Wrap and Turn (Tink Tank Knitting Mystery #1) by Jessa Archer
English | 2020 | Mystery/Thriller Cozy | ePUB | 3.0 MB
Charlotte “Charlie” Shaw is a divorcée and empty nester running a knitting store/coffee shop in a rural Iowa college town. Her biggest problem is the guy who runs the tattoo parlor next door, Mike Blankenship, letting his customers run amok, playing death metal at two a.m., littering, and vandalizing the neighborhood.
When that cad turns up as a cadaver, Charlie becomes a suspect. The more Charlie unravels the killer’s web, the more she realizes that she and her employees are targets too. Will she unmask the killer before she and her close-knit community become the next victims?
I dread the day she’ll finish her dissertation. Once she graduates, she’ll move on, move away, just like my sons did. While I’m sure I’ll find a competent assistant to replace her when the time comes, losing that close friendship will be devastating.
I was distracted from that depressing thought when Vincent popped his head in a few minutes later, delivering pastries and chocolates from his patisserie down the street called Ganache. Vincent is slightly built, about my age, with plain spectacles and thinning hair that he only recently stopped combing over. Wearing a pristine white apron over his conservative blue shirt and tie, he set the large white boxes on the counter with a soft sigh. “Another mess in the alley this morning,” he said.
My brows drew together in confusion as I started filling the glass display case with his tempting treats. “I didn’t see anything when Harvey and I went for our walk.”
“There were some broken bottles, so I cleaned it up as soon as I saw it—I didn’t want you or Harvey to get hurt in the dark.”
Ugh. Broken bottles where all the owners and tenants parked their cars and delivery drivers pulled up. I hoped Vincent had gotten it all in the meager light of the safety lamp out back so no one turned up with a flat.
“That’s awfully nice of you, Vincent. I wish that hadn’t been necessary.” I immediately switched gears to foam some milk and pull a shot of espresso for Vincent’s favorite drink.
Trance, the tattoo parlor next door, had a habit of letting their clientele go a bit wild into the wee hours, playing loud music and leaving rubbish behind—usually empty beer cans, snack wrappers, and cigarette butts—both in the alley and on the street out front. Sometimes worse—sometimes they vandalized the neighborhood.
Ninety-nine times out of one hundred Vincent or I cleaned up after them instead of Mike Blankenship, the shop’s owner, which was an ongoing source of stress for every business on this side of the block. Mainly the two of us, though, since our shops flanked his.
Harvey poked his head out of the office, his snow-white pom-pom of a tail gently swaying over his back.
“Hey, there’s the big man!” Vincent said, his manner changing completely.
Everyone is like that with Harvey. His joyful smiling expression always seem to have a positive impact on someone’s mood, no matter how sour. I’d been told again and again by my sister that animals and business didn’t mix. In this special case, she was dead wrong, and I was so glad I didn’t make Harvey stay shut up in my apartment on the third floor all day every day.
“Okay, Harvey,” I called.