Now that I was working for Logan, our relationship was evolving. We shared a roof, so it was easy to schedule meetings for dinnertime, then enjoy a casual meal while comparing case notes. Sometimes, one of us would show up at the other one's door with food, even when there was no new case information.
I wasn't unhappy with the comfortable place we were in, but there were times I longed for some passion in my life—and kisses from someone who didn't have cat whiskers.
For that night's dinner, I put on the stunning black and white dress I'd worn for New Year's Eve, then went next door to catch a ride with Logan.
He came out and started telling me about the stressful day he'd had, without even a glance at my dress.
In his truck on the way to the restaurant, I scrolled through messages on my phone and only half listened to him complaining about his high-maintenance legal clients.
At the restaurant, Dharma greeted me with a warm hug, then stepped back and declared that I looked stunning and youthful. I returned the compliment, noting how beautiful her hair was in its natural snowy-white shade. She had gotten the dyed length trimmed off, so her hair was much shorter than my pixie cut, barely an inch long, but adorable.
The three of us took our seats, ordered some drinks, and settled in with some talk about the weather. Compared to how she'd been the night she turned herself in, Dharma was a whole different person, exuberant and charming. Her husband was doing well, managing his health issues, but didn't come along for dinner, because he preferred quiet nights in during the winter.
By the time our meals arrived, we were deep in conversation about the Voula Varga case. More information had been come to light, including the fact Marvin had been installing spyware on Misty Falls residents' computers. This malicious software gave him access to all sorts of things, including email and banking records. He'd shared information with Voula, so she could convince people she was tapped into a mystical, all-seeing psychic energy field.
The two of them had met when she purchased a refurbished laptop. The laptop had later been recovered at Misty Microchips, wiped as clean as a snowy mountaintop.
Once the police knew what they were looking for, it was easy to find the evidence. The crime lab found Marvin's hairs in Voula's laundry, and the police found an eyewitness—the black-haired girl with the Corgi—who would testify that she'd seen Marvin leaving Voula's house several times.
Dharma's memory had returned. She remembered taking the gun from her uncle's mansion at Voula's urging. It was, in her words, a "stupid, childish" thing, but Voula had convinced her she was justified. Her uncle, Deiter Koenig, had been a miser to some family members, like her, but exceedingly generous with others. She wanted to invest in Voula's friend's movie, make her own fortune, and stop trying to suck up to her uncle at his horrible dinner parties.
She'd let jealousy and greed get the better of her, and it had nearly cost her everything.
As for the day of the murder, she'd left the gun with Voula, gone to her van to leave, and accidentally flooded the old thing by hitting the gas too hard. It happened frequently, and she knew the solution was to let the gas evaporate, so she waited.
She waited a good ten minutes, then leaned forward to floor the accelerator and try the engine. Before she'd turned the key, she heard a horrible bang.
The antique gun must have gone off by accident, she thought. She ran into the house to check on Voula. The ceiling squeaked with movements on the upper floor. She ran to the foot of the stairs, calling Voula's name.
Her friend didn't answer, but she thought she heard the radio. It was a man's voice, and he was talking about making someone a doll that looked like the only person they cared about.
She thought it was just another of the odd things the local radio DJ talked about in the afternoon, so she called out again for her friend, louder.
The house went quiet. She walked up the stairs slowly, entered the room, and saw the victim on the floor. Panic set in, making her decisive. There were no neighbors for miles, so she would drive into town to get help. Once the thought had come to her, she didn't even consider using the phone to call for help.
She ran outside, where the van started without flooding, and she raced toward town. That was when she ran me off the road—something she apologized for repeatedly—and then went on to crash into another vehicle on her way to the hospital to get help.
After our dinner, we ordered lemon mousse for dessert.
Logan gave me a sly smile when the bright yellow slices arrived at our table in a scented citrus cloud.
"I know this mousse," he said.
"But you didn't get any that night," I said. "It really was in the fridge, standing by to serve if I didn't get a confession from either Marcy or Marvin."
He lifted a forkful to his mouth, then closed his eyes and made a happy face. I really liked that look on him.
Dharma saw me watching him, and gave me a knowing look.
"Sorry you didn't get any lemon mousse that night," I said.
"That's okay. The sight of blood on my shirt would have ruined my appetite, if seeing your good friend Tony gobbling down the Golden Wok leftovers hadn't already killed it."
I let his comment go without correction. Captain Tony Milano hadn't eaten the Chinese food, at least not from what I'd seen, but he did pillage my refrigerator and "confiscate" the lemon mousse to serve to all the first responders who were on site. I think it was my father's idea. The two of them were in their glory, in the heart of chaos, celebrating the arrest.
Dharma set her napkin on the table, preparing to go. She'd already finished her lemon mousse, whereas I hadn't even started mine.
"My job here is done," she said.
"Wait," I said. "Your job? You're leaving already?"
"My husband's waiting at home, and it's our date night. Don't get up. You two stay. I've already ordered a special treat, and it'll be out any minute."
Logan and I exchanged a look, eyebrows raised. Special treat?
I turned to ask Dharma what she meant, but she was already gone.
The waiter appeared, and opened a bottle of Veuve Clicquot with a dramatic POP.
We sat in stunned silence as the waiter poured two flutes of champagne.
"I guess we're celebrating," Logan said.
I lifted my glass to clink it with his. "Cheers!"
"Wait," he said. "I want to do a proper toast."
"Okay." I set my glass back down and waited.
"First of all, you look beautiful tonight. That dress is my new favorite thing—not that I don't love your bathrobe, of course."
"Thanks, I think."
He gazed at me, his eyes as blue as the winter sky, and just as calm.
"You look beautiful every day," he said. "I've really enjoyed working with you these last few weeks, and getting to know you." He glanced down at the tablecloth bashfully, then back up at me. "What I'm trying to say is—"
He looked up, over my head, and frowned.
"Stormy, who's that guy, and why's he staring at us?"
I turned around in my chair and followed his gaze.
A man stood by the entryway to the dining area, at the hostess station. He straightened up with recognition when he met my gaze.
I turned back around slowly.
Uh-oh.
Dharma Lake had made a plan, and now her plan was going wrong.
"I'm so sorry about this, Logan," I said. "That guy staring at us is my former fiancé. It's Christopher."
Angela Pepper
Note from the author, Angela Pepper:
Thank you for reading DEATH OF A CRAFTY KNITTER, book 2 in the Stormy Day Cozy Murder Mystery series.
I truly hope you enjoyed this book! Pretty wild ride, right? For me, the author, there were a few days I cursed these characters for getting ideas of their own and charging off in all directions. It's definitely a challenge to have such energetic and inspired folks running around the pages, keeping me up late figuring out what they're up to!
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One thing that surprised me in this book was the charm of the relationship between Stormy and her father. I admit I have borrowed a few things from my own dad (ahem, Hobo Pride), but Finnegan Day is his own person, with his own ideas.
In the upcoming books of this series, we will be getting better acquainted with the people in Stormy's life. I do have some plans, but as Finnegan Day says, Plans go wrong. It's better to have a process.
So, let's call it a process, and let's have some fun together.
As I was writing this book, one of my author friends announced she was moving to Oregon. I advised her to not move to Misty Falls. It's gorgeous, yes, but strange things happen there...
I appreciate your support in any form! Please mention Stormy Day to your friends who enjoy a mystery with plenty of humor and a little bit of romance.
And, if you'd like to go the extra step and be an awesome fan, please post a review of this book wherever it was purchased, to let other readers know what you think!
Your opinion matters! In this modern day of ebooks, posting a review is the new word-of-mouth. It's also a great way for me, the author, to see which characters are reader favorites, and what kind of storylines you'd like to hear more about.
Now, hold onto your hats for more adventure and fun in the next story!
Click here for the links for Stormy Day Book #3 - www.angelapepper.com.
Thank you again for your wonderful support! I'll see you again in the next book!
Much love,
Angela
ANGELA PEPPER
www.angelapepper.com
Death of a Crafty Knitter Page 26
