I covered a smile with my water glass, knowing that Vi’s accusation came from a competitive place. The afternoon with the knitters had not been conflict free.
“Why would Mrs. Poulson want to kill Ms. Carlisle?” Seth asked while slathering butter on a slice of bread.
Mom glanced at the other tables and leaned toward Seth.
“Apparently, Clarissa bullied Mavis’s daughter in high school. The girl got very depressed and eventually committed suicide. Mavis and Isabel have always blamed Clarissa for Teresa’s death.”
“Oh. That’s rough.” Seth shook his head. “Girls can be really brutal.”
“Shhh!” Mac said to the table. “We cannot discuss this. It’s an active investigation.” He lowered his voice. “The suspects are all in the vicinity, this isn’t a game of Clue.”
The table fell silent for a few moments, then Seth asked for the bread basket again and people gratefully began discussing the meal.
Dad leaned toward Mac and said in a low voice, “If incompetence is an indicator of guilt, then you should consider Kirk as your number-one suspect. I don’t think he’s ever worked as any type of maintenance person before, unless it was just on the landscaping side of things. He certainly knows how to work a snowblower. He has no idea how to fix anything.”
“We haven’t taken anyone off the list,” Mac said quietly. “If they weren’t in the dining room for the whole time that night, then I consider them a suspect.”
“I suppose anyone is capable if given the right circumstances,” Dad said.
“I still think there’s something sketchy about the chef,” Seth said.
“What?” Mac said.
“I told Clyde earlier today,” Seth said. “The chef claims he’s French, but I think he must be Canadian.”
“What does it matter?” Vi said.
“That’s what Clyde said. But why would he lie about it?” Seth said.
“Jessica did seem impressed that he was from France,” Mom said. “It’s part of all their literature about the restaurant—that they have a ‘real’ French chef who trained at Cordon Bleu.”
“It can’t be hard to check,” Mac said.
“It is when the cell service is down and there’s no Wi-Fi,” Seth said. “I tried to connect this afternoon—it’s like the dark ages out here.”
“At this point, I’ll look into anything—once the phones are back on I’ll call Pete Harris and see if he can run a check on René Sartin,” Mac said.
Vi leaned forward. “The chef did it,” she whispered. “I don’t trust the French. I don’t care if he’s Paris French or Canadian French, he’s sketchy.”
I wondered if Vi had given up on Kirk as a suspect because Dad thought he was guilty.
Seth’s eyebrows came together. “What’s wrong with the French?”
“They’re snooty and they eat weird food,” Vi said as she took another bite of her beef bourguignon.
Mom glanced nervously around the table and decided to step in. “I’m sure you don’t mean that, Vi.” She clamped her hand onto Vi’s wrist. She looked at the rest of us, particularly Mac and Lucille. “She’s joking.”
Vi harrumphed and kept eating, but didn’t pursue her character assassination of the entire French culture.
There was an uncomfortable silence as we applied ourselves to our dinners and waited for someone to change the subject.
I decided to throw myself under the bus. “I think that new style of knitting that Isabel taught me is easier.”
Mom gasped. Vi narrowed her eyes.
“You didn’t tell me you learned to knit today,” Mac said. He turned in his seat and his eyes sparkled with amusement. Sort of the way I smiled at him wearing the snowman sweater. I would never hear the end of this.
“Didn’t you hear we’re living in the dark ages?” I gestured toward Seth. “I had no choice but to knit.” I sipped my water.
“But I thought you hated knitting,” Mac said.
“You do?” Lucille asked.
“‘Hate’ is a strong word.” I glared at Mac. “I figured I’d give it a try again. Isabel showed me the ‘continental’ method.”
“That sounds fancy,” Dad said.
I ignored the stony faces of my mother and aunt. “It is fancy,” I said. “And way easier.” I glanced at Vi. “It’s probably the way they knit in France.”
Violet dropped her fork. “I can’t listen to this anymore.”
Dad snickered. Mom looked at me sadly and shook her head.
“So, will you be joining us for more of the workshops?” Lucille asked. “If you find a way that works for you, it can make all the difference.” She seemed oblivious to the tension rolling off of Vi and Mom.
I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I probably should practice some more on my own.”
“We’ll work on it tonight, Clyde,” Vi said. “I’ll show you how much easier it is to purl using my technique. That continental bunch avoids purling like the plague.”
Mac grinned at me as he realized I had successfully distracted the gang from murder by throwing them a more interesting bone.