'We can do things with crochet that you knitters only dream about . . .'
Detective Heather appeared a little stunned by Adele's barrage,but quickly shrugged it off . . .
'As long as I'm here, I'd like to ask you all something. Was it common for Ellen to forget her hooks?'
'Not at all,' CeeCee began. 'I was surprised when Molly told me. It was completely unlike Ellen. She was highly organized and into detail . . .'
'Really,' Detective Heather said, taking out her notebookand pen. 'So, then you saw the bag of hooks after she left?'
CeeCee shook her head. 'Not me.'
The detective looked toward Adele, Meredith and Sheila. 'You must have seen the bag of hooks?'
They all shook their heads.
'Hmm, so, Mrs. Pink, you were the only one who actuallysaw the bag?'
This wasn't sounding good. I didn't like the way DetectiveHeather was staring at me. I thought about what I'd said to Dinah about has it wasn't my job to find out who killed Ellen. I'd just changed my mind.
Acknowledgments
I want to thank Sandy Harding for her enthusiasm and excellentediting, and for being fun to work with.
This book wouldn't have happened without my wonderful agent, Jessica Faust.
Los Angeles police officer Kathy Bennett's online class Cops from A to Z was fascinating and gave me a lot of valuableinside information.
Thanks to Cathy Gendron, Rita Frangie, Kristin del Rosario and the axb group for making the book look so great.
Not only did homicide detective Michel Carroll of the Fort Worth Police Department put on a heartrending presentation for the Kiss of Death Chapter of Romance Writers of America,but he also generously answered my questions and gave me insight into what it's like to be a homicide detective.
I can't forget my cheerleaders, Roberta Martia and Judy Libby, who have been joined by Betty Mehling and Diana Lang.
Although, like Molly, I did teach myself how to crochet with a kids' kit, Alice Kan and the Tuesday group helped me get past the basics. Paula Tesla broadened my crochet horizonsand became my go-to person. She also taught me about the generous spirit of crocheters, who really do make things to raise money for charity or to give to those in need.
Crocheters rule!
Joan Jones, Linda Bruhns, Jan Gonder and Jack Warford met Molly first and gave her a thumbs-up.
And thank you to my cake tasters, Burl and Max, even if you couldn't wait until it was cool enough for the icing.
CHAPTER 1
When i stopped by ellen sheridan's house to drop off the crochet hooks she'd left at the bookstore, I expected to be in and out with maybe a thank-you and a few brownie points. I certainly didn't expect to end up in handcuffs.
Finding her front door open, I assumed she was bringingin groceries. I did a courtesy knock and said a few hellosand went on in. I called out her name as I continued down the hall to the living room. It looked out on the backyard,and I was so intent on seeing how the landscaping had changed since I'd been there last, I didn't look down-- not at first, anyway. Not until I screamed at the shock of stepping on something other than floor. I screamed again, even louder, when I realized I had stepped on Ellen's leg and she might not be alive. She was sprawled across the champagne-colored carpet with a fireplace poker next to her head.
My feet suddenly seemed unable to move and my mind unable to focus. The only thought that kept going through my mind was to check her pulse on the chance that her condition wasn't as final as it looked.
With my heart pounding, dry mouthed and light-headed, I kneeled next to her. Just as my fingers landed on her neck, I heard a rustle.
'Freeze.' The voice was male and full of authority. I followed his command, turning my head ever so slightly to look over my shoulder and see who the voice belonged to. An LAPD officer with a crew cut and a grim expression had both his hands on his gun, and it was pointed at me.
'Hands on your head,' he ordered. Without hesitation, I complied, though as I did, the tote bag on my wrist slid down my arm.
Only later did I find out how this moment of supreme bad timing happened. All afternoon, the Neighborhood Watch captain had been concerned about the open door. He thought it looked suspicious when I went in, and called to report it. The cop had been down the street, staking out a stop sign that was notorious for being ignored. He'd answeredthe call and been approaching the famous open door as I started to scream.
Not taking his eyes off me, the officer stepped toward Ellen, crouched down and, releasing one hand from the gun, put two fingers on her neck. He was close enough for me to see that the name on his badge was Steven James.
'That's what I was going to do.' I hoped that would make it clear that I was trying to help Ellen. After a momenthe stood up and shook his head with an even grimmer expression.
'This isn't the way it looks, Officer James. I just got here. I was dropping this off.' I moved my elbow to show off the red tote bag. I had taken his command to freeze seriously and was still on my knees.
'Drop it,' he commanded, then realized the impossibilityof the order with my hands on my head, and told me I could move my arm to let the bag go.
As soon as the tote bag hit the floor, Officer James pulled it away with his foot and I put my hand back on my head. He stepped behind me, and the next thing I knew, he'd used his free hand to slap a pair of cuffs on me.
'What are you doing?' I squealed.
'Ma'am, I need to secure the scene, and I can't do it if I have to worry about what you're doing.'
I promised I'd stay put if he took off the cuffs, but he didn't budge.
With me restrained, he holstered his gun and got busy on his radio. The truth of what had happened really hit me when I heard him say 'homicide.' Someone had killed Ellen. My knees felt weak, and I was glad I wasn't standing.Otherwise I might have collapsed. My stomach began to do flip-flops, and I pulled against the handcuffs.
When Officer James finished on the radio, he slid on a pair of rubber gloves, opened the red tote and dumped out the contents. A pile of red, green and blue metal rods hit the carpet with a jingly noise. He eyed them suspiciously. 'Ma'am, you want to tell me what these are?'
'Crochet hooks,' I said. 'They're for making scarves, and blankets and those cute little cloche hats. Not that I know how to crochet. I work in a bookstore, so the only yarns I deal with are tall tales.' The kneeling had become uncomfortable, and I asked if I could stand up. He agreed and even helped me up. I was glad to see my legs had recovered.
'Hmm, so then that's what that is.' He gestured toward Ellen's hand. A wooden crochet hook lay across her palm, with a small ball of beige yarn next to it.
