Spin a Wicked Web

SEVENTEEN

As I STARTED FOR the basket in the corner by the spinning wheel, Gabi called from the kitchen that we were going down to the basement. The sky was still light, but the sun would set soon. Rocky offered to get the boys into bed, and Gabi took him up on the offer.

"I'll be getting myself off to bed then, too," he said. "Long day tomorrow, and it starts early. Sophie Mae, it was nice to meet you. Thanks for bringing the paintings all the way up here. I sure appreciate it."

He still didn't say Ariel's name.

"It was no trouble. I'm glad I could help. And what a treat that dinner was!" I said.

He nodded at that. "Sure was." He gave his wife a peck on the cheek, bid us goodnight again and went to round up the twins.

Gabi led the way downstairs, bottle of merlot in hand. I followed with two glasses. The basement was unfinished, but in one corner she'd created an area devoted to crafts. A little natural light came in from two window wells on that side of the house. She augmented that with a combination of fluorescent and incandescent lights, so the space was bright and cheery even as the sunlight faded outside. A sewing machine dominated a long industriallooking table, with a set of half-finished curtains heaped beside it. Behind, shelves held an assortment of fabrics, and a folded quilting frame leaned against another wall. Apparently, when it came to crafting, Gabi was more than a one-trick pony.

With a flourish, she opened a wide, deep cabinet in the corner, revealing a rich assortment of sensuous fibers and neatly wrapped balls of yarn stacked in baskets. The colors ranged from delicate baby-blanket pastels to deep, saturated jewel tones vibrating with exuberance. They all begged to be touched, and I happily complied.

"Oh, wow," I said. "This is some stash. Did you spin all of these yarns?"

"Not all of them. Sometimes in a yarn store or a knitting shop you just can't resist picking up something new, you know?"

"Yeah. It gets awfully expensive, though, doesn't it?"

"I've gathered this stuff over years and years, and I have friends who raise sheep and alpacas. That means a lot of very cheap fiber if I'm willing to clean it, card it, and dye it myself."

I looked at her in amazement. "You do all that?"

She looked at the floor, modesty prevailing. "When I can. It's hard with two boys and a husband to take care of. Sometimes, though? I stay up most of the night spinning, and Rocky doesn't even know it, he's such a sound sleeper. I'm tired the next day, but somehow calmer, too"

"I know what you mean." I stroked a particularly silky royal blue and teal roving. "What's this made of? It's not alpaca, is it?"

"Oh, no. Hmm. Let's see, I think it's soy." She dug out a tag I hadn't noticed. "Yep, soy fiber. I ordered it online last year, curious about how it would spin up, but I haven't had a chance to get to it yet.

We spent the next hour exploring the offerings of her extensive fiber stash and talking about the different flavors. In addition to soy-and if you could make yarn out of bamboo, why not make it out of soy, for heaven's sake-she had silk "handkerchiefs," a variety of sheep's wool from coarse to fine, fluffy alpaca, angora, cashmere, mohair, even a tuft or two of musk ox.

"Musk ox? You've got to be kidding," I said.

"Oh, no. You can even get camel hair to spin, and some people spin up the hair from their dogs." "

I bet that smells great if you use it to make a sweater and then get caught in the rain."

She laughed. "Then there are the plant fibers. You've seen the bamboo and soy, but of course there's also corn and cotton and hemp and flax."

"Flax?"

"That's what linen is made out of. Some people say in the fairy tale, Rumpelstiltskin spun flax into gold for the miller's daughter, not straw."

"Huh. Now how did I manage to live this long without knowing that?"

We finally exhausted ourselves, as well as the wine, and returned upstairs. It was dark outside, and I was surprised to find the clock read almost eleven-thirty.

"Uh-oh," I said, and dug my cell phone out of my bag. Sure enough, Meghan had left me a message.

It began, "Why do you even have that thing if you don't turn it on, Sophie Mae?" I sighed. Just because I was starting to remember to turn on my cell phone didn't mean I was used to actually carrying it around on my person all the time. She should be happy I had it at all.

The message ended, "Are you coming home tonight or not?" In between there was a lot of stuff that sounded a tad too much like nagging from my housemate. I hated being nagged, but I had to admit that in this case I pretty much deserved whatever I got.

I deleted the message and hung up the phone, sighing. "Better go. I'm in trouble at home."

"Was that your boyfriend?"

"Worried housemate," I said.

"Oh, gosh. You can't go now," Gabi said. "It's way too far, and you've been drinking."

Well, true enough, but I'd only indulged in a glass at dinner and another in the basement. I'd be okay having ingested ten or eleven ounces of wine over five hours. However, the wine bottle was indeed empty, and now that I really looked at Gabi, I could see she was flushed and a little tipsy.

"I'll be all right," I said, though the truth was that I felt bone weary, and the thought of the drive didn't hold much appeal. "Besides, I didn't bring an overnight bag."

"Oh, don't worry about that," she insisted. "I can set you up with everything you need. You just call home and let her know you'll drive back first thing in the morning."

I made a decision. "I'll see if I can get a hold of her. If I can, I'll go ahead and stay."

"Oh, goodie," Gabi said.

That gave me pause. Oh, goodie, indeed. But the idea of waiting to drive home in the morning was still mighty appealing. I called home, and Meghan answered on the second ring.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine. Things kind of got away from me, and now it's late, and I'm going to stay up here."

"You're still in La Conner?"

"Close enough. I'm at Ariel's brother's house. We got to yammering, and his wife? Gabi? She's a spinner, so we got kind of involved in talking about… well, stuff. You know."

Meghan sighed. "I know."

"I've had a couple of glasses of wine, too, and Gabi invited me to stay. It seems like a good idea." "

I guess you'd better then."

"Tell me I didn't wake you."

"No, I was talking to Kelly. Did you find out anything about Ariel?"

"Not much. I'll tell you about it when I get home."

"All right. I'll see you tomorrow."

Gabi was delighted to learn I'd be staying, all oh goodie all over again. "While you were on the phone I put out a nightgown in the guest bedroom, and I had a spare toothbrush and some other things. You'll have to share the bathroom with us upstairs, but at least the little beasts don't go in there, so it's clean."

I thanked her, and turned toward the stairway to the second floor.

"Oh, wait," she said. "Let's sit out on the porch now that it's cooled off and have another glass of wine before bed."

"I think I've had enough," I said. "It's been a long day."

"Please?"

Oh, Lord. I was beginning to regret staying, but I was stuck now. "The bottle's empty."

"I opened a new one." She held up a fresh bottle of white zinfandel like a trophy.

Taking a deep breath, I said, "Okay. One glass, and then I'm off to bed."

"Okay."

On the porch, I had to admit the cool air felt nice. It smelled of vegetation and dust, occasionally cut by the sweet scent of a hardy jasmine planted in a pot in the corner. I could make out the tiny, white star-shaped flowers wending up the porch railing.

I took a sip of wine, which was enough to confirm I still detested white zin.

Gabi said in a suddenly quiet voice, "I know Rocky's reaction must seem odd."

I tried to switch gears from our previous light-hearted conversation. "He's grieving. Everyone does that differently."

"There was a policewoman here yesterday."

"He mentioned that."

"She asked a lot of questions."

"Well, that's her job," I said.

She shifted in the chair beside mine. "Some of the questions were a little harsh. Put Rocky on edge. She almost acted like it was Ariel's fault she got killed."

Nice, Robin. Real nice.

"But he answered the questions, didn't he?" Of course I itched to know what the questions-and answers-were, but I resisted. "Because he wants to find out who killed his sister, too."

"Oh, sure. Of course. It was just kind of hard on him, you know. He loved Ariel, but she's caused him a lot of grief over the years. At least this will be the last of it."

"The money?" I asked.

"And the men."

I took a chance. "You know, she was having an affair with the husband of one of the other artists at the co-op."

Gabi shook her head. "Another married man? Of course she was.

I shrugged. "Maybe they fell in love. It happens."

"Oh, she wasn't in love." Gabi sipped her wine. "Ariel didn't know how to love, not really. Trust me, she benefited in some very practical way."

"How sad."

Gabi was silent for a moment. "And dangerous."

Maybe it was the hour, maybe the wine, but the conversation was taking a baffling turn. "Dangerous how?"

"Their parents. She didn't get along with them. Always felt like they were too hard on her."

I waited.

Gabi leaned in, the cloying smell of cheap wine rolling off her. "The car wreck. I saw Ariel doing something to their car before they left that day." She sat back.

It took me a moment. "Are you saying she caused the crash that killed their parents?"

Light leaking out of the window from inside illuminated the fear on Gabi's face when she realized she'd said too much. "Oh, heavens no. It's not like that"

"Then what did you mean?" I asked.

Gabi looked toward the screen door and lowered her voice even more. I could hardly hear her as she said, "Just forget I said anything, okay? It doesn't matter now anyway, does it? She's dead." She put her hand to her forehead. "I guess I just can't hold my wine. Please don't say anything to Rocky."

"He doesn't know?" I asked.

She shook her head again, her chin swinging back and forth in an exaggerated way. "There's nothing to know."