Cat's Paws and Curses by Nancy Warren

Author:Nancy Warren [Warren, Nancy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781928145660
Publisher: Ambleside Publishing
Published: 2019-12-04T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

“But it was pitch-dark,” I reminded Rafe. “Someone grabbed for a bauble. They wouldn’t necessarily know which one they had hold of.”

He rose and turned slowly, staring at each person in turn. I thought they each stopped breathing as he settled his cold gaze on them. If I’d killed someone, I was sure I’d tell everything if that chilly, commanding gaze fell on me. He’d have my confession out of me faster than a crochet hook can catch a stitch.

However, no one else in the room was as easily thrown off balance as I was, it seemed. Other than Sarah asking him if she had food on her blouse, all the crafters stayed silent as he surveyed them.

Rafe turned back to me. “Was it symbolic? Was there a message behind the use of Santa Claus as a murder weapon?”

Hudson nodded. He seemed to be treating this like an academic exercise in philosophy. “But Santa brings gifts. He doesn’t kill people.”

I voiced the thought I’d had earlier. “Priscilla Carstairs was the only person here who was knitting things only for herself. Was that the message? That Christmas is a time for giving and thinking of others?”

“Pretty harsh way to deliver a message,” Hudson said.

Eileen Crosby looked at Rafe as though considering his words. “Santa’s fat.”

Hudson stared at her. “Is this really the time to go into the dietary habits of Santa? Are you suggesting the jolly old elf should go on Weight Watchers? Quit sitting around all day making toys? Maybe start pumping some iron?” He pulled his fists up, demonstrating bicep curls.

“No. But Priscilla Carstairs was very rude to Sarah Lawson earlier.” She turned her attention back to Rafe. “She made insensitive comments about her weight when Sarah ate a hamburger in front of us. I told her she was fat-shaming.”

Clara nodded. “That’s true. She did. It was most unkind.”

Eileen looked at the victim of the fat-shaming. “Sarah? Did you make Priscilla Carstairs eat her words?”

There was a gasp. Then I realized it came from me. Talk about making the punishment fit the crime. Had Sarah made Priscilla choke on the rotund little Santa in the same way Priscilla had made her choke down that hamburger?

Sarah Lawson went bright red and then pale and started to rise from her chair and then sat back down again as though her legs wouldn’t work. “Of course not. I would never. I don’t even know how. I mean, why would someone die just from having a toy pushed in their mouth?”

I didn’t know if she realized it, but she was making herself sound more guilty by the second. Perhaps she hadn’t intended to kill Priscilla Carstairs; she’d only intended to teach her a lesson, and it had gone horribly wrong.

Rafe nodded. “The young lady’s correct. Whoever did this held the nose as well. For an elderly woman, about two minutes without oxygen would likely cause death.”

“How horrible,” Eileen said. “But couldn’t she have died of a heart attack?”

Rafe looked down at her where she was seated on the chair, little Henry’s pale blue sweater forgotten on her lap.

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