Knitted and Knifed by Tracey Drew

Author:Tracey Drew [Drew, Tracey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Icon Publishing Limited

As Harry was a former cop, my inability to remain patient on a stakeout must have come from a different part of the gene pool.

After Isabel’s earlier revelations, I found myself skulking around outside the Hanburys’ house at nine thirty that night. Helpfully, to counterbalance my below-par stakeout skills, the Hanburys owned a McMansion on the waterfront. I was able to comfortably hide in plain sight on a conveniently placed public bench facing the ocean. Just another holidaymaker taking in the view of a full moon glimmering on the softly pleated waves as they hissed ashore.

There was also enough of a nip in the air that a hooded sweatshirt didn’t look out of place. That sounds way cooler than the reality. Rather than a black ninja hoodie, my only hooded sweatshirt was pastel pink, complete with pointed cat ears sewn onto the hood and embroidered whiskers on the kangaroo-style pocket. A joke gift from Mum a couple of birthdays ago. But the joke was on her because I adored it.

As the minutes ticked by with no sign of Ed and Winnie stepping out for their nightly walkies, I kept myself amused by inventing superhero names.

Captain Feline.

Secret Agent Dumb-Luck.

Super-Knitty Ninja Kitty.

Before I could invent a superhero movie franchise that would be laughed out of Hollywood, an outside security light turned on at the Hanburys. As I flicked up my cat ears hood, Ed and Winnie ambled toward Cape Street. They didn’t turn but instead continued on along the waterfront, heading in the direction of Cape Discovery’s campground.

Where Lucas Kerr’s RV had been parked until the police removed it as evidence.

Aha!

With my sneaky sneakers on, I tailed the two perps. Neither appeared to be aware of being followed in catlike-stealth mode.

Confession: I was enjoying the heck out of this impromptu nighttime escapade.

In my previous life—commute for an hour, work, commute an hour home again to a man who grew more distant daily, rinse, and repeat—spontaneity didn’t exist. Every day, week, month fitted neatly into the dull routine Jared had carved out for us. I’d sleepwalked through most of my twenties. And even worse, I hadn’t wanted anyone to wake me because my reality had been too pathetically lonely to bear.

So, being out at night with a briny breeze whispering around me and the golden glow of streetlights competing with moonlight…revived my childhood dreams of adventure. Of course, at nine, my idea of adventure was more digging up Dad’s herb garden, searching for buried treasure than tailing a middle-aged man and his elderly Labrador.

I kept what I figured was a safe distance between Ed and myself as he made a right turn into Beach Street. When Winnie stopped to do her thing on a grass verge in front of someone’s house, I tucked myself into a hedge-lined driveway. My estimation of Ed’s character plummeted even further when he continued along the street rather than picking up after his dog.

Ick.

As Ed’s steps slowed, I crouched behind a conveniently planted decorative shrub. He performed a

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