by Nancy Warren
“No. It was a terrible shock to see her there. And I watched her pawing at Teddy. And then at that book signing, fluttering around every man there. She was like vermin. She had to be destroyed.”
“How did you get the key to get into my shop?”
“They were lying about everywhere. Neatly labeled too. I took the cameraman’s key.”
The burly cameraman said sheepishly, “So that’s where the key went. Blimey, I thought I’d lost it.”
The glance Molly sent him suggested there would be retribution later for his carelessness in not reporting the key missing. I saw Becks make a note.
I continued, “And then you followed Teddy, waiting for your chance to steal his phone.”
She shook her head. “No. I was going to slip a note under Enid’s door at the hotel. That was going to be the most difficult part, getting her to believe Teddy had written the note and then making sure I got it back again so no one would suspect me.” She seemed relieved now that she was talking. “But when I got to the hotel, Teddy was there. In the bar, having a beer.” She glanced over at him. “You didn’t even notice me there. I watched until you went to the toilet, and then it was easy enough to slip your phone out of your pocket.”
Teddy looked very disappointed in Margot. “I trusted you. You were my star.”
“I’m sorry. I sent the text and put the phone back in your pocket before you even returned. No one noticed. No one ever does notice me.”
Ian formally arrested Margot Dodeson. As she was led away by a female officer, Gunnar said, “At least she knows how to knit. It will pass the time in prison.”
Ryan let out a breath. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I need a drink. Let’s go to the pub.”
“Perhaps it is better if I do not come,” Gunnar—no, Sven said.
Helen put her hand on his shoulder. “We all have parts of our past we’d redo if we could. Come on, Sven.”
Once more, everyone headed for the pub. Minus Margot Dodeson.
Chapter 22
The film crew had cleared everything from my shop, and I was putting things back in order before opening in the morning. The fate of the TV show was in limbo. The producers needed to decide whether to go ahead, knowing the behind-the-scenes drama would draw viewers, or whether to cancel.
Teddy was all for going ahead, of course. He was firmly in the no publicity is bad publicity camp. Molly agreed with him, but it wouldn’t be her decision.
I didn’t really have an opinion. My shop was a normal knitting and yarn shop once more, and I was happy to have it that way. I liked Teddy, but I’d replaced the poster. Becks had come by with a thank you gift for me. They’d blown up one of the stills of Nyx curled up in her basket, surrounded by colorful wools, looking particularly adorable.
Nyx was happily snoozing in the front window, even now, in a similar pose.
The Oxford newspaper sat on the cash desk. The sensational murder and arrest were front page news. Margot wouldn’t have a trial. She’d confessed to the crime and would be sentenced, soon. I’d been partly right about the murder weapon. She hadn’t used one of her husband’s tools to kill Enid, as he’d taken them all when he moved out.
Instead, she’d taken an ornamental stone frog from the garden. She’d told the police it had been the first gift her husband had given her when they’d moved into their home. After dispatching Enid Selfe, she’d returned the frog to its accustomed spot. Police had found traces of the murdered woman’s blood on the frog.
Satisfied that all was in order, in my shop and in the small world of Harrington Street, I thought I’d walk up to the corner market to get something for dinner, now I was no longer staying with Rafe. I found I missed him, and I definitely missed William’s cooking.
When I stepped outside, I felt something gritty under my feet. I looked down and saw a line of small crystals scattered across the threshold. I leaned down and picked up a pinch between my finger and thumb. It looked like sand, but I was fairly certain I’d seen this substance before. It was Dead Sea salt.
I went back inside and walked around the shop investigating, and sure enough, there were traces of salt all the way around the perimeter. I picked up my phone and immediately called Margaret Twigg before I could think better of it. “What did you do to my shop?”
“And hello to you, too, Lucy,” she said in a condescending tone. “As I recall, what I did in your shop was relieve it of a lingering ghost.”
“Not that. Why is there salt across my threshold and around all the edges of the shop?”
“You found it, did you? You’re coming along.”
I felt hot and irritable and uninterested in bandying words with Margaret Twigg. I didn’t say anything, just waited. Finally she said, “Relax, Lucy. It’s a protection spell. Lavinia asked me to do it, since her granddaughter works in Cardinal Woolsey’s. When she discovered that a longtime customer was a murderer, well, who’s to say there aren’t more of them? Best to be on the safe side.”
“But you used Dead Sea salt. I thought you used that to get rid of the spirits of the dead.”
“Dead Sea salt is wonderful stuff. Multipurpose. You should get yourself some. You can buy it online.”
I knew what she could do with her protection spell. As soon as I got her off the phone, I grabbed the wooden-handled wicker broom that stood in the corner and began sweeping the salt toward the door. I heard a shriek behind me and turned to find my grandmother standing there. “Lucy! What are you doing?”
I would have thought my action was self-evident. “Sweeping up.”
“Be very careful, dear. You need a spell and the right intent, or you’ll sweep out all the good energy instead of the bad.”
“Are you kidding me? Can’t a broom just be a broom?”
“Not when you’re special.”
Gran come toward me and took the broom out of my hands. “Lucy, dear. You are a witch, and that is a very ancient broom. It was mine and my mother’s before me and hers before her.” She didn’t say any more, just looked at me with a penetrating gaze.
I looked at the broom and then at her. “You’re not seriously trying to tell me that I could fly on that thing?”
“Well, not without a lot of practice. And certainly not with that attitude.”
“Unbelievable.” Every time I turned around, some other cliché was coming true. Witches cast spells and sprinkled salt across thresholds. I had a black cat who was a familiar. And now my grandmother was telling me I could fly on a broom?
I really needed to sit down.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“These things come to us when we’re ready. That broom will stay in the corner until you need it. Just be careful. I wouldn’t use it for regular cleaning.”
And she put it back in the corner. Nyx walked over to the corner and sniffed the broom, then looked at me like a dog ready to jump in the car and go for a ride.
“Oh, no,” I said. “I’ll tell you one thing. You are never getting me on one of those things.”
Nyx stared at me with her golden eyes and did not look convinced.
I hope you enjoyed Lace and Lies. Read on for a sneak peek of Bobbles and Broomsticks, Vampire Knitting Club Book 8.
A Note from Nancy
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading the Vampire Knitting Club series. I am so grateful for all the enthusiasm this series has received. I have plenty more stories about Lucy and her undead knitters planned for the future.
I hope you’ll consider leaving a review and please tell your friends who like cozy mysteries.
Review on Amazon, Goodreads or BookBub.
Your support is the wool that helps me knit up these yarns. Turn the page for a sneak peek of Bobbles and Broomsticks, Book 8 of the Vampire Knitting Club.
Until next time,
Happy Reading,
Nancy
Bobbles and Broomsticks
© 2019 Nancy Warren
Chapter 1
St. John the Divine church was originally Norman, built around 1200 according to local historians. Over time it had been patched up, propped up and bits of it rebuilt, but its heart was ancient. Walking in on a warm September day I felt the sudden chill as the stone walls surrounded me. I thought of coffins and stone mausoleums which made me shiver, thankful for the blue hand-knit cardigan my undead grandmother had made for me. I wore it over a blue and white linen dress and sandals.
Soon my momentary chill was dispelled as three giggling women entered behind me. First came Alice Robinson who worked at Frogg’s Books across the road from Cardinal Woolsey’s, my wool and knitting shop. An excellent knitter, Alice sometimes taught knitting classes for me. Now she was marrying Charlie Wright, the owner of Frogg’s Books. I was to be a bridesmaid at their upcoming wedding. She and Charlie were getting married in this very church and we were here to plan the decorations. Flower arrangements for the front of the church and pew bows were both allowed. With Alice was my cousin Violet who was a witch, like me, and Alice’s friend from school, Beatrice.
After stopping at the church, we were heading to the bridal shop for our final dress fittings. Beatrice had an art degree and ideas about how the flowers should be. Alice was happy to let her make the decorating decisions which left me free to wander around the church. I tried to make out the names of people memorialized in stone on the church floor, but time and footsteps had all but obliterated the old ones. The pews were wooden and featured needlepointed cushions, faded with time, for the faithful to sit on.
I wandered around, my sandals scraping on the flagstones, peering at the stone font, the tattered war banners, the memorials set into the wall that were easier to read as no one had stepped on them. Here was one to Henry Herbert, landowner and his wife Ann who both died in 1678. I moved on to read the next one and felt the ground beneath me shift. Constance Crosyer 1538 to 1608, beloved wife of Sir Rafe Crosyer, 1528 to 1610. My heart began to thump and my breath came in quick gasps.
“Lucy?” It was Violet calling me and she sounded as though she were far away. “Lucy, what is it?” I breathed deep and schooled my face to calmness before turning. Beloved wife of Rafe Crosyer. What was wrong with me? In all these centuries of course Rafe had been married. Probably many times. Beloved. Would he one day use that word about me?
I walked back to where the three women stood now in front of the altar. “This is where we’ll stand,” Alice explained. We already knew the order of bridesmaids. First me, then Vi, and then Beatrice who was maid of honor. Alice was a sensible, practical woman, but today she seemed filled with romance and whimsy. She glanced at us, her eyes dancing. “Shall we practice the walk up the aisle?”
“But there’s a proper rehearsal tomorrow,” I reminded her. I wanted to get out of this place where Constance would always be beloved and where Rafe had once pretended to be dead.
“Don’t be a killjoy, Lucy,” Violet chided me. I looked at the three happy faces, as eager as little girls to play brides and bridesmaids.
“Fine, of course,” I said.
“Thank you. I feel so sure I’ll trip over one of the flagstones,” Alice admitted. “I want to keep practicing.”
“You’ll be fine,” Violet said. I saw her lips move and knew she was casting a spell, making sure Alice’s path was smooth as she walked up the aisle.
We took our places and Beatrice, who turned out to be a singer as well as an artist, began to sing, in a full, rich soprano, “Here comes the bride.”
“Lucy, go,” Violet ordered, “And remember to smile,” as though she were the wedding planner. Still, I did as I was told. I pictured all the people in the pews and walked slowly up the aisle in time to the singing. I held an imaginary bouquet in front of me. When I reached the altar I stopped and turned. Violet was already on the move. She also held an imaginary bouquet and she smiled as though a photographer was going to capture the moment for the front page of a bridal magazine.
As she grew closer, I heard a sound above, like a creaking door. I looked up but all I saw was thick wooden beams stretching across and above supporting the stone roof. When she reached me, I said, “Did you hear that?”
“What? Lucy, you’re as nervous as a mouse in a cattery.”
“You didn’t hear a creaking noise?”
“No. I heard Beatrice singing. Pull yourself together.”
Before Beatrice reached us, walking up the aisle while still singing, I whispered, “On the wall over there is a memorial stone to Rafe’s wife, Constance, and it mentioned Sir Rafe Crosyer’s date of death. 1610.”
She nodded. “What choice did he have? He couldn’t stay here forever, not aging. Once his wife passed away, he left these parts. He was gone a very long time.”
“He must have loved her very much.”
Vi leaned in closer. “She was one of us.”
“You mean?”
“Yes, Lucy. Rafe’s first wife, Constance Crosyer was a witch.”
I glanced up again. Maybe Constance was the one groaning, warning me to stay away from her husband.
Order your copy today! Bobbles and Broomsticks is Book 8 in the Vampire Knitting Club series.
LACE AND LIES, Vampire Knitting Club Book 7, Copyright © 2019 by Nancy Warren
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
ISBN: ebook 978-1-928145-60-8
ISBN: print 978-1-928145-59-2
Cover Design by Lou Harper of Cover Affair
Also by Nancy Warren
The best way to keep up with new releases, plus enjoy bonus content and prizes is to join Nancy’s newsletter at nancywarren.net
Vampire Knitting Club
The Vampire Knitting Club - Book 1
Stitches and Witches - Book 2
Crochet and Cauldrons - Book 3
Stockings and Spells - Book 4
Purls and Potions - Book 5
Fair Isle and Fortunes - Book 6
Lace and Lies - Book 7
Bobbles and Broomsticks - Book 8
Toni Diamond Mysteries
Toni is a successful saleswoman for Lady Bianca Cosmetics in this series of humorous cozy mysteries. Along with having an eye for beauty and a head for business, Toni's got a nose for trouble and she's never shy about following her instincts, even when they lead to murder.
Frosted Shadow - Book 1
Ultimate Concealer - Book 2
Midnight Shimmer - Book 3
A Diamond Choker For Christmas - A Toni Diamond Mysteries Novella
The Almost Wives Club
An enchanted wedding dress is a matchmaker in this series of romantic comedies where five runaway brides find out who the best men really are!
The Almost Wives Club: Kate - Book 1
Second Hand Bride - Book 2
Bridesmaid for Hire - Book 3
The Wedding Flight - Book 4
If the Dress Fits - Book 5
Take a Chance series
Meet the Chance family, a cobbled together family of eleven kids who are all grown up and finding their ways in life and love.
Kiss a Girl in the Rain - Book 1
Iris in Bloom - Book 2
Blueprint for a Kiss - Book 3
Every Rose - Book 4
Love to Go - Book 5
The Sheriff's Sweet Surrender - Book 6
The Daisy Game - Book 7
Chance Encounter
- Prequel
Take a Chance Box Set - Prequel and Books 1-3
For a complete list of books, check out Nancy’s website at nancywarren.net
About the Author
Nancy Warren is the USA Today Bestselling author of more than 70 novels. She’s originally from Vancouver, Canada, though she tends to wander and has lived in England, Italy and California at various times. While living in Oxford she dreamed up The Vampire Knitting Club. She currently splits her time between Bath, UK, where she often pretends she’s Jane Austen. Or at least a character in a Jane Austen novel, and Victoria, British Columbia where she enjoys living by the ocean. Favorite moments include being the answer to a crossword puzzle clue in Canada’s National Post newspaper, being featured on the front page of the New York Times when her book Speed Dating launched Harlequin’s NASCAR series, and being nominated three times for Romance Writers of America’s RITA award. She has an MA in Creative Writing from Bath Spa University. She’s an avid hiker, loves chocolate and most of all, loves to hear from readers! The best way to stay in touch is to sign up for Nancy’s newsletter at www.nancywarren.net.
To learn more about Nancy and her books
www.nancywarren.net