A Crafter Quilts a Crime

by Holly Quinn

“Yeah, I’ll definitely pass on the message if I see her.”

  Sammy’s eyes returned to Main Street. Lynn was juggling her quilt bag and a large thermos as she stepped out of her car and shut the car door with her hip. Sammy opened the front door of Community Craft, and a bluster of cold air instantly hit her in the face, replacing her overtired condition with a jolt. Cheryl slipped back outside with a wave of her hand.

  “You made it!” Sammy held the door wide so Lynn could step inside without dropping any of her gear.

  “Yeah, and I hope everyone shows this evening, because I brought hot cocoa and homemade chocolate-chip cookies to share. Since the credit union was closed this morning and I didn’t have to go in to work today, I needed something to keep me from getting cabin fever. It was sure nice to have a surprise day off and a rare chance to return to the kitchen and bake. Moderation is key.” She grinned. “Keeping the sugar close in proximity will never do, though. I have zero discipline, so I brought them in to share.” She lifted the bags to display the loot she’d brought.

  Lynn had worked so hard on losing weight and exercising with the local Jazzercise group that she’d literally transformed into someone unrecognizable to her former self. Sammy could understand why she wouldn’t want to leave tempting treats at home.

  “That is so kind of you to bring homemade goodies to share. I’m sure we’ll all enjoy the fruits of your labor.” She returned the smile.

  “Do you think it’s okay to park there?” Lynn nodded her head in the direction of Main Street.

  Sammy followed the direction of her gaze to see Lynn’s car tucked into the side of the snowbank. “I think you’re just fine there. The plow went through recently; it’ll be a while before they do another sweep in town, I think.”

  Eleanor was next to arrive and bustled through the front door behind Lynn. She plucked the hand-knit hat that Sammy recognized as a hot seller from Community Craft off her head. She combed her hand though her thick short silver hair and said, “Oh, was I glad to get out of the house tonight! I was afraid you were going to cancel. If I’d had to spend the entire evening arguing with Paul about what program to watch on TV, I think I would’ve gone mad! I’m sick to death of his nature shows. Besides the fact that he’s always asking me to bring him something.” She made her voice deep and low and mimicked, “‘Honey can you make popcorn? How about some Rice Krispy treats? What do we have to eat around here?’ As if his own legs are broken, which I assure you they are not.” Eleanor rolled her eyes. “Oh, I don’t think you realize how this craft shop has saved my marriage. Men and retirement. Not for the faint of heart,” she laughed as she placed her quilt bag on the floor.

  “Hey, guess what? I brought homemade treats! So instead of waiting on Paul, I’ve got something special for you tonight. How about that?” Lynn cajoled over her shoulder. “Come, let me pour you a cup of my rich hot cocoa.”

  The two headed off toward the interior craft room to settle in, and Sammy waited by the closed front door to see if others would show or if they’d have a skeleton crew. She was adjusting scarves on a nearby rack that’d been left in disarray when a man approached the door and gave it a hard tug. Apparently he had expected the door to be locked. He stepped inside, shadowing Sammy with his large frame.

  “Oh good, you’re open!” He stomped his wet boots on the welcome mat.

  “Well, technically not; we’re here for a quilt meeting.” Sammy lifted a hand and gestured toward the interior craft room. “But is there something special you’re looking for? I’d be happy to help you quickly, before we get started.” Sammy abandoned the scarves and returned to the front door to greet him.

  “I hear you sell local honey here. The wife’s home with a sore throat, and she said Community Craft honey with a bit of lemon is the best cure. In her mind, everything from the pharmacy is lethal poison.” He chuckled and threw up his hands in defeat.

  Sammy led him to the shelf where she kept the jars of local honey, and supplies were pretty sparse. “Lucky for you, we have a few jars left. Otherwise, you’d have to wait for the restock, which won’t be until next harvest.”

  “When would that be?” he asked, adjusting the winter cap on his head.

  “Harvest is late summer, but sometimes my vendors don’t bring it in to sell until early fall. Is that all you need?” Sammy asked, moving behind the cash register.

  “That’d be it.” He smiled, removing his winter gloves to reach in his back pocket for payment. He fished through his wallet and handed her a credit card.

  Sammy ran the card through the machine and took a quick look at the name: Adam Boyd. Her heart skipped in her chest.

  “Adam?” Her eyes narrowed in question as she handed him back the card and the printed receipt for him to sign.

  “Ah, yeah?” he said as he took a nearby pen and quickly signed the receipt.

  Sammy braced her hands and leaned into the counter. “You and Marty are friends, right? Do you know where he is?” she whispered. She looked down and noted the Smoky Mountains key chain dangling from his car keys.

  Adam tossed the signed receipt across the counter and turned toward the exit. “I need to hurry; the wife’s waiting in the car out front.” He quickly grabbed his keys, strode toward the front door, and threw it open. Sammy followed him, her mouth agape, wishing she’d known just a few minutes earlier who it was who’d entered the shop so she could’ve asked him some pointed questions. Not to mention, she’d caught him in a lie. First he’d said his wife was waiting for him at home, and then suddenly she was outside waiting in the car? Why would he lie?

  Soon more figures appeared, and she pushed the door open and held it wide as Mary, Gertie, and Barb trickled through the front door, chatter bubbling between them. So deep were the three in conversation, they barely acknowledged Sammy holding the door for them.

  Sammy turned to gaze at the clock again. It was quarter past the hour, but she could understand why the last two might be late. She abandoned the front door momentarily and headed for the craft room to join the others.

  This was the first time the group would be meeting since Wanda’s passing. She shivered at the thought of how fleeting life could be and wondered how they’d all feel with an obviously missing person at their craft table. It would feel strange gathering without Wanda for sure.

  When Sammy entered the craft room, she leaned her hands on the edge of the table, and when the group looked up at her expectantly, she met each of their eyes.

  “How’s everyone doing tonight?”

  “It’s going to take us a few more times getting together before we feel normal again,” Eleanor admitted as all eyes turned to the empty chair beside her. Out of habit, each member of the quilt group always sat in the same place. For all of them, Wanda’s chair had become an obvious hole.

  “I know. Maybe we should all shift where we usually sit? Would that help if we change things up a bit?” Sammy suggested.

  Gertie piped up. “I’m not moving. I’ve been sitting in this spot for the last three years, and this is where I’ll stay,” she said firmly. “Besides, when I croak, which could be any day now, I want you all to miss me taking up space in this ol’ chair.” She clicked her fingernail along the table as if to mark her spot.

  This caused a light chuckle within the room.

  Sammy knew Gertie was trying to be funny and lighten the mood within the glass walls. “Okay, Gertie, you can stay right there. Anyone else?” It seemed her suggestion fell on deaf ears. “How about we share a few Wanda memories for a minute. Maybe that will help us come to grips with our loss here.” Sammy pointed to the empty chair. “Who wants to go first?”

  “What really happened to her?” Eleanor asked as she fluffed her silver hair with her fingers. “She seemed, out of all of us, the one in the best shape,” she added with a grunt. “I guess my shot of whiskey at night before bed is good for the old bod after all.” She leaned back, rubbed her abdomen, made eye contact with Gertie, and winked. “Screw what the doctor s
uggests; he knows nothin’,” she added out the side of her mouth.

  No one answered the question of what had happened to Wanda, and Sammy was not going to be the one to spill the beans. She remained quiet.

  Lynn raised a timid hand. “I just loved Wanda. Not only because she was in our quilt group, but she also helped me so much with my sciatica. She taught me exercises that really made a difference in my life. I sit so much behind a desk at work, some days my back pain became literally unbearable. She really helped me with that.”

  A few heads nodded sullenly in agreement.

  “Can anyone think of any reason Wanda would feel a sense of guilt in her life?” Sammy had to ask. She didn’t think she could wait another second to ask the question burning in her mind regarding the rhyme she had found within the batting of Wanda’s quilt.

  “Guilty?” Barb squished her nose as if she’d gotten a whiff of bad fish. “Over what?”

  Sammy quickly recovered by saying, “You know, when someone as young as Wanda dies, it makes you take inventory of your own life. I guess I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching as of late … and well, I have a few regrets,” she admitted.

  That seemed to appease Barb, and she nodded her curly brown head in agreement as she removed her reading glasses from the case and put them on. “I know she didn’t have reason to be guilty … but that husband of hers. What a jerk!” she said under her breath as she tucked the glasses case into her bag. “I never liked him for her. She was way too good for him, in my opinion.”

  All eyes landed on Barb, silently urging her to continue with the can of worms she had just opened.

  “What? Don’t look so surprised. Don’t you all remember?” Barb asked, viewing them over the top of her reading glasses. “She almost had to stop coming to our meetings because her husband was accusing her of having an affair. Don’t you remember, he came in here a few times to see for himself that there was really a quilt meeting going on? Give me a break.” She uttered under her breath, “Way too controlling for me.”

  Gertie waved a hand of dismissal. “That was several years ago! I thought that was water under the bridge between them.”

  Barb leaned into the table and pushed her glasses up on her nose. “Wanda told me that was the reason why she no longer worked at the manufacturing plant off Sumner Street. She had a great job in the HR department and then took quite a financial hit to teach yoga. All for that jerk, because he thought she was cheating on him with someone at work, but she wasn’t.” Barb’s face twisted in disgust. “Then she really depended on him financially. She couldn’t get out of that marriage even if she wanted to.”

  “I hadn’t heard that’s why she started teaching yoga over at the rec center. She seemed pretty tight-lipped about her personal life around me,” Sammy admitted.

  Nods of agreement around the table made her feel like she wasn’t alone in that regard.

  “I’ll be right back, ladies.” Sammy decided to return to the front door to see if the last two in the group had arrived.

  Instead, her attention was diverted by a familiar figure beneath the streetlamp across the street, causing her to do a double take. She peered out the glass for a better look and noted Detective Nash holding the door for a woman, who stepped into Liquid Joy in front of him. The image took her breath away. Who was this unknown woman? Were they together? Or had they just happened to walk into the coffee shop at the same time? Curiosity won out and she had to know. Sammy turned on her heel and moved with purpose back to the interior craft room. She took a step over the threshold and said, “I’m going across the street to grab a coffee. Anyone want anything?”

  “But I brought cocoa.” Lynn pointed to the large thermos. The banker was in the process of filling Styrofoam cups with a deliciously scented liquid chocolate.

  “I didn’t get much sleep last night. I think I need something a little stronger,” Sammy admitted easily. “But I’ll be sure to buy a large coffee and dump some so I can add your delicious hot chocolate to it. It smells heavenly, by the way.”

  Lynn smiled with satisfaction and continued to pour.

  “Anyone?”

  The group all waved her off as if she were crazy. And she might be. Why was she so desperate to find out who Liam was with? Her heart skipped a beat as a sudden rush of adrenaline pumped through her veins. They’d had words just a few short hours ago, and he was already keeping company with another woman? Didn’t seem to take him long. Since the detective had moved to Heartsford, Sammy had never heard rumblings around town that he was keeping company with another woman or dating. She’d always assumed it was because he wasn’t ready after losing Brenda. Well, by golly, he certainly seemed ready now!

  Instead of retreating to her office for her coat, she decided on a mad dash across the street. She flung open the front door of Community Craft, stepped out into the rush of cold, and navigated the piled snow left over from the plow to make her way across the street.

  Main Street looked like a ghost town. The street was devoid of cars, to the point of seeming eerie. It appeared as if the entire town was hunkered down for the evening—except, of course, for her quilting group, and evidently the lead detective of Heartsford with his new lady friend.

  Sammy shivered as she stepped inside the warmth of Liquid Joy. Her eyes darted across the space until they landed on the owner, Douglas, standing behind the counter. He waved when he saw her.

  “Good evening, Sam. What’s got you out and about? I thought for sure Community Craft would be closed this evening. You’re open?” He adjusted his dark-rimmed glasses and studied her.

  “Quilting meeting tonight and no one wanted to cancel, including me. I guess the members were feeling a little cooped up and decided we should still meet.” Sammy stifled another yawn. “Can I get a large coffee to go, but leave a little room on the top, will you?”

  “Sure, coming right up.”

  The barista reached for the coffee machine, and Sammy turned from the counter to see Detective Nash seated by the window overlooking Main Street. He was sitting with the unidentified woman, whose back was to her. When the detective saw her studying them, he smiled and lifted a hand in greeting. At least he was mature enough not to ignore her after they’d had intense words. He’d officially broken the ice. Now she felt she had no choice. If she didn’t approach the table and say hello, she’d be rude. But if she did approach the table, she’d be nosy. Either way, she didn’t like the odds. She finally settled on nosy.

  “Douglas, I’ll be right back.” She reached into her pocket for a five-dollar bill and placed it on the counter.

  “Hello,” Sammy said cautiously after she’d maneuvered her way around several empty tables to land at the edge of the detective’s table seated with his unfamiliar guest.

  “Samantha, what brings you out this blustery evening?” he said professionally, as if they’d never had an intimate conversation in their lives. The sudden stiffness surprised her. She hated that he was acting different with her in public. Only when they were alone did he seem to let down his guard and show himself. It irked her.

  “Quilting meeting.”

  “Ah,” he said, and then finally gestured his hand to the woman sitting across from him. “Ginger Davenport … meet Sammy Kane. The one I told you about.”

  The way he said the one I told you about officially set the tone. Sammy’s eyes narrowed.

  “Oh,” Ginger said with a hint of amusement. “So you’re the one.”

  “Am I missing something?” Sammy finally asked, after a long pause with four eyes on her. She looked closer at the woman, whose hair matched her name perfectly. Her deep russet hair was secured at the nape of her neck in a low ponytail, and her hazel eyes were penetrating.

  “Ginger works with the FBI,” Detective Nash said, returning Sammy’s attention to him. She noted his eye flicker. Was that a hint of warning in his eye?

  “Welcome to Heartsford,” Sammy said dryly.

  “Thank you. I wish I had a chance to peruse
this charming town.” Her eyes momentarily gazed out the window and then returned to Sammy. “Unfortunately, it looks like we’ll be burning the midnight oil. Despite the circumstances, I’m happy Liam and I have a chance to reconnect,” Ginger said as her eyes danced in his direction.

  She reached across the table and touched his hand for a brief moment. Sammy’s eyes darted to read his reaction, but he gave none. No surprise there.

  “While I’m collaborating here with Detective Nash and the Heartsford PD on a case, I suggest you keep your distance and stay out of the way. I’ve heard you have a tendency to involve yourself.” Ginger’s tone turned a little sharp. “Do I have your word you’ll stay out of the way?” She wrinkled her brow.

  “Of course,” Sammy said, and then took a step back from the table. “Enjoy your evening,” she added, then turned to retrieve her coffee from the counter, snagged the change Douglas had left behind, and flew out the front door of Liquid Joy.

  This time, she didn’t feel the sudden rush of cold upon encountering the frigid outside air, possibly due to the fuming in her head. You’re the one? Great. Just great. Sammy took a deep breath to steady herself before entering Community Craft. She didn’t want the quilt members to sense her sudden mood change. Why did her interactions with Nash annoy her so much?

  She absolutely knew why. But she dared not admit it to herself.

  Since the first day detective Liam Nash had waltzed his way into Community Craft and into her life, she’d felt something for him. He was different somehow. He challenged her. He drove her nuts. And she loved it. When relationships with men she’d dated in the past had sailed along smoothly, it always seemed to eventually fizzle out, like a fleeting high school crush. Even her longest-lasting relationship with Brian had bored her to tears by comparison. He hadn’t challenged her either, and that relationship had ended with a thud. Maybe that’s why it bothered her so much to see Liam with Ginger. Sammy sensed their relationship was deeper than just work. Something about the way Ginger had looked at Liam and touched his arm seemed almost intimate. As if there was history between them. Sammy’s expression turned sullen.