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For some reason, Brenda thought a night spent alone with Deke in his house would be more exciting than it turned out to be. She’d imagined some snuggling—sharing a bed at the very least. Instead, he’d been hands-off and polite from the moment everyone left. He’d shown her the guest bedroom, promised to go to the manse with her in the morning to fetch her clothes and then he’d left her with a t-shirt to sleep in and a promise of pancakes in the morning.
They were back to square one. Where Deke saw her as something fragile and forbidden. The stupid break-in had reminded him that there was a dangerous nutter after her. It had also reminded him of everything that nutter had put her through. Which meant Deke was back to seeing her as nothing more than a delicate little victim. It sucked big time.
By the time the spa opened the following morning, Brenda was completely frustrated and totally annoyed with him. If she wasn’t so freaking horny for the big, hot moron, she’d give up on him entirely. As it was, she was stuck thinking up new ways to make him see her as a woman again. A woman with needs. A seriously frustrated woman with needs.
“There’s no way it was one of the Domino Boys,” Margaret Campbell said, bringing Brenda back to the present and the realisation she was massaging Margaret a little too vigorously. “It’s a damn shame about that reception area. I liked it the way it was.”
The reception area had been gutted and everything dumped in the local tip. It now held a sofa that had been dragged over from the manse and a small wooden table and chair, with a laptop on it, that acted as a desk.
“I agree,” Heather said. “There’s no way those old men trashed the place.”
Margaret had brought along Shona, Jean and Heather to “keep her company” during her session. It took Brenda about ten seconds to figure out they’d heard about what had happened and were there for a debrief. The three other women sat drinking tea and eating biscuits while Brenda worked out the kinks in Margaret’s back.
Shona pointed at them with a biscuit. “Archie would have thrown out his hip just getting up the stairs to Jodie’s flat and James never leaves his mobility scooter. Findlay wouldn’t have done it without the other two, so that rules him out as well.”
“Plus, it was malicious,” Heather said. “The boys are daft, but they aren’t malicious.”
“They’re daft, all right—did you see what’s in today’s paper?” Shona said.
Brenda looked over at her. “I didn’t.”
Shona rummaged around in her huge handbag and came out with a precisely folded copy of the Invertary Standard. She held it up for Brenda to read. The front page headline wasn’t subtle. Local men tired of female oppression.
“Aye,” Shona said, her lips in a tense line. “They are that daft. Listen to what Findlay had to say.” She cleared her throat before she read the quote. “‘Back in the seventies, this women’s lib crap bit us on the backside. Now we’re biting back.’” She folded the paper and put it back in her bag. “The bloody idiots have started one of those online petitions to get equal treatment for men. We’ve all signed it. Let them see how they like equality when their wages are reduced to match the women’s.”
There was a round of nods.
“Look at the trouble they’ve stirred up,” Heather said. “With their stupid behaviour, the Domino Boys have given permission to the yob element to act like miscreants. That’s why they keep vandalising the spa. They’ve taken what the Domino Boys are doing and run with it.”
Brenda bit her lip to stop from telling them it had nothing to do with the local yobs. It was her. She’d brought this problem to their doorstep. She was the reason they were all in danger.
“What about that nephew of Findlay?” Heather said. “I bet this was him. He looks like the kind of boy who’d take to vandalism. What’s his name again?”
“Angus,” Jean said.
“That’s the one.” Heather lowered her voice, as if anyone could hear them in Brenda’s treatment room. They’d have to be standing right outside the door to listen in. “I heard he’s into drugs. He could have gotten high and done it. I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“Aye,” Shona said. “He’s the one who’s been writing his damn name all over town. Then he acts like Matt is a genius for arresting him.” She gave them an incredulous look. “He wrote his name. Who else would have done it? The boy is an idiot.”
“Dangerous idiot, though,” Heather said. “Remember that time he broke into the post office?”
Jean nodded. “He cut a hole in the ceiling and dropped down into the shop. Only he couldn’t get back up to escape. The staff found him asleep on the floor when they opened up the following morning, surrounded by chocolate bar wrappers. They didn’t put him in jail for long enough for that, if you ask me.”
“This town is going downhill with its growing criminal element,” Heather said.
Margaret leaned up onto her elbows, disrupting Brenda’s massage. “What criminal element? There’s Angus and there’s that lad Rab who comes into town with his friends every now and then. Matt gets rid of them fast enough. The only permanent criminal element around here is us lot.”
“Breaking into the pub wasn’t really a crime,” Shona said. “It was more of a protest.”
Heather reached for her handbag and pulled out her phone. “I’m going to call Matt and tell him to bring Angus in for questioning.”
The women nodded, but Brenda didn’t think Matt would like having his mother tell him how to do his job.
“Maybe you should just let him get on with it,” she suggested gently. “It seems like he knows what he’s doing.” And he knew that the problem wasn’t a local one, but an imported one.
Suddenly Brenda was the focus of four pairs of eyes. She concentrated on keeping all guilty thoughts out of her head and just doing her job.
“You know something.” Shona pointed a finger at her.
“No!” Damn, that came out far too fast. It made them narrow their eyes at her. “I mean, I know that Matt is a very competent police officer. He questioned everyone at the spa and he seems to have everything under control.” She smiled at Heather and tried to deflect their attention. “You should be really proud of him.”
The women didn’t buy it at all. In fact, her attempted deflection seemed to confirm they were onto something. Margaret moved out from under Brenda and sat on the padded table, pulling the sheet around her.
“You know what’s going on,” Margaret said. “Spill.”
Brenda scurried over to the sink in the corner of her room to wash her hands. Her mind raced for a way to get out of the situation before it turned into an interrogation. “There’s nothing to spill.” Oh man, she didn’t sound as casual as she wanted to sound. “I know as much as you. Probably.”
She turned to find all the women staring at her.
“Brenda, we welcomed you into the sacred circle of knitters. We trusted you with our dangerous and illegal night-time raid on the pub.” Margaret looked over at Heather. “When was the last time we let a new member into Knit or Die?”
“Nineteen eighty-six,” Heather said and cocked a thumb at Jean.
“And I had to go through an initiation,” Jean said with a sniff.
Brenda felt her eyebrows climb up her forehead. “Seriously.” She held up her hands. “I know nothing.”
It was as though they could scent blood in the water.
“You are one of the sisters,” Shona said. “That comes with responsibility. You don’t keep secrets from the sisters. The first rule of knitting club is that you don’t talk about knitting club. The second rule is that you don’t keep secrets in knitting club. The third rule is that you always, always have your knitting sisters’ backs.”
“And the fourth rule is that there’s always cake. Every official meeting and knitting session has to have cake,” Jean added helpfully.
“I...I...I...” Hot fudge sundaes! Brenda couldn’t think of anything to tell them that would get them off the scent. She eyed the door and wondered if she should make a run for it.
“Not going to happen.” Heather saw where her eyes had gone and stomped over to stand in front of the closed door. “Now start at the beginning and tell us everything.”
Brenda looked at each of them in turn, took note of the pure determination set on each face and knew that if they didn’t get what they wanted from her, they would drive everyone insane digging for it.
Her shoulders slumped. The women smiled at her. It was scary.
“Here.” Shona dragged a chair over to her. “Have a seat and get it all off your chest. You’ll feel much better once you tell us what you know. Jean, get her a cup of tea. Margaret, get the chocolate biscuits out of your bag. It looks like our girl here needs them.” Shona patted Brenda’s shoulder as she slumped in the seat, defeated. “Don’t worry. It will be okay,” Shona said.
Ten minutes later, after three chocolate biscuits and a cup of strong tea, Brenda told them everything.