Seams Like Murder (A Crochet Mystery) by Betty Hechtman

Seams Like Murder (A Crochet Mystery) by Betty Hechtman

Author:Betty Hechtman [Hechtman, Betty]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, United States, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, Mystery, Amateur Sleuths, Cozy, Women Sleuths
ISBN: 9780698187580
Amazon: B013Q70E6S
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 2016-05-03T04:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER 16

“What happened last night?” Dinah asked when she found me in the yarn department late that morning. I cringed, wondering if she’d developed mind-reading abilities. Much as I tried to put it out of my mind, Barry’s visit kept popping up. Then I realized she was talking about what happened after she’d left me with Mason and Brooklyn. I struggled, trying to remember what we had talked about, but I didn’t really have to worry about answering. Dinah seemed preoccupied and started shaking her head in some kind of internal disbelief before blurting out, “I almost said yes.”

“What?” I said, stopping my work. Boxes of yarn were at my feet, as I’d been loading misty blue mohair into a bin. Once the classes started, I expected a lot of that kind of yarn to move, since it was the mainstay of Sheila’s designs. There were a few women who I recognized as regular customers gathered at the table. I laughed inwardly, glad that Adele was off in the kids’ department, because the women were all knitting. They were lost in their clicking needles and conversation and paid no attention to us.

“You didn’t, though?” I asked warily, glad to ignore her original question about the previous night’s activities.

Dinah usually looked well put together, accenting whatever she was wearing with a couple of long scarves, but this morning it appeared that she had been preoccupied when she got dressed, and there wasn’t even one scarf to add a splash of color to her black pantsuit.

“I’m due for a break,” I said. “Let’s get some coffee and you can tell me all about it. And I’ll tell you about last night. Just a hint: I got some more info from Barry.”

Dinah’s eyes lit up as I shoved the yarn back in the box. “Wow! I think I’d rather talk about your stuff,” she said.

“Let’s go to Le Grande Fromage. I want to check the supply of flyers.” It was probably wishful thinking, but I imagined the stacks of papers I’d left in the stores down the street had trickled down to a few last pages. I dropped a new stack in my canvas tote.

Dinah and I made small talk as we left the bookstore. It seemed her students had reached a new low—one of them had tried to turn in his essay as a text.

“He couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t accept it,” she said. “What kind of precedent would that set? You should have seen it.” She stopped long enough to pull out her smartphone. “Actually, you can see it.” She scrolled through a mass of words in the dialog box.

“How can you tell where a paragraph starts?” I asked.

“Exactly. And half the words are in some shortened version.”

“What did you do?” I asked.

“The only thing I could do! I texted him back an F.” Dinah threw up her hands. “These students!”

“Let’s go in,” I said as we passed the display window of Luxe, the lifestyle store next to the bookstore.

“Is it the flyers you want to check, or Sheila?” Dinah said.



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