A Crafter Quilts a Crime Read online

  A Crafter Quilts a Crime

  A HANDCRAFTED MYSTERY

  Holly Quinn

  Mark, your unwavering support and love amaze me. This one’s for you.

  Acknowledgments

  I always thank you first, my dear readers, specifically those who’ve started with book one of this Handcrafted Mystery series and followed this story from day one. Thanks so much. Thank you for following my journey through Heartsford and falling in love with these three quirky S.H.E.s along with me. I hope they always keep you guessing and laughing too.

  As always, thanks to Sandy Harding; your support is priceless. I appreciate your guidance more than you know, and thank you for keeping my love of the written word alive and in print! Thanks to Faith Black Ross, my amazing and talented editor extraordinaire, who elevates my writing to a whole other level (any mistakes are entirely my own). Thanks to all those who work tirelessly on my behalf at Crooked Lane Books: Jenny, Sarah, Ashley, and those unnamed behind the scenes. And thanks to the cover artist, Ben Perini; I’m so lucky to have been paired with you.

  Thanks to Jamie Conway for his guidance and information on farming and farm seed (any misrepresentation is my own). Thanks to Patti, who was also a great resource on farming questions. Speaking of which, I can’t forget my fellow book clubbers from JRML, who’ve come along on this crazy journey with me. And of course, the lead at JRML, Jennifer, who I adore and who makes herself readily available with a hug and a smile when I need a break from my writing cave. Thanks Ty Morgan, I’m so glad our paths crossed! I appreciate your eagle eye.

  Thanks to Carol Jensen, who created a unique and special quilt block in honor of this book. Please send us pictures of your finished project; we’d love to see them!

  To all my followers on my author Facebook page, bloggers, reviewers (yes, you … even the harsh ones), and friends from “Save our Cozies,” thanks for keeping this writer sane after hours of being left alone. I enjoy your friendship and online conversations. Lisa Kelley, Dru Ann Love, Lori Caswell, thank you for working tirelessly in support of me and other cozy authors.

  To my peeps, who not only inspired this series but inspire me daily, just by who they are and the way they choose to live their lives in community: Wendy, Jason, Zoey, Patti, Jennifer and my porch visit pal Debbie K.

  To Jared, Sara, Jesse, Aubrey, Heather, and Karl, extended family, and last but certainly not least—not ever! Mark, you really are my number-one fan. Thank you for your ongoing respect, tireless support of this craft, and LOVE. I love you.

  Chapter One

  Sammy Kane clutched the navy scarf closer to her neck, hoping to rebuff the frigid air threatening to penetrate any air pocket in her winter coat. Her auburn hair had grown a few inches in the last few months and now hung in soft waves from underneath a matching hand-knit winter cap, collecting ice crystals. She didn’t allow the chill to dampen her spirits, though, as she briskly walked the snow-plowed sidewalk toward Community Craft, a retail store and gathering place she owned and managed on Main Street in Heartsford, Wisconsin. As a matter of fact, the frosty air and the snow falling and swirling in glittering patterns above her head delighted and only added to her already uplifted spirit. Mother Nature had decided to bless the town with a postcard evening, despite the bone-chilling cold. It was that kind of night—sparkling and magical.

  “Hey, there! Can you believe our luck?” Annabelle Larson, Sammy’s business neighbor a few doors down, popped her curly red head outside her storefront and acknowledged the falling snow with an outstretched hand. “A perfect evening for the best shopping night of the year. Wouldn’t you say?”

  Sammy nodded her head in agreement toward the Yarn Barn. “I know, right? This looks like something out of a Hallmark movie.” Her eyes lifted to the indigo sky. The Fire and Ice event was the only time snow encouraged the crowds to show up in droves past Christmas, Sammy thought silently. Otherwise, folks bundled up and hibernated from January second until the last possible hint of frost, which often wasn’t until late May (if they were lucky). Years ago, specifically the year 1990, they’d had a paralyzing blizzard in May. Sammy hoped this year that would not be the case.

  “The weather will definitely work in our favor tonight,” Annabelle agreed, snapping her chewing gum hard. “I’ll be over in a few minutes with the knit socks. I was up until the wee hours last night knitting. My hands are raw from the wool slipping through these poor old fingers, I tell ya! This last week I picked up the needles any spare moment I had. Please tell me you’ll have time to price them and have them out on the shop floor tonight?” she asked with a hint of concern.

  “How many do you have?”

  “I only made a dozen pair. I thought maybe you could hang one as a sample display and then stock the rest. If you sell them all, we can just take orders after that. What do you think?”

  “I think you’re going to catch a cold if you don’t hurry back inside.” Sammy smiled. “Sure, we’ll work it out. Bring over whatever you have.”

  “Thanks. You’re a doll!” Annabelle retreated into the Yarn Barn as Sammy waved a glove-covered hand and hurried toward her own shop door.

  The fading light of day only brought more excitement to the craft shop owner. The sight of the lampposts suddenly sparkling with twinkling white lights brought a smile to Sammy’s frozen lips. The commencement of the Fire and Ice event was only an hour away, and the town was coming alive with festive decor. It was the only night every storefront lit a direct path to its doors with intricately cut snowflake-designed luminary paper bags weighted down with sand. In addition, battery-operated flaming candles glowed in each storefront window, and glittering white lights surrounded every doorway. The Main Street stores and businesses remained open only one late night a year—until midnight—when the town’s official bonfire would light up the park square. The town’s recycled holiday trees would be burned and the townspeople would gather around with cocoa or spiked coffee (though some refused to admit it) in their mitten-covered hands, chatting happily with their neighbors.

  Most of the townspeople participated in the celebration, held on the second Saturday in January, as it kicked off the first official event after the new year and had quickly become an annual town tradition. The last few years, the event seemed to have grown, along with the anticipation. And the pressure to add more festivities and make the night even more memorable weighed heavily on Sammy’s petite shoulders. She wanted her store to host something special. Something unforgettable that would outdo the rest. If she was being honest, her competitive nature might be part of the problem.

  After all, Marilyn, the owner of Sweet Tooth Bakery, had convinced a local choral group to serenade patrons outside her shop, where she was prepared to sell her hot cocoa, cookies, and other fine treats to passersby. Horse-drawn carriage rides through the town would be available again this year, along with free roses for all the ladies, compliments of the Blooming Petal flower shop. Douglas, the owner of Liquid Joy, the coffee shop across the street from Community Craft, was selling coffee with a “hint” of whiskey, sugar, and thick cream.

  Sammy thought she’d come up with the perfect idea to encourage customers to want to peruse her shop. It was the only night of the entire year that the town stayed awake with such enthusiasm and gathered together despite the frigid air. The craft store owner knew it would take something big and bold. This year Sammy had, in her mind, hit the mother lode of ideas. Her face lit in a smile.

  While pondering what to display in the front windows of her store for the event, her heart had fluttered with excitement. She’d asked the vendors from Community Craft to participate in a live-mannequin contest inside the storefront display window that faced Main Street. Her vendors would have the op
portunity to display their own creations in real time. The winner of the contest would be chosen at eleven PM, immediately before the bonfire, and would receive a substantial gift card to use on anything in the store, perfectly timed for the one-night-only shopping event. She had hoped this would entice participants to stand inside the window of Community Craft. Well, the buzz had taken off on Facebook, and the excitement had grown to a level that had surpassed even Sammy’s wildest imagination.

  The coveted window spot that normally displayed the best handcrafted items for sale within her shop would now be filled with live performers on this very special night. Each participant would perform inside the display window for a twenty-minute time slot, and this would continue throughout the entire Fire and Ice event. Sammy had spent wasted energy worrying that her idea would flop and she wouldn’t be able to fill the window space, but her doubts had been unfounded. She had ended up with a wait list, in case someone should “chicken out” at the last moment and decide they couldn’t stand to be in the display due to cold feet—and not because of the below-zero temperatures. What Sammy Kane didn’t know was that filling the window on that snowy winter night would be the least of her problems.

  Chapter Two

  Sammy swung open the front door of Community Craft, transporting a swirl of snow inside the shop with her. The cloud of glistening ice powder landed on the floor as she stomped her feet on the welcome mat to remove the excess from her practical winter boots. The last thing she wanted to do was drag snow through the stocked store, prepared meticulously for the night’s event.

  The scent of cinnamon and orange spice greeted her, and the welcoming smell filled her senses and lifted her lips in a smile. Besides the holiday season, this was her favorite time of year to be a Main Street shop owner. Although enormously busy, she loved the spirit of the townspeople coming together and felt it a privilege to be surrounded by their beautiful handcrafted items.

  Sammy mentally tried to find the perfect spot to hang a pair of Annabelle’s hand-knit socks for display. Her eyes scanned the impeccably decorated shop that she had spent hours the previous night preparing. She had splurged this year and purchased hand-blown glimmering icicles to hang from the ceiling, where they gave off an impressive sparkle. Her eye bounced from the hand-sewn quilts, perfectly folded and stacked beneath the red-and-muslin nine-patch-variation quilt displayed on the wall, to the Wisconsin-map-embroidered pillows that flanked the sides of Miles’s newly crafted wooden bench. Miles, the well-known woodworker in town, had begun selling his hand-carved items over the Internet. His creations had caught the eye of someone in the art world, catapulting his pieces to sell for exorbitant amounts of money. Because of his love for the town and Community Craft, he continued to offer Sammy a few pieces for prices the locals could afford.

  Her inspection of the storefront led to the hand-knit and crocheted scarves in bold hues of green and gold, signifying the Green Bay Packers, scattered throughout the shop and draped on various endcaps holding handmade soaps, candles, and mason jars packed with dilly beans, tomatoes, and pickles. Patchwork-quilted squares and stuffed, plumped pillows, hand-sewn by the quilting group in geometric patterns, lined the wall. Intricately painted wooden slabs adorned with winter scenes, deer, and pinecones hung on the wall above the polished wooden cash-register counter. A small round table displayed rustic wooden disks hand-burnt with a soldering tool to show various designs of trees, chickadees, and snowflakes.

  Sammy looked to the ceiling, noting that the ice ornaments made rainbows when the lights hit them. She was glad she had made the decision to decorate with them. Along the wall, a sturdy shelf exhibited her part-time employee’s wineglasses, hand-painted with whimsical cheery snowmen, left over from Christmas. Deborah had also left behind a few formal designs, of winter birch trees, which were popular and sure to sell. Sammy chuckled aloud when she eyed the painted wooden word signs—a newer edition to the shop—with various phrases such as If you’re waiting for a sign … this is it, or If our dog doesn’t like you, we probably won’t either.

  This reminded her that she hadn’t seen her prized golden retriever when she noted the empty dog bed that lay waiting for him by the cash-register counter. She secretly wondered if she should bring Bara home before the event; the growing crowd might be too much for him. Even though he loved her customers, many with kind hearts often brought treats for him, and she was afraid her dog would leave the event with a stomachache.

  The winter display of quilted table runners was presented in front of the glass-enclosed craft room. The quilting group loved to hand-quilt, as it allowed them to sit inside the lovely space, gather around the table, and visit while they sewed. Sammy had even taken part in the group occasionally when time allowed.

  After she finished surveying the shop, she finally settled on the perfect location for Annabelle’s knit socks. She would hang them along the gleaming polished wood countertop that housed the cash register. That task managed, she maneuvered past the rack stuffed full of hand-knit scarves and mittens lined with soft fleece and finally reached her older sister, Ellie, who was standing with a customer at the register. Instead of stopping to talk, Sammy rushed past her sister, sharing an acknowledging nod of the head, before stepping into the small private office behind the counter. She removed her gloves, plucked the knit hat from her head, and tossed the wet mass onto a nearby metal chair. After removing her scarf, she shook the snow from it and hung it on a nearby hook behind the door along with her wet coat. Unexpectedly, she heard the sound of singing moving closer. “Dashing through the snow, is a baker on her way, delivering treats to all, on this joyous happy day … ba da da daaa!”

  Marilyn, the friendly baker from next door, whose yummy treats expanded Sammy’s waistline, popped her head inside the office. She abruptly stopped singing and said, “I brought the cookies you ordered, darlin’.” The baker filled the office door with her ample frame. Her hairnet was covered in patches of snow, and the shoulders of her pink bakery frock were wet and glistening.

  “Still can’t get the Christmas songs out of your head, huh?” Sammy chuckled as she regarded her neighbor. “Thanks so much. I was going to come over and grab them in a bit; I’ve gotten a bit sidetracked, and the afternoon seems to have gotten away from me.”

  “No worries.” Marilyn popped the lid of the large pink box to show off her perfectly baked cookies sprinkled with edible glitter.

  Sammy breathed them in and then closed the lid. “Please don’t tempt me.”

  The baker smiled. Her chin lifted in satisfaction.

  Sammy removed her boots and slid her feet into a pair of dress flats hidden beneath her desk, which she could wear for the entire evening to avoid a backache. “I’m saving the cookies for my customers. My plan is to keep refilling a plate at the register. A little sweetness while the patrons wait in line might help them be a little more patient this year.” Sammy silently recalled the previous year when the line had wrapped around the corner and two shoppers had gotten into an altercation. Sammy had almost needed to seek police assistance due to their lack of maturity, as one of them nearly ended up with a bloody nose. She hoped the treats would help quell any potential restlessness this year.

  “Well, I can’t stay a minute longer. Lois usually helps me for Fire and Ice, but she’s gone and caught the flu.” Marilyn frowned, and she laid a chubby hand that suffocated a silver ring aside her rosy cheek.

  “Oh, don’t tell me the flu’s going around already.”

  Marilyn’s shoulders rose, and she threw up her hands. “I sure hope she’s not claiming flu to get out of work tonight, but sometimes I don’t know with that one.” She shook her head in disgust. “As soon as we’re expecting busy crowds, she seems to vamoose and disappear,” she added with an animated face and a swift clap of her hands.

  Sammy was unsure how to reply. She had heard Marilyn’s grumblings about the older woman in the past and wasn’t sure if it was due to a feud or if there was a hint of truth to the allegations
, or both.

  “Well. You have fun tonight, darlin’. I hope your customers enjoy the treats.” Marilyn disappeared from the office, leaving a melted path in her wake as if Frosty had just liquefied. The wet path Sammy herself had been trying to avoid. But she guessed she’d have to give up the idea of keeping a dry store. It probably just wasn’t possible with the current weather conditions.

  No sooner had the baker left than Ellie popped her head in the office door. “I’m so glad you’re back. I’m really surprised at how busy it’s been the last hour. I thought for sure everyone would wait until later in the evening to show up, but apparently people are anxious to get tonight’s party started. Heidi’s in the bathroom primping. Just wait until you see her!” Ellie grinned.

  “Primping?” Sammy knew her cousin didn’t need much primping. She was one of the most attractive women in Heartsford, at least by Sammy’s standards. And out of the three of them, the most physically fit. The annoying part was, Heidi hardly had to work at it; she was naturally beautiful, the only unnatural exception being that she dyed her hair blonde. Heidi’s blemish-free complexion and milky skin were stunningly flawless. Sammy self-consciously tapped her finger to her chin where a red mark was beginning to form. A blemish undoubtedly caused by the double-dipped chocolate cupcakes from Sweet Tooth Bakery and a week of stress preparing for the event was now evidently bubbling to the surface.

  Ellie stepped inside the office and whispered, “Seriously. Let’s just say she’s taken your window mannequin competition thing to a whole new level.” Ellie brushed her shoulder-length auburn hair—which closely resembled her sister’s, though it was highlighted a deeper russet—off her face to expose dazzling hazel eyes.

  Suddenly the door opened wider and their cousin appeared out of nowhere, presenting jazz hands. “Ta-da!”