Weave of Absence by Carol Ann Martin

Well, I’d hold off on that if I were you because I saw him flirting with another woman’?” I gave her the eyebrow. “I know exactly what she’ll say. She’ll tell us to butt out, that we’re nuts and to stop meddling in her life. And not necessarily in that order.”
    Her gaze rose to the ceiling. “Unless . . .”
    â€œUnless what?”
    â€œMaybe Jenny can give her a reading. She usually goes to her before making big decisions.”
    â€œDid she ask her before getting engaged?”
    â€œNo.” She scowled. “He sprang the big question over a romantic dinner. He even went down on one knee and popped open a little blue box. Of course, she said yes right away. Can’t blame her for that. Any woman would have done the same.”
    I had to agree with her there. I might be compelled to let out an enthusiastic yes if Matthew so much as knelt to tie his shoelace. “A reading is a great idea. Let the cards tell her. That way she can’t blame us.” There was a hint of sarcasm in my voice, but if Margaret picked up on it, she didn’t show it. “I’ll suggest it to Jenny later.”
    I returned to my counter and called in my order of sales pads. Then I went to my loom and threw the shuttle halfheartedly for fifteen minutes or so. When I looked down at the rows I’d just completed, I saw that the thread tension was all over the place. Some rows were so tight I could barelytell where a stitch started or ended. Others were practically loose enough to be mistaken for fishnet. The result was a wavy texture worse than anything I saw in my beginner classes. I yanked out the yarn row by row, until I had a pool of thread at my feet. As I was rolling it back onto the bobbin, the bell sounded. I turned to see Marnie walking in, followed by Officer Lombard. I rose from my chair and joined them at the counter.
    â€œSorry to drop in this way,” said the officer. “I have a few questions I forgot to ask. You said the vict—” She stopped and corrected herself. “The deceased was at your party last night?”
    â€œThat’s right.” I wasn’t sure where she was going with this. “She arrived around seven thirty and left early—oh, I’d say it must have been nine or so.”
    â€œDid you happen to notice who she was talking to during the party? Or if she argued with anyone?”
    All at once I had a flash of Helen and Bruce arguing. She was poking him in the chest with a finger, her face twisted in anger. Could Bruce have something to do with Helen’s death? No. That was crazy thinking. But there was no way I could tell the police about that argument, at least not in front of Marnie.
    â€œDella?” I startled. Officer Lombard was studying me. “Did you just remember something?”
    â€œOh, uh, no. I was just trying to. I was so busy making sure everybody’s glass was filled and thatthe food kept coming, that if anything did happen, I didn’t notice.” A lie by omission was still a lie, I reminded myself. I hoped I didn’t look as guilty as I felt.
    â€œCould you give me a list of all the people at the party?”
    â€œI can do that right away,” I said, pulling out the guest list from the drawer. “It’ll only take me a second to copy it down for you.”
    â€œDon’t bother. I can photocopy it at the station and bring back the original.” I handed it over. “Thanks.” She perused it and then folded the page and slipped it into her notepad. “I’ll have it back to you tomorrow.” She turned to Marnie, who had been listening quietly during this time. “Did you happen to notice the deceased talking to anyone last night?”
    She shook her head. “No. Not at all.” She began putting away the sales pads in the drawer. I tried to read her expression, but she was shuffling things around, lining them up neatly,