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Brody walked over to Blue Street to find What’s the Point, Pleasant Valley’s only craft store.
The business was in a converted house that had been painted in pastel colors. He ascended the stairs, stepped inside, and was greeted with the sound of a rain forest. He searched around until he found a little noise machine next to a table-top water feature.
Martha Cole stepped from around the counter, a smile broadening her already round face. Her hair was curly, and she wore a loose-fitting shirt with large bell sleeves.
“I was hoping you’d come in,” she said, approaching him with her right hand out.
Brody shook her hand, and Martha clasped it with both of hers.
“It’s so nice to have someone new in our town,” she said. “Where were you before this?”
“Leavenworth,” he said.
Martha held a finger to her chin as she thought. “Isn’t that in Kansas?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“There’s a naval base there? It seems odd in the middle of the country, so far from the ocean.”
“I was recruiting,” Brody lied. It was easier than telling her that he was being held in the federal prison there.
“Oh, my,” she said, patting his hand. “This must be quite the culture shock then. Midwest to the east coast.”
“It is,” Brody said. “Definitely.”
“How long were you stationed there?”
“Just a short time,” Brody said.
“You don’t stay in one place for very long, do you?”
“I’ve been a vagabond recently, that’s for sure.”
Martha’s smile was kind and motherly. “You said your grandmother taught you how to crochet?”
Brody shook his head. “No, she taught me how to knit.”
“That’s right. And you did it while on ship?”
He lied by nodding.
The guys in the MC thought Brody’s knitting was a weird habit since he only did it after he cleared the book on someone. Once the guys realized it was his special kind of therapy, they left him alone. Everyone had a type of release after doing dirty work. Some guys self-medicated by drinking or doing drugs. Others cavorted with women. Some even harmed themselves. Brody knitted.
He even taught one of the club’s girls how to do it. She eventually created a shawl for her mother.
Most of the time, Brody would knit for a while, then pull the rows of stitches apart, rewrap the yarn, and put it away. While he was with the club, he never created a finished product. It was the simple act of knitting that calmed his mind.
“So what can I do for you?” Martha asked.
“I need a kit,” Brody said. “Needles, yarn, a bag. Something basic. I have nothing with me.”
Martha’s face lit up. “Fantastic!” She buzzed around the store, holding up items for Brody’s approval, to which he always nodded acceptance.
“Martha?” Brody said.
“Hmmm?” Martha was in the process of selecting a yellow yarn for Brody.
“You knew Alice Walker, right?”
“Of course, dear. She was in our knitting circle. Why do you ask?”
“I’m the new owner of the bookstore.”
Martha straightened, a look of surprise on her face. “You are?”
“I am.”
“What happened to Alice?” Martha asked.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know? How did you come by the bookstore?”
“She sold it to me.”
“She sold it to you, but you don’t know what happened to her? None of us knew she was even considering such a thing.”
“All I know is that she sold it to me through an online company, but everyone I’ve come into contact with so far has said that she loved the store.”
“She did. It was her passion.”
“See what I mean? Do you know if she was sick?”
Martha tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
“Constable Farnsworth said you saw her in Manchester a month ago. I thought maybe she was going to the hospital over there.”
“I did see her, but she didn’t seem sick. At least, she didn’t look that way.”
“What was she doing in Manchester then?”
“I don’t know, but she was with a man.”
“Like on a date?”
“I doubt that. At first, I thought it might be the foreign man she’d talked about, but he was much youngah than I expected.”
“She was seeing someone?”
“Alice let it slip at one of our circles that she was seeing a handsome foreignah.”
“Did she say where he was from?”
“Oh, no. Alice was very private. When she let that little nugget of information slip, she didn’t say much more than that. It was very unlike her to share personal information. She lived her life by the motto of Loose Lips Sink Ships. You, being a navy man and all, should appreciate that.”
“I do. Trust me. What did the man look like? The one she was with while in Manchester.”
She thought about it for a moment, and then her eyes looked Brody up and down. “I would say he looked a lot like you.”
“Like me?”
“Not exactly like you. Older and smaller, but he dressed a lot like you, except I think his shirt had short sleeves.”
“He wore khakis and a plaid shirt?”
“Ayuh, ayuh,” she said, inhaling her affirmations.
There had to be a lot of men in the world dressed in plaid shirts and khaki pants, but Brody only knew one other man. Ted Onderdonk. Since The Red Herring was a U.S. Marshal cover and Alice Walker was the previous owner, it wasn’t hard to connect the dots to Onderdonk.
“How did Alice look when she was with this man?”
Martha paused. “I would say she looked like her normal self.”
“Did you say hello to her while in Manchester?”
“No. I was in my car, and she was crossing the street. She didn’t see me.”
Brody fell silent then.
“But when she came home, I—”
“You saw her back in town after that?”
“Oh, sure. When she came home, I asked her what she was doing in Manchestah. She said she had never gone there. I thought that was strange, but she swore she was nevah there.”
“Did you believe her?”
“I did. I thought maybe I was mistaken. Then she disappeared, and I thought maybe I really did see her, and something was wrong.”
“How long has she been gone?”
“Maybe three weeks now.”
“You told this to the constable, right? What did he do?”
“He looked into it.”
“And what did he say?”
Even though they were the only two in the store, Martha leaned in and whispered, “Emery is a dear boy, but he isn’t the most accomplished constable.”
“Did anyone else in the department know about it?”
“There are only two people in the Pleasant Valley police department. Emery and the chief. And the chief, well, he’s less accomplished than Emery.”
“Emery could have called for outside help.”
“I don’t know if he did that. You’ll have to ask him. Why are you so interested in Alice?”
Brody shrugged. “It seems weird for her to leave so suddenly if she loved the town and her business.”
Martha laid the supplies she had collected onto the counter. “She did love it here.”
“How long did she live in town?”
“She moved here in the early eighties. Right about the time that Ronnie was voted president. Those were great times.”
“Was the bookstore opened before then?”
“Ayuh, it was. It was a metaphysical bookstore before then, but Alice wouldn’t go for any of that nonsense. She didn’t believe in that mystical mumbo jumbo.”
“She’d been here for almost forty years, running a bookstore?”
“Ayuh,” Martha said, ringing up the items on the cash register.
“So, one day, she doesn’t open the store and leaves her cat behind?”
“Alice left Wallander?”
“She did. Do you want him?”
“Oh no,” she said. “Every bookstore needs a cat, don’t ya know?”
“I’ve been told.”
Martha announced a total cost, and she placed the various items in a bag.
After paying, Brody asked, “Do you miss her?”
“Of course, I do, but she tended to keep to herself. Even when she participated in our knitting group, she never talked much. I’ve known her for almost forty years, and I couldn’t tell you where she came from or anything about her family. It’s funny how people are. I’ve known you one day, and I already know that you were in the Navy and just moved here from Leavenworth, and your grandmother taught you to knit.”
Brody grabbed the bag and winked at her. “I’m an open book that way, Martha.”