Craft Circle Cozy Mystery Boxed Set

by Stacey Alabaster

  I raised an eyebrow cheekily. "Brenda?"

  He let out a loud laugh. "She's definitely interesting!" He sat down his wine glass. "But I was talking about the woman in front of me.”

  I returned his smile. I was glad now that I hadn't run out the back door. It had been worth giving the date a chance. We were getting along far better than I would have imagined a few hours earlier. In fact, I was a little surprised to check the time and realize almost four hours had passed and a little disappointed when the restaurant informed us it was time for them to close up for the night.

  "I think it's time for me to drive you home," Billy said, walking me out of the restaurant. I noticed that he left a hefty tip for the wait staff, which always put a person in my good books. A good tipper and nice to dogs, those are my two things, and Billy had both of them.

  "Oh! I left my purse inside. I would honestly forget my own head if it weren't screwed on," I said to Billy, turning to head back inside.

  "It looks like they are locking up. You wait here and I'll see if they will open the doors back up."

  "Thanks, Billy," I said gratefully.

  I waited by the car for a few minutes while Billy went to try and retrieve my purse. The restaurant was on the same street as every other shop, café, and restaurant in Pottsville. The same street as my craft shop, which I could see across the street and down a few yards.

  I frowned. There was movement across the street. It was very late for someone to be exiting a store—or to be working this late, close to midnight. I leaned forward to try and get a better look.

  "Oh my goodness," I said out loud. I suppose that is one of the problems with constantly talking to animals—you get into the habit of talking out loud when there are no other humans around, even if the animals aren't there either. "Is that...”

  It was Prue. The woman who came to my craft circle—and house—and verbally assaulted my two dogs. The biggest no-no I had. She was wearing that same expensive pink suit. And she was coming out of the local newspaper office.

  I stopped and stared at the building. Prue had keys in her hand—she was locking the door. So she wasn't just visiting, and she wasn't breaking in. "She works for the newspaper," I whispered. Why had a news reporter been to my house?

  "Hey," I said, calling out to her. "Prue!"

  She started to walk quickly and then when I called her name again, her walk turned into a run. I could have sworn she saw me when she glanced back over her shoulder, but she kept on running anyway. I shook my head.

  Billy returned to the car and extended his arm proudly, my purse on the end of it. "Took a bit of persuasion, but they opened the doors again. And I gave them another tip!"

  "Thanks, Billy, you're a life-saver." I climbed into the car but the drive home was a little sober. I couldn't stop thinking about what I'd seen. Billy tried to make idle chatter and I felt guilty that my mind was elsewhere. Something was definitely not right about Prue.

  I couldn't wait to get home. I needed to make an addition to my suspect list.

  Billy walked me to the door and there was an awkward moment where he seemed to not know whether he should lean in for a kiss or not. I placed my hand on the door handle, thinking that I would make things easy for us and just unlock it before wishing him a goodnight. To my surprise, the door opened with no need for a key. "Oh, geez!" I said in alarm, realizing I hadn't locked it.

  "Is everything all right?"

  I nodded. "Just my usual absentmindedness. I really need to get inside," I said, quickly wishing him goodnight. "Thanks for everything, Billy!"

  "Oh, I thought…"

  I raced down the hall to make sure that Jasper and Casper were all right. "Thank goodness," I said when they both ran to me. I was a few hours late in feeding them, though. I gave them some extra food when I filled their dishes and they gulped it down happily. I collapsed on my sofa and shook my head, glancing at the whiteboard. This was taking up too much of my time. I'd been so distracted by my suspect list that I hadn't even locked my door or fed my pets before I'd left the house!

  I stared at the whiteboard and stood up. Maybe I should just drop the whole thing. Did I have the time—and mental capacity—to try and solve this mystery, and run a craft store, and a craft circle, and to date? "Something has to give," I said to Jasper, who had finished his meal and was now curled up sleepily. "Maybe it's the dating that should go, though," I said with a heavy sigh as I added Prue's name to the suspect list. I didn't know anything much about her, just that her name was Prue. Or was it? And that she worked at the paper. And was a fake-crafter. Geez, Brenda would probably hate her.

  "Then again," I mused as I tried to do a rough sketch of Prue. "Maybe it's not dating all together that I need to give up. Maybe it's just the particular person I'm dating."

  I stared at the whiteboard, at one particular sketch. And it wasn't of Brenda or Prue. Why couldn't I stop thinking about Ryan? I shook my head as Jasper barked. "I know. He's a cop, and a suspect on top of that. I need to stay away from him." But what I didn't say out loud was that I really didn't want to stay away from him.

  I pulled a blanket over the top of the whiteboard and turned in for bed. Maybe sleep would clear up some mental space and keep these thoughts from becoming overcrowded, chattering against each other.

  Chapter 9

  "Come on, Jasper!" I called from the door, jogging in place. I was almost out of breath already and we hadn't even left the house. I hadn't even moved an inch yet!

  Jasper came to the front door with about as much energy as I was feeling. "Come on!" I said, jumping up and down in my sweats. "We've got to get active, don't you know!"

  I took Jasper's leash and we went outside, both breaking into a run. Well, I was jogging. Jasper had to run to keep up with me. And I suppose dogs don't really 'jog,' do they?

  Still, it didn't take long until I was out of breath. We were about halfway up the hill and about to enter the woods, where I'd be able to take Jasper's leash off and let him run free. If we ever got there.

  It was a new week, and a new start. That was what I'd told myself anyway. I was hoping a run would clear my head. I was also hoping I'd be able to make it a regular thing: I'd always fancied myself as being the sort of person who was really into running. Of course, I'd never actually done it before. I figured that Jasper needed the exercise as well; it might stop him from going stir crazy in the house and ruining all my rugs and furniture.

  He seemed to be faring better than I was, tugging on the leash when I stopped, doubled over with a pain in my side. He was barking.

  "Just give me a..." I glanced up and saw that Billy was standing there, also dressed in his jogging wear. It had been a few days since our date and I hadn't replied to any of his messages in the meantime. I felt my face redden and it wasn't just due to the physical exertion.

  "Billy," I said, trying to straighten up even though another pain had formed in my side, making me wince. "I've been super busy the last few days. I think I meant to reply, and then just forgot." I tried to let out a light laugh but it came out far too forced. "You know how I am."

  Billy nodded a little. "It's okay, George," he said gently. "I can take a hint. I suppose I was just surprised because we had such a nice time at dinner."

  "We did," I said quickly, cutting him off in a hurry to reassure him that he was right. "We had a great time."

  "So what happened?"

  I looked at the ground, unsure of what to say and knowing that I might be making a very bad decision.

  "It's okay," Billy said finally. "You don't owe me an explanation."

  I looked up at him. "I'm sorry."

  He shook his head and smiled. "I hope I'm still welcome at these craft circles of yours."

  I let out a deep breath. "Of course you are. Don't be silly."

  "So there are no hard feelings?"

  I shook my head. "Not on my end."

  He jogged away with a promise that he would see me the following day at our craft circle meeting.
I wondered if anyone else was even going to show up. It was going to be super awkward if it was just Billy and I there.

  I looked around and tried to catch my breath. I realized that we were across the road from Amanda's house. Uh-oh, that meant... I turned to my right and realized I was standing right in front of Brenda's house.

  The curtain quickly shut, but it was too late—I'd already seen her peering out at me. I closed my eyes and cringed. That meant she'd seen the whole conversation with Billy. Great.

  "Jasper, sit," I said. He was still trying to run forward and I was not ready to move again.

  Brenda was Amanda's neighbor. Or had been. I wished I had my whiteboard with me right there and then. There were still some blanks I had to fill in with her. "She had access," I said to Jasper, who was finally sitting. "And motive. She seems to hate every crafter in this town that isn't her." But she'd seemed to like Amanda. And she was so tiny. I couldn't imagine her even having the strength to push any of the victims down a flight of stairs.

  Maybe there was something I was missing. I knew what I needed to do: I needed to speak to Ryan. I looked down at my old sweats and knew that my face and hair must look a fright as well. This was not the way I wanted to look when I saw him.

  "Come on, Jasper," I said. "Let's jog home so I can get a shower and make myself more presentable."

  As we were jogging away, I saw the curtain pull back again and Brenda's beady eyes following us.

  Was I going to be the next victim on Brenda's list?

  As luck would have it, Ryan was exiting the station right as Jasper and I arrived. Or rather, as luck wouldn't have it, because I had to race over to him before he hopped into his car. I'd already done enough running that day to last all week. And it was far harder to run in heels than it had been in tennis shoes, and that had been hard enough, let me tell you that.

  "Ryan!" I said, racing over to him. "I haven't seen you for the longest time—or at least, it certainly feels that way." It was only a few days, but it felt like forever.

  I was not met by his trademark smile. In fact, he was downright cold to me. "What is it, Georgina?" he asked, not even meeting my eyes as he opened the car door.

  "I, um, I just wanted to catch up." I was a little startled by his reaction. I'd been intending to flirt and charm my way into getting some new information about the case, but that seemed like a lost dream now.

  Was he still mad about what I'd said at the funeral? He'd left in such a hurry we'd never had a chance to address it. I took his rudeness toward me with a little bit of offense, though. After all, it had been him that left abruptly, not me.

  "You know what," I said, stopping him before he could climb into the driver's seat. "I'm not sure why you're the one giving me the cold shoulder! You left the funeral in a sulk, without even saying goodbye to me!"

  He glared at me. "I wasn't in a sulk. I got called away to a disturbance. I figured that was a little more important."

  "Oh." I shifted from one foot to the other. "Well, you are in a sulk with me now. Don't try and deny that!"

  Ryan was silent and stony-faced for a few seconds.

  "I saw it," he said.

  I blinked a few times. "Saw what? There are quite a few things to see in this world, Ryan."

  "I saw that thing in your house."

  I stopped. "Well now, what were you doing in my home?"

  "I came by the other night to check that you were okay, seeing as I hadn't gotten a chance to say goodbye to you at the funeral," he said pointedly, giving me a look. "I wanted to apologize for that and make sure everything was all right between us."

  I gulped.

  Ryan kept talking. "When I got there and your front door was wide open." Uh-oh, no thanks to my scatterbrain, that date night just kept dredging up more and more trouble, didn't it? "I called out and there was no answer," Ryan said. "With your door wide open and no sight of you, I thought you might be in trouble or something," Ryan said, shaking his head. "So I thought I'd better check."

  So he'd entered the house. My stomach suddenly dropped. The whiteboard. That was what he had seen. That was what he was talking about. I might not have had time to 'finish' it before I'd left, but I'd had plenty of time to sketch Ryan's face and write out in detail the reasons why he might be a serial killer.

  "Ryan, please, let me explain. That's just a little project I was working on! A craft project."

  He finally climbed into the car and put his keys in the ignition. "Do you think I am completely stupid, George?"

  I thought about that. A little naive...yes, maybe. A little blind to the obvious, definitely. But not completely stupid. "No," I said. "I don't think you're stupid."

  He shook his head and cut me off by starting the engine. I wondered if he had another disturbance he needed to get to or whether he just wanted to get away from me. Probably the latter.

  He switched the ignition off for a brief second. "You suspected me, George? You honestly think I could do such a thing?"

  I wasn't quite sure what to say.

  "Ryan, you have to admit, a few things didn't quite add up."

  His face was full of offense and betrayal.

  "Why were you the first cop on the scene in both the deaths?"

  "Because I am the one who's always on duty," Ryan snapped back. "Because I'm always on call. Because I'm a good cop. Being the first on the scene doesn't mean I did it, George! By that logic, all crimes would be committed by cops."

  I was lost for words again, which was rare for me. I was really starting to think that I was out of my depth with the whole detective thing. Now I was truly losing the one good friend I had in Pottsville.

  "I'm sorry, Ryan. If you could just let me explain. Maybe we could go get some coffee and I could tell you a few things."

  "You need to leave, George. I can't help you with anything from this point on. I've already told you far too much." He glared at me as he started the car again and started to pull away. "All of which I now thoroughly regret."

  Chapter 10

  Jasper came bouncing into the living room with something in his mouth, but I was too tired from a late night trying to untangle the notes on my whiteboard—and half a bottle of wine—to really acknowledge him, even though he was jumping up and down with excitement, clearly proud of whatever it was he had done.

  "What is it?" I groaned, sitting up. "You haven't dug something else up from the yard, have you?"

  He dropped something onto the carpet and proudly sat down before it.

  "Oh!" I said, leaning forward to pick it up. "I didn't know you knew how to fetch the paper, Jasper!" And here I was thinking he hadn't been taught any tricks or good behavior.

  I frowned at the paper. I also wasn't aware that we got the local paper delivered. I looked at it and saw that it was only a monthly affair. That explained it. I'd only been in the neighborhood a little under a month.

  Still tired and glassy-eyed from the night before, I absentmindedly flipped through the paper while some coffee brewed nearby.

  The front page was about an up-coming local election so I just flipped past it.

  It was page four that really caught my attention.

  It was a profile. On me.

  Or rather, it was more of an expose on the "crazy dog lady" who'd moved to Pottsville and taken up residence in the town's spookiest house. Basically, it painted me as a few sandwiches short of a picnic.

  I gritted my teeth. News really must be hard to come by in this town.

  There were details about everything, about the so-called 'haunted house' I lived in, to the contents of the whiteboard in my living room. I felt my cheeks reddening. Ryan was going to read this.

  "She fancies herself as an amateur sleuth, but could it be that the house's spooky energy is going to her head?" There were further implications that I was paranoid and delusional and that the "few friends I actually had" were "extremely worried" about me.

  "What kind of crazy woman lives in a house like that?" one quote said from a
source that was apparently 'close' to me. "That woman does not belong in this town."

  "Brenda," I muttered, shaking my head. She must have sent Prue into my home to get all of this stuff. She was such a busybody!

  And I bet she was reveling in my now very public humiliation.

  "I can't believe this!" I said, my mouth dropping open as I threw the paper back down onto the kitchen counter. "That woman really has some nerve, coming into my house and then writing an article like this!"

  I was starting to wish that no one had ever taught Jasper the trick of how to fetch a paper. Then again, wasn’t it better to know what was being said about me behind my back?

  I'm not sure. I think I would have rather lived in ignorant bliss.

  The shop was swarming with people. Unusual even for during the day, but even more so for a Tuesday night.

  "Are you Georgina Holt?" a woman with a large red bouffant and blue eye shadow asked me.

  "Unfortunately, I am."

  After the disaster that had been holding the craft circle at my house, I'd decided to give myself—and my carpets—a break by holding the next one in the shop. Okay, the real reason I'd decided to have it away from my house was because I was afraid that only Billy would show up and it would be too date-like.

  I needn't have worried.

  It seemed like my new reputation had made me the talk of the town, and people in Pottsville wanted to see me up close. I wasn't sure I liked it. I don't mind being the center of attention, but I like it to be over things I've actually done, or achieved, or made. Not for some ridiculous news article. A ridiculous news article that painted me as nothing more than a circus attraction. And had given away my real age.

  I took a swig of wine and looked out at the group who had already devoured half the cheese platters I'd set out, and who looked only marginally interested in crafting.