Death of a Crafty Knitter (2 page)

"You're not dressed yet," Jessica said.

I clutched the colorful robe closed at my neck and chuckled. "And to think… the people of Misty Falls say
I'm the one
with the keen powers of observation."

Jessica arched her delicate red eyebrows and smirked. "People say that? You mean when they're not clucking their tongues over that fancy car you drive?" She nodded toward my car, parked in the snowy driveway and added, "Speaking of which, I see you got the window fixed, but not the bullet holes."

"Bullet holes add character." I waved for her to come in, and shivered as the cold air swirled up the interior of my robe.

"Character, huh?" She looked for an instant like she might cry, but shrugged it away. "Better those bullet holes are in the car than my best friend, I suppose."

She wasn't moving fast enough, so I grabbed her arm and playfully yanked her in. It was snowy and cold that night, and she was letting out the heat, but more importantly, I didn't want my tenant to see me in the bathrobe.
Not again.

Jessica narrowed her pretty blue eyes as she looked me up and down. "Stormy Day, what's going on here with this clown outfit? Are you having a meltdown because of the gift shop? Retail isn't for everyone, but you can tell me if you're not up for the party tonight. You
have
been through a lot lately."

"I'm fine," I said, and I meant it. Now that Christmas was done, I was almost looking forward to doing storewide inventory.
Almost
.

"You're not fine. You're wearing the bathrobe of a murderer, and it's not even a
nice
bathrobe." She leaned in to examine the fabric. "Are those smudgy things flowers or pink flamingos?"

"They might be fish." I smoothed out a section of the robe and used my finger to trace a shape that could have been a fish. "If you don't want to be staring at this magnificent work of art all night, help me pick out something better to wear. I've got three dresses, but they're all wrong."

"Then wear jeans."

"That's my backup plan!"

Jessica hung her jacket by the door and proceeded into the adjacent open-plan kitchen, where she stuffed groceries into the fridge, then followed me down the hallway to my bedroom, where the
real
owner of the house was relaxing on
his
bed.

"Jeffrey McFluffy Trousers," Jessica cooed as she jumped on the bed and smothered her face in his dark gray tummy.

I watched, smiling, as Jeffrey, my new Russian Blue cat, pretended not to enjoy the attention being lavished on him.

"Let's see your dresses," Jessica said, her voice muffled by Jeffrey's soft fur as she gave him what we called
schnerfles
. With the back of her head facing me, I got a good view of her fancy hairstyle. Her naturally red locks were gathered into a twist, with small braids of red hair woven through.

Seeing her cute braids made me miss my long hair, but only fleetingly. I didn't miss all the time I used to spend using a blow drier or flat iron to straighten my naturally curly hair. My short pixie cut was much more sensible and easy, which was perfect. Moving back to my hometown and giving up my executive lifestyle in the venture capital business was all about simplifying.

I gathered the dress options for Jessica's opinion. All three had been in the window of Blue Enchantment before I dropped in and bought them all. Undressing window display mannequins was becoming a guilty pleasure of mine.

Jessica tore herself away from her noisy
schnerfles
on the cat just long enough to say, "The black and white stripes."

"Won't I look like a zebra?"

"Sure, but I don't think there'll be any lions or tigers at the Fox and Hound. Steer clear of the watering hole, just in case."

I couldn't argue with her logic, so I slipped off the warm bathrobe and finished getting dressed. I went into the washroom to fluff up my hair, where I was surprised to hear a muffled woman's voice.

"Jessica," I hissed from the bathroom doorway. "Come here. Quickly. I think Logan's got a woman over."

She came running, her blue eyes wide and her pale cheeks flushed. "Is he allowed?"

I smiled. Technically, yes, Logan Sanderson could have anyone he wanted over. He paid his rent on time, and whatever he did over there was his business, but I still felt like I'd caught him at something.

I held my finger up to my lips as I pressed my ear against the wall separating the two bathrooms.

"He can't do this to us," Jessica sputtered as her freckled cheeks became even redder. "I mean, he can't do this to you. He's supposed to be your date for tonight."

"He's not my date," I said softly. "I asked him to be our chauffeur."

Jessica shushed me and pressed her ear to the wall. The muffled sounds were a real woman's voice, and not the TV or radio. Unfortunately, the walls of my duplex were just thick enough to prevent me from making out any of the words she was saying.

"Maybe it's a client," I whispered. "Some legal after-hours emergency."

Jessica grabbed the water glass from my bathroom counter and held it between the wall and her ear. "Nope. Still can't hear what she's saying." She pulled away from the wall and set the glass back on the counter. "Stormy," she said slowly. "What did you mean, about Logan being our chauffeur?"

I used my hands to shoo her out of the bathroom and away from the shared wall. The rest of the house had better soundproofing, so I chased her all the way to the kitchen, where I offered her some of the fancy crackers and soft cheese I'd set out.

She crunched on the snacks, then demanded an answer. "Why doesn't Logan know he's your date tonight?"

"It's not a date. I can't exactly date my tenant."

"So, why take him to a New Year's Eve party? What happens at midnight when everyone's kissing?"

She had a good point, but now I was thinking about kissing Logan, feeling the tickle of his beard on my cheek. To stall, I stacked some delicious, creamy soft cheese between two different kinds of crackers and stuffed my mouth.

Jessica waited patiently for me to swallow and answer.

"We could kiss," I said. "But it's not a date, because dating my tenant would be a disaster. I've got a whole series of activities in mind. Come spring, we can work on the garden together. I was hoping that if things went well, neither of us would notice we were dating until we were already married." I let out a self-conscious giggle. "By the way, we're eating goat cheese."

"This is goat cheese? Who knew goats made such delicious cheese?"

"It's called chèvre."

"Great. We can serve chèvre at your wedding to Logan, when you surprise him with that. Just a tip, though. If you're wearing a big white dress, he might get suspicious."

"Good tip."

Something dark streaked by the edge of my vision. Jessica and I made jokes about surprise weddings for the next few minutes, not noticing that Jeffrey had jumped up to sample the goat cheese. We were oblivious to his forbidden feasting until he got too enthusiastic and knocked some cutlery off the counter.

I grabbed him and set him back down on the floor, laughing. "Nice try, little man. You nearly got away with the perfect crime, but you got greedy."

Jessica asked, in a serious tone, "Do you think it's possible to plan the perfect crime? To get away with murder?"

"Is your boss making you triple-wash the pre-washed spinach again?"

"Very funny." She smiled wanly and handed me a cracker sandwich that may or may not have been pre-licked by a gray cat.

"I just have a bad feeling," she said. "I lie awake in bed thinking about stuff. After what happened to Mr. Michaels, it's all everyone wants to talk about. Everybody's got their own theory about where the killer went wrong."

I snorted. "The killer went wrong by getting on my bad side."

"Then it's settled. You can never move out of Misty Falls again. We need you to scare away those would-be murderers."

"Who said I was thinking about leaving?"

"Sometimes you get that faraway look, like a kid who wants to run away from home."

"So, I'm a runaway?" I asked in a light tone.

She fixed me with her bright blue eyes, which were just as lively as I remembered from when we were little kids, bonding over loose teeth and favorite comic books.

"Jessica, I'm not going anywhere. I moved back here for a reason."

She kept giving me her skeptical look.

To change the topic, I opened the container of herbed olives. "These aren't garlic-stuffed," I assured her. "Just fresh herbs, in case
you
want to smooch someone at midnight."

She helped herself to the plump, glistening olives with a happy sigh. "Good. I'll crash here tonight, and I'll have decent breath for smooching Jeffrey McFluffy Trousers."

There was a knock at the door.

"Logan's here," I said. "Quick, refill the cheese tray and make it look like we haven't touched it."

"Of course," she said as she spread out more crackers. "We are
dainty ladies
and we'd never eat the guest food before the guests arrive."

I ran to the door, nearly tripping over Jeffrey, who seemed to think he was a dog sometimes, eager to see who was at to the door when someone knocked softly, but not if they knocked loudly. He pawed the door impatiently.

I opened the door, bracing myself for the possibility Logan would have his own date for the evening, the woman whose voice I'd heard through the bathroom wall.

To my relief, he was alone. To my disappointment, he wore jeans and a college sweatshirt, both well worn. I'd seen him in suits, so I knew he owned good clothes, but this casual attire didn't bode well.

"Stormy Day in a dress," he said gruffly. "For a kooky cat lady, you clean up real nice once the bathrobe comes off."

"Logan Sanderson, for a hotshot lawyer, you resemble an unemployed drummer on your days off."

He looked down my body. "Those are some nice stripes. Black and white. Very eye-catching."

Logan's blue eyes took a second and a third tour of my zebra stripes, and he flashed me his perfect teeth. His dark beard made his teeth look even brighter, and his lips redder.

Despite the cold air coming in the open door, I was feeling warmer and warmer.

He nodded down at Jeffrey, who was sniffing and rubbing his face on the frayed hem of Logan's jeans. "May I come in, or are we waiting for the cat to finish claiming me? You know, they rub their cheek glands on things they like. He's saying I'm
his
now."

"That would be funny if humans did that."

He laughed. "It would make life easier." He scooped up Jeffrey, gave him a manly kiss on the forehead, then handed him to me.

I stepped aside and nodded for Logan to come in. As I clutched the squirming cat to my chest, I noticed how rapidly my heart was beating. The night wasn't going as planned, but it did promise to be memorable.

Chapter 3

I introduced Logan
to Jessica. She'd seen him around town, including one night in December that we'd all been at the Fox and Hound, but they hadn't met. She immediately showered him with praise for being such a hero the night I was nearly shot and killed.

"You're giving me too much credit," he protested. "Stormy took care of herself, and I didn't get involved in any of the action."

"Maybe next time," she said. "You look like you work out." She reached for his bicep, and he flexed for her, pursing his lips in that funny way guys do when they're focusing on their arm muscles. Jessica gave me a nod of approval. "Stormy, your boy here's got some muscles."

"Good. Come spring, he can help me move some of those big rocks around the front flowerbed."

Logan grunted, "Me. Break. Rocks. On. Head."

We laughed while Jessica grabbed the snacks and steered us toward the living room.

Jessica said to my tenant, "Any friend of Stormy's is a friend of mine, so you just let me know if you ever need anything."

"Like what?" He took a seat at the end of the sofa. His tone was friendly, but not flirtatious. He had been giving Jessica some admiring looks, glancing over her bright red hair and attractive figure, but his eyes didn't linger. His gaze kept returning to my black and white stripes, then he spotted Jeffrey circling the coffee table and cheese plate with bad intentions, and scooped the cat up into his lap. Jeffrey squawked, but didn't run away.

"Like what? Hmm." Jessica tapped her freckled chin and looked up at the ceiling. "Well, I'm the one to call if you need a deal on catering. The sandwich shop I manage specializes in retro party food. Have you ever had miniature cocktail wieners in aspic? It was all the rage in the sixties to put anything and everything into molded gelatin. Of course, we do regular food, too, but the retro showpiece dishes are mainly to get people talking."

"That does sound fun," he said. "Would you guys make ants on a log? That's a celery stick with peanut butter and raisins."

"I know all about ants on a log!" She punched him on the arm, her tomboy side coming out, in contrast to her princess-styled red hair.

"I've always wanted to have a fondue party," he said, and soon the two of them were engrossed in conversation about the best cheeses for melting, and whether or not raclette parties—the kind where guests cook their own skewered food on a tabletop grill—were the height of entertainment or just a goofy fad.