by Holly Quinn
One look at the oversized antique style clock that stood proudly on the sidewalk revealed that Sammy was late opening the store. Darn it. She had completely forgotten that the knitting group was meeting in the craft room at nine. After realizing that because of where her car was parked there was no way she’d be able to move it through the current crowd, Sammy decided she would have better luck walking the few blocks to Community Craft and returning to move her car later in the day. When she discovered she didn’t have her purse with her, she turned, and her eyes darted over the ground beneath her. She must have left it in the bank; she scurried back inside where Lynn was talking with the manager. Upon seeing her, she watched Lynn pluck Sammy’s brown leather purse from a locked drawer and rush to hand it to her.
“Thanks. In all the commotion, I misplaced it. I’m super late. Did we resolve all the paperwork issues? I can’t stay now since the knitting group is on their way…”
“It’s okay. I have everything I need for your file. I’ll see you soon, Samantha,” Lynn said in a saddened tone. She patted Sammy on the arm as they walked together toward the front of the bank. “Watch your back, okay? I know how you tend to involve yourself. Just be careful. The last thing I want to hear is that something happened to you too.”
Sammy smiled at Lynn and adjusted her thick leather purse strap on her shoulder before leaving the bank. Watch your back? Was that a friendly warning? For some reason, Lynn’s comments didn’t bring her comfort; instead, they left her feeling on edge. What happened to the community where people left their doors unlocked and trusted and loved each other? And shared life together? Now everyone was looking over their shoulders. The icky feeling wasn’t sitting well with her. As Sammy walked, she texted Carter: I’m here if you need to talk. She figured he would soon understand her cryptic text. It was only a matter of time before the news of Coach’s accident would fill the high school hallways. She also sent a text to Ellie and Heidi: Corner Grill—OUR table 7 PM tonight—be there girls! Tonight, she needed S.H.E. if only to pick their brains.
Two of the knitting group participants were standing by the front door of Community Craft waiting for Sammy to open. They were talking and laughing, not a care in the world. Oblivious, no doubt, to what had taken place on Main Street less than forty-five minutes ago; and Sammy wasn’t about to tell them.
“Good morning, ladies, sorry for the late start.” Sammy placed the key in the lock and opened the door for the two middle-aged women to enter ahead of her.
Annabelle Larson chewed her peppermint gum, working her jaw hard. She swiped wiry red curls away from her eyes with one hand. “I bet you haven’t been sleepin’ with what happened to Ingrid and all.” Annabelle elbowed her friend, Maria Boyle, who stopped and nodded her blonde head, though her hair didn’t move. Maria’s head, coated in a thick shellac of hairspray, looked as if she was wearing a swimming cap. They both suddenly dropped their amusement and instantly took on a more somber tone.
“I’m fine,” Sammy said. She knew there was no other way around this other than to plow right through. “I’m sure you’re both saddened by the news. Didn’t she occasionally join you for knitting group?”
Maria piped up. “Only twice. She didn’t really fit in with our tight group. You know how it is, for newcomers.” She added as if that were a proper excuse.
Sammy opened the interior craft room door and they piled in, their bags filled with multi-colored yarns and needles and partially knit creations hanging from their stash. The two rushed to drop their belongings on the table and Sammy decided she would have to make herself available when the rest of the group arrived. Douglas might be right. Someone knew more than they were sharing. She turned and walked out the craft room door and moved to the front of the store to flick the lights on in the shop and turn the CLOSED sign to OPEN and continued through her normal morning routine. Slowly the craft room was filling up and Sammy could hear the chatter and laughter leaking from the room. She decided to work on the merchandise closest to the door so she could listen in. It wouldn’t take long before the murder would be the hot topic of conversation. Of that she was certain.
As she took a feather duster and cleaned a nearby shelf to prepare it for merchandise, she strained her neck and reached to be in hearing range of the craft room.
“I guess we’re going to have to carpool. It’s awful to have The Yarn Barn closed. It’s at least forty miles to find natural skeins of yarn. It’s absolutely heartbreaking.”
“Yeah…” the group agreed in unison.
The knitting group was more concerned with natural fibers than the murder of Ingrid Wilson, evidently. Sammy thought that fact alone was very sad.
“Where’s Greta? Should we start without her? Has anyone heard from her?” The boisterous voice of Annabelle bellowed from the room.
Where was Greta Dixon? Sammy wondered. She was typically one of the first to arrive. She was also part of the quilting group. Had she come when they met the other day? Maybe she was just having difficulty committing to both with all the family drama swirling around her?
“I heard her brother’s in trouble again.”
“Ohhh. Nooo. What happened this time?”
Here we go, it’s already starting. The gossip train has arrived. How long did that take? All of fifteen seconds? Sammy chuckled to herself. She should have invited the detective to take part and listen in. Although if she had, the group would be as quiet as church mice. She leaned in closer. And then the guilt set in. She was just as bad as the rest of them. Well … not really. She did have a reason for eavesdropping. Someone had to find out who killed Ingrid Wilson. And why not her? She held her breath to hear.
“They’ve had a time and a half with that fella. Drugs. Once they start. Well, poor Greta.”
“Her mother has aged about ten years. She looks terrible. All the stress. Well, poor Greta’s just trying to keep her family from falling apart.”
“Poor thing.”
“Yeah, poor girl.”
Sammy lost her balance and fell into the room. Served her right. The room at once hushed and all eyes were fully upon her. “Sorry, ladies. Please get back to your knitting. Don’t let me interrupt those creative juices. I can’t wait to see those knitting formations you all are preparing for Spring Fling.” She smiled, trying to gain some sort of composure. As she began to retreat from the room, Sally Jefferson stopped her.
“We’re proud of how you’re handling yourself through all of this, Samantha,” she said from across the table. Her overlipsticked mouth came up in a bow. Heads bobbed in agreement. “It must be just awful with that last image of Ingrid in your mind.”
“Actually, I…” Sammy put a hand to her heart.
“Yes, dear, tell us…” Knitting needles instantly fell into the participant’s laps. All leaned toward Sammy, eyes alert, waiting expectantly.
Sammy slowly backed her way out of the room. “I’m great, ladies. Don’t worry about me. All good.” She smiled. “I have to get to the register.” She noticed a few customers forming in line and was filled with relief.
“Wait!” Annabelle Larson chimed in. “Do you know who did it? I mean … who killed her?”
“No. I…” Sammy stuttered. “I don’t.” She crossed the threshold and turned toward the cash register.
“God, Kate … a little help here?” she said under her breath to the ceiling as if talking to her deceased best friend was going to save her from the gossip in this tiny village.
Chapter Ten
The day moved quickly and before Sammy knew it, the afternoon painting group had already come and gone. Except for the teacher of the class, Deborah Morris. Sammy noticed her dainty friend, a former professional ballerina, still in the craft room gathering her supplies. She decided to pay her a quick visit.
“How’d class go today?” Sammy tucked her head inside the craft room door to catch Deborah collecting the last of the acrylic paint bottles from the middle of the table.
“It went great as always.
I always have an enjoyable time teaching class.” After placing the paint in a box, Deborah adjusted a strand of dark black hairs that had fallen from her neat bun with a bobby pin at the nape of her neck.
“Anything we can sell here at the store?”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” she giggled as she displayed one of her student’s creations with a graceful hand. “Does that look like an open rose to you? Or an oversized red cabbage?”
Sammy laughed and then shrugged. “Maybe not. Although, I guess art is subjective.”
Deborah placed the piece back on the table to dry. “I do have some spring glassware already painted to bring in. I noticed the display is getting low.” She nodded her head toward the display floor.
“Sounds good. I’ve been so busy getting ready for Spring Fling. You know, the store is usually jam-packed that day and I’m not even close to ready. I really need to make some phone calls and get additional merchandise in here. The winter stuff has to go.” Sammy said more to herself than her friend.
“I’d be happy to help. That is if you want my help? With the kids in school now, I’m sort of at a loss for what I should be doing with my time.” Deborah looked suddenly out of place as if she didn’t know where she belonged. It was obvious she missed her former profession on stage. “Teaching the painting classes is great. I’m just not sure it’s enough,” she admitted as she removed paint brushes from a mason jar filled with muddy colored water, dumped them all in a nearby sink and began to rinse them off.
Sammy breathed deep. “I just don’t know if I have the funds to pay you. With everything going on, though, Carter may be happy to give over some of his hours. He’s so busy with basketball, and especially now, being the team captain. Let me tell you, the last few days have been extremely hard on him.”
“Oh, I’m sure it has. Poor kid. First Ingrid, now the coach … That’s a lot to deal with for a guy his age.” Deborah agreed.
“Let me talk to him okay? Maybe we can work something out. And it would be fun! Us working together more would definitely add sunshine to my day.” Sammy smiled wide. The idea sounding increasingly encouraging.
A new light shone in Deborah’s eyes too. “Yes. Please talk to him. I think I’d really love it. You know, I have to work in a creative environment or I’ll just die.” She suddenly blushed and winced after she caught herself. “Oh! That was not the right thing to say this week. What an idiot I am.” Deborah slapped her forehead with one hand. “Sorry for being insensitive.”
Sammy shrugged the comment off and tried to diffuse Deborah’s concern. “Don’t worry about it at all. I know what you meant.”
“It really is unbelievable. I never thought we’d have that type of crime happen here in Heartsford,” her hand fluttered to her heart.
“I hear you.” Sammy sighed.
“Do you think the police know who did it?”
Sammy shrugged. “If they do, they’re pretty tight-lipped about it.”
“I’ve heard chitchat from other school parents. Apparently, Larry and Ingrid had issues between them. That doesn’t make him a killer. I’m just sayin’…”
Sammy nodded. “I’ve heard that. What kind of issues? Do you know? I mean, why would Ingrid want his school board position? Seems unlikely for a woman that didn’t even have kids.”
“Honestly? I try hard not to involve myself. The women I volunteer with at the school get into a lot of trouble by insinuating and over sharing. I try and avoid it like the plague.” Deborah took the rinsed brushes and set them back inside the clean mason jar right-side-up to dry. She then tucked them neatly underneath the sink in an open cabinet.
Sammy could only imagine.
Deborah glanced at the clock on the wall. “I better get going. Supper doesn’t make itself, and I have two hungry boys to feed and a husband. I haven’t even been to the grocery store yet to get the fixings.” She stuffed the rest of her belongings in a canvas bag and tossed it over a slender shoulder. “I’ll leave the painted glass by the back door or in the storeroom if that’s okay? It’s already priced and ready to go on display.”
“Okay, I’ll get out of your way. I’ll talk to Carter and let you know soon. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“Yeah, you too!” It seemed as if Deborah had a lighter skip to her step after their conversation. Sammy was glad they’d had a few moments to chat.
When Deborah returned to drop off the painted glasses, Sammy left the register and decided to unpack the box and display the new spring merchandise right away. It was time she got on the ball, or she wouldn’t be prepared for Spring Fling. There was a lull in the store crowds, so no time like the present she decided. Customers expected fresh new merchandise for the event every year, so she needed to stay focused. Sammy unwrapped the glass plates first. Each plate was finely painted with daisies, hydrangea, and roses. Deborah sure had talent. The items were beautiful. Next, she unwrapped stemware that complimented each glass plate. She placed them neatly on a shelf and continued the task until the box was empty. After tossing the empty box in the storeroom, Sammy wandered over to the counter, checked her phone, and noticed Carter had texted that he wouldn’t be in the rest of the week. She would have to talk to him soon. Hiring Deborah just might work out perfectly. She’d have to take a keen look at the budget and just make it work. As she was stepping away from the counter, her phone beeped a text again. It was from Heidi: S.H.E. at 7 our table—you bet. The S.H.E. reference was interesting. Heidi must have news about the coach or something to do with Ingrid’s murder. Sammy could hardly wait until dinner to find out.
Chapter Eleven
The dimly lit eatery emitted tantalizing scents as Sammy pulled open the heavy door to the Corner Grill. She maneuvered her way toward the back of the restaurant to the richly stained oak booth where she always met with her sister and cousin. Ellie was already comfortably seated in the corner. She set down her cell phone and waved as Sammy approached.
“Heidi just texted. She’s running a few minutes late. She said to go ahead and order appetizers to hold us over until she gets here. Are you hungry or do you want to wait?”
Sammy smiled at her sister. She noticed Ellie had gotten a little rest. Either that, or she had done a great cover-up job with her makeup. Her hair was neatly pulled back, and her lips were perfectly glossed. “It’s up to you. How’s Tyler feeling?” Sammy removed her coat, hung it on her arm until she slid into the deep bench, and then set it aside.
“Much better.” Ellie breathed deep. “Thank God. I couldn’t handle another night like that one. It was pretty rough.”
“Good to hear. Give him a hug from his Aunty Sammy when you get home.” She moved the paper placemat displaying a Wisconsin map and cutlery to the side to give her more room at the table until the food arrived. “I’m glad we can finally catch up. Just us girls. It’s been a long time since we all met for dinner.” Sammy noticed Marilyn sitting across from someone a few tables over. “Sorry, can you excuse me for just one sec?”
Ellie shrugged and then plucked her cell phone from the table and started scrolling.
“One minute, I promise.” Sammy held up a finger as she slid from the bench and made her way over to Marilyn’s table. She stood for a moment in awkward silence. “Sorry to interrupt.” Marilyn’s eyes lifted from the menu. “I just wanted to tell you that your cake was amazing,” Sammy said honestly. “Maybe the best recipe yet. It will be perfect for Spring Fling. Not only that, I think you should consider it for the everyday menu at Sweet Tooth. Thanks for letting me be one of the first to try it. I’m honored.”
Marilyn set the menu on the table and clasped her hands in delight. “Thank you, darlin’, for sharing that with me.” She turned her attention to her longtime business partner across the table. Word on the street was that Marilyn was interested in taking their relationship a little deeper than business, but he was dragging his feet. “Isn’t that so nice, Benjamin?”
Benjamin placed the menu on the table and turned to Sammy. �
��It certainly doesn’t surprise me. Look what this gal built.” He put his hands on his belly that was almost touching the edge of the table. The middle-aged man scarcely had room to move in the booth.
“I get blamed for everything,” Marilyn waved a hand of disgust toward her business partner. “Never mind him, sweetheart.”
“I don’t want to interrupt you further. I noticed you sitting over here and just wanted to share my appreciation for the lovely cake. Enjoy your dinner.” Sammy bowed her head slightly and then made a quick escape back to the corner booth. The waitress was standing at the table taking an order from Ellie. Sammy was surprised she’d never seen her before.
“Drink?” Ellie asked.
“Sure, I’ll have the same. Glass of Pinot?” The new waitress turned to retrieve the drinks, and Sammy stopped her. “Can we add an order of mozzarella sticks too?”
She added it to the drink menu and skirted from the table.
“New waitress?”
“Yeah, I guess so. They sure pack in a crowd here.” Ellie switched gears. “Everything okay with Marilyn?”
“Yeah, she gave me a new cake to try. A chocolate recipe with strawberry frosting. Quite good. You should try it. I think she’s going to offer it as a specialty item for Spring Fling. I had to thank her.”
“You get all the sweet treats,” Ellie said with a hint of envy.
“One of the benefits of working in town, I guess.” Sammy looked up at the wall. Old-time pictures of Heartsford peppered the walls, giving a reminiscent flair. “I wonder if Grandpa is in any of these photos? I never really think to look when I’m in here. We’re always so busy gabbing.”
Ellie set her phone down on the table and ignored the nostalgia. “Did you hear about the basketball coach? It’s all over Facebook.”