A Crafter Knits a Clue

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A Crafter Knits a Clue Page 3

by Holly Quinn


  As Sammy drove toward Main Street, her car barely had enough time to warm up. She only lived a few blocks from downtown, which made her life easy and convenient. When the weather improved, she would hardly use her car, if at all. Except for groceries, everything she needed was conveniently located downtown. Even the farmers market was close by in the summer, filling the parking lot of the Recreation Center full of produce. It was a place Sammy frequented with pleasure on early Saturday mornings before work. Not only were fresh vegetables abundant but often some of the older ladies sold sugary preserves and baked goods as well.

  Sammy parallel parked her car in the last available spot in front of Liquid Joy. The early breakfast crowd was seeping out of the establishment onto the sidewalk, most complaining about the weather and discussing whether spring would ever arrive. Sammy maneuvered through the patrons toward the coffee bar. She stood in line and noticed a hushed silence following her; eyes traveled in her direction. Maybe it wasn’t such a promising idea, stopping by this morning. Clearly, the town was already buzzing like bees in a hive about Ingrid’s sudden death. Sammy was sure everyone knew that she was the one who had found Ingrid’s lifeless body. And those that didn’t know were now waking up to the latest juicy chatter. Sammy placed a weak plastic smile on her oval-shaped face and was relieved when it was her turn in line.

  “Busy morning!” She leaned onto the counter top and eyed the frosted pastries under the glass.

  “What can I get you, Samantha?” Cara, the blonde barista, eagerly waited to compile her order. Cara’s ponytail bobbed as if she had just run a race but her hair hadn’t caught up yet.

  “Is Douglas here this morning?” Sammy hoped she would get a chance to talk to the owner. She knew Cara only worked the early morning shift and wouldn’t know anything about the coffee left behind at Ingrid’s the previous afternoon.

  Cara leaned back from the counter and searched through the morning rush. “I think he’s out back unloading the truck.”

  Sammy found this odd as Douglas always worked the counter in the morning, due to it being the busiest time of day. She frowned.

  “Did you want to order? I’m backing up here.” Cara lifted her eyes from Sammy to the growing line behind her.

  “Sure. I’ll take a coffee and one of those.” She pointed to a glazed pastry oozing with raspberry out of both sides.

  Cara plucked a parchment paper and lifted the pastry into a paper bag. “Are you okay?” The barista leaned closer to the counter top and whispered to Sammy. “I heard.”

  Sammy leaned in closer. “Yeah. And it looks like you’re not the only one.” She rolled her eyes after scanning the crowd. “Can you ask Douglas to stop by later if he gets a minute? It’s kind of important.”

  “You bet.” Cara turned and filled the yellow smiley-faced cup, added a dash of vanilla cream, snapped on a lid, then placed it on the counter. She knew exactly how Sammy loved her coffee. Cara knew everyone’s preferences.

  “I know this might be a strange question, but I have to ask you something weird…” Sammy waved the barista to lean in even closer so she could whisper out of earshot.

  Cara leaned over the counter and turned her ear for Sammy to whisper in it. “How did Ingrid take her coffee?”

  Cara’s response showed utter confusion. “She didn’t. She was a tea gal. Why do you ask?”

  Sammy left the crumpled cash on the counter. “Keep the change.” She winked as she gathered her breakfast in her hands and headed out the door, eyes boring in her direction the entire time.

  Sammy was happy for the protection her car provided. She realized that her day at the craft shop would prove to be an interesting one. The bold ones in the community would be the first to come and grill her about the incident, she was sure. Did people think she was responsible? That could really damage her business. And Ingrid didn’t drink coffee. But someone else did. Who? Sammy wished she had brought Bara to work. He would be a welcomed comfort. She glanced at the glowing clock on the dashboard. She didn’t have time to go back home and pick him up. It looked like she would have to face her customers alone for today. The fleeting wish that she could run home and hide beneath the bed sheets crossed her mind before she pulled away from the curb and circled around the block to the parking lot behind Community Craft. All was quiet. She took a deep breath before exiting the car with her breakfast in hand. At least she had something sweet in the bag to look forward to. She glanced toward The Yarn Barn and noticed there was yellow police tape blocking the back entrance. An uneasy feeling swept over her. The finality of Ingrid’s death was still such a shock.

  Sammy flicked on the lights with her elbow upon entering the shop, then went directly to her office and placed her breakfast on the desk. She noticed the answering machine had several messages, which was very unusual. The hawks were already circling, looking for the first bit of gossip. She decided to wait to listen to the messages and instead focus on the work at hand to clear her own mind. In thirty minutes, the store would open, and she had a few things to do before that happened.

  The craft room, a glass-enclosed space inside the shop, was a gathering spot to hold classes given by various artists who wanted to pass on the love of their craft. The room was easily viewed from anywhere in the shop and built to entice perusing customers to try their hand at something new. The monthly schedule was tacked to the window, and Sammy was relieved to see no classes scheduled for Thursday. On Friday morning, the knitting group was meeting, and in the afternoon there was a painting class.

  Sammy noticed that the room had been left in disarray by the quilting group that had met the previous morning. In all the chaos of the day before, she had missed tidying it up before she left. She pushed in the white plastic chairs so their backs touched the long table, then collected random pieces of leftover fabric and tossed them in the nearby trash can. Something shimmery caught her eye, and she dropped to her knees to peek underneath the table. There was a necklace on the floor. When Sammy picked it up, she noticed the clasp was broken. The chain held a locket; she popped it open with her fingernail and saw a photo of a young woman about high school age inside. Sammy didn’t recognize the girl in the aged black-and-white photo, but hopefully someone in the quilting group would, so that it could be returned to the rightful owner. It had to belong to someone in the group because Sammy had vacuumed the craft room the day before and would have noticed it then or sucked it up with the vacuum cleaner. She moved over to the lost and found box underneath the cashier counter and dropped it inside. A quick look at the clock showed it was close to opening time. Sammy moved to the door, flipped the sign to OPEN, and unlocked the front door. The sun shone through the window, hinting that it might make an appearance, finally, and for that, she was more than grateful.

  Sammy turned back to the office to go check her voice messages, but before she could hit the play button, the tinkling sound of the front door bell distracted her. She craned her neck around the office door and saw that it was her cousin Heidi.

  “I can’t believe what happened yesterday! I’m surprised to see you’re open. I thought you might just close the shop and hang at home today. I think under the circumstances your customers would understand.” Heidi rushed to Sammy and tackled her with a bear hug, her solid, sculpted yoga arms practically lifting her off the floor.

  “I might close early again today. I’m not sure yet. I’ll see how the day goes. Are you on your way to work or just getting off your shift?” Sammy pointed to her shapely cousin who even looked attractive wearing pale-green scrubs underneath her thick coat—the uniform at the hospital where she worked as an ER nurse. Heidi’s brown eyeliner perfectly outlined her sage eyes that reflected the color of her uniform, and her cheeks held a rosy glow. Instead of looking like a nurse on shift, she looked like a runway model showcasing hospital wear. Sammy envied her cousin’s beauty.

  “Don’t worry, I’m clean.” Heidi knew Sammy hated getting hospital germs all over her. “I have a few minutes before work, bu
t I had to stop by and see if you were all right. Are you?” Her cousin grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze before releasing it.

  “Yeah. I’m fine. Still in shock to be honest.”

  “I can’t even imagine.” Heidi shook her head. “I mean, I deal with death and disease at my job daily but for you…” Her tone was thick with empathy.

  “Yes. For me. The squeamish germophobe.” Sammy rolled her eyes.

  “I didn’t say that to be hurtful.”

  Sammy knew her cousin didn’t mean anything hurtful. Heidi was so kind, she couldn’t hurt a fly. She’d even try to nurse a bug back to health. Instead of killing a spider she would pick it up and put it back outside where it belonged.

  “I wish you had come to dinner with us last night. We missed you.” Heidi’s eyes searched Sammy’s, looking for a white flag.

  “Yeah, me too. I’m sorry. It was a long day, and I just wanted to get home to Bara.”

  “I understand.”

  “Did Tim mention if they had any leads in the investigation?” Sammy walked behind the counter and leaned over the cash register to turn it on with a key.

  “Now you know he wouldn’t tell me even if he did.” Heidi placed a hand on her hip.

  Sammy hesitated about telling her cousin anything further but then blurted out, “There was a cup of hot coffee on the counter by her body, but Ingrid doesn’t drink coffee. I think it belonged to the killer.”

  “Oh, no, no, no.” Heidi shook a slender finger at her cousin. “No, you don’t.”

  “What do you mean? No, I don’t. What?” Sammy’s pencil-thin eyebrows crinkled in guiltless question.

  Heidi leaned close to the polished wooden counter and braced her hands firmly on the side. “I see what you’re doing. You’re poking around in the investigation. That’s what you’re doing.”

  “No, I’m not,” Sammy said innocently. After seeing her cousin’s reaction, there was no way she was going to share the possibility that someone might be following or stalking her too.

  “I can see it in your eyes. This is not S.H.E. playtime from our childhood. This isn’t the case of the missing lunchbox.” Heidi waved a finger pointedly. “This is serious, Samantha. This is murder.”

  Sammy knew what she was referring to. The three cousins—herself, her sister, Ellie, and Heidi—had all formed a fictitious detective agency in grade school. They used the first letter from each of their names to form the name of the agency. S: Sammy. H: Heidi. E: Ellie. Of course, they never really solved any cases. Although they did find a stolen bike once and a missing lunchbox. She wasn’t sure if that counted as a “solved crime.” They even had baseball hats and T-shirts designed signifying the tight club of three.

  “I’m not playing S.H.E.” Sammy rolled her eyes and decided her best tactic would be to change the subject. “I was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner tomorrow? Just us girls. How ‘bout us S.H.E.?”

  Heidi chuckled. “You mean us three S.H.E.s. I have a hair appointment at four thirty tomorrow. Maybe after?”

  Heidi’s hair was the color of aged cornhusks and equally as dry. “Are you dying it the same color?” Sammy hoped this change of topic would keep her cousin from thinking she was digging too far into the investigation or from saying anything to Ellie. That’s all she needed was her sister to be even more on her back.

  “I don’t know. What color do you think?” Heidi patted her dehydrated hair with her fingertips.

  “I would go with whatever color Tim suggests.” Sammy knew her cousin wouldn’t listen to her anyway. For years she had tried to convince her to stop coloring it. She wondered if Heidi would have a hair left on her head by the time she was middle-aged. Honestly, she couldn’t even remember her natural color anymore, it had changed so many times over the years.

  Heidi flexed her back and lifted her endowed bosom to attention. “I think he’s more concerned with these girls than my hair.”

  Sammy eyed Heidi’s perky boobs with envy as she had none to speak of. Well a little more than none. Barely more than none. “Whatever,” she muttered.

  A customer entered the shop, and Sammy felt relieved by the interruption. She pointed out the customer covertly so that Heidi would take the hint and skedaddle. Which she did. With a wave of one hand, she was gone.

  Chapter Five

  Sammy was pleasantly surprised by the quiet morning. She thought for sure the citizens of Heartsford would come rushing into the shop to gossip about the recent murder. But they hadn’t. Maybe she hadn’t given the town enough credit after all? Or maybe the community was still in shock too. She looked at the clock; it was still morning. Give it time. That was the one thing that had taken a readjustment period when returning home to work at Community Craft. When she lived in the city of Madison, she could come and go as she pleased. No one cared about her daily affairs. But if she was being honest, at times she had missed the small-town vibe. Not the gossip, mind you. But the caring attitude of the community in which she lived. The one Kate had created and nurtured. Kate had a way of shifting people’s perspective to see the good in others and treat them accordingly. It was a quality Sammy remembered about her best friend and aspired to emulate. Sammy felt guilty for the negative thoughts she’d harbored about her community—that they were all small-minded gossips. They might be small-minded, but they were big hearted in Heartsford. Kate had always reminded her of that. God, she missed her.

  Sammy hoped her uneventful day would continue.

  “Hi-dee-ho, friend!”

  Sammy knew the familiar voice that called out, and she turned with a wide smile.

  Miles, a regular vendor who supplied the shop with handcrafted wooden furniture, stepped into the back door of the shop lugging a wooden bench over his shoulder.

  Sammy rushed toward him to help with the door. “New merchandise? I’m excited to see what you brought. You officially made my day!” she grinned.

  Miles set the bench down as he huffed and puffed from exertion. His smile, along with the twinkle in his eye, was so warm and inviting, it was superior to his oversized frame. No one seemed to notice that his diet consisted mostly of beer, bratwurst, and Wisconsin cheese; each minute the man was a possible heart attack. His belly jutted over his worn jeans like an oversized water balloon.

  “I’ve got a truckful, missy.” After adjusting his pants, he winked and jutted a sausage-sized thumb toward the door.

  “Let me get my coat. I’ll help you lug it all inside.” Sammy hustled to the office before he had the chance to change his mind and not let her help. He tended to overtake her with his gentlemanly defiance, but she was more than capable of carrying a few items, even though most of them would likely outweigh her.

  Sammy stepped out the back door into the sunshine. “Ahh,” she said to Miles as he leaned into the back of his pickup truck trying to reach a hand-carved birdhouse. “Doesn’t that sunshine feel amazing?”

  “It sure does. Been a long winter, eh?” With dry cracked hands, he handed her the birdhouse, and she admired it with awe.

  “Wow. Nice work. I have a feeling this one is going to sell fast.” The wooden stump had the raw bark intact, yet the house was carved intricately around an access hole.

  He smiled wide, showing coffee-stained teeth, before handing her another. “That’s enough for you, young lady,” he said. “I’ll grab the big stuff.”

  Sammy knew better than to argue, so she headed for the back door. She set the birdhouses carefully inside and then stepped back out into the sunshine. As Miles moved toward her with another bench, she swung the door wide open. “Boy, it sure looks like you’ve been busy in the workshop!”

  Miles heaved the solid carved bench into the store, and she held the door for him until he set the furniture down. As he moved back toward the truck, he stopped and turned toward the back entrance of The Yarn Barn. “What a darn shame,” he said sincerely.

  Sammy hung her head in reply. “I know. I’m trying not to think about it.”

  “I’
m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you further, Sam.” He laid an encouraging hand on her shoulder and gave a light squeeze. “I did overhear that you found her. Did you see anything? You doing all right?” His tone was sincere. Sammy knew he wasn’t trying to pry, he was only asking out of genuine concern.

  “I think I’m still in shock.”

  “I can only imagine.” Miles must have sensed she was uncomfortable with any further conversation over the matter. As he turned his attention back to the lift gate on his pickup, he asked, “What do you think of this?” He pointed to the last item in the truck. A carving of a black wooden bear holding a mailbox stood tall and proud. The face was so detailed, it must have taken him hours upon hours.

  “It’s stunning.” Sammy gently touched the carving. She had profound respect for his talent. “I think we should put it in the front display window.” By the surprised look on the woodworker’s face, she knew he felt touched. Everyone knew the display window at Community Craft was a coveted position. Only the most favored pieces were displayed front and center there.

  Miles put his hand to his heart. “I’m honored.” He leaned his head forward with a slight bow.

  “Well, you’ve earned it!” Sammy held the door as he lugged the solid carving toward the front of the store, her trailing behind him. “I’ll have to move a few things. Do you mind hanging around? I don’t think I can get that beautiful bear in the window without help.”

  “Not a problem.” Miles breathed deep after carrying the heavy piece and pulled his falling pants back up into position.

  Sammy stepped into the window and began removing the winter display to prepare for spring. “Actually, this is perfect timing. I’m a bit behind so I appreciate the push to move the winter stock. I needed to get the display ready for Spring Fling.” She piled the merchandise in a corner to deal with later. Miles didn’t have to wait while she found a new home for everything. She tossed the green-and-gold fleece scarves representing the Green Bay Packers’ colors that were hanging in the display window into the corner and then waved for Miles to place the piece. “I think you have room now. I can move the rest of the stuff after you’re gone.”

 

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