Killer Cables by Reagan Davis
English | 2020 | Mystery & Thriller | ePUB | 369 KB
Reagan Davis doesn’t really exist. She is a pen name for the real author who lives in the suburbs of Toronto with her husband, two kids, and a menagerie of pets. When she’s not planning the perfect murder, she enjoys knitting, reading, eating too much chocolate, and drinking too much Diet Coke.
Finding a killer is like knitting a blanket; you take it one clue and one stitch at a time.
Sophie the corgi and I have a lot in common, we both love cookies, we’re both short and cute, we both adore our hand-knit sweaters, and we both want to find the person who killed her human caregiver, Laura.
When my neighbour, Laura, slips on the ice, breaks her leg, and requires surgery, I jump at the chance to look after her dog, Sophie.
A week later, when I take Sophie home to reunite her with her beloved human, the worst happens, we find Laura dead.
As natural and peaceful as her death appears, something is off.
Like one wrong stitch in a blanket with thirty thousand stitches, small, seemingly minor, inconsistencies at the scene of Laura’s death gnaw at me.
Laura’s death is the furthest thing from peaceful… it’s murder, and I’m determined to unravel the stitches of Laura’s life and figure out who killed her and why.
This time of year, this early in the day, and this close to the lake, it’s too cold to stay outside for very long. As soon as Sophie finishes her business, we high-tail it back across the street to Knitorious.
I unlock the front door and kick the snow off my boots against the brick wall next to it. Then I turn the knob and open the door, listening for the jingle of the bell. It’s one of my favourite sounds.
Knitorious is warm, cozy, and feels like home. Other than my house, it’s the only place where walking through the door makes me feel both relaxed and reinvigorated at the same time.
I undo Sophie’s leash and take her sweater off. She gives herself a shake and follows me to the back room where I put our outerwear and her leash away. I freshen Sophie’s water bowl, turn on the lights in the store, and flip the sign from CLOSED to OPEN.
“It’s showtime,” I say to Sophie, just like Connie always says to me when she unlocks the door and turns the sign.
Tuesdays aren’t our busiest day of the week, but we’re in the midst of the winter tourist season, so I expect a steady flow of customers.
Despite Harmony Lake’s small size, we squeeze in a large population of tourists during the winter and summer tourist seasons.
In the winter, tourists flock to the two ski resorts in the Harmony Hills Mountains, staying at various rental houses or the new condominium development at the end of Water Street. In the summer, they flock to the same places to exchange their city lives for life by the lake and the small-town-living experience.
Besides being small, Harmony Lake is secluded which gives it the feeling of being farther away from the hustle and bustle of the city than it is.
I can see the lake from the front window of the store. It’s across the street just beyond the park where I walked Sophie. Behind me, to the north, are the Harmony Hills Mountains. Tiny, as mountain ranges go, it’s still a popular destination for weekend skiers and snowboarders. Geographically, Harmony Lake can’t be a bigger town without moving either a lake or a small mountain range.
Knitorious is closed on Sundays and Mondays, so I spend Tuesdays returning phone calls, answering emails, and processing online orders placed on the store website over the weekend. I turn on the laptop and power it up while I check the store voicemail.
The bell over the door jingles, and a well-wrapped Connie comes in from the cold.
“Good morning, Megan, my dear.”
She always says it in a sing-song voice.
Sophie jumps up from her dog bed to greet Connie. She wags her Corgi butt while following Connie to the back room.
“Good morning to you, too, Sophie,” Connie sings from the back room.
Connie is my mother-friend, and I’m her daughter-friend.
We met sixteen years ago when Adam, Hannah, and I first moved to Harmony Lake. We became instant friends and soon after we became family.
I lost my mum just after Hannah’s first birthday, and Hannah was born when I was barely twenty-one, so when Connie and I met, I was young, newly married, a new mum, and grieving. She welcomed us, nurtured us and filled the mother and grandmother-shaped holes we had in our hearts. At almost seventy years young, she’s the most beautiful, smart, and sophisticated woman I know.