Hooked on Murder: A Crochet Mystery

'Well, she mentioned your recent disagreement with Ms. Sheridan.'

'Disagreement is such a strong word,' I began, keeping my tone light. 'I suggested something and she turned it down. That's all.' I hoped that would satisfy Detective Heather, but of course it didn't.

'Do you want to give me the details?' With her pen poised, Detective Heather looked at me.

I hesitated. No, I didn't want to give her details. I didn't want to talk to her at all.

'You don't have to give me the details if you don't want to,' she said finally. 'I heard Natalie's version, and I can go with that. I'm just curious how you saw it.'

Barry was right. The detective was good at her job. No way was I not going to answer her now. I didn't know what Natalie had told her, but I was sure it made me look bad. I took a sip of my coffee and cleared my throat. 'Part of my job is to arrange book signings. Ellen had a client, an actor turned author, who was coming out with a memoir, Walk a Mile in My Shoes. Maybe you've heard of him--Will Hunter?'

As if anybody hadn't, including Detective Heather. She unsuccessfully tried to hide her reaction. The guy was hot in a laid-back slacker sort of way, and apparently made an impression even on the perfect detective. I noticed her pupils dilate just a touch at my mention of his name. She nodded and gestured for me to get on with it.

'Celebrities bring in foot traffic. Foot traffic leads to sales, and . . .'

'I got it, I got it,' she said impatiently. 'Stick to the part about Ms. Sheridan.'

I started talking faster. Her impatience had made me nervous, and I just wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. I explained how I'd approached Ellen about hostinghis signing and how she had turned me down, preferringto stick to the hip, trendy bookstores the other celebs had been using. I didn't see any reason to mention that I had still hoped to get her to change her mind.

'So, then, you weren't about to lose your job over not landing the book signing?'

I shook my head vehemently. 'Of course not. Mrs. Shedd and Mr. Royal are completely happy with me. Besides,one signing isn't going to make or break the bookstore.' I finished my coffee and started to get up, thinking we were done. Detective Heather flipped her notebook shut, and then as an afterthought flipped it back open.

'There's just one more thing. . . .'

I pushed back against the chair. Who did she think she was, Columbo, with her just-one-more- things? Then I got a sinking feeling. Columbo always said that to the person he thought did it.

This one more thing was a question about Ellen's husband.'Several people have said they thought Lawrence was having an affair.' Detective Heather moved a little closer and looked me dead in the eye. 'I thought you might know something about it, being that you're a widow and a neighbor.' How unsubtle could you get? Did she think I was two-timing Barry? Or maybe it was just wishful thinking.

Okay, I wanted to laugh, but I restrained myself. Lawrence, never Larry, was totally not my type. The only way he'd have been my type was if we were the only two people left in the world and I honestly thought it was my duty to start repopulating the planet. And even then I'd have to pretend he was somebody else.

The trouble was, I protested too much and Detective Heather kept nodding and writing things down.

I figured I'd better cancel my plan to take a casserole over to him as a condolence gesture.

By the time Detective Heather packed up her notebook and annoying questions, my nerves were on high alert. When I went back into the bookstore, the crocheters were working away on their squares. Sheila looked positively calm. She was still mouthing the keep it loose directions, as if it was some kind of mantra.

Maybe crochet was something for me. It was certainly a better occupation for my hands than acting as conveyers of caramel corn. I guess I was staring. Adele picked up on my gaze and looked at me. If expressions could talk, hers would have said, This is my domain and don't even think about coming back here. As I said before, I wasn't about to ask her to teach me. I didn't do well with diva types. I had been through way too much of that with my mother.

Ah, but there might be another way.

CHAPTER 3

Maybe i hadn't been 100 percent truthful with Detective Heather. Mrs. Shedd wasn't totally happy with my job performance, and I'd never met Mr. Royal. Mrs. Shedd did a lot of her work from home and usually came in before anyone was there or after closing, which was why I had been surprised to find her waiting in the office the week before.

She was somewhere in her late sixties but, thanks to a fabulous hairdresser, had blond hair that looked totally natural.Nobody ever called her anything but Mrs. Shedd. I didn't even know what her first name was. Mr. Royal was even more elusive. He always seemed to be traveling around the world on some book-finding mission. I had begunto wonder whether he was just an imaginary partner.

'Molly, it's too bad about Will Hunter,' Mrs. Shedd had said when she'd closed the door. 'Particularly after you sold me on what a celebrity signing could do for the bookstore. I would love to give those oh-so-hip-and-in- love-with-their-coolness independents in the city a run for their big-name signings. I thought you were so sure you could get it.'

I had made it sound that way, hadn't I? It was just that Mrs. Shedd had sounded so excited when I proposed the celebrity idea. And she'd gotten even more excited when I'd said who I was thinking of. I foolishly thought Ellen would like doing something fresh and different with her client. I guess I was just naive.

Mrs. Shedd didn't say anything threatening, like she was thinking of letting me go over it. It was worse than that, really. She said she was disappointed in me, and I felt terrible.She'd given me a chance, and I had let her down.

Wrenching my thoughts back to the present, I glanced toward the event area and watched Sheila struggle with her hook. I thought of her worries over not being good enough, and could instantly relate. But maybe all wasn't lost yet. Maybe whoever took over Will Hunter's publicity would be more open-minded than Ellen.

In the meantime, I had something else to take care of.

I made sure Adele was busy with her square and not looking anywhere close to my direction; then I slipped over to the children's department. It was a sweet area with soft carpet featuring cows jumping over moons. There were little people-size tables and chairs, and books with pretty covers.

There was also a big selection of craft kits in the corner. There were kits for everything, from making your own clock to designing your own doll clothes. Tucked at the end was just what I was looking for. I picked up the small, suitcase-shaped basket that said Crochet for Kids. I opened it and looked inside. There were little balls of yarn, a plastichook, a plastic needle and what I was looking for-- instructions.

If the instructions could teach a kid how to crochet, they would probably work for me. I closed it and held it out of view as I slipped up to the cashier.

'You buying this for your grandkids?' Rayaad asked. She was our main register person.

'Who?' I said quickly. I had never mentioned grandchildren.Did she think I looked old enough to be a grandmother?I instantly touched my hair, wondering whether there was some gray I hadn't noticed. 'It's a present for some kids. Kids I know who like to make things.' I was explainingmuch more than necessary. 'I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention it to Adele--that I'm the one who bought the kit. I mean, tell her somebody bought it so she can keep up with inventory, just not that it was me.'

Rayaad shrugged and agreed. I stowed the package with my stuff, making sure it was well hidden.

When the crochet women left, I took down the long table and set up a smaller one at the front of the area, along with rows of chairs, for our next event. Daniel Cheeseboro was putting on a program to promote his book Clean Up With Soap Making. Actually, it covered more than just soap. The subject of the book was how to make a home business out of personal-care products mixed up in your bathtub. Of course, he was going to do a demonstration.

'Did somebody buy the Crochet for Kids set?' Adele called to the cashier. Rayaad looked toward me with a question. I hoped she understood the stern shake of my head meant not to tell Adele it was me.

It turned out to be more of a rhetorical question, becauseAdele dropped it before Rayaad could speak. I just hoped I could get through the rest of the day without Adele noticing the odd-size store bag with my things and putting two and two together. It would lead to too many questions and lots of awkwardness.

I had thought I would get a chance to go home before the evening program, but there was too much to do at