“It sounds like Clarissa’s death will work out in your favor,” Mac said.

René’s head snapped up. “I didn’t kill her. I may not have liked her, but I didn’t kill her.”

“So you didn’t see her after she left the dining room on Thursday night?”

René shook his head, but wouldn’t meet our eyes.

“We have a witness who heard you arguing with Clarissa in her room that evening,” I said.

His face drained of color even more and he looked like he might be sick.

He rubbed a hand over his mouth, and closed his eyes briefly. “Okay. I saw her that night—she was agitated over a meeting earlier in the week and wanted me to convince Linda to sell some of the antiques to support the spa.”

Mac stared at him and waited.

René looked at me and then sighed. “It was before we served dinner, maybe around six forty-five. I snuck up the back stairs, talked to her, and came back down. I saw her later in the dining room talking to the guests and then I focused on serving dinner.”

“You were in the kitchen or dining room the rest of the time?” I asked.

René nodded. “Except for a few minutes when I went to the basement to get the dessert. I did not kill her. I may not have been honest with Jessica and Linda, but I’m not a murderer.”

“Okay, Mr. Sartin, we may need to talk to you again,” Mac said.

René glanced at the door again and lowered his voice. “Please, don’t tell Jessica,” he said. “I know she has a right to hear the truth, but I’d rather it come from me.”

“We have no reason to tell her anything right now,” I said. “But if you had anything to do with Clarissa’s death, we can’t guarantee your secret will stay safe.”

René nodded. “Thanks, I’ll tell her . . . soon.” He stood and strode back toward the kitchen.

33

“What did you think?” Mac asked.

We walked toward the buffet that Emmett had set out, talking quietly.

“It’s hard to trust someone who has lied to everyone he knows for years, but he lied in order to do something he loves, not to hatch an illegal plot.”

“True, but it makes me wonder if he’s telling us the truth now about his relationship with Clarissa.” Mac took the mug of coffee I handed him and began dumping sugar and cream into it.

“You think they were having an affair?” I asked.

“Not necessarily, just that he seemed very forgiving of a blackmailer.”

“Jessica has been upfront about not liking her cousin; maybe she had a reason to really hate her if she thought Clarissa was seducing René.” I piled my plate with cheesy scrambled eggs and sausage. I needed to stockpile before Seth arrived.

“It doesn’t make this case any easier knowing Clarissa ticked off everyone she knew,” Mac said.

We walked back to our table and I told Mac the rest of my story about my middle-of-the-night meeting with Emmett and Linda.

“That seems like a strange couple.”

“I don’t think they were together . . . ,” I said.

“I just mean, what is the owner of the hotel and the assistant chef doing meeting in the middle of the night?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t get the impression it was an everyday thing. Besides, Emmett wouldn’t normally be staying here overnight.”

“I guess.” Mac stared into his coffee cup. “Mrs. Garrett just strikes me as a bit snobby and fraternizing with the help doesn’t go along with that.”

“It is a really small staff . . . but you’re right. Jessica seems more down to earth than her mother.” I stirred my tea and considered Linda and Jessica.

“Speaking of the Garrett women, we’ll need to talk to them again,” Mac said. “How many people are likely to know about the tunnel to the cottage, or the secret room?”

“I suppose most of the staff might know. And maybe Isabel as well—she and Jessica have known each other for years. Unless Jessica was sworn to secrecy, a lot of people might know.”

“We seem to be adding people to our list instead of crossing them off.” Mac slathered grape jelly on his toast.

“Vi is pretty sure it’s Kirk, or maybe René . . .”

Mac snorted. “I thought you said the pendulum pointed to a knitter.”

“Hey, you’re right. I keep forgetting about that. I’ll have to ask Vi how she can reconcile the pendulum and the cards being wrong.”

“Unless she thinks Kirk likes to knit . . . ,” Mac said and smiled.

“He is really good at the yarn bombing,” I said. “Apparently, you’re a knitter, maybe we should add you to the list.”

Just then Tina, Amy, and Heather came into the dining room whispering and giggling. They stopped as soon as they spotted us.

“Hello,” I said.

They mumbled hello and headed toward the buffet.

“What are they up to?” Mac asked.

“I’m pretty sure they’re plotting ways to get Kirk to climb a ladder.”

“What?”

“I heard them talking the other day—they think he’s ‘dreamy’ and they’re pooling all their knitting to give them a reason to interact with him.”

Mac shook his head. “How did this happen? We should have been on a beach all weekend.” Even though we had both said this before, he sounded as though it was finally getting to him.

“Beach? What are you talking about?” Lucille had come up to the table quietly and Mac and I jumped.

“Just bemoaning our fate, Mom,” Mac said.

“Well, that never gets anyone anywhere,” she said. She sat across the table from us with a mug of tea and a piece of toast. She eyed Mac carefully and pressed her lips together.

“What’s on the agenda today in the workshop?” I asked to deflect the tension that seemed to settle over the table.

“I heard Isabel saying she would add a couple of extra classes since no one can leave today,” Lucille said. “Are you sure you don’t want to give it a try?” She turned to me and smiled. “It looked like you took to the continental method like a duck to water.”

“I think I should help Mac with the investigation and Seth needs help with the dogs throughout the day.”

“Your mom is going to read everyone’s cards today,” she said. “I just love your mother’s readings. She has a real talent.”

I had a sudden upsetting thought. “Did Vi put her up to this?”

“I don’t know.” Lucille set her teacup gently on its saucer. “Rose said she would do all of the knitters and I heard Vi saying she was going to invite the staff as well.”

I groaned to myself. Vi must be trying to track the murderer by having Mom read cards. This was classic Fortune family behavior. They relied heavily on hints and innuendo from the divination technique du jour and then ran with whatever they thought they had discovered. I couldn’t decide if this was a good or bad development. If Vi was busy helping Mom interpret cards, she would at least stay out of our way. But, I shuddered to think of what Mac would say. I’d been able to keep the full extent of my family’s obsession with solving crimes from him so far.

Mac tilted his head at me. “You okay?”

“Yup. Just thinking about all those tarot readings . . . ,” I said.

“When does the tarot extravaganza start?” Mac turned to his mom.

“I think she said it would be around ten—after the first workshop.” She smiled. “Are you going to join us? I think you’d really like it, Mac . . .” She stopped when Mac began to shake his head.

“Sorry, no. I just wanted to know what time to make myself scarce.”

Lucille sighed.

Fortunately, the rest of the gang arrived and we were all distracted by Seth’s stories of Baxter and Tuffy.

I noticed that Isabel sat with the table of younger knitters instead of Mavis and Selma. I would have thought that she was just trying to be a good workshop host except she was completely silent while the young women chatted animatedly next to her. Mavis and Selma cast menacing glances toward the table and it had me wondering if there had been trouble in knitting paradise.