Died in the Wool: A Knitting Mystery by Mary Kruger

Author:Mary Kruger
Language: eng
Format: mobi, pdf
Tags: Crafts & Hobbies, Fiction, General, Women Sleuths, Mystery & Detective
ISBN: 9781416544654
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 2007-07-30T00:00:00+00:00

The piece of the window stop that had been sent to the state police crime lab was indeed a match for the two pieces used in Edith's murder. Josh contemplated the report, which detailed that fact at length. The paint didn't match the windows at the Camacho house, though; it had lead in it, while the paint chip Josh had taken from the house was latex. There were, however, fingerprints on the board, though there hadn't been on the other two pieces. Josh wasn't surprised. Even the most intelligent criminals sometimes overlooked the simple precaution of wiping weapons clean.

Ari had said something that bothered him, though. It had been stupid of either Camacho to keep that board in the barn, unless their intention had been to hide it in plain sight. Whatever else Edith's murder had been, it was not a stupid one. Someone had put some planning into it and chosen a place and a weapon that would implicate several people. Someone had come prepared to make a weapon. That she--or he--had done so while Edith was there showed a cool kind of nerve. So did the fact that he--or she--had probably wiped the narrow boards clean while they were still attached to a body. He didn't know if either Diane or Joe could have done it, but finding the broken board in the barn was strong evidence, apparent proof that that part of the weapon had been made there. It showed nerve, too, but a different kind. A kind of nose-thumbing, a belief that the police almost certainly wouldn't find it. It was stupid, and neither one struck him as being stupid.

Josh pulled at his earlobe. He was tired. The clamor to arrest Diane was as strong as it once had been against Ari. There were differences, though. The evidence was stronger, and so was the motive. The only problem was that both Joe and Diane had alibis. Unless he broke those somehow, there'd be no arrest. In the meantime, the trail Edith's killer had left was growing colder. The only thing he could do was to keep on digging.

Glancing out the window, he grimaced. The weather had turned, and the gray drizzle matched his mood. Shrugging into a windbreaker, he went out and drove to Marty's to get something to eat at his desk. For once he decided to forsake his more adventurous tastes for a favorite from his younger days, pastrami drenched in messy Russian dressing on rye bread. Comfort food, his mother would call it, reminding him of his old eating habits. That and potato chips.

"Hey, Joe," a hearty voice boomed near his ear. Startled, Josh turned to see an older man, burly with a thick shock of white hair. He was dressed in the baggy green work pants and sweatshirt that were the apparent uniform of the working man in this area. "Where you been hiding?"

"Nowhere," the other man mumbled, and Josh took a second look. Joe Camacho. Their eyes met for a moment. Joe's were hostile.

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