The Drowning Spool (A Needlecraft Mystery) by Monica Ferris

Wilma.
    “That’s all?”
    “Yes.”
    “So even if someone managed to get into the building without being seen, she couldn’t get into the pool area.”
    “Not without a key,” Pam said, a trifle smugly.
    “But someone did, obviously.”
    That wiped the smug look away. “Yes.” Pam put a slender hand sideways over her mouth for a few moments, her eyes wide and blank. “It was the most awful thing that’s ever happened to me.”
    Betsy did not reply, and after another pause, Pam continued, “I can’t think how she got in there, if the night guard didn’t let her in. I mean, there’s just no way.”
    “But Ethan didn’t have a key, so he couldn’t have let her in, or the person bringing her into the pool,” said Betsy. “I’d like to know why he was fired.”
    “Maybe he wasn’t fired, maybe he quit. I mean, it doesn’t seem fair to fire him, does it? So maybe they didn’t. They haven’t told me anything about it.”
    “Have you ever loaned your key to someone?”
    “No . . .” Pam frowned and bit her top lip. “Well, actually that’s not true. The last time I went on vacation, I gave my key to my substitute. She left it in the desk drawer, I found it when I got back.” Pam gestured at her desk.
    “When was this?” asked Betsy.
    Pam thought, then turned to her computer and brought up a calendar. “Five months ago. I was gone for twelve days.”
    “Was your office locked? The desk drawer?”
    Pam drew up her shoulders a little. “No.”
    “So how long was the key to the pool in the drawer?”
    “Just overnight. I called my substitute about it, and she said it never left her key ring until she left it in the desk drawer on her last day.”
    “May I have her name?” Betsy had been rummaging in her purse for the reporter’s notebook she carried when sleuthing. She brought it out, along with the beautiful wood-cased ballpoint pen Connor had given her.
    “Heidi Langstrom. She’s now at Courage Center.”
    Betsy nodded. Heidi was one of her water aerobics instructors over there, and a licensed physical therapist. She would call her later today.
    “Now, Teddi Wahlberger was found naked in the pool, right?”
    Pam frowned and her lips thinned as if in pain. Clearly she was distressed that Betsy knew this. But then she nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”
    Betsy continued, “We know she was brought to the pool already dead, possibly in an attempt to make people think she came here to swim and drowned in the pool. But to make that ruse work, her clothing should have been here, too. Was there clothing belonging to her in the locker room?”
    “No, it was piled up near the ramp. I didn’t look through it, of course, but I remember there was a beautiful fur jacket on top. It might’ve been fake fur, but it looked real. And a pair of high-heeled leather boots. Both black.”
    “Was there a purse?”
    “I didn’t see one, but it could have been under the coat.”
    “Anything else?”
    “I think I remember seeing one end of a bra sticking out at the bottom. It was black or dark brown.” She was frowning in an earnest attempt to be thorough. “That’s all I remember. But it was a pile of clothing, obviously more things were under the coat.”
    “You’re sure you’ve never seen the woman before?”
    “I’m sure.” She shuddered and rubbed her fingers together as if to wipe off the remembered feel of dead flesh.
    “Any idea how long she’d been in the water?”
    “No. She was stiff—that’s rigor mortis—but I don’t know how long it takes for that to set in. I understand that the warmer the body is, the faster it takes hold, though, and our pool is right around ninety-three degrees. I locked up at four in the afternoon the day before. Residents can get into the exercise room at any time; their pass keys will open that door. I haven’t heard that any resident reported someone in the pool.”
    “Have you ever left the key to the pool in your office?”
    “No, I keep it on my