A Mystery Yarn by Mike Befeler

Author:Mike Befeler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mysteries cozy mystery; humor humorous suspense fiction; traditional whodunit who done it; geezer-lit senior seniors elder; murder mystery detective novel; traditional amateur sleuth; small town craft shop village life
Publisher: Encircle Publications
Published: 2024-04-23T14:21:10+00:00

Chapter 27

I awoke the next morning with a headache. I had overdosed on honey-infused cake the night before. I was the girl who couldn’t say no—when it came to Granny’s cake. A good stiff cup of black coffee did the trick. My head responded by reverting to only a dull throb.

First order of business—attend to Mopsy. She was a little sluggish as I pedaled to Ralph’s Repair Shop. Ralph greeted me with a huge smile, obviously realizing money would flow from my bank account into his. “What is it this time, Pru?”

“Hole in the gas tank.”

“No problemo. I have a spare tank in inventory that I can install this morning.”

“You actually have the right part in stock?”

“Of course. I’ve stocked all the parts you could use.” He ticked off on his fingers. “You’ve already needed a new fender, front wheel, back wheel, carburetor, starter, brakes. It was only a matter of time before you would have to replace the gas tank.”

Was I that predictable or that accident prone?

“When can you have it ready, Ralph?”

“By lunchtime.”

I walked back to my shop, calculating that I had spent all the money I’d earned in the last two days. That Spring Break rush had better be good.

Boopsie greeted my return with a deluxe hairball. That cat could cough up more hair than she had on her body. I stared at what she had done. Fortunately, I didn’t try to read anything into it like Sally Midge had tried to do.

Spools came out of the workshop in his usual tangle of fishing line. No matter where I stored it, he found a way to get into it.

“Are you going to give me trouble this morning, too, Willie?”

The curtain bounced up and down.

“Maybe you picked up some new clues during my birthday party?”

The curtain swished back and forth.

“What good are you anyway? You’re supposed to help me solve the murder.”

Our conversation was interrupted by the door bell jangling, and a family of four entered. Two boys who I estimated to be six and four jumped up and batted at a mobile.

“Don’t touch that,” the pregnant mom shouted.

Like any kids their age, they ignored her until the dad stepped over and pulled them away. The boys immediately picked up driftwood creations.

“Oops,” the older one said as he dropped the piece to the floor. Several imbedded stones popped out of the wood.

“Oops,” the younger one said as he threw his piece of driftwood down. It split in half.

The mom picked up the pieces and set them on the counter. “Not very durable, are they?”

I glared at the two monsters. Maybe this would be a good remedy for my ticking biological clock.

After the family left the store without offering to compensate me for the damage and without buying anything, I resisted the urge to put a hex on the mom to have quintuplet boys.

I retired to the workshop to repair the damage, gluing new stones in place and selecting a new piece of driftwood to replace the split piece.

With no other customers, I worked for a while with Willie on his reading and writing in the sheet pan.

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