you eaten anything today?”
“I had coffee.”
Lia looked in the double-door refrigerator, glad to see staples like eggs and milk. Not exactly bare but not much. “Scrambled or fried?” she asked, pulling out the eggs.
“Neither.” At Lia’s raised-eyebrow glare, she gave in and pointed to the freezer. “There’s bagels in the freezer. And I think there’s a tub of cream cheese somewhere near the back. I’m not sure how old it is. Want coffee? I’ve got the hazelnut K-Cups that you like.”
Glad to see her friend cooperating, Lia let Belinda make coffee as she pulled out a bag of frozen bagels and dropped two halves into the toaster. She found the cream cheese and checked it carefully. Seeing nothing suspicious, she set it next to the bagel plate.
Within a few minutes, with one toasted bagel consumed and the coffee doing its work, Lia could see positive signs of tension leaving Belinda. She sipped from her own mug, then asked, “So, how did it go with the police yesterday?”
“I don’t know.” Belinda licked cream cheese from her lips. “Not terrible. They asked a lot of questions. I gave them what I knew, and that was it.”
“You were still there when I left.”
“Yeah. Every time a new guy showed up, I had to go through the whole thing again. Like, was it too much trouble for one of them to tell the other what I’d said?”
“You told them about one of your keys to the barn missing?” When Belinda nodded, Lia asked, “Did they seem to believe it?”
“Why wouldn’t they? It’s true.”
“They might think it was very convenient. You know you’re going to be their first suspect, right? I mean, because of your relationship with Darren and how his death benefits you.”
“Of course I know that. But I can’t be the only one who would have wanted to kill Darren. There’d probably be a line from here to Pittsburgh of people who’d be happy to do away with him.”
“But his body didn’t end up in any of their workplaces, which makes you first in line. Have you thought about getting a lawyer?”
“No, because I don’t need one, and I’m not going to waste the money!” Belinda’s bravado faded. “I can’t afford to. Lia, if anyone thinks Darren’s death is going to benefit me, they only have to look at my bank account. I’ve been living week to week. Losing this time at the barn will cost me. The police can suspect whoever they want, but I’ve got to keep my events going or I’m going to go under—lose this house, for one thing! So if you’ll excuse me, I really have to get back to work. Thank you for stopping by.” Belinda stood up and waited for Lia to do the same.
Lia sighed. At least she’d got some food into her friend, and she’d learned that no charges had been made. Belinda wasn’t ready to discuss anything further than that, and Lia couldn’t force her to. “Will you please call me if anything new comes up? Or if you just want to talk? Please?”
Belinda’s expression softened. “I will.” She walked Lia to the door, then gave her hand a squeeze at the last moment before closing it. Lia shook her head lightly as she stood on the narrow porch. It had struck her when they’d first visited as the kind of porch that said don’t linger, which was exactly the message she’d just gotten. She hitched her purse onto her shoulder and stepped down to squeeze between two overgrown rhododendrons on the way to her car.
She wouldn’t linger, but she would be back after she picked up a few groceries to fill in Belinda’s meager fare—things like easy-to-cook frozen dinners, fresh fruit, and a few packs of cut-up veggies. Belinda might receive it with another puzzled scowl, but Lia knew that deep down she would be grateful. It just was so darned hard for her to express it.
Chapter 5
Lia spent much of the next few days knitting in front of the television, which spouted nonstop talk about the murder. With Crandalsburg normally such a peaceful, crime-free town, it had become topic number one, and she suffered through on-the-street interviews with people who seemed happy to float wild theories in order to be on-camera. She dropped stitches when one such resident began with “Well, everyone knew the ex-wife had a grudge and was capable of . . . ,” and again when another recommended keeping one’s distance from the craft fair because “You never know!” But she kept watching, feeling the need to catch any nugget of information that she could, though it required plenty of sifting.
The gold nugget that finally appeared was the news about Darren Peebles’s time of death: several hours before Lia had come upon Belinda standing over him in the barn. Lia was excited to hear that, though further thought tempered her joy. The time of death might not let Belinda totally off the hook. But it was still an important step.
Meeting up with the Ninth Street Knitters offered a welcome respite, as the weekly Thursday night get-together came up. Although it meant a longer drive since her move to Crandalsburg, the trip to York was doable, but she would have driven twice the distance in bad weather if she had to. She’d already spoken with each of her knitting friends by phone soon after the murder and had dealt with the immediate questions, so she looked forward to an evening focused on catching up with everyone’s lives as they knitted and nibbled at the various treats brought along.
Jen Beasley’s house on Ninth Street had become the regular meeting place some time ago, both because of its central location and because of Jen’s insistence that she loved hosting. She also had the largest living room and an extremely lovable cat, which altogether made the decision a no-brainer.
When Lia pulled up, she saw the others had already arrived and hurried to gather her shrimp dip and knitting, keeping the two carefully apart. She didn’t bother to knock—none of them ever did—and walked right in. Jen’s husband, Bob, happened to be crossing the foyer, and he pointed to the kitchen.
“They’re all in there,” he said before turning away to sneeze.
“Caught a cold?” Lia asked.
“I’m not sure. Maybe. But I’ll keep out of everyone’s way just in case.”
Lia wished him well and followed the voices coming from the kitchen. Hugs were exchanged amid the chatter, dishes were uncovered or unwrapped, with some carried into the living room, where the women gradually settled themselves in. Jen lifted her fluffy tan-and-white ragdoll cat, Daphne, off the sofa and onto a floor cushion from which the feline blinked her amazing blue eyes amenably at them all before curling up.