Crime Skein: A Knitorious Murder Mystery Book 6 by Reagan Davis

Author:Reagan Davis [Davis, Reagan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781777235949
Publisher: Carpe Filum Press
Published: 2020-11-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

While Eric loves up Sophie and reacquaints himself with his phone, I change into my pyjamas, wash my face, and brush my teeth. No longer able to deny that I’ve become one of those people who, more often than not, falls asleep with their knitting in their lap watching TV after dinner, I’ve embraced it and get ready for bed before I get settled on the sofa.

“The forensics team found some unidentified fibres in the trunk of Adam’s car and around the driver’s seat. They found similar fibres on Saxon’s coat and in his hair.” Eric opens his messenger bag and hands me a plastic evidence bag with a few kinky, frizzy strands of fibre. “They determined that the fibres from Saxon’s coat and head, the driver’s seat, and Adam’s trunk originate from the same source…”

“Animal fibre,” I interrupt. I hold the bag closer to my face to look at the fibres as closely as possible. “This is haze. From yarn.” I look at him.

Haze is the halo of fuzz that surrounds certain animal fibres like cashmere and alpaca.

“I knew you’d recognize it.” He sounds equal parts impressed and astonished.

“Mohair? Cashmere?” I ask, once again inspecting the fibre through the plastic barrier of the evidence bag.

“Alpaca,” Eric replies.

I furrow my brow. Why is this familiar? I’m having one of those déjà vu moments. Even though I’m not touching the fibre directly, I feel like I’ve touched it before. I remember feeling the squishy, soft stitches between my fingers.

“What is it?” Eric asks. “Do you recognize this fibre? Do you know where it came from?”

I shake my head. “I’m not sure. I touch alpaca every day at the store. Maybe it reminds me of something we have in stock.” I squint at the strands of fibre. “It might help if I know what colour it is.”

Was the murderer wearing something made with alpaca yarn from my store? The thought makes me momentarily queasy.

Eric unlocks his phone and opens the camera roll. “I have photos of microscopic images of the fibres,” he explains. “There are multiple colours. Some were white, like this one. The forensics report said the white ones are undyed.” He hands me his phone and shows me a fuzzy picture of what he says is an undyed alpaca fibre, then he takes it back and swipes to another photo. “Some are dyed one of two solid colours, and some are dyed with both colours. I told the forensics guy that the term for that is variegated, and he was pretty impressed with my yarn knowledge.”

As soon as Eric says the word variegated, I flashback to Sheamus walking from table to table at the pub on Thursday evening after the election. He was wearing that hand-knit, bulky scarf. The next day, when I saw him outside Hairway To Heaven, he was wearing the scarf again, and he let me touch it while he told me about the variegated colours. Later that night, at Adam’s party, Sheamus wore the scarf again, and I remember thinking it was too hot for such a thick scarf.

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