“Melissa,” Quill said. She closed her eyes against the sudden tears and bit her lip, hard. “She was with Mrs. Huston all the time. Some detectives we are. We should have guessed.”
Meg didn’t say a word, just held Quill’s hand all the tighter. And she was the one who tugged at Albert McWhirter’s sleeve and pushed him toward his daughter.
“Well, that wasn’t too bad, as community service stints go,” Meg said cheerfully. She swung her feet up on the oak chest that Quill used as a coffee table. “And Myles said he’ll be home when?”
“A couple of hours,” Quill’s voice was muffled by the bathroom door. “Maybe you could give me a hand picking up?”
“Sure thing.” Meg set her glass of eggnog down and began to pick up the scattered toys, stuffed animals, and baby bottles. “That stuff you picked up at the drugstore make your stomach feel any better?”
“Nope.” Quill emerged from the bedroom.
“Oh, that’s a shame. What do you want to do with all this baby stuff? Do you think Melissa and her dad can use it?”
“Nope.”
Meg turned to look at her. She set a box of Pampers down. “My goodness, Quill. You look ecstatic.”
“All this baby stuff?” Quill opened her arms. “I should have known I’m too young to have an ulcer. We can’t give away that baby stuff. We’re going to need it.”
QUILL’S CHRISTMAS PROJECT
Meg and Quill are exceptionally fond of the holidays—but the decorations present a challenge. The smallest tree at the Inn is fifteen feet high, and the ornaments need to be as impressive if they aren’t to be lost in the greenery. This year, Quill purchased foam blocks to create a hanging village. You can do it, too.
At a craft store, purchase foam blocks in graduated sizes: eight inches, six inches, and four inches. Purchase cones in twelve-inch, eight-inch, and six-inch sizes.
Stack the blocks to form two-story houses, with the smaller blocks on top. To create a church, place a six-inch cone on top of a stack of blocks. Use cones with a small glass ornament on top to create the three kings. If you are adept with an X-Acto knife, purchase the heavy green foam that is used by florists and carve angels, animals, and other figures. Let your imagination run free.
Wrap the blocks and cones in luxurious fabric, such as satin, velvet, or taffeta, just as you would wrap a Christmas package. Cut the fabric to size first, do a trial run to see that the blocks are covered, then glue in place with a glue gun. If you are covering animal or angel ornaments, wrap the entire figure in ribbon, and glue in place with a glue gun.
Let the ornaments dry overnight. Then trim the ornaments with fanciful and elegant ribbons, fake jewels, gold lace doilies, fur trim, sequins, and gold wire.
Using short lengths of picture wire, affix hooks to the tops of the ornaments.
MEG’S CHRISTMAS DELIGHTS
JOY ON A CLOUD
MERINGUES
6 egg whites
Pinch cream of tartar
1 tablespoon sugar
Whip the egg whites until they stand up in peaks. Add sugar and cream of tartar as the egg whites begin to stiffen. Drop a large spoonful of egg white onto an ungreased cookie sheet. Shape into flat clouds with a spatula. Put a depression in the middle with the bowl of a large spoon. Bake in a 250-degree oven for about an hour. Meringues should be dry and hollow to the touch.
CHOCOLATE MOUSSE
8 egg whites
1½ pounds semisweet chocolate
4 egg yolks, beaten
cup sugar
1/2 cup very strong coffee
cup Grand Marnier
1 cup heavy whipping cream
Melt chocolate over low heat on stove. Add warmed coffee, stirring carefully until chocolate is glossy. Add beaten egg yolks, stirring carefully until chocolate is glossy. Remove chocolate from heat, and stir in brandy until chocolate is glossy. Let mixture stand until tepid.
Whip egg whites to a glossy peak.
Whip heavy cream to peaks and add sugar.
By this time, the chocolate should be tepid to the touch. Using a very large bowl, fold all three mixtures together. Using a wide rubber spatula, turn the mixtures over and over carefully until blended. Chill for four hours.
Spoon mousse into the centers of the meringues.
THE ANGEL’S KISS COOKIE
1 cup butter at room temperature
1 cup ground almonds
2 cups powdered (confectioner’s) sugar
Blend with hands until very well mixed. Shape into plump pillows and place on an ungreased baking sheet. Bake in a 350-degree oven for ten minutes. While warm, sprinkle with confectioner’s sugar and add a small slice of maraschino cherry to the top. Let cool. Cookies will be crisp and chewy.
MEG’S MINT CHUTNEY
1 cup red wine vinegar
6 firm pears, peeled and sliced
1/2 cup raisins
1 cup sugar
Handful of green peppercorns
2 tablespoons cardamom
1 handful chopped fresh mint
Boil the vinegar and sugar. Reduce heat to medium. Add the pears. Add the peppercorns, raisins, and cardamom. Cook until thickened, about twenty minutes. Stir in the mint leaves. Let cool. Refrigerate for at least twenty-four hours to let the mint infuse the chutney.
CLAUDIA BISHOP is the author of fourteen previous novels in the Hemlock Falls Mystery series. She is at work on the third mystery novel in her new series, The Casebooks of Dr. McKenzie. She is the senior editor of three well-received mystery anthologies, including the musical mystery collection A Merry Band of Murderers.
As Mary Stanton, she is the author of eleven books for middle-grade readers and two well-regarded fantasy novels for adults. She will debut an exciting new classic fantasy in 2008, currently titled The Beaufort Files.
Claudia divides her time between a small home in West Palm Beach, Florida, and a goat farm in upstate New York. She can be reached through her website, claudiabishop.com.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Acknowledgements
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
Simple Snowflake
Vampire Scarf
Mrs. Shedd’s Santa Lucia Buns
Showstopper Stained Glass Cookies
Berkley Prime Crime titles by Betty Hechtman
HOOKED ON MURDER
DEAD MEN DON’T CROCHET
BY HOOK OR BY CROOK
A STITCH IN CRIME
YOU BETTER KNOT DIE
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
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This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE: The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reaction to the recipes contained in this book.
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eISBN : 978-1-101-44525-9
1. Crocheting—Fiction. 2. Murder—Investigation—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3608.E288Y68 2010
813’.6—dc22
2010028229
http://us.penguingroup.com
Acknowledgments
Sandy Harding is a wonderful editor, and I am so grateful to be working with her. A big thank you to Jessica Faust for helping make my dream come true. Thank you to Natalee Rosenstein for making Berkley Prime Crime such a great place to be. Once again the Berkley art department has given me a wonderful cover. Megan Swartz has been a great help with publicity.
I have to thank my team of experts for answering questions about all kinds of odd things. Financial information came from Steve Palley and Rich Scheiner. Howard Marx, M.D. took care of the medical questions. Los Angeles Police Officer and writer Kathy Bennett advised me on police procedures. Ken Sobel was my gambling consultant. With her crochet skill and eye for detail, Linda Hopkins was a great help with the crochet patterns.
A special thank you to Roberta Martia for all her support and crochet advice. Another special thank you to Judy Libby for her legal expertise and years of friendship going back to our college newspaper days.
Rene Biedermann, Connie Cabon, Alice Chiredjian, Terry Cohen, Clara Feeney, Pamela Feuer, Sonia Flaum, Lily Gillis, Winnie Hineson, Linda Hopkins, Reva Mallon and Elayne Moschin are part of the Thursday crochet and knit group. Thanks for the friendship, support, sharing of patterns and knowledge, and fun. Paula Tesler keeps us stretching our yarn horizons.
Burl, Max and Samantha, you guys are the best. What else can I say?
CHAPTER 1
“PINK, YOU’VE GOT A PROBLEM,” ADELE ABRAMS said as she slowed her car in front of my house. I had been crocheting a snowflake—or trying to—while she drove, and it took me a moment to look up. But when I did—
Lots of strange things have gone on at my house, but the scene that greeted me beat anything I’d seen before. My mouth fell open and I dropped the silver hook and white thread I was holding.
I don’t know what was the most shocking. Was it the line of police cruisers along the curb, the uniform stringing yellow crime scene tape across my front porch or the group of uniforms conferring on my front lawn? My house, a crime scene?
“What did you do this time?” Adele asked as she pulled to the curb in front of all the cruisers. Neighbors were drifting into the street and the kid who lived a few houses down had his video camera pointed at all the action.
I took a moment to glare at Adele. We had just spent two days together, which was about a day and a half too much. Adele and I worked together at Shedd & Royal Books and More and we were both part of the crochet group, the Tarzana Hookers, who met at the bookstore. I wouldn’t call us friends exactly, more like family. You pick your friends—you get stuck with family. Instead of answering, I just shot her a withering look.
A black Crown Victoria roared into my driveway. The car had barely squeaked to a stop when the door flew open and a tall man in a suit jumped out. Before I could call out his name, Barry sprinted across the lawn, breaking through the yellow tape strung across the porch. He had some kind of tool in his hand. I heard the splintering of my front door and a moment later it flew open. I was out of the car by now, though I didn’t get far. One of the uniforms stopped me and didn’t seem to care when I said it was my house.
Adele was out of her side of the car in a flash, almost catching her jacket on the door. The jacket was part of what she called a more-subdued look. I wasn’t sure what was subdued about it. She’d taken an electric blue ready-made boxystyle blazer and added kelly green and fuchsia crocheted trim around the neck, down the front and at the cuffs. “Pink, you dropped your snowflake.” When I turned, she was holding out the ball of white thread, my steel hook and what appeared to be a tangle of the fine yarn. She glanced around. “Maybe I better stay here with you.” I shook my head and gestured back toward the car. I didn’t know what was going on, but I did know I didn’t want to have Adele in the middle of it. She hung her head as I got my suitcase out of the trunk. “Pink, I’ve been your backup before. C’mon, let me be part of the action.” When I pointed toward the car again, she went into a full pout, but she finally got back into the new Matrix station wagon and drove off.
Adele and I were just returning from our trip to San Diego, which Adele kept referring to as a yarn emergency. Since our crochet group, the Tarzana Hookers, had become so connected with the bookstore where I worked, one of the co-owners, Mrs. Shedd, had recently added a yarn department to the store. It was still a work-in-progress because Mrs. Shedd wanted the yarn we sold to be special and high-end rather than what was sold at the big craft stores. When she heard about a yarn store closing in San Diego and selling off their stock, Mrs. Shedd had sent us down there at the last minute.
It was just the high-end unusual stuff we were looking for, and we had packed the back of Adele’s wagon solid with yarn. The rest was being UPSed up to us. Adding the new yarn section was good and bad. Good that we were getting all this wonderful yarn, and bad because everything at the bookstore was already on overdrive due to the upcoming holidays and our big launch event. Now we had more work than ever.
“Did you find the body?” one of the uniforms asked when Barry returned a few moments later.
Body?
I tried again to talk to the uniform, but he was impassive. That was when Barry saw me. When he’s working, he usually has a neutral expression, but now his whole face relaxed and his breath came out in a gush as he crossed the space between us. Then his expression changed from relief to a mixture of surprise and annoyance.
Homicide Detective Barry Greenberg was my boyfriend. I thought boyfriend was a stupid title for a man in his fifties but had given up on finding a better one and finally gone with it.
“Molly, where were you?” Barry said, looking at the suitcase next to me.
“What body?” I said, ignoring his question. “What’s going on?”
“It’s okay, we’ll get to that in a minute,” he said. “You can’t just disappear like that. So where were you?”
“Didn’t you get my message?” I said. He shook his head. “I’m sure I left you a message.” I stopped for a moment. I had left him a message, hadn’t I? There had been so much to do when the trip came up and I had been in a hurry. “I know I meant to leave you a message.” I thought when I explained my sudden trip was work related he’d understand. His work schedule was such that he often disappeared for days, sometimes with barely a word. I guess not. He just got more agitated as he
asked why I hadn’t returned any of his calls.
Cell phones are great as long as they’re charged. I pulled out mine, which was completely dead. “Sorry. In my haste to leave, I forgot the charger. Now what about the body?”
By now all the cops were listening to our interchange. Barry refused to give out any details until I explained the details of my San Diego trip. He snorted when I mentioned it was a yarn emergency.
“Hey, Greenberg, we want to know about the body,” an officer who seemed to be in charge finally said, getting impatient.
“It’s bodies and they’re in the attic,” Barry said, reaching out to catch me as my legs went rubbery with the news. Still I pulled away and stumbled toward my house. As soon as I walked in the door, the smell of death was unmistakable. I covered my nose and went back outside.
It took a while to get everything sorted out. The gist was that the cops had been at my neighbor’s taking a report. Emily Perkins had called them, concerned that her husband Bradley had gone missing.
Coincidentally the gas meter reader was making his rounds and while reading my meter had noticed a bad smell coming from the bathroom window I’d left open a crack. Seeing the cops, he’d mentioned the smell. Well, woman with missing husband and dead smell coming from next door . . . The cops taking the report called out the cavalry. Barry heard the call and address and he hadn’t been able to get in touch with me for a couple of days so he jumped to conclusions.
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