CHAPTER 13

“PINK, I NEED TO TALK TO YOU. THIS IS URGENT,” Adele said, stopping at the registration table. The lunch bell was ringing, and Dinah and I were just getting ready to leave; we had put up a sign saying to see me in the dining hall. Adele was outdoing herself. In the short time since I’d agreed to let her run the crochet workshops, she had let it go completely to her head. She didn’t seem to care about the rhinestone clipboard anymore. She was too busy trying to order me around. Now that she was a presenter, her inner diva had kicked in. I had to keep telling myself not to let her get under my skin and to remember that she was crochet family.

“I need Izabelle’s supplies for the first workshop.” Adele was glancing around at the people congregated in the administration building with a newfound air of importance. She’d even changed her clothes. Her outfit could best be described as purple haze. The long sweater, the pants, and even her suede boots were shades of the color. She’d topped off the outfit with a crocheted royal purple beanie. Then, just to be sure she had enough color, she’d added ropes of large crocheted beads in yellow, orange and fuchsia.

I knew exactly where the supplies were. I’d seen the boxes piled in Izabelle’s room, each marked for a different session. But after my talk with Sergeant French I felt uneasy about going in the room, and even more uneasy about taking anything out of it.

When I hesitated, Adele grew agitated. “What’s the holdup? You can’t expect me to conduct the classes if I have nothing to work with.” Adele let out a sigh of displeasure, and Dinah looked like she was ready to punch Adele.

“Hey,” Dinah said, “who died and made you queen?” Then Dinah’s eyes opened wide in horror as she realized the truth in what she’d said. “Oops, bad choice of words.”

In the meantime I’d come up with a solution. I did as Sergeant French had told me and called Izabelle’s ex. The sheet with his number was in the file box under the table. I almost wanted to call Barry and tell him what I’d done, just to show him I wasn’t going to get in trouble this time.

Once I reached Zak Landers, I expressed my condolences and explained the situation; it turned out he was fine with us going in her room. I also found out he was her third husband and she didn’t like people to know she was allergic to peanuts because it made her seem less than perfect.

“Use whatever you want,” he said. “And if you wouldn’t mind packing the stuff up at the end of the weekend, I’ll arrange to pick it up.” He sighed. “I don’t know why she put me down as her emergency contact. She has a sister, you know. I don’t even know her name. In the years we were together, they never had any contact.” He seemed to be half talking to himself as he mumbled something about how he was trying to get in touch with the sister. Then he hung up.

“I might as well get the stuff before lunch,” I said, putting away my cell phone and grabbing my purse.

“I’m coming with you,” Dinah said. “As long as he gave us carte blanche, I’m checking my e-mails.”

“Hey, wait for me.” Adele rushed to keep up with us. “Say, Pink, I’ve been meaning to ask you. When you were at the hospital with Izabelle, did you happen to notice what they did with the white choker?”

I turned back to Adele as we walked up the low hill to Lodge. “After you made that ridiculous remark to Sergeant French, I thought back to when we found Izabelle on the beach and remembered she wasn’t wearing the choker.”

When we got to Izabelle’s room, all three of us tried to go through the door at once, but Dinah, being the smallest, pushed in ahead.

“As long as Izabelle’s ex said to use anything,” Dinah said, going right for the laptop. I headed for the boxes I’d noticed before. I turned to show them to Adele, but she was busy sorting through the bag of incidentals Izabelle had set by the sink.

“Here’s the container she used for the beginning crochet session. She must have brought it back here after the workshop and before she went to the beach.” I moved to look through it, but Adele beat me to it and I watched as she pulled out skeins of different kinds of yarn with descriptions attached to them. And a bunch of swatches that showed different stitches. Izabelle had made a stack of handouts, too, with instructions for single, double, half-double, and triple crochet. When Adele got to the hooks and samples of some bigger items, Dinah got my attention.

“She got another e-mail from that sponsor person.” I went and stood behind Dinah, reading over her shoulder. It said Don’t do something you’ll regret. Let’s talk about it. As before it was signed Tom, ITA sponsor.

“Do you suppose we should send him an e-mail and tell him what happened to her?” Dinah said, and I asked her to go back to the other e-mail we’d seen. In a moment she had it on the screen. I read it and reread it. It had warned her not to do anything without talking to him.

“I wonder if she did whatever he was warning her not to,” I said, staring at the message.

“We could e-mail him, tell him what happened, and ask him,” Dinah suggested.

Adele had moved on to going through the things on the night table.

“What are you doing?” I asked. Adele looked up at me with her storm cloud expression.

“I thought as long as I was here, I’d see if I could find the choker.” She stepped back, and her elbow hit an open zippered case on top of the dresser. It hit the floor and the contents fell out. Adele moved on to look through the things on the nightstand while I retrieved everything and put it back. I noticed a small, clear plastic case holding a pair of green contacts. I showed them to Dinah.

“Oh, so her eyes weren’t really green,” Adele said as I took the case back and put it with the other stuff. “The woman was a fake. I can’t believe I thought she was so great.”

Dinah pulled a copy of A Subtle Touch of Crochet out of the top box and thumbed through it. She stopped at the photo of Izabelle and examined it.

Adele looked at the picture from a distance. “Look at those cheekbones. I bet they’re fake. Maybe her chin as well. For sure the nose-and her lips, oh please.” She tossed her head in disgust. I thought it might just be Adele’s anger speaking, but when I looked at the photo, I had to agree.

“It’s as if she totally made herself over. I wonder what she looked like before all the work,” I said. I glanced at the photo again, this time checking out the surroundings. It appeared to have been taken in Izabelle’s craft room.

“That’s how I want my crochet room to look,” I said, pointing.

Dinah looked and laughed. “I bet they just fixed it up for the photo. She probably had grocery bags of yarn all over the place, like the rest of us. And blankets that just need the fringe, along with shawls waiting for the ends to be woven in. The doll and those stuffed bears are just in there for show.”

Adele had found the manuscript pages and made a loud squeal when she read the title.

“The Needle and the Hook,” she said in disbelief. “That’s what her fusion craft is. I can’t believe what a traitor she was on top of everything else. And not even that original. Other people have mixed knitting and crochet. But then I know she wasn’t really original. She stole my work. She probably stole other people’s, too.” With that Adele began rummaging anew.

“That’s it, ladies,” I said closing the book and putting it back in the box. “Time to go.”

The dining hall was buzzing when we got there. I had stowed Adele’s box by the registration materials in the administration building. Dinah and Adele went to different tables and found seats. I had asked the presenters to spread themselves around and more or less host their table. I was too tense to sit and circulated around, making sure everything was going okay.