Yarned and Dangerous Read Online Free PDF Page B

were kept. Josie hadn’t seen an office or even a desk here.
    â€œWhy do I even care?” Josie mused aloud. Her eyes roved over the bins of yarn and the scarves and sweaters hanging in various spots about the room, presumably sample items made from the shop’s inventory of fibers. “I’m only here to help Eb and to close up. I’ll be gone in a couple of weeks.” Why did that make her feel just a little bit sad?
    She stood at the window and looked out on Main Street again, thoughtful. Across the road, a narrow wooden door between two empty shops opened a crack. Josie glanced up. The upstairs windows were dark and shaded, without any discernible curtains or houseplants sitting on sills. The door opened farther, and a woman dressed in a drab khaki-colored trench coat stepped out onto the short stoop. She glanced around, stared for a moment at the ambulance, then pulled her unstructured hat firmly down over her head. She walked off briskly in the direction of the general store, the tails of the long coat blowing in the cold February wind.
    Josie frowned. If she wasn’t mistaken, that was one of the ladies who’d accompanied Lillian here yesterday, looking for a sale on Cora’s yarn. What had she been doing over there, in an apparently abandoned building? Not that it was any of Josie’s business. In New York, you learned to stay out of other people’s affairs, no matter how curious you were, and it seemed like good advice here, too.
    â€œJosie?” Officer Coogan’s voice made her jump. “Sorry to startle you. I think it would be best if you went on home now. It’s going to be a while before the techs get here to process the scene.”
    â€œProcess? You mean this is a crime scene?” Officer Coogan nodded. Even though Josie had expected it, the confirmation hit her like a falling anvil in a cartoon. Someone had died at Miss Marple Knits, and it hadn’t been an accident.
    â€œYou’re staying at Eben’s, right? If you’re all right to drive, go on back there now. I or someone else will get in touch with you. We’ll need a statement.”
    â€œMe? I got into town yesterday, and I met the . . . dead woman . . . once for about five minutes. What could I possibly know?” She hated the way her voice had risen along with her agitation level.
    Officer Coogan put a hand on Josie’s shoulder. “We know that. News travels fast in a village this size. But it’s procedure. So go on home, make a cup of tea, and wait until we contact you, okay? We’ll let you know when you can come back to the shop.” Her tone was calm and kind, but it also brooked no opposition.
    Josie wrapped the scarf Cora had given her around her neck, then buttoned up her coat and donned her leather gloves. Strange. She felt a little proprietary about this shop, somehow, and didn’t want to leave it in the hands of strangers. Not that she wanted to be here when they wheeled out Lillian’s body. “Okay,” she finally said. “I’m going to stop first at the general store and pick up something for Eb’s dinner since I don’t know where to buy groceries yet.”
    â€œThere’s a good-sized store in Litchfield, five or so miles south. You can buy pretty much anything there,” Officer Coogan offered. “But I’d suggest the chicken potpie or the macaroni and cheese from the g.s.”
    Josie’s stomach rumbled in response. Yankee comfort-food meals and working in the fashion industry were, for the most part, mutually exclusive, at least in public. But goodness, chicken potpie. And she wasn’t exactly working in the fashion industry anymore, not until she could convince Otto to give her and her designs one more chance.
    â€œI’ll wait for your call,” she said, shouldered her bag, and headed out the door.
    Â 
    The general store was blessedly warm. Josie was grateful to be out of the cold wind