Death on the Argyle

Book 5: Black Sheep & Co. Mystery

by Anne Canadeo

Genres: Amateur Sleuth; Craft & Hobby Cozy Mysteries; Punny book titles

Synopsis

As one of the Black Sheep Knitters prepares to become a mother, a new member becomes a suspected killer . . .

Spring has reached Plum Harbor, Massachusetts, and the weather isn't the only thing that's changing. Eight months pregnant, Lucy prepares to enter an exciting phase in life while weaving together loose threads from her past. It feels like fate when she reconnects with college friend Rebecca Hurley, whose eclectic Happy Hands Café is the perfect locale for Black Sheep gatherings. But just as charming Rebecca joins their closely knit circle, she's suspected of murder.

It appears to be an accident when Rebecca’s writer husband, Colin, is crushed by a fallen bookcase at the café. But his death is quickly determined to be murder. Adding to the horror, police believe Rebecca committed a heinous act of revenge against Colin for planning to end their marriage—a move that would cut off Rebecca’s contact with the stepdaughter she adores. Despite the incriminating evidence growing faster than her belly, Lucy is convinced that she must prove her old friend's innocence.

As her due date approaches and a dangerous mystery unravels, Lucy and the Black Sheep shift from knitting baby booties to chasing down the cunning culprit who’s always a few steps ahead.

Release date: August 30, 2022

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 320

Sample

Lucy was late, as usual. She had no doubt that Maggie’s presentation was well underway. At least the final stretch of pregnancy was some excuse for being the last to arrive.

With one hand bracing her impressive belly, she waddled up Main Street toward The Happy Hands Café. A chalkboard out front advertised the evening’s events: a “stop and swap” scrapbooking session, beginners’ quilting circle, and a speed chess tournament. Perfect pastimes for the soft, spring night.

Large letters above the list announced a workshop with Maggie Messina, owner of The Black Sheep & Company Knitting Shop. Lucy’s good friend was giving a presentation called “The Art of Argyle.” A pattern Maggie often called, “A perilous but rewarding journey.”

So far Lucy had found the stitch only perilous. Frustrating was a more accurate description. After two or three attempts, resulting in hideous UFOs—unfinished objects—she’d pull apart the false starts and save the yarn for more rewarding projects. Maybe the stars and her knitting needles would align tonight, and she’d finally learn the secret. She could easily imagine a tiny argyle sweater and if she couldn’t find a pattern, she was sure Maggie would figure one out for her.

Lucy stepped inside the eatery and looked around for her friends. The café was crowded. It had opened just a few months ago and quickly become a community hub, offering a homey setting where hobbyists could share their pursuits along with a menu of simple but delicious foods and desserts.

A newcomer to town, the café’s owner Rebecca Hurley was not unknown to Lucy. The two women had been best friends in college but had fallen out of touch. Rebecca had to return home at the start of her junior year, and her family situation made it hard for her continue her studies. When Rebecca moved from her hometown, after her mother’s death, she and Lucy lost contact.

Lucy had thought of her from time to time and even tried to find her on Facebook. As chance would have it, while waiting in the schoolyard for her stepdaughter, Dara, one blustery winter afternoon, Lucy spotted her old school chum in the crowd of parents and caregivers.

They were both surprised and pleased by their chance reunion and Dara’s close friendship with Rebecca’s stepdaughter, Sophie, made it even easier to rekindle the bond.

Lucy thought her old friend had done well. She was now an accomplished cook, though Luch had never seen Rebecca scramble an egg. And her “art major” background was clearly evident in the café’s bright, eclectic décor.

Heading toward the dining area, a long glass case near the entrance displayed shelves of tempting confections and savory takeout dishes. Behind the counter, a big, brass espresso machine sputtered with fragrant steam. The rest of the café was filled with tables, with more seating on an outside deck covered by a green and white awning.

A bookstore had formerly occupied the spot, and tall wooden bookcases separated many of the tables, creating cozy meeting nooks for crafters. The wide shelves were now filled with bins, baskets, and boxes of crafting supplies, along with a library of how-to books on every possible amusement.

Lucy spotted Maggie at a table in the back of the room, holding up a pair of argyle socks. An impressive audience surrounded her. Some were knitting as they listened and others, taking notes.

Lucy’s friend Suzanne turned and pointed to the chair beside her. She’d held the place with her huge handbag and quickly pulled it into her lap. Luckily, Suzanne and the rest of Lucy’s knitting group sat at the back of the audience. It was always awkward to step over people on the way to a seat, and in her condition, the situation was positively comic.

As Lucy slipped into the empty spot, Suzanne leaned over and whispered, “Let’s hope the baby doesn’t inherit your DNA for being late, or you’ll be pregnant for a long time, lady.”

There was some truth to that, but Lucy wouldn’t give Suzanne the satisfaction. “Let’s listen to Maggie. We might learn something,” she whispered back.

“I’m just here with the cheering squad. I have a better chance of hitting the lottery than learning to argyle. I can barely fringe a scarf.”

Suzanne wasn’t trying to be modest. For one thing, that particular trait was not in her DNA. She was indisputably the least able knitter in their group, but everyone admired her persistence. Suzanne insisted she knit purely for relaxation and the comradery of her BFFs, and Lucy couldn’t imagine their weekly meetings without the sassy brunette. What Suzanne lacked in stitching talent she more than made up for in business savvy and ran the most successful realty office in town.

Seated to Lucy’s left, their friend Dana leaned closer and spoke in a hushed tone. “How do you feel, honey? I thought you might not want to come out tonight.”

“I’m fine. It’s just hard to get up off the couch lately once I sit down.”

Dana squeezed her hand. “It won’t be long. You have that glow. Did you try the meditation recording I sent?”

Lucy nodded, then admitted, “I fell asleep.”

“You were tired. Rest is even more important for you right now.” She smiled and turned back to face Maggie.

Dana was always thoughtful and nurturing, ideal traits for a psychologist. Or perhaps those qualities had led to her career. Either way, she’d been a big support during the ups and downs of Lucy’s pregnancy, though each of her friends had helped in their own way.

Lucy finally focused on Maggie and realized the presentation was ending.

“If there are no more questions, I guess that’s all I have to say. Thank you so much for coming. I hope everyone is inspired to try this classic stitch. I have information and patterns up front. Please drop by the shop anytime for help with your knitting glitches.”

The audience answered with an enthusiastic round of applause. Suzanne sighed. “Maggie should charge for those knitting glitch consults. She’d make a fortune.”

“She’d never do that.” Lucy nearly laughed at the suggestion. “It’s a good way to bring in new customers, and she loves fixing messed-up projects and putting knitters back on track. It’s her mission.”

“And a worthy one. She gives discouraged knitters hope,” Dana noted with a smile. “Looks like the Yarn Whisperer is swamped with fans. Let’s find a table and order some dessert.”

“Good plan. Those cupcakes up front are calling my name.” Suzanne had earned the title of the Dessert Whisperer. Both her sweet tooth and baking ability were legendary.

Lucy and her friends settled at a table nearby and browsed the menu.

“Greetings, Black Sheep knitters. Welcome to Happy Hands.” Lucy looked up to find her friend Rebecca, who was dressed in her usual outfit of jeans and a T-shirt, covered by a white kitchen apron. The bright yellow bandana tied across her forehead complemented her dark red hair.

“I’m sorry I missed Maggie’s talk. I’ve been stuck in the kitchen all night. How did it go?”

“I missed most of it, too,” Lucy admitted. “You’d better ask these loyal fans. Everyone, this is Rebecca. I’m glad you could finally meet.”

Dana reached out to give Rebecca’s hand a shake. “Lucy’s told us so much about you, I feel as if we’ve already met. We love the café. It’s so friendly and comfortable. And the theme is so clever.”

“We may never knit at Maggie’s shop again,” Suzanne said, “but let’s not tell her yet.”

Rebecca smiled. “That’s sweet of you to say. But from what I hear, highly unlikely.”

“Do you knit?” Dana asked.

“When I have time. Which is next to never since I opened this place.”

“When you have a few minutes to spare, you’ll have to join us,” Dana replied. “We meet at the shop every Thursday night, but you can usually find a few of us there practically any time. It’s a very relaxing pit stop.”

“I’d love that. I’ll try to figure it out.” Rebecca seemed pleased by the invitation. Lucy was glad, but not surprised. She’d always thought her old friend would fit in perfectly with her knitting pals.

Rebecca pulled a pad and pencil from her apron. “Now, what can I bring you? My treat,” she added. Before the women could protest, she said, “We have that six-layer chocolate cake you love, Lucy.”

“I noticed. The baby kicks will keep me up all night . . . but it’s worth it.”

“Good call,” Rebecca approved, marking the order on her pad. “I’ll add a glass of milk to make it half-healthy?”

“I’ll have the same,” Suzanne said. “The milk will make me feel healthy, too.”

Dana ordered for herself and Maggie a pot of mint tea and two carrot muffins. Once Rebecca left, Dana said, “She’s lovely. How did you meet again, Lucy?”

“We were best friends in college until junior year. But Rebecca had to return home. Her mother was ill and there was no one else to take care of her. We tried to stay in touch, but you know how it goes. We were both moving around a lot in those days.”

Images of the years between college and moving to Plum Harbor flitted through Lucy’s mind. Single days after college, working as a graphic artist in advertising agencies in Boston. Promotions, new jobs, bigger apartments. A short, unhappy marriage overlapping all of that. Divorce and leaving office life to start her own business. Coming to Plum Harbor for the summer . . . and staying ever since.

“I went to pick up Dara at school one day and I found Rebecca there, waiting for her stepdaughter, Sophie. I guess it was around the end of February or early March? Rebecca and her family had just moved to Plum Harbor. It turned out that Sophie and Dara are in the same class and became best buddies.”

“What a nice coincidence.” Dana had taken her knitting out. She rarely missed a chance to make progress on her projects, and the café was the perfect atmosphere. “I bet the four of you have fun together.”

“We do,” Lucy agreed.

Dara was her husband Matt’s daughter from his first marriage. Lucy couldn’t have loved the little girl more if Dara was her own, but her status as an “extra” mom wasn’t always easy. As Dara and Sophie had bonded over the past few months, Lucy and Rebecca found they still had a lot in common. Including the joys and challenges of step-motherhood.

Rebecca confided that she’d been unable to have children and was thankful every day that she had Sophie in her life. She was certainly as devoted to her stepdaughter as any birth mother would be. Even more so, Lucy thought.

Sophie adored her, too. Rebecca was the only mother the little girl had ever known. Sophie’s mother had died in a car accident when Sophie was only a few months old.

Rebecca had met her husband Colin just a year after his wife’s death. She’d told Lucy that he proposed a few weeks later and in the blink of an eye, Rebecca’s life had gone from hopelessly single to instant family.

It was a heartwarming story, though Lucy guessed that marriage to Colin wasn’t always easy. She didn’t know him well but often sensed a certain tension between the couple, and noticed the guarded way Rebecca often spoke about him. Still, Rebecca never complained and no one’s relationship was perfect, that was for sure.

“Dara and Sophie are lucky to have each other. Middle school can be rough, especially for girls,” Dana said. “Solid friendships are so important at that age.”

“High school is even worse.” Suzanne spoke from experience with a daughter heading for college and twin boys about to enter ninth grade.

“Where would we be without our gal pals at any age?” Lucy asked.

“We would have much a smaller audience when we gave a presentation, for one thing.” Maggie had snuck up without anyone noticing. She slung her tote bag over the back of an empty chair and sat down between Lucy and Suzanne.

“You drew a good crowd. You didn’t need us,” Dana said. “And I’m all fired up to make Jack a new golf vest.”

Maggie looked pleased. “I thought we could try argyle again for our next project, if anyone else is interested.”

Suzanne gazed at the ceiling. “You all know how I feel.”

Lucy almost laughed. “I’m game. Maybe a baby-size project will give me less chance to mess up. But Phoebe’s not here and she should have a say, too.”

Phoebe Myers, the youngest member of their group, was the assistant manager at Maggie’s shop. She was also an aspiring knitwear designer and sold her unique creations online, at flea markets and fairs, and in the knitting shop.

“Where is our little Fiber Goddess?” Suzanne asked.

“With Harry, of course.” Maggie picked up a menu. Harry McSweeney, a sculpture and ceramics artist, was Phoebe’s on-and-off boyfriend. They’d broken up at one point but got back together last summer after Harry was the prime suspect in a murder investigation and Phoebe was the only champion of his innocence.

“He’s making her dinner, and by all accounts is a very good cook,” Maggie reported. “Which reminds me, all that lecturing worked up an appetite.”

“We ordered for you, too. No worries,” Dana said. “Looks busy in here. It might be a while.”

Lucy glanced back at the café’s kitchen, where the action inside was partly visible through a narrow, pass-through window. A hectic scene, with cooks and waiters rushing in all directions at once.

“Guess I’ll use the ladies’ while we’re waiting,” Lucy announced in a weary tone. That was one thing she disliked about this stage of pregnancy; it was dangerous to stray too far from a restroom.

She headed back toward the sign and passed the kitchen. A curtain had been pushed aside, and the activity back stage was in full view. She saw Rebecca at a stainless-steel counter, head bowed as she focused on a task. Her husband, Colin, stood nearby, shouting over the din.

“Stop avoiding me, Rebecca. It won’t change a thing. You’re only delaying the inevitable.”

Rebecca carefully ladled hot soup into a row of three white bowls and sprinkled chopped herbs on top. Lucy thought she noticed her friend’s hand tremble.

“I’m sorry, Colin. You know this is our busiest time. Can’t we please talk later, when I get home? And talk this out in a calm, reasonable way?”

Rebecca’s expression was grim, but her tone gentle and patient, as if speaking to a child. Her husband was certainly acting like one, a spoiled little boy having a tantrum, Lucy thought.

Colin walked toward her, seething. Kitchen workers swiftly cleared a path, like startled rabbits hopping out of harm’s way.

“I’m working on my novel tonight. You know that.” He paused and shook his head. “Why am I not surprised? You don’t take my writing seriously; you never did and never will.”

Rebecca didn’t reply. She didn’t even look at him. She stared down at the soup bowls, frozen with fear.

“If you don’t go into your office right this minute, we’ll have it out right here!” He pounded his fist on the counter. Rebecca jumped and sucked in a harsh breath as the bowls rattled and sloshed. One crashed to the floor.

Lucy jumped back. The sound of breaking glass, combined with Colin’s angry outburst, was deeply disturbing.

An older man with thick white hair and a beard stepped between the couple. Lucy recognized Rebecca’s father, Leo. He worked part time at the café as an extra hand in the kitchen, waiting tables, or whatever needed doing. Lucy was glad to see him tonight.

“Come on, Colin. Calm down. Whatever’s going on, you two can talk it out at home, in private.” His tone was conciliatory, his smoker’s voice deep and rough. And his gaunt, stooped body not the least bit intimidating.

“Back off, Leo. I’ll speak to my wife any way I like.” Colin pushed Leo aside and made a move toward Rebecca.

But before he could get too far, a broad-shouldered man dressed in kitchen whites rested a heavy hand on Colin’s shoulder.

Lucy had noticed him at the stove, Rebecca’s cook, Nick Russo. His strong features were set in a forbidding expression, his square jaw covered by a five o’clock shadow. He stared down intently at his quarry from the shadow of a black baseball cap and looked as if he wanted to turn Colin upside down and shake him, like a stubborn bottle of ketchup. He looked strong enough to do it, too.

“You heard him. Leave her alone.” Nick’s voice was low, but Colin shouted back.

“Or what?”

The cook didn’t answer. He fixed Colin with a cold stare until Rebecca’s husband slunk back, laughing under his breath.

“So that’s how it is. I get it.” He turned back to his wife. “We do have things to talk about, Rebecca. I’m not leaving here until we have this out.”

Rebecca’s cheeks flushed, and she stared at the floor. Nick glanced at her, then returned to the stove. Leo had already begun to clean up the broken glass with a broom and dustpan. Colin turned away and headed to the dining area.

Lucy put her head down and pretended to be looking at her phone as he passed. She was relieved when he didn’t recognize her, or notice she’d been eavesdropping. He was still in a lather and probably wouldn’t have noticed Big Foot lingering in the shadows.

She watched him walk to the back of the café, to the table where Maggie had given her presentation. He spoke to the two women sitting there, then waited with an impatient expression. They glanced at each other, clearly surprised and displeased. One seemed frightened and urged the other to get up from her chair. As they picked up their cups and belongings and left, Lucy could only imagine what Colin had said.

Some of Maggie’s handouts with instructions about the argyle stitch still sat in a neat pile on the table. Colin swiped them aside, then set up his laptop. Lucy couldn’t see his expression, but guessed he was pleased to have chased off the interlopers. She’d often seen him sit at that table, in that exact spot, she realized, oblivious to everything going on around him as he typed in fits and stops on his laptop.

She knew that a lot of writers had funny quirks about where and when they could write. Rituals like sharpening a certain number of pencils or wearing earplugs. Colin clearly needed to be in his writing spot and must have considered the table permanently reserved, though the café’s policy was first come, first served.

Lucy finally headed to the ladies’ room, wondering what the confrontation had been about. Rebecca hadn’t mentioned any serious problem with Colin. But his words had struck a grave note. Not just the typical marital bickering, about sharing household chores or forgetting to stop at the dry cleaner.

Lucy didn’t want to jump to conclusions and hated to even consider it, but Colin sounded serious. She wondered what he wanted to “have out” with Rebecca so urgently.

“Just in time. I was about to steal your cake,” Suzanne confessed. “Purely a selfless act on my part to protect your baby. This is potent stuff. You might go into early labor.”

Lucy forced a smile. She glanced at the tempting dessert but couldn’t take a bite.

“Hey, only kidding. Eat up, sweetie,” Suzanne urged her. “You deserve a treat at this stage of the game.”

Dana glanced at her with concern. “Do you feel all right? You look a little pale.”

“I’m okay. Just not as hungry as I thought. I’ll take this sugar bomb home to Matt. He’ll love it.” Lucy took a sip of milk, trying to calm down. “I hope Rebecca can come back and chat with us again.”

“She never returned. A waitress brought the order out,” Dana replied. “She’s probably too busy.”

Or too upset. Lucy had an impulse to tell her friends about the distressing scene she’d witnessed, then decided she didn’t want to gossip about Rebecca. It would feel disloyal.

Maggie had finished her muffin and took a sip of tea. “Maybe we can catch her before we go. I want to thank her again for inviting me. These events always stir up business.”

Lucy nodded but wasn’t really listening. She saw Colin take a sip of coffee as he stared at his computer screen, then began to type at a furious pace. Rebecca had mentioned that he was writing a novel, but Lucy didn’t know what it was about. He hadn’t always been a writer, she recalled. That was a recent venture. He’d spent most of his professional life as a civil engineer, working for the county, and still looked the part, too, in his broadcloth, button-down shirt and baggy khakis. She knew it wasn’t right to stick people in categories by the way they dressed, but in Colin’s case, she couldn’t help it. He looked like the boys in high school who joined the Mathletes Club.

Beneath that math-geek façade, Lucy had long suspected Colin was a difficult man with a cold, hard side. Now she knew for sure. He certainly wasn’t a nice husband.

Lucy and her friends left the café without seeing Rebecca again. Alone in her car, she tapped out a text:

Sorry we didn’t get to say good night. Everyone sends a big thank you for the desserts.

She paused, wondering if she should say more. A moment later, she added:

I’ll be up for a while if you want to chat.

Lucy didn’t know what else to say. “About your idiot husband” was what she really meant.

She added a heart emoji and sent the text. Maybe it was just as well that she didn’t get involved. Rebecca and Colin could easily talk things out and be all lovey-dovey by tomorrow. That was certainly what Lucy hoped would happen.

For most of her pregnancy, Lucy had kept up her daily routine of walking her dogs to the harbor every morning and stopping at Maggie’s shop on her way home. As the weather grew warmer and her condition hit eight months, it was hard to make the trek to the village and back to her neighborhood near the beach. Instead, she drove to town with her dogs, parked at the harbor, . . .