Secretly I had to agree with Lucille. Mac was like Baxter with a bone when it came to solving a murder.
“I don’t think I’ll have a choice, Mom. It’s not my case. I only stepped in because we were all stuck here. I’ll turn over all the information I have and let them get on with it.”
Lucille held his gaze for a moment. “We’ll see,” she said. She walked around the room to admire the newest yarn creations. The lounge had taken on a surreal character with all the brightly colored yarny things stashed everywhere.
“Do you think we could stay and finish what we started?” I whispered.
Mac turned to me. “Is that what you want?” he said, and a slow smile began.
“I hate to leave a case right in the middle. If they’ll let us continue, I think I’d like to see it through.”
Mac let out a breath and I saw his shoulders relax. “Me, too. I just feel bad that our vacation is ruined.”
“We’ll still take that trip—just later than we planned.”
Mac took my hand and squeezed. “Are you sure you want to leave police work? You obviously love it as much as I do.”
I pulled my hand away. “I love solving the puzzle—I don’t love the hierarchy and the paperwork and the hours.”
Mac waited. I was very aware of Lucille wandering through the room, examining the knitting. I lowered my voice.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to go back to it after everything that has happened.”
“What will you do?”
I shrugged. I had hoped to avoid this conversation for a little while longer.
“Are you two coming in to breakfast?” Lucille said from the doorway.
I hopped up. “Yes, I’m starved.”
I took Mac’s hand and pulled him toward the door.
Mac and I walked to the dining room and I went straight for the tea. The buffet was more elaborate than before—apparently with electricity came homemade waffles.
We heard voices in the hall as we sat down with our plates loaded with waffles and whipped cream.
I recognized Vi’s voice first. She was telling the ghost story again. It got more and more lurid with each iteration. She entered the dining room with Seth. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open while Vi told her tale. He caught sight of Mac, Lucille, and me and raised his hand in greeting. The rest of the knitters followed and Mom and Dad took up the rear, holding hands.
Seth veered toward the buffet. Even a really good ghost story would not deter him from obtaining food. The noisy group swarmed the buffet and settled at tables in groups of four or five. Vi and Mom clattered their plates as they joined us.
“You were up early,” Vi said.
I nodded and suppressed a yawn.
“What’s the plan for today? Have you interviewed all the suspects?” Vi dumped half the cream pitcher into her coffee.
“This whole thing makes me very nervous,” said Mom. She leaned forward and glanced side to side. “There’s a murderer among us!”
Seth took a moment from his food to glance at Mom, but quickly went back to the task at hand.
Dad patted Mom’s hand. “It’s not like it’s a crazed lunatic. It sounds like this Clarissa had at least a couple of enemies.”
Dad must have heard the whole story from Mom and Vi.
“Baxter’s been acting really weird since we got here,” Seth said. “Usually Tuffy is the one who sits and shivers and acts scared.”
“Baxter’s been acting scared?” I said.
Seth took a gulp of milk and swallowed. “He’s just not himself. I guess I’d say he’s a little skittish. He doesn’t like my room in the cottage.”
“He ran right in there yesterday,” I said.
“I know, right?” Seth said. “Dogs are strange.” He shook his head and dumped more syrup on his waffles.
“I hope he’s not sick,” I said. I examined my plate. Suddenly I wasn’t hungry. I had gotten attached to the big lug. I didn’t know what I would do if anything happened to him.
Vi had been talking to Mac about her idea of opening a detective agency. He seemed to have lost his appetite as well. He pushed his plate away and sat back, looking a bit green.
“Isabel has a full day planned for us knitters,” Vi said to the rest of us. “I’m considering skipping her workshop on intarsia. I hate intarsia. It’s someone’s sick joke and actually takes all the fun of knitting and turns it into torture. That way I could help you and Mac.”
“What’s intarsia?” Seth asked.
I had been too late in my attempt to signal him to just let it go.
“It’s when you knit in multiple colors to make a design,” Mom said. “Like a letter, or a pattern.”
“Oh, like those sweaters Mrs. Weasley made in the Harry Potter books?”
“Yeah, but she used magical knitting needles and didn’t have to sit and read a chart and twist all the stitches and fix all the holes and weave in all the ends,” Vi said.
Mom smiled at Seth and leaned toward him. “It’s really not that bad.”