Knit One Murder Two

by Reagan Davis

  “Funny you ask,” he says. “Harmony Lake PD has decided to have their own major crimes unit, and they’ve offered me a position in the new department.”

  “And?” I ask. “What did you say?”

  “I hope they offered to make you the head of the department,” Connie adds.

  “I accepted,” he answers me, then looks at Connie. “And yes, I will be in charge of the unit. The unit of one. Me. I will be the entire major crimes division.”

  We all congratulate him, and Archie shakes his hand.

  “This town is perfect for me. I can fish in the summer and ski in the winter, and with the low crime rate, I should have enough time off to enjoy both.”

  I guess I’ll be seeing him around town now that he’ll be a local.

  He asks if we can recommend a real estate agent since he’ll need somewhere to live in town. Connie asks him what he’s looking for in a home, and he lists his criteria: something small, no yard to maintain, and centrally located. He says he doesn’t have very much stuff but needs enough room to store his fishing gear, ski equipment, and a jet ski.

  Connie looks at me. I look back at her and smile. She widens her eyes and upgrades her look to a glare, and I’m starting to sense that I’m missing something. She opens her eyes even wider and nods her head. She’s obviously trying to tell me something, but I’m not getting it. I’m better at this game when I play it with April.

  Connie gives up, lets out an exasperated sigh, and throws her hands in the air.

  “It just so happens, Detective Sergeant, that I’ll be moving out of the upstairs apartment in the next few weeks, and it will be vacant.”

  “Would you consider renting it to me? It would be perfect!” Eric says.

  “We’ll have to ask the owner,” she replies, looking at me.

  I smile, sure that I’m missing something again.

  “Well, Megan, will you be looking for a tenant for the upstairs apartment?” she asks.

  It’s me! I’m the owner. I forgot. I try to catch up to everyone else in conversation.

  “Yes! I’d love to have you upstairs,” I declare, feeling myself start to blush as soon as the last word leaves my mouth.

  I’m sure Eric knows what I mean. Talking to him as a cop was easier than talking to him as a...friend? Potential tenant? Neighbour?

  Harlow is winding himself around Eric’s ankles. Thank you, Harlow, for the distraction.

  “Harlow obviously wants you to move in, and I can’t say no to him,” I say.

  “You’ve never seen the upstairs apartment, have you Eric?” Connie asks. “Megan, why don’t you take Eric upstairs, so he can see what he’s getting himself into before he commits.”

  “Sure!” I look at Eric. “Do you have a few minutes now?”

  “Lead the way,” he says.

  As we climb the stairs, Eric says, “I had no idea you own Knitorious. I thought Connie was the owner.”

  “Ditto,” I say.

  I open the door to the apartment and we step inside.

  “I only found out a few minutes before you got here that I’ll be the owner,” I explain. “I’m still getting used to the idea. There’s been a lot of change in the last few months, you know? Hannah moved away, my marriage ended, I was a murder suspect, then almost a murder victim, and now I’m about to become a business owner. It’s a lot to keep up with.”

  “You’ll be an amazing business owner. And landlady.”

  He walks around and looks at the apartment.

  “This place is perfect! I love it!”

  “Then it’s yours! You can move in as soon as Connie moves out. Listen Eric, I want to thank you again for saving my life. I’m not sure it would’ve ended well if you hadn't shown up.”

  “Yes, it would,” he says, nodding. “You’re smarter and tougher than you give yourself credit for.” He winks and I feel a flutter in my belly.

  He walks into one of the bedrooms and raises his voice so I can still hear him, “I think you have it backwards, I might have saved Stephanie from you.” He comes back into the kitchen. “You would’ve fought your way out of there, and you would’ve won. Whether any cops showed up or not, trust me, I have good instincts about these things.” He smiles. “And please stop thanking me now.”

  “Just one more.” I hold up my index finger. “Thank you for putting up with me nosing around in your investigation. I’m sure it didn’t make your job any easier.”

  “Actually, you were helpful. You’d make a great partner,” he says.

  “That was it,” I say, “The last thank you. Well for this. If you do something else nice for me, I reserve the right to thank you for it.”

  “Deal,” he agrees, extending his hand, and we shake on it.

  “Harmony Lake isn’t usually this exciting, you know,” I warn him. “If you’re expecting a steady flow of murder investigations, you might be disappointed and get bored when you realize the major crimes unit solves cases like littering, jaywalking, and double parking. Maybe you should sign a short-term lease in case you miss the excitement of the big city.”

  “I have a feeling Harmony Lake is more exciting than it looks, and if it isn’t, that’s fine with me. I’m ready for a bit of boredom. It’ll be a nice change.

  We laugh and head back downstairs.

  Killer Cables

  Chapter 1

  Tuesday January 7th

  “Who’s a smart girl? It’s you! That’s right, you’re a smart girl!” I say with a high-pitched and excited voide.

  I squeeze the plush duckie to make it quack and toss it across the room.

  “Go get it Sophie!”

  Sophie scurries across the wood floor and down the hall. She doesn’t apply her corgi-brakes fast enough and slides past the duckie and into the carpet by the front door. She shakes it off, picks up the duckie and prances back to me proudly with her head held high.

  Sophie has been staying with me since last week when her human, Laura Pingle, slipped on a patch of ice while taking her trash to the curb and broke her leg in two places. Laura was rushed to the hospital, had to have emergency surgery, and I jumped at the opportunity to look after Sophie until she gets home.

  “Which sweater do you want to wear today, Sophie?”

  Laura is a knitter, so Sophie has an impressive wardrobe of hand-knit dog sweaters. I grabbed about eight of them when I picked up Sophie’s supplies at Laura’s house and I left behind at least eight more. Most of them have some shade of purple as either the main colour or an accent colour.

  “How about this one?” I ask, holding up her purple and black hounds tooth sweater with a folded turtleneck.

  She doesn’t disagree (she never does, she’s an easy going roommate), soI slip the sweater over her head. By instinct, she lifts one paw, then the other so I can feed them through the impossibly short sleeves of the sweater; she’s done this before and knows the drill.

  I attach her purple leash to her purple collar, slip on my winter boots, crush my curly, chestnut-brown hair under a hand-knit hat, wrap the matching scarf around my neck, put on my coat, and zip it up.

  I check my pockets to make sure my gloves are there, check Sophie’s leash to make sure we have enough poop bags for the day and grab my cranberry-coloured tote bag.

  One last look in the mirror by the door; I remove a stray eyelash from under one of my hazel eyes, pull my lip balm from my purse and smear a layer on my lips to act as a barrier against the cold, dry, winter air.

  “Oscar, I’m leaving,” I say into the void.

  “OK. I’m arming the house,” Oscar replies in a humanoid voice.

  Oscar is a digital voice assistant. This is my second Oscar. My ex-husband, Adam, and our eighteen-year-old daughter, Hannah, gave him to me for Christmas.

  I call him Oscar 2.0. because Oscar 1.0 died suddenly last September when he was shot by a killer who broke into my house to kill me. Thankfully, Oscar 1.0 was the only fatality that night. The killer’s previous two victims weren’t as lu
cky; they lost their lives, I only lost a WI-FI enabled device.

  Sophie and I leave the house and I hear the door lock behind me. Good job, Oscar.

  I started the car ten minutes ago using the remote starter on my keychain. It’s too cold to walk to Water Street, so Sophie and I get in the warm car for the short drive to work.

  ***

  I park in the small parking lot behind the store, and instead of going in through the back door like I would normally, Sophie and I walk around to the front of the store and across the street to the park so Sophie can have a walk and do her business.

  This time of year, this early in the day, and this close to the lake, it’s too cold to stay outside for very long, so this isn’t a leisurely stroll, it’s a business call, and as soon as Sophie finishes we high-tail it back across the street to Knitorious.

  I unlock the front door and kick the snow off my boots against the brick wall next to it. Then I turn the knob and open the door, listening for the jingle of the bell, one of my favourite sounds.

  Knitorious is warm and cozy and feels like home. Other than my house, it’s the only place where walking through the door makes me feel both relaxed and reinvigorated at the same time.

  I undo Sophie’s leash and take her sweater off. She gives herself a shake, and follows me to the back room where I put our outerwear and her leash away. I freshen Sophie’s water bowl, turn on the lights in the store, unlock the front door, and flip the sign from closed to open.

  “It’s showtime,” I say to Sophie, just like Connie always says to me when she unlocks the door and turns the sign.

  Tuesdays aren’t our busiest day of the week, but we’re in the midst of the winter tourist season, so I expect a steady flow of customers.

  Despite Harmony Lake’s small size, we squeeze in a large population of tourists during the winter and summer tourist seasons.

  In the winter, tourists flock to the two ski resorts in the Harmony Hills Mountains, various rental houses, and the new condominium development at the end of Water Street, and in the summer, they flock to the same places for access to the lake and the small-town-living experience.

  Besides being small, Harmony Hills is secluded which gives it the feeling of being further away from the hustle and bustle of the city than it is.

  I can see the lake from the front window of the store, across the street, just beyond the park where I walked Sophie. Behind me, to the north, are the Harmony Hills Mountains. Tiny, as far as mountain ranges go, but a popular destination for weekend skiers and snowboarders. Geographically, Harmony Lake can’t be a bigger town. Not without moving either a lake or a small mountain range.

  Knitorious is closed on Sundays and Mondays, so I spend Tuesdays returning phone calls and emails and processing online orders that were placed on the store website over the weekend. I turn on the laptop and, while waiting for it to power up, check the store voicemail.

  The bell over the door jingles, and a well-wrapped Connie comes in from the cold.

  “Good morning, Megan, my dear.”

  She always says it in a sing-song voice.

  Sophie jumps up from her dog bed to greet Connie and is wagging her Corgi butt while she follows Connie to the back room.

  “Good morning to you, too, Sophie,” Connie sings from the back room.

  Connie is my mother-friend, and I’m her daughter-friend.

  We met sixteen years ago when Adam, Hannah, and I first moved to Harmony Lake. We became instant friends and soon after we became family.

  I lost my mum just after Hannah’s first birthday, and Hannah was born when I was barely twenty-one, so when Connie and I met, I was young, newly married, a new mum, and grieving. She welcomed us, nurtured us and filled the mother and grandmother-shaped holes we had in our hearts. At almost seventy years young, she’s the most beautiful, smart, and sophisticated woman I know.

  I started working here part-time about five years ago and became the store owner a few months ago when Connie decided it was time for her to retire and move out of the upstairs apartment. She moved into a new condo with her boyfriend, Archie, and I took over as owner of Knitorious. So, now I own Knitorious and Connie works here part time. We’ve come full circle.

  “Today feels bittersweet,” Connie says as she crouches down to pet Sophie.

  “I know. It’ll be hard to let her go,” I say, “It’s been nice having a pet in the store again, and we fit together so well, you know? We’re like kindred spirits. At home, we both like to eat, we both like to nap, and we both like to cuddle. At the store, we both like to greet the customers and visit with everyone. I’ll miss her.”

  “Well, Archie and I are going south in a couple of weeks, so you’ll have Harlow to help you run the store and keep you company while we’re away. I know Laura has missed Sophie dearly and can’t wait to see her.”

  Harlow is Connie’s cat. When Connie owned the store and lived upstairs, Harlow had unrestricted access to both the store and the apartment. He was a fixture here. Even non-knitters would come in just to visit him. The store feels incomplete without him here, but I get custody of him when Connie and Archie travel, so he stays at Knitorious while they’re away.

  “Phillip said he’s picking Laura up from the hospital and taking her home this morning. Once she’s settled, I’ll take Sophie home to her, “I explain. “According to Phillip, Laura’s looking at six weeks in a cast, so he and I will work out a schedule where we take turns walking her — Sophie, I mean, not Laura.”

  Phillip Wilde is my neighbour. He owns Wilde Flowers, the florist next door to Knitorious, and he lives next door to me. We’re work neighbours and home neighbours.

  Ding! I have a text.

  April: Coffee?

  Me: Yes! Please!

  April and I have been best friends since we met at a Mommy-and-Me group sixteen years ago. Her daughter, Rachel,and my Hannah are the same age and best friends. They’re just starting their second semester of university in Toronto. April and her wife, Tamara, also have a son, Zach, who’s fifteen, plays hockey, and eats them out of house and home, according to his mothers.

  April and Tamara are the owners of Artsy Tartsy, the bakery up the street from Knitorious. Tamara is a talented pastry chef.

  About ten minutes after we text, April arrives like a tall, blue-eyed, blonde angel bearing the gift of caffeine. She sets a tray of three to-go cups from the Latte Da café on the counter, then pulls off her mitts, puts them in her coat pockets, and pulls a paper bag from her coat pocket.

  “Courtesy of T,” she says, dropping the paper bag on the counter. “Dog treats from the latest test batch. We hope Sophie likes them.”

  I open the bag and remove a small, round, treat that looks like a tennis ball. Sophie is sitting at attention, staring intently at my hand with the treat in it.

  She takes her role as taste tester seriously.

  “Here you go, Soph!”

  I toss the small treat onto her dog bed and she devours it.

  “She likes it,” I say to April.

  Tamara is creating a line of organic, artisanal dog and cat treats to donate to the upcoming silent auction that will benefit our local animal shelter.

  Connie and her friends are celebrating their fiftieth high school reunion soon and have decided to host a fundraising event that will be open to the entire town, and will benefit The Vanity Fur Centre for Animal Health & Wellness (us locals call it the Animal Centre or the AC, for short).

  Most local businesses are donating items for the silent auction portion of the fundraiser, and April and Tamara are donating pet treats. At least they are if Tamara perfects a recipe she’s happy with.

  Sophie is part of their focus group and enjoys free samples in exchange for her opinion. Her opinion is always the same: more treats please!

  “Have you decided what you’re donating to the silent auction yet?” April asks me as she takes a coffee from the tray and hands it to Connie who’s sitting on the sofa in the cozy sitting area of the s
tore.

  I nod while swallowing my first satisfying sip of coffee and feel its warmth spread through my body. “Yes. The winning bidder will get a bespoke pair of socks, hand knit by me, in a yarn of their choice.”

  Coffee in hand, I walk over to the cozy sitting area and join them on the comfy, overstuffed furniture.

  “I’ve also been knitting baby blankets using leftover yarn,” I say, “for the charity knitting guild’s donation to the AC. We have about ten so far. The AC uses them to line the kennels for the shelter animals, and for wrapping up preemie and sick animals to keep them warm.”

  “Who will be your date, my dear?” Connie asks.

  Here we go.

  “I’m a confident, independent woman who enjoys her own company and can attend a function alone,” I reply.

  To be honest, I haven’t decided for sure if I’m going yet, but if I do I thought I might take Sophie as my plus one. I could knit her a little corgi-sized dress to wear. It is a fundraiser to benefit animals, after all. And her human, Laura is the founder and executive director of the AC, so it would be appropriate for Sophie to attend. But it might also be weird and earn me a crazy-dog lady label that I don’t need.

  “You should be dating!” Connie declares, throwing her hands into the air with dramatic flair.

  Connie is a hand-talker and gesticulates as way to visually punctuate when she speaks.

  “Thirty-nine is too young to be alone. You should be having fun and meeting people,” she says.

  “And by people, I mean men,” she clarifies, in case I don’t know what she means.

  April nods in agreement to everything Connie says. It’s two against one.

  “What do you think Detective Sergeant?” Connie asks, looking behind me. “Don’t you agree that Megan is too young for a life of solitude?”

  I turn around to see Eric standing near the counter. He’s blushing. I look back at Connie who has a look of smug enjoyment on her face for making him blush. She teases him about being shy when he is supposed to be a case-hardened cop.

  Eric is my tenant. He lives in the apartment above the store and he’s new to Harmony Lake.