Page 32 of Christmas Mittens Murder

Tawny’s eyes widened. “Past history? What do you mean?”

“Your issues with kleptomania.”

She gasped, horrified. “How did you find out about that? Scooter got that buried.”

“Maybe he got the press to bury it, but it’s still very much a part of your record, which the local police here have access to.”

Tawny, her hands now shaking, set her mug of hot cocoa down and lowered herself onto her obscenely expensive white leather couch. “Chief Alvares knows?”

Hayley nodded solemnly. “I’m afraid so. It’s only a matter of time before he shows up here to question you.”

“But I heard a rumor earlier tonight that the police believe Doris Crimmons stole the ring. They found it in her knitting bag, at least that’s the story going around! That lets me off the hook!”

“Except for the inconvenient fact that Doris claimed that you had asked for a breath mint and she allowed you to rummage through her bag, where you could have easily planted the ring, fearing the police might find it on your person if they searched you. It was never about keeping the ring, it was about the feeling you got by stealing it, that emotional high you craved by not getting caught, what that did for you.”

Tawny’s mind was clearly working overtime trying to figure a way out of this colossal mess. “I never touched her bag. So there you have it. It’s her word against mine. Who do you think people are going to believe? My husband and I are pillars in this community.”

“Given your spotty track record obeying the law, the fact that you’re terrified of embarrassing your husband and that we can probably scrounge up a few eyewitnesses who saw you going through Doris’s knitting bag, I’d place my bet on Doris,” Bruce said, downing the rest of his hot cocoa and wiping some whipped cream off the sides of his mouth.

Tawny, suddenly struck with a crushing fear, slowly began to crumble. “Please, Scooter cannot find out about this. You can’t tell him! You have to promise me!”

“We can’t make that kind of promise, Tawny, we’re sorry,” Hayley muttered.

“But there is a clause in our prenup which explicitly states that if I ever steal again, Scooter will divorce me and I will get nothing, not a penny! He put that in the agreement to discourage me from shoplifting again! But I can’t help myself! It’s an illness! He just doesn’t understand!”

Hayley took a deep breath, glancing at Bruce. “Esther Willey saw you steal the ring, didn’t she?”

Tawny shot to her feet defiantly. “What? No! Yes, I was weak! I took the ring! But I did not kill Esther! I could never take the life of another human being! Besides, didn’t they find Betty Dyer’s mitten stuffed in Esther’s mouth? You should be talking to her!”

“Yes. The mitten belonged to Betty, but she didn’t put it there. Woody Woodworth did. He stupidly believed Helen had killed Esther and he was just trying to throw the police off Helen’s scent.”

“Then maybe he killed her! Or Helen did it!”

Bruce shook his head. “No, Tawny. You were the only one with a clear motive and opportunity.”

Hayley frowned. All the pieces were now coming together. “You were desperate, terrified your husband was going to find out that you had slipped up again. You couldn’t resist grabbing that ring when you thought no one was looking. But Esther saw you take it. She confronted you about it and there was no denying it. Esther was going to ruin everything. Your whole future was now in doubt. You had to do something.”

Tawny, wild-eyed, took another step back. “No! No! You’re making this all up! It’s a fantasy!”

Hayley plowed on. “You saw Esther go outside with Doris. You were panic-stricken, afraid Esther was going to expose you, so when you saw Doris come back inside the church, that was when you went outside to find Esther and . . .”

“No! I did no such thing! I would never, not in a million years, stab poor Esther with her own knitting needle!”

Checkmate.

Hayley and Bruce fell silent.

Tawny shifted her insolent gaze between the two of them. “What? What is it?”

“It was public knowledge that Esther was stabbed with a knitting needle. But the police never said the needle belonged to Esther. Only the killer would know that specific detail.”

Tawny shrank back, flailing, in a state of disbelief that all of this was happening, that the walls were closing in around her. “I just assumed it was hers. Who else walks around wielding their knitting needle as a weapon?”

“A lot of people. There are four knitting circles right here in town that I can think of just off the top of my head,” Hayley reminded her.

Tawny was losing patience. “My point is, that’s hardly enough to convict me. Have the police dusted the needle for fingerprints? When they do, I’m certain they won’t find mine!”

“Because it was twenty-four degrees outside that day, so I’m certain when you went out to find her you were wearing gloves,” Bruce said.

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