Heaven Preserve Us: A Home Crafting Mystery (A Home Crafting Mystery)

by Cricket McRae

   

  I sniffed my sleeve and wrinkled my nose. "What's in that stuff, anyway?"

  "I never thought to wonder. Frankincense and myrrh?" Barr guessed.

  "I think that might just be for Christmastime. Gifts of the three wise men, and all that."

  "Mm hmm."

  "You okay?"

  "What? Oh. Sure. Yeah. I'm fine." He watched a squirrel in a yard across the street snake onto a tree branch and then down the chain to raid an elaborate wooden birdfeeder.

  I cocked an eyebrow at him. Of course he was upset about his friend's sudden death. But there was something more. I waited.

  He took a deep breath, then turned his attention to me. Brown eyes, intelligent and discerning, met mine. "If I say this, promise not to make it into something."

  "What's that supposed to mean?" Was he finally going to tell me why "we have to talk?"

  "Just promise," he said.

  I took a deep breath. "Okay." What on earth?

  "I was just thinking how odd it was for Scott to die in a car crash."

  Oh. Not about me. Go figure.

  "Because he was a cop?" I asked.

  "Well, that, for one. He had a lot of formal training for sure. But he was also an amateur racer. Stock cars."

  "Really? I had no idea."

  "Almost every Sunday he was out at the fairgrounds speedway, racing with his buddies."

  "So he knew a ton about cars. And driving."

  "Yes. Both."

  "Do you think the crash was something besides an accident?" I asked.

   

  His head swung back and forth. "No, no. Don't do that. You said you wouldn't make it into anything, if I told you what I was thinking."

  I shrugged. "Okay. You're the detective, and he was your friend."

  He reached over and tousled my hair. I ducked away from his hand, nearly twisting my ankle in my brand new three-inch heels, and he grinned. I still wasn't quite used to my short bob, after having hair down to my waist for most of my adult life.

  "I need to get going," he said.

  "You're not going to the reception?"

  Crap. In the last two days I'd asked him twice what he'd wanted to talk to me about, but he'd sidestepped me each time, telling me it could wait. Maybe it could, but I couldn't.

  "Robin's holding down the fort back at the cop shop with a lone cadet;" he said. "She offered, since she hasn't been in the department all that long, and she knew everyone would want to go to Scott's funeral. But she shouldn't have to handle everything herself for too long."

  Detective Robin Lane: Barr's new partner. She was also, I might add, drop-dead gorgeous, a fact he pretended not to notice. It was even more irritating because she didn't seem to realize it, either.

  "I want to make an appearance at the reception and have a quick word with Chris," I said. "And Meghan's booked with massages all afternoon, so I need to pass on her sympathies as well." Meghan Bly was my housemate and my best friend.

  We said goodbye, and Barr walked away down the sidewalk. I watched him go, noting the lanky, confident stride. I was pretty sure he was The One, but even though he kept pushing me to move in with him, I'd resisted so far. Lately, I'd been thinking more seriously about doing it, about actually sharing the address at his house on the edge of town.

  The thought sent a bolt of perfectly balanced thrill and terror through my solar plexus.

   

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  CRICKET MCRAE has always enjoyed the kind of practical home crafts that were once necessary to everyday life. Her first Home Crafting Mystery, Lye in Wait, focuses on soap making; the third in the series, Spin a Wicked Web, features spinning and fiber art.