A Crafter Knits a Clue

by Holly Quinn

  Miles heaved the heavy carved bear up the one step into the window, and together they turned it to face forward. “Go have a look outside, will you?” Sammy suggested.

  Miles stepped out the front door, looked at Sammy through the gleaming glass, and gave a double thumbs-up. He returned and thanked her again for the coveted position before leaving her to complete the window display. Before he left, Sammy asked him to place a price list for the items on the counter, and she would make and place the tags.

  As she moved the spring items into the window that would complement the stately bear, Marilyn—the owner of the bakery a few doors down—knocked on the window, startling Sammy. She returned the greeting with an exaggerated wave.

  Marilyn stepped inside the shop. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you, honey.”

  “I guess I was just deep in thought with the display.” Sammy smiled wide. “How are you?”

  “Never mind me, darlin’ … How are you?” Marilyn, still wearing her baking-stained pink apron must have left her eatery specifically to visit and check on Sammy. She put her hand to her bosom, which was as round as her oversized hips.

  “I’m okay. Keeping busy.” Sammy shrugged.

  “I can’t believe it, can you? I mean, her shop hasn’t even been open that long. Who could have done such a thing? It’s awful. Certainly, not a Heartsford welcome!” The baker fanned herself with one hand even though there was still a chill in the air. Sammy wondered how the woman made it through the humid summers with her head in the oven.

  “It’s tragic.” Sammy agreed.

  Marilyn must have taken the hint and realized she wasn’t going to get any additional nuts from this particular squirrel. She turned to the door as if to leave but then blurted over a shoulder, “Sad to admit but … well … I’m sure you’re aware … not a lot of people liked her.”

  “Wait,” Sammy bit her lip. She wanted more information from Marilyn. Maybe she knew something that could help with the investigation. “No, I really didn’t know that,” Sammy fibbed. “What makes you say that?”

  Marilyn turned to face her. “Well, I heard … but don’t say you heard it from me … that she was trying to get Larry kicked off the school board. And you know Larry has had that position for years. And he’s done a lot for the school system and the community. And she just waltzes into our town and tries to bulldoze people after three months? Well. You just can’t do that.” Marilyn wiped her hands on her apron and stood defensively.

  “Oh. I hadn’t heard that.” Sammy was afraid to say any more. She knew whatever she said would be breathed like fire on a dry field. This was interesting news though. Could prove to be the motive for murder.

  “Well. News on the street is that she wanted Larry off the school board because of his history with the bottle.” She raised an imaginary glass to her lips and tipped her head back. “If you know what I mean.”

  Sammy nodded.

  “Well, honey, I have cakes in the oven. I’ll bring you back a sample. I’m trying a new double-layer chocolate with strawberry buttercream.” Marilyn licked her lips. “I’ll let you get back to your display. I just love when you put the new merchandise inside the window. It always looks just darling.”

  “Sounds delicious. Anything from the Sweet Tooth is a welcome addition to my day.” Sammy admitted easily. “Thanks.”

  “Toodles!” Marilyn waved a few chubby fingers and, like a breeze, was out the door.

  Sammy finished the window display and gathered the collection of discarded items to organize inside the back storage room, all the while wondering if Larry was capable of murdering Ingrid Wilson. She knew he was considered the town drunk, but everyone seemed to look past his addiction and loved him just the same. Had he gone on a bender and killed Ingrid? Over the school board? It seemed unlikely. Or was it something deeper?

  Sammy returned her focus back to work. Most of the unsold winter items would have to go back to the artists to stockpile for the following winter as she just didn’t have the extra space to keep it all. The storage room was officially full. She would have to make some calls for pickup if she ever had a free minute.

  Sammy was looking for tags to price Miles’s latest items and couldn’t find them anywhere. She reached under the counter and instead found the curling ribbons that she tied on each paper bag for purchase. Her stack was desperately low, so she decided to replenish those first and then deal with the price tags. The ribbon was bunched and tangled, twisted and knotted. What a mess. She moved the lost and found box on top of the counter to inspect the ribbon stash further. Yep, there was even more tangle hidden behind where the box had been. After wrangling the ribbon loose, she rewound it before she would then cut six-inch strips to tie on the handle of each paper bag. As she was cutting the strips, an elderly woman approached the counter with her purchase. Her curly white head barely reached the top of the long wooden slab. Sammy momentarily stuffed the ball of ribbon aside.

  “Is that all for you today? Just the lavender soap?”

  “Yes, dear.”

  Sammy rang up the item on the cash register and smiled at the elderly customer. She placed the soap in a paper bag tied with purple ribbon and waited while the woman dug through her purse looking for payment. Her gnarled trembling fingers opened a long brown leather wallet and she handed Sammy a crisp ten-dollar bill.

  As Sammy was making change at the cash register, the woman began sifting through the lost and found box.

  “Did you lose something?” Sammy knew her customers and this woman, to her knowledge, hadn’t been in the craft room. “This is a lost and found box from the craft room. I usually keep it under the counter, but I was looking for something and set it here.” Sammy was about to take it away when the woman stopped her.

  “Wait a minute.” She put her gnarled hand onto Sammy’s so that she wouldn’t pull the box away. The woman removed the locket from the box. “This belongs to me.”

  The woman perplexed Sammy. She knew she’d only come into Community Craft less than a handful of times. And even then, she certainly hadn’t been inside the craft room. “I think you might be mistaken?” Sammy tried to be patiently gentle with the woman, but she was adamant.

  “No! It’s mine,” she said with certainty and clasped it to her heart.

  Sammy didn’t know what to make of the situation. The woman seemed so convinced it belonged to her. She decided to gently confront her with a question. “Okay, then. Tell me about the photograph.”

  The woman handed the necklace back to Sammy. “Would you please open it?” she rubbed her arthritic hands together as if to warm them. Sammy knew it must be impossible for her to open it herself, so she did as the woman asked but waited for her to describe the photo before handing it back.

  “It’s a black and white picture of my sister Olivia. She died in an automobile accident just after this photograph was taken.” She looked intently at Sammy. “I know because I took this picture.” She lifted her chin as if to dignify herself.

  Sammy didn’t know what to say. She was correct. The photo was black and white, but that could be just a good guess. After all, a photo encapsulated in an antique locket would very likely be black and white. “Are you sure? Was your sister alone in the picture?” Sammy tried to trip the woman to see if the woman was fibbing but couldn’t for the life of her understand why she would.

  “Yes, she’s alone in the picture, but she wasn’t alone in the car that killed her.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry for your loss. Was another relative driving with your sister?”

  “No. Ingrid Wilson was driving.”

  Sammy’s jaw fell along with the locket which she instantly dropped to the floor.

  Chapter Six

  Sammy had no other choice than to hand the locket over to the older woman. As soon as the necklace had touched the palm of her hand, she made a mad dash out of the store quicker than the Road Runner. Sammy would have thought this humanly impossible in her stoop-shouldered condition, but e
vidently not, as she was gone in an instant. Sammy shook her head in disbelief. Ingrid was driving a car that killed a woman’s sister?

  “Hey! Wake up!… Cara said you wanted to speak to me and told me to stop by?”

  Douglas, the owner of Liquid Joy, stood in front of the cash register, banging on the counter with an opened palm to gain her attention. Sammy was so lost in her thoughts about the woman and the necklace that, for the life of her, she had no idea when or how he had arrived.

  “Is everything okay with you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He readjusted the thin-rimmed dark glasses that framed his long face and scrunched them up on his nose for a clearer picture of her.

  “Yes,” Sammy shook her head as if to clear out the cobwebs in her brain. “Thanks for stopping in.”

  “Not a problem. What can I do for you?”

  “Were you working the coffee bar yesterday afternoon?”

  “Yes and no. You know me. I bounce.” The coffee shop owner lifted his thin frame up and down on his toes in demonstration. He adjusted his glasses again, this time with his middle finger. All his bouncing made him look like Tigger from Winnie-the-Pooh.

  Sammy smiled, “Yeah, I know the feeling. That’s how life is—in retail.”

  “Why do you want to know if I was working the coffee bar?”

  “It’s about Ingrid. When I discovered her yesterday, there was a full cup of coffee on the counter, and I know she doesn’t drink coffee … so I was just wondering … if you knew who it belonged to?” The words tumbled out like water over a waterfall.

  “Huh.” Douglas shrugged. “I really don’t know. Like I said, I bounce. If you want to know every customer that came in yesterday, I couldn’t tell you. We had many.” He shifted his weight and jutted out one hip. “And most do come in for the coffee. It is, after all, a coffee shop,” he teased as he threw out a hand dramatically. “I do sell the best coffee in town.”

  Sammy smiled and agreed with a nod of her head.

  “Did Coach stop in yesterday?”

  “Didn’t see him. I can imagine he’s taking this hard. Heck, his aunt barely got settled into Heartsford, and this happened! What a disgrace.”

  “I was just wondering if he was around here yesterday.”

  “What do you mean? You don’t think … Seriously, Sammy … you don’t think he killed his own aunt? Come on now.”

  “No, I don’t think that.” Sammy shook her head vigorously. “I think the police might think that though.”

  “Anyhow, I wouldn’t worry about it. Let the police handle it. They’ll sort it all out. We do have a new detective in town. The taxpayers insisted that Stan be replaced, and we paid to move the guy here. Let him do his job. Wouldn’t he have taken the cup for evidence? That is … if he thinks it’s necessary.”

  “Yes. I suppose.”

  “Listen, Nancy Drew. No one liked the woman. It’s a shame she passed. Indeed it is. Personally, I was getting pretty tired of hearing the hushed talk throughout my establishment about the havoc she was causing.”

  Sammy checked over each shoulder for customers and then leaned over the countertop, “Tell me.”

  “Come on, Sam. I know you’re not like that. Gossip is so not your thing.”

  “Okay. You can poke fun and call me Nancy Drew, but I’m the one who found her lifeless body.” Sammy pointed a thumb to her chest. “Doesn’t that make me the number one suspect?” she whispered, yet formed every word. “I’m not interested in gossip. I’m interested in finding out who killed the woman.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way.” His tone reached a higher octave. “Did you do it?”

  Sammy threw her hands to her hips; the look on her face was pure contempt. “Seriously?”

  “Well? You said it, Sam. Not me!” Douglas flicked a finger toward her.

  “Never mind,” she waved an annoyed hand as if to shoo him from her presence.

  “Listen … all I know is that tight knitting group of gals would sometimes meet at my coffee bar before classes over here in your little craft room.” He pointed to the glass room where crafters gathered. “They really had a problem with her. I don’t know exactly what the problem was, but maybe you can do your little investigating the next time they have a class,” he suggested.

  “Thanks for the tip,” Sammy said sincerely.

  “No problem. I’ll keep my ears open too. If I hear anymore chatter, I promise I’ll keep you posted.” The coffee shop owner nodded and then backed away from the counter and maneuvered through the racks toward the front door, physically bumping into Carter on his way out.

  Sammy overhead the two exchange apologies before a flushed Carter rushed toward her in his basketball uniform. “You didn’t listen to your messages this morning, did you?”

  “Nope. I got sidetracked. Thanks for reminding me. I probably should check them now.” Sammy turned her body toward the office and Carter trailed behind.

  “One was from me. I was hoping I could take the night off? Remember? You asked me to work after close to prepare for Spring Fling, but I can’t. Coach isn’t leading an extra practice, but the assistant coach is. You didn’t text me, so I thought you were mad at me for asking.”

  Sammy turned to the teen and placed a hand on his rosy cheek. “When are you going to learn, you can’t please everyone? You’re just like your father.” She smiled. “Don’t worry about it, we still have plenty of time before the big event.” She shooed him away. “Go.”

  He smiled wide. “Thanks.”

  As he started to leave, Sammy reached for his arm to hold him back. “How’s Coach?”

  “Haven’t seen him,” he said sullenly. “Assistant Dave’s been working us pretty hard. Says we have to win this championship for Coach. We’re going to do it. We have to.”

  “I’m sure you will. I’ll be there to cheer you on. Keep me posted on the game times so I can get Ellie in here to cover for me, okay?”

  “I will.” And with a wave of one hand, he jogged back toward the front door.

  Sammy pressed the play button on the answering machine to retrieve the morning messages she had avoided. “Hey, it’s Carter…”

  She hit the delete key with her index finger.

  “It’s Ellie. Tyler was up all night but doing better now. I don’t think we’ll make it into the store today. It’s a nap day. Sorry. Hope you’re okay. Call me back.”

  “This is Liam Nash from the Heartsford Police Department. I’d like to speak with you again. Please call me to set up an appointment.”

  Wonder what he wants? Sammy’s heart picked up a few extra beats. I hope he really believes I had nothing to do with Ingrid’s murder. He probably thinks I’ve avoided him all day. Great.

  “Hi, Samantha, this is Lynn from the Heartsford Credit Union. Stop in when you get a minute. I have a form that needs a signature on the Community Craft account. Somehow, I overlooked it on your refinance … We must have been talking too much and I missed it.” The banker chuckled “Anyway, no rush, hon, just when you get a minute. I’ll need it for the file.”

  “You have no more new messages.”

  Sammy decided to address the easiest first and returned Lynn’s call, letting her know she would stop in later in the week. The next call took a bit more courage. She inhaled a deep breath and then dialed the number to the police department where they connected her to the new detective in town.

  “Nash,” he said abruptly.

  “Hi. This is Samantha Kane from Community Craft. I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. I just checked my morning messages now.” She glanced at the clock and grimaced when she saw how late it was. The clock said five forty-five PM … Where had the day gone? Would he believe she was just checking her messages now?

  “Hello, Samantha. I thought you were avoiding me.”

  From the sound of his tone, Sammy wondered if he was kicked back in his chair with a pencil tapping on his desk. She watched way too many police shows on television, she thought suddenly.
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  “No. I run a pretty busy business over here.” She looked around the empty store and frowned at the unfilled space.

  “Do you have time now if I stop in the store?”

  “Sure. But try to be discrete if you can. The gossip storm is starting to build; soon we’ll have a full-fledged tornado. Would you mind entering through the back door? You can wait in my office if I have lingering customers,” Sammy offered.

  “Would you be more comfortable coming over to the station?”

  “No, it’s okay. I’m just about to close. Can you stop in at six or does that cut into your dinner hour?”

  She heard a slight laugh across the phone line, as if she’d said something funny.

  “I’ll see you soon,” Sammy said. She frowned at the headset before hanging up the phone. What did I say that’s so amusing?

  Chapter Seven

  Sammy flipped the sign on the front door to CLOSED and retreated toward the back of the shop to repeat the same procedure. She had previously decided she would catch up and stay a few extra hours after their usual six o’clock close every evening. This would allow uninterrupted time to prepare for Spring Fling, as well as a few hours of indulged silence. As she moved closer to the back door, she noticed Detective Liam Nash opening it.

  “Come on in,” she ushered him inside. “I’m just changing the signs, so we won’t be interrupted.” Sammy moved past him and locked the back door. The detective waited for her to lead him into the office where she sat at the small desk, and he took a seat on a metal folding chair beside it.

  “How’s the investigation going?” Sammy closed her laptop so she would not get sidetracked by the growing number of emails. She faced him squarely, giving Liam her undivided attention. “You don’t really think Coach had anything to do with Ingrid’s murder, do you?”