A Holiday Yarn by Goldenbaum Sally

Author:Goldenbaum, Sally [Goldenbaum, Sally]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9781410431806
Publisher: NAL
Published: 2010-01-02T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

It was late when the knitters finally put their plan in place, switched off the lights in the back room, turned on Izzy's alarm, and headed out the door. The shops along Harbor Road were closed, and all but the restaurants and bars were dark, save for small security lights and the dangling white lights of Christmas wound through the trees.

Izzy and Cass were off to a holiday party at Gracie Santos' Lazy Lobster and Soup Cafe--just old friends, Gracie had said--and urged them all to come. Miniature lobster rolls . . . the best in town.

Birdie looked tired, and Nell was her ride home. Her excuse, perhaps. As luring as the lobster rolls were, it had been a long day. Her mind felt fuzzy, filled with cotton candy. And buried in the folds of fluff were keys to a murder that she couldn't quite get her fingers on.

"My car is just down the street," Nell said, walking with Birdie passed the Brandleys' bookstore and Harry Garozzo's deli.

They waved to the delicatessen proprietor, his beefy form visible in the shadows of his darkening restaurant. He'd be back in the early hours of the morning, opening the kitchen to bake bread and breakfast pastries. Harry waved back, blowing them a kiss.

"Crazy man," Birdie said, shaking her head.

They looked into Harry's colorful window. It showcased his wife, Margaret's, talent for flowers and delectable surprises. Tonight it exploded with Christmas cactus, the tiny red buds ready to burst, and boughs of white pine, spruce, and variegated holly creating a holiday forest. Nestled among the branches were platters of imported cheeses, bottles of olives and mushrooms, and narrow vials of olive oil.

"I want one of each," Nell said. "Margaret is amazing." She nodded toward her car, parked across the street.

Birdie stepped from the curb, and Nell followed close behind.

Across the way, Tommy Porter, a young woman on his arm, emerged from the yellow door of the Gull tavern. He spotted Nell and Birdie and waved.

Before they could respond, a silvery Z spun around the corner, its wheels skirting the curve, heading directly toward the two women.

"Birdie!" Nell screamed, and pulled the older woman back against her body.

Birdie's boots slid out from under her, and she landed soundly at Nell's feet.

Tommy Porter was across the street in an instant, his jacket flapping in the breeze.

"I'm fine; I'm fine," Birdie said, dusting snow from her coat. "Don't fuss so."

"You could have been killed," Nell said, kneeling beside her and peering down the street.

The Nissan had pulled to a stop halfway down the block. The driver got out and looked down the street as the trio helped Birdie to her feet and back up on the curb. A moment later, he drove on.

"Crazy fool," Tommy said, staring after the car.

"You sure you're okay, Miz Birdie?" A willowy woman, standing next to the young policeman, looked into Birdie's eyes. Enormous red earmuffs covered her ears.

"Fit as a fiddle," Birdie said, looking up and smiling brightly in recognition. "And you are looking mighty nice yourself, Janie Levin.

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