Craft Circle Cozy Mystery Boxed Set

by Stacey Alabaster

  Jasper whined and looked up at me as if to ask, make all these people go away.

  "I know, Jasper, there are suddenly too many people in this town." I shrugged. There was little I could do about it, unfortunately. I wished I could make them all disappear with a snap of my fingers, but there was no way to explain to Jasper that it just wasn't possible.

  I ducked into a cafe and asked the waitress if it was all right for Jasper and I to sit outside, and if we could have a bowl of water for him. She replied that it was fine and Jasper and I grabbed the last available table in the outside setting.

  I'd moved to Pottsville for the peace and quiet and the idyllic lifestyle. Ha. It was as busy and as bustling as a city on that particular day. And on any other day... Well, it might have been a bit emptier, but so far, life in Pottsville had been anything but idyllic. Or peaceful.

  Now the town was overflowing with tourists. "This is going to make our investigation a little more difficult, Jasper." So many people, so many suspects.

  Once I'd finished my latte and Jasper had lapped up every drop of his water, it was time for us to leave, refreshed and ready to return to the fray.

  And our first port of call?

  The last place that Erika Joyce had been spotted alive.

  "Here we are, Jasper, the Pink Flamingo Lodge."

  The place that Erika had apparently been staying at, before her exile from the place, and her death soon after.

  The Pink Flamingo Lodge was sort of a cross between a motel and a B&B. And it lived up to its name—it was painted bright flamingo pink, the same color as my best bracelet. It had fake potted palm trees out front and a weird fake 'tropical' vibe to it, which made it look kind of tacky in Pottsville, the home of forests and lakes. Far from tropical, despite the strange heat wave we were experiencing. The lodge, from the looks of it, had about twenty rooms or so, and during the quiet seasons, probably only used about a quarter of them at any one time. But this wasn't one of the quiet seasons. It was always full during the summer, even if there wasn’t an arts and crafts festival.

  I tied Jasper out of sight of the reception area. He wasn't going to help the ruse I was about to put on. With a dog in tow, I wouldn't be able to put on the act of someone who had just arrived in town, and I doubted they allowed dogs.

  I could see the receptionist through the window as I approached. She looked like a no-nonsense type with her glasses and stern look, and my heart sunk a little as I realized this might not be as easy as I'd thought.

  "Hi there," I said, putting my best innocent, tourist voice on. "I was wondering if you had any rooms available."

  "Ha, fat chance." This lady did not beat around the bush. "We're double-booked, triple-booked. We've got a hundred names and numbers in the queue to call up if there are any cancellations before we even get to you. You still want to put your name down?"

  I shrugged a little and decided to play along. "Sure, why not," I said, reaching for the pen the woman handed me, while she shook her head in disbelief.

  She took the piece of paper with my name on ir and placed it carelessly on top of a large pile.

  "Hey," I said, lowering my voice. "This probably isn't true, and I'm sure that you don't know anything about it, but..." I let out a forced laugh of disbelief. "Some people were saying that this is where that girl was staying before she was killed." I whispered the last bit and gave her an exaggerated look of shock.

  She raised her eyebrows and leaned closer to me. "That's right," she said with a proud grin. Aha, so she was willing to talk about it then; she seemed like she was practically salivating at the prospect of discussing it.

  I took her lead. "Wow," I said, impressed. "This place should gain some notoriety then."

  It looked like the thought pleased her. "She only stayed one night though, before we had to kick her out."

  "Why did you have to kick her out?" I asked. "Did the two of you have a fight?"

  Suddenly her face changed. She got the same look Tom had when I'd started asking too many questions. "Of course not," she replied, closing up.

  I decided to change track. "Erika was a crafter, wasn't she?"

  The receptionist nodded a little uncertainly. "That's right. She was in town for the festival, only she'd mixed up her dates."

  I frowned. "How could she have gotten it wrong by a week?"

  The woman shrugged. "Said she'd gotten an email—a fake one, I suppose—with the dates wrong. She was very upset by it."

  So that's why Erika had been in town so early. Interesting.

  But who had sent her the email?

  I wanted to ask more questions but the woman had lost her patience with me. "You'll have to move along," she said. "I've got a full house here and guests to tend to."

  "Someone had to have sent that email to her," I said to Jasper as we made our way quickly from the Pink Flamingo. He had to break into a bit of a run to keep up with me. "Someone who wanted Erika to miss the craft festival."

  I slowed down while we rounded a bend. It had to have been someone I knew, right? After all, I knew all the crafters in town. They might not have wanted to know me, but they did. They came to my shop. They sat in my craft circle. The thought that one of them could set Erika up like that—and maybe even kill her—made my blood run cold.

  But could it really be one of the local crafters? Was it someone in my craft circle?

  I had to stop and take a deep breath. It was too hot to be out and about, running in heels. Jasper was also panting. "Sorry, boy," I said. "We're a little far from home." I stopped as I saw a front door open across the street and watched as Brenda spilled out of it. "Uh oh," I said, gently pulling Jasper behind a bush. "Stay low and quiet."

  It wasn't her house so it had to belong to one of her dear friends. Just as she was leaving, I caught sight of Lisa Riemer waving good-bye through the window.

  "Aha!" I whispered to Jasper. "A local crafter who would do whatever it takes," I murmured, recalling the fragments of her conversation I had overheard the other day. But whatever it took to do what, exactly?

  I needed to find out.

  "Come on, it's your time to shine, Jasper," I said, straightening up. "I'm going to need all your help with this one!"

  I knocked on the door and grinned when Lisa opened it. "Hi, Lisa! I don't suppose I can trouble you for a bowl of water for this little guy, can I?" I said, pulling an apologetic face. "He's been racing around and gotten too thirsty. You know this heat we've been having really takes a toll on our animals."

  People had a hard time saying no to a dog. She was hardly going to let Jasper suffer from dehydration, was she?

  "Sure," she said, "Come on in."

  She led Jasper and I to the kitchen and ran the tap to fill an old plastic bowl. But when it came to Jasper's time to shine, he suddenly got stage fright and refused to take even a sip. He sat down on his hind legs and just stared at the bowl.

  "Come on, Jasper," I whispered. "Drink!" Great. This was not the time to embarrass me. Or break my cover.

  But he just pouted at me and shook his head a little bit.

  I straightened up and looked at Lisa, forcing a little laugh. "Not sure what's wrong with him. He was panting a few minutes ago. Maybe he just needs a little time to feel comfortable in a new place."

  Lisa told me not to worry about it, that he could stay there for a minute. But still, he just sat and stared at the water, turning his nose up at it like it was poisonous.

  "You're free to stay for some tea or coffee," Lisa said. "Maybe Jasper will feel more like drinking in a little while," she said knowingly. Like she suspected that my asking for the water bowl was just a ruse to get into her house. What reason did she have to be suspicious of me, though? Unless she had something to hide.

  I nodded. "That sounds nice. Thank you. Do you have any peppermint tea? It will be refreshing on a hot day like this."

  I offered to put the kettle on in the kitchen, saying that I could keep an eye on Jasper that way and that Lisa should r
elax in the living room. She seemed happy to agree, happy to put her feet up, and I breathed a sigh of relief once she had retreated from the kitchen.

  "What is wrong with you, Jasper?" I asked quietly. "You've got some lovely fresh water there." I shook my head and looked at him in mock disappointment. "I thought you would make a better undercover detective than this, to be honest."

  He just pouted at me in return. "Okay, suit yourself," I said, turning back to the cabinets. I noticed, as I pulled them out, that most of Lisa's mugs and cups were handmade. Hmm, she had quite a skill about her as well. I was starting to wonder if I really was the least skilled crafter in town. Even though I had a passion for crafting, for making things, I'd always considered it more of a fun hobby than anything else. It was clear that some of the people in the town—some of those people being Brenda and Lisa—took it very seriously.

  I returned to the living room, awkwardly carrying a tray with a hot teapot and two mugs on top, clattering on the top of two saucers.

  Lisa cast me a sharp look up over the top of her knitting needles. "Are you all right with that?" she asked, skeptical.

  It always struck me as strange to find her knitting because she looked too young to be so passionate about something you usually associate with retirees. Especially with the cat-eyed glasses she was wearing. The whole thing aged her about thirty years.

  I sat the tray down and did a little bow. "Made it!" I said over-enthusiastically, wondering if she was buying any of this. Lisa and I weren't exactly friends. She had to have found it strange that I would just drop by, even if under the pretense of asking for water for my dog.

  I poured Lisa a cup of tea. Over-poured it actually, and it spilled over the top of the mug. "Shoot," I said, trying to clean it up using a box of Kleenex sitting on her coffee table.

  "Don't worry about it," Lisa said with a heavy sigh. Which meant "do worry about it, just stop making it worse." The tea sank into her white tablecloth, making it look kind of aged. I wondered if she liked antiques.

  We sat there in awkward silence for a few minutes. I had run out of small talk—if I'd ever had any in the first place. Lisa always made me feel uneasy, in the same way Brenda did. They were both lacking the humor gene and it made any casual conversation with them hard work, unless I was purposefully trying to wind them up. Which in this case, I wasn't.

  Well, I might as well cut straight to the chase.

  "Lisa," I said. "Where were you on Friday evening?"

  She lowered her knitting needles. "Why do you ask?" She glared at me with her tiny black eyes. Were they actually black? I leaned forward to get a closer look. Surely not. They must simply be dark brown. But they sure looked black in that moment.

  I took a sip of peppermint tea, bracing myself. "Just wondering," I replied casually. Or at least I tried to say it casually. My actual tone betrayed me, and Lisa was having none of it. She might not have much of a sense of humor but she was sharp. She hadn't been buying my act since the second I knocked on her door.

  "You're talking about the night that body was found?" Lisa slammed the needles onto the table beside her. "How dare you?"

  Wow. I hadn't meant to illicit such a strong reaction from her. What did she have to hide? I placed my mug back down on the table a little too hard and it spilled over the top again. She glared down at the puddle. I sure as heck wasn't making a new friend on this day, was I?

  But her anger told me something.

  I was starting to form a little theory in my mind. If Tom had witnessed the fight, or whatever it had been, and Brenda had kept whatever she knew to herself, could it be because she was trying to protect her good friend? Her best friend, Lisa Riemer. She had her guard up now, but I wasn't about to back off. I was like a dog with a bone.

  I decided to try a little bluff to see if I could get her to slip up and admit to something. She was sharp, sure, but just how sharp was she?

  I kept my voice steady as I stared into her eyes. I tried to keep my tone light though, like this was a causal thought I'd just had. "It's just that someone told me that they saw you at the Pink Flamingo Lodge that night."

  "Oh, someone told you something?" Lisa said mockingly, before she crossed her arms, furious. "What a perfectly fine excuse to come into someone's home and accuse them of something!"

  I kept my cool. "I haven't accused you of anything," I pointed out. "I was simply asking where you were on Friday night."

  Lisa stood up and started picking up the still full tea mugs and the teapot. She almost spilled the tea herself, which I would have found a little funny. She saw the look of amusement on my face and glared at me. I straightened my face quickly.

  She looked seriously offended. "I thought you came here because you were feeling a bit lonely and wanted to visit me. That you just used your dog being thirsty as an excuse to knock on my door. Because you have no friends in this town and you wanted to make one."

  Now it was my turn to be grossly offended. I wasn't that pathetic that I'd need to use my dog as an excuse to make friends. I just used him as an excuse to snoop on people. That was far better.

  I stood up and called Jasper's name. "I'm sorry to have bothered you," I said, grabbing Jasper's leash and heading for the door.

  "You certainly did that," Lisa replied, practically pushing us out the front door. "And don't think that you are welcome here again."

  She stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips, as Jasper and I spilled down the steps. "If you're trying to make new friends in this town, Georgina Holt, you are going about it the wrong way."

  She was probably right.

  I was glad to see the happy, smiling blonde waiting for me at the picnic table.

  The park was fuller than it usually was, but it was still one of the emptier parts of Pottsville. Most of the tourists were pooling in the town center, flooding the cafes and restaurants.

  A picnic with Brandi was a welcome distraction from everything.

  Brandi opened up the plastic containers she'd brought, filled with salads and coleslaw, and started to dish it out onto paper plates while I filled her in on what had happened at Lisa's. Not all the details, but the main points—her outrage, her practically kicking us out on the street.

  Brandi laughed as I told the story. I really liked her so far. She wasn't like the other people in town. She was laid back and had a sense of humor. Too bad she was only there for the summer. "Don't worry too much about Lisa. She has a bit of a pointed tongue." She made a face. "She's close with Auntie Brenda, so I have to see her quite a bit, unfortunately. Those two are joined at the hip. Sort of like sisters."

  "So that would make Lisa your aunt as well?" I joked, shoving a large forkful of salad in my mouth.

  Brandi laughed a little. "That's a scary thought. One of them is bad enough."

  I glanced over my shoulder to see that two people on ladders were hanging a very large sign that stretched right across the main street. "Welcome to the Pottsville Arts and Crafts Festival."

  I turned back to Brandi. "Looking forward to the festival?" I asked her.

  Brandi shrugged. "Eh, the competition aspect isn't really my thing," she said, making a face. "I prefer a more chilled out atmosphere."

  I was confused. What was she talking about? "Competition aspect? What competition?"

  Brandi looked at me for a few seconds like she was trying to figure out whether I was ignorant or just a bit dim. "At the festival this weekend, there's the competition for best arts and crafter. That's why there's such a large turnout. That's the main reason that people flock to it. It's a big deal." She tilted her head. "You have noticed that our population has practically doubled the last day, haven't you?"

  I nodded slowly. "Yeah, I knew about the festival," I said. "I just didn't know it was a competition." I'd thought the festival was more of a fun thing. A casual day out. Now Brenda's attitude toward it suddenly made a lot more sense. As did us having to register for it. Just what had I signed up for? I slowly realized that my jewelry wouldn'
t just be up for sale, it would be up for judgment. I got a sinking feeling in my stomach.

  Get me out of this town, now.

  I stared at the sign hanging in the air and the flocks of people filling Main Street. Were they all there to compete?

  I turned back to Brandi. "What is the prize for first place?" I asked her.

  Brandi raised an eyebrow and dug her fork back into her salad. "It's a cash prize."

  "How much is it worth?"

  Brandi stopped chewing. "This year? Twenty thousand dollars."

  "No way," I whispered. "You're kidding me, right?"

  Brandi shook her head and crossed her arms. "Nope. I'm telling ya, George, this is the biggest crafting competition in the state. Maybe the country. It’s serious business."

  I was starting to realize that myself.

  I thought about Erika's bracelet, how skilled the silver-work had been. She was talented. Really talented. She could have taken home top prize.

  It suddenly made sense why someone would lure her out here early by sending that fake email and switching the dates on her. It was just a shame she wasn't smart enough not to fall for it. It had been a tragic mistake that had cost the poor lady her life.

  But just how many people knew about Erika's talent? Why was someone so threatened by her that they wanted her out of the competition?

  Maybe one of the locals had seen her in town early, recognized her, and taken her out. One of the more competitive women could have been willing to kill for the title.

  And I knew a couple of them.

  Chapter 6

  I could barely open my eyes. They seemed glued together. Panicking for a moment, thinking maybe someone actually had taken to my face with a hot glue gun, I tried to call out and realized that my throat was swollen. I groaned and threw off the covers, finally prying my puffy eyes open.