Yarned and Dangerous (20 page)

T
he general store was full of people, or as full as Josie had ever seen it. Lorna was dispensing coffee and muffins to the on-their-way-to-work crowd. She waved to Josie, then went back to her customers.

Josie sat down in the rear of the café, facing the front entrance, with her back to the wall so no one could sneak up on her. She took several deep breaths, willing her heart to slow its racing beat.

Whoever had been in Miss Marple Knits was looking for something. And the only something she could think of was Cora's notebook, which still hadn't turned up. She fished around in her purse and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper. After Detective Potts had released the crime scene to her, he'd handed her an inventory of what they had taken. She laid the paper on the table and smoothed it out with her hand. There was no mention of any notebook.

Which meant the authorities didn't have it, unless they'd secured it from somewhere else.

If the handwritten sales list in that notebook contained what she thought it did—namely, a list of people who had bought that particular blue yarn that had been used to make the murder weapon—the killer would need the notebook to cover his or her tracks. And might stop at nothing to get it and destroy it.

As soon as she spoke to Detective Potts and called the hospital to check on Eb, she was going back to the farmhouse and would turn it upside down. The notebook had to be there somewhere.

Josie started, simultaneously sucking in a breath as a shadow fell across the table. She looked up to see Mitch standing over her. His smile quickly turned to a frown. “What's wrong?” He sat down, setting the container of eggs on the table. “Eb hasn't taken a turn for the worse, has he?”

Breathe, Josie
. She forced her shoulders into a more relaxed posture and gave her neck a roll, attempting to dissipate the tension. “No, I haven't called the hospital yet, but they would have let me know if something had happened. I didn't sleep well last night and . . .”

“And?” Mitch prompted.

Could she trust him? Should she? Maybe it would be better to just head right back to the police station—
Go Directly To Jail. Do Not Pass Go
—and report the break-in. If it had been a break-in. The front door and windows were intact. But she hadn't checked the back door for damage. Not that it mattered. The killer had gotten in without breaking a window or forcing the lock when he'd killed Lillian, and he'd gotten in again.

“Josie,” Mitch said, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. “Talk to me.”

She lowered her voice. “Someone was in the shop again.”

Mitch jumped into action. “You have to report this. I'll take you down to the police station right now.”

“Thanks. But I already have a call in to Detective Potts. The desk sergeant said he'd have him call me when he came in. And I'm not going back to the shop today. In fact, I'm not going back there at all until the movers come to take away the inventory.”

Mitch frowned. “I want you to stay in town today. I have an appointment I can't cancel, but you could stay here at the store until I come back, then I'll take you to the hospital.”

She was touched. “Thanks. I'll probably take you up on that. Is everything okay at the house? How did the girls do this morning?” She opened the egg container, then the four individual boxes. Each contained the usual dozen brown shells nestled safely inside.

“They're fine. Clucking and squawking as usual. Oh, you must have had a visitor last night—” Mitch cut off, as something dawned on him. His face darkened. “When I went to feed Coco and Jethro this morning, there were fresh tracks in the snow leading up to the front porch.” He frowned, thinking. “I didn't notice anything unusual other than the footprints, but I didn't investigate the whole house, either.”

Josie's heart seemed to be taking up permanent residence in her throat.

“My guess is that nobody got in,” Mitch continued. “If that's what the footprints meant. I didn't see any signs that the door locks had been forced, and if a window had been broken, it would have been awfully cold in the house. And of course, nobody gets past Jethro.”

“You do.” She felt awful. He'd been nothing but nice to her, and here she was practically accusing him of . . . something.

Mitch smiled. He didn't appear to have taken offense. “That's because I've been working on him for a long time. The dog associates me with food. He might even like me a little.”

“That makes one of you,” Josie said. “Two if you count Eb.”

“Do you think there's a connection between the break-in at Miss Marple Knits and this unknown person who came up your—Eb's—front steps?” Mitch sounded dubious.

“I honestly don't know. Maybe. It could be nothing, just a traveling vacuum-cleaner sales rep who knocked on the front door and found we weren't home.” She hoped that was true. Maybe the person would come back. Eb's vacuum cleaner was on its last legs.

“Well, when you talk to Detective Potts, mention it, okay?”

“I will.”

“I meant what I said. Stay here, or at least where there are other people around. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you.” He looked into her eyes. Josie returned the gaze. Her stomach fluttered. “Because,” he continued, “if you're not around, I'll have to see more of Eb than I already do.”

Josie laughed, a genuine laugh that dissipated some of the tension she'd been feeling, at least for the moment.

“Okay,” she said. “And thanks.”

“I'll text you when I'm ready to take you to the hospital. Be careful.” He strode off.

Good advice. Until the murderer was behind bars, the entire town of Dorset Falls should be careful.

Lorna came out from behind the counter, the breakfast rush taken care of. She brought the coffee pot and waved it toward Evelyn's travel mug. “Want me to fill that up for you?”

“Sure do.” Josie took off the lid, and Lorna poured in the fragrant liquid.

“What was all that about? I haven't seen Mitch that serious in a long time. Is everything all right?” She glanced back toward the counter. There were no customers in line, so she sat down.

Josie sipped at the coffee. Much better hot than lukewarm. She considered how much to say to Lorna. It seemed prudent—a quality Josie had not heretofore ever been known for—to keep things quiet until she'd unburdened herself to Detective Potts. She'd rather look like a fool with her ridiculous theory to one person than to the whole town.

“Just worried about Eb,” she finally said. “You've heard by now he's in the hospital? The doctors don't think he had a heart attack, but they still don't know what the problem is. Mitch is going to take me over later.”

Lorna nodded. “Good idea. Are you going to wait for him here? You're welcome to stay. I've got a paperback in my purse, if you need something to read.”

“Tempting, but I've actually got work to keep me busy. And I'm waiting for a phone call.” She reached into her tote bag and pulled out the sketch she'd been working on at the hospital yesterday, still attached to the borrowed clipboard. She made a mental note to return it.

Lorna twisted her neck so she could get a better look. “I want that dress,” she declared. “I may not have a date, but I could get one in that.”

“Let's just hope my boss likes it,” Josie said. Despite her earlier confidence, it was going to take some work to get herself unfired from the Haus of Heinrich. Something nagged at her. Did she really want to be unfired?

“He'd be crazy not to. I'll let you get back to it, and I should get back to work too.” Lorna returned to her station.

Josie worked steadily for close to an hour, finishing the fifties look and starting in on the wide-legged pants with the fitted knit blazer. These drawings didn't need to be Metropolitan Museum of Art quality, so long as they captured the important details. But they did need to impress Otto, something she'd rather spectacularly failed to do up till now.

She held the sketch out at arm's length, added a few quick touches, and set it down, satisfied. She might just pull this off yet.

Her cell phone vibrated, indicating she had a text. Mitch? No, it was Monica.

Today? Impossible. And why would this buyer need to meet Josie in person?

She texted back.
Can't. Tied up here. Have buyer call me. Need inventory picked up ASAP.

What was going on? This deal could
not
fall through or she'd have a bigger mess on her hands. She needed to have Miss Marple Knits emptied out in a few days, and there was no time to find another buyer. She did not relish the thought of packing up the entire store and moving it out to Eb's, but that's just what she'd have to do if she couldn't get the buyer to stop stalling.

She texted Monica again.
Get me buyer's name and phone number. I'll call myself.

Josie had barely pressed
send
when the phone actually rang. She didn't recognize the number, but it was from the local area code. “Hello?”

“Ms. Blair? It's Detective Potts. You wanted to talk to me?”

Deep breath. “I'm at the general store. It's too public here. Can you meet me at Miss Marple Knits?”

There was a short pause. “Usually people come down to the station if they want to tell me something. But as it happens I need to pick up lunch. So yes, I'll meet you at the yarn shop in ten minutes.” He rang off.

Josie packed up. She'd get this over with and hopefully out of her head. Because no matter how she mentally fiddled with them, the pieces fit. She waved to Lorna on her way out the door.

The temperature had risen into the forties, which felt positively tropical as Josie made her way along the sidewalk. She glanced at her phone. Detective Potts should be here in less than five minutes. But just to be on the safe side, she decided to wait in her car, which was parked on the street, instead of inside the shop.

She didn't bother to turn on the ignition, just sat there soaking in the sun radiating in through the glass. Main Street was virtually empty, as usual, not even a car traveling from somewhere else to somewhere else. Movement caught her eye across the street. The shade covering the third floor window shifted from side to side before settling back into place. Either there was a ghost, or a draft, or a person up there. She continued to watch from the corner of her eye, but the movement wasn't repeated.

At that moment, Detective Potts appeared. No more snooping for Josie. She got out of the car, grabbed her bag, and met him on the steps of Miss Marple Knits.

“Thanks for coming,” Josie said, unlocking the door.

He followed her in, leaving his coat on, clearly not intending to stay long. Fine. She wanted this over quickly too.

“Now. What did you want to talk about? You know the investigation is ongoing and I can't talk about it, right?”

She nodded. “Of course. I wouldn't ask you for information you're not allowed to give. Let's sit down.”

He twisted his lips to one side, clearly not wanting to stay any longer than he had to, but he complied.

“First,” Josie continued, “someone has broken into this store again.”

The detective leaned forward almost imperceptibly. “And what makes you say that?”

“Because the last time I was in here, I took a picture off the wall and laid it facedown on the counter. When I came in this morning, the picture was faceup. And these bags of yarn have been moved. I can show you the before and after photos.”

He looked skeptical. “Were there any signs of forced entry? Broken locks or windows?”

She shook her head. “Well, not out front, at least. I didn't go into the storeroom or check the back entrance.”

“Come on then,” he said, heaving himself up from the couch. “Let's go check it out.” He led her past the tiny bathroom and into the back. The electric EXIT sign was lit up, making the back door impossible to miss. He pulled out a flashlight and shone it on the floor and around the perimeter of the door, then honed in on the bar that served as a handle. He put his hand on the metal, testing it. The door didn't budge. Locked.

The detective eyed her. “Any other entrances to this building?”

Josie was pretty sure he already knew the answer to that question. He and his crime-scene techs had presumably done a thorough investigation after Lillian's body was found. “Not that I know of,” she finally said.

“Well, you're wrong about that. There are fire-escape exits on the second and third floors, from when there used to be tenants up there. Let's go check those out.”

Fortunately, the spiders had not had time to rebuild their evil webs in the stairwell. Detective Potts led the way. He'd shut off his big Mag flashlight, but held it out in front of him. If there was an intruder up there, which seemed unlikely, he had a weapon at the ready.

But it proved unnecessary. The two upstairs floors were as empty as they'd been the other day when Josie had looked around for items to remove before the demolition. The doors to the fire escapes, which Josie had not noticed before—probably because she hadn't been looking for them—were both locked.

Whoever was breaking into 13 Main Street, Dorset Falls, Connecticut, was teleporting in. Or using a key.

Detective Potts was careful not to touch the doorknobs, and told Josie not to do it either. He would send a tech over later to dust for fingerprints on the interior and exterior door handles. “But I don't expect to find any,” he warned. “If this is the same person who murdered Lillian Woodruff, he's smart enough to wear gloves. At least he did at the murder scene.”