We heard the door open down the hall and voices made their way in our direction.

“We better get out of here before the knitters come in,” Mac said and jumped to his feet.

“Are you afraid of them?” I asked jokingly.

“No. I would just rather not get sucked into another conversation about tarot cards and yarnovers.”

I grabbed his snowman sweater off the back of the couch and followed him out of the room.

We waited for Kirk in the front reception area. Wally went to herd the knitters into the lounge for their break and the big reveal of more yarn bombing.

Mac and I sat on one of the comfy couches that graced the entryway. I looked out at the white landscape, the trees outlined in snow, and the drifts that had piled up outside. It would have been a perfect romantic getaway—if only we were somewhere else, or the knitters were, and no one had died.

Surprisingly, even though the weekend had been altered, I wasn’t upset. I liked working a case with Mac, and even Vi had been helpful. I filed this feeling away to examine later. As I sat with Mac, I realized I didn’t want to move on. I needed to find a way to stay in Crystal Haven that didn’t involve rejoining the police force, or setting up shop as a fortune teller.

“Mac, what do you think—” I was interrupted by Kirk, who strode toward us, apologizing for taking so long.

“Sorry, I got delayed talking to Mrs. Garrett. I keep hoping the power will come back on because I really don’t know how to fix the generator.” He sat across from us and leaned forward, elbows on knees.

“I’m sure you’ve heard that we suspect foul play in Ms. Carlisle’s death,” Mac began.

Kirk nodded.

“We’re hoping you can help us piece together the movements of staff and guests that evening,” Mac said.

Kirk sat back. “Like I said, I don’t think I’ll be much help because I didn’t see many people yesterday. I was outside trying to keep the walk clear for an hour or so during the afternoon. I think I finished around five thirty. Then I stopped in the kitchen to grab some dinner—Ms. Garrett said any employees that stayed could help themselves in the kitchen. After I ate, I went down to the staff rooms and took a shower. Just as I finished, the lights went out.”

“You didn’t see anyone, then, before the lights went out?”

Kirk shook his head, but then stopped. “I did see René come down to the freezer to take something out, and then I saw Emmett a little while later, but that’s pretty routine. They had moved things to the downstairs freezer earlier in the day when the storm started to pick up. The freezer has its own generator—apparently René insisted last year when the power went out and he lost all the food for a wedding reception.”

“So, that generator is still working?” Mac asked.

“Yup, the frozen food is safe, even if the rest of us are shivering and using flashlights. The upstairs refrigerator does not have its own generator, so I think they’ve been storing some things in the snow.”

“Do you think you can fix the generator?” I asked.

“I don’t know.” Kirk leaned back and crossed his arms. “Gus is the head of maintenance and he has all the manuals tossed into a filing cabinet. I’ve been trying to sort through them with my flashlight and checking the landline every ten minutes in the hope I can call him and get some advice.” His mouth quirked up on one side. “This is my first gig in a maintenance department and I don’t have a lot of experience with generators. If Gus’s wife hadn’t been sick, he would have stayed this weekend instead of me. I’d probably be further along if the knitters would quit with the yarn bombing. I have one or another of them finding me every half hour needing help with something.”

I suspected I knew the reason for the exuberant yarn bombing and it had nothing to do with yarn, or the contest. It was all about Kirk.

“We won’t keep you,” Mac said. “Let us know if you think of anything else. Anything you saw out of the ordinary or anyone in a place they didn’t belong.”

Kirk nodded and stood.

“Yeah, I’ll let you know if I think of anything.” He shook my hand and then Mac’s. The two men looked at each other longer than was necessary and I wondered why Mac was using his stare-down technique on Kirk.

After Kirk turned the corner, I said, “What do you think? Is he telling the truth?”

Mac nodded. “I think so. You don’t believe him?”

“Yes, I believe him. You just looked at him weird.”

“No, I didn’t. I looked at him in the normal way.”

“Looked at who in the normal way?” Vi came toward us from the lounge.

“Nothing, Vi. We were just talking to Kirk,” I said.

“Mavis can’t stop talking about him. She says he’s a hunk.”

I turned to Mac. “Looks like you’ve got some competition.”

Mac grunted and said, “Thank God.”

Vi had been watching this exchange like a tennis match. “Have you been in the lounge today? There’s more bombing and it’s fantastic! You should come and see it. I don’t know how they’re sneaking out and getting it done. I’ve been keeping track of all of the knitters—even if they’re using the hunk as an accomplice, they have to meet with him at some point. . . .”

“We saw it, Vi,” I said.

“The little hats for the chess people? The banner on Alastair’s portrait?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Hey, you two aren’t helping, are you? That would be really sneaky.”

We shook our heads, Mac much more vigorously than me.

Vi cocked her head. “Do you hear that?”

Mac and I stood still and listened. Then I heard it. It sounded like a motorcycle. Or maybe two motorcycles.

16

I looked out the window.

“It’s coming from out there,” I said, pointing toward the woods.

Mac cocked his head. “Sounds like dirt bikes.”

“It must be snowmobiles,” Vi said.

We squinted and peered out the window in the direction of the woods. Wally had come back in and joined us at the window.

“Did you hear that weird noise?” he asked.

Then I caught sight of them. Two snowmobiles broke into the clearing from the trees. They were still pretty far away, but approaching quickly. It looked like a bear drove one of them.

As they drew nearer, I saw that one of the riders wore a backpack strapped across his chest like a baby carrier. The one with the bear also had a person riding just behind. The riders wore ski masks and goggles, and the fluffy layer of snow sprayed around them as they approached.

Mac and I stared at each other, mouths open.

The knitters thundered out of the lounge. Mavis and Selma led the charge, moving rapidly toward the back door. “We’re saved!” Selma announced as she hurried past the reception hallway.

The rest of the knitters followed in her wake. They acted like castaways spotting a cruise ship.

I trailed the crowd down the hall toward the back door. I heard the engines rev and then cut out.

The gang poured out the back door, no one bothering to put on coats.

I felt my breath catch when I saw the riders dismount. The bear bounded off the snowmobile and let out a very canine woof. His huge doggy face smiled up at his copilot—Dad.

He pulled off his ski mask and his shock of white hair stood up even more than usual. I viciously suppressed the comparison to a cockatoo. Mom immediately greeted him with a big hug. His face was red from the cold but he looked delighted at his hero’s welcome. Baxter leaped and barked in his joy at seeing Mom again and when he spotted me, he barreled toward me and jumped, knocking me into a snowbank. My beloved mastiff weighs almost as much as I do.

The other rider was my nephew, Seth. Taller than me now at fourteen, his lanky frame and blond hair reminded me of his mother, my sister, Grace. He came to my rescue and pulled Baxter away while Vi helped me up. Vi walked over to Dad to get the scoop from him.