Murder at a Scottish Social by Traci Hall

Author:Traci Hall [Hall, Traci]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-10-20T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Tuesday morning, Paislee was lost in a project of knitting an infinity scarf with a hidden pocket for keys or a phone, cozy on a padded chair in Cashmere Crush. No customers yet, so it was the perfect time to forge ahead on some new inventory.

According to this morning’s news, Fergus Jones was still on the run. She hadn’t heard a peep from the DI but that wasn’t so unusual—he liked to keep his cards close to his blue-suited chest. There’d been a wonderful spread about the funds raised for the Nairn Food Bank.

Her phone rang and she smiled as she saw that it was Lydia. “Hey!”

“Morning, love.” Her best friend lowered her husky voice. “I want tae kidnap you for lunch.”

“Naw. I just was out yesterday at Blaise’s so I should stay here at the shop with Grandpa.”

“So?” Her tongue clicked. “Ye have tae eat.”

She suspected that Lydia had an ulterior motive . . . maybe to talk about Corbin. “What do you really want?”

“Ha. Fine. I called Sonya aboot prices for the rooms tae rent for Natalya, and she mentioned that she’d caught video of a man carrying oot the shiny black box for the gaming laptop.”

“Who has it?” Paislee set the scarf aside.

“She doesnae know, and she asked me tae come check it oot.”

“And you thought of me?” Paislee grinned.

“But of course! I know how you are—you’re involved in this now. Then after you’re done pestering Sonya, we can get the lunch special at Carousel Café.”

“How considerate of you. I’ll let Grandpa know.”

“I’ll pick you up at ten after twelve. Be ready! Gotta run.”

Paislee ended the call and exchanged her phone for the scarf. The dove-gray yarn was soft against her skin.

The front door opened and an older woman in an I LOVE NAIRN T-shirt wandered inside, admiring the selection of yarns. “Morning. Is everything cashmere?” she asked.

“No. We carry mostly merino wool.” Paislee put the scarf down and joined the lady as she surveyed the selection. “But these shelves here are all cashmere, from local goats. We like tae buy from JoJo’s Farm.”

“Goats?” Her brow lifted. “Not sheep?”

“Funny misconception that cashmere comes from sheep. Are you visiting here?” The woman’s T-shirt and accent placed her as a tourist.

“Oui. From France. My husband loves golf and Nairn has been a dream forever.” Her smile was friendly. “The kids are off to college, so it’s our turn to travel and have fun.”

“Congratulations. I was born and raised in Nairn, so I’m probably biased when I say it’s lovely.” She dreamed that Brody would go to university and be successful. One day she might brag to strangers about it—subtly, of course.

“Oh—can you recommend things to do? I’ve already been to the castle.”

“If you’re interested in cashmere, JoJo’s offers visits at the farm during special hours tae see the goats—they also have sheep. You’d be able tae see and feel the difference of wool and cashmere for yourself.”

The woman clasped her hands together. “That would be something special to share with our friends back home.

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