Sins & Needles Read online

  Sins & Needles

  A Knitorious Murder Mystery

  Reagan Davis

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2021 by Reagan Davis/Carpe Filum Press - All rights reserved.

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  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN: 978-1-7772359-7-0 (ebook)

  ISBN: 978-1-7772359-6-3 (print)

  Foreword

  Dear Reader,

  Despite several layers of editing and proofreading, occasionally a typo or grammar mistake is so stubborn that it manages to thwart my editing efforts and camouflage itself amongst the words in the book.

  If you encounter one of these obstinate typos or errors in this book, please let me know by contacting me at [email protected].

  Hopefully, together we can exterminate the annoying pests.

  Thank you!

  Reagan Davis

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Also by Reagan Davis

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Wednesday, April 14th

  “I can’t believe Claire Rivera will be here, in person! At our humble, little yarn store!” Marla claps her hands in front of her chin in delight. Her short, spikey pixie cut and brilliant blue eyes remind me of an excited elf.

  My corgi, Sophie, jolts awake at the sound of Marla’s clap, then realizing there’s nothing to see here, lowers her head and resumes her nap.

  Marla works part-time at my yarn store, Knitorious. Claire Rivera is her favourite author. Besides being the world-famous author of the hugely popular Familia series of books, Claire is also an avid needle felter and fellow fibre enthusiast. She’s in town this week to attend Harmony Lake’s annual Between the Covers Book Fair.

  In honour of Claire’s attendance at the book fair, our local Charity Knitting Guild needle felted miniature versions of the characters and settings from Claire’s famous book series. They’re selling the miniatures during the book fair and donating the proceeds to ABC Life Literacy Canada, a nonprofit organization that supports community-based literacy programs.

  Claire learned about the charity knitters’ initiative when an anonymous fan––me! I’m the anonymous fan––sent her a link to an article on The Front Page, Harmony Lake’s online newspaper. She emailed me, asking if she could visit Knitorious after-hours to view the display in person. I replied, telling her I’m closing the store early today for a special reveal for the charity knitters who crafted the display, and suggested that she would be welcome to attend. She accepted my invitation. To protect her privacy, and prevent mass disappointment if she doesn’t show up, I haven’t told the charity knitters that Claire is attending. The only people who know are me, Connie, Marla, my best friend, April, and my boyfriend, Eric.

  “How’s that?” I ask, after placing the last character into the display.

  “Oh, Megan, it’s perfect!” Marla replies, her blue eyes sparkling. “Claire Rivera will love it!”

  Until this week, I never noticed how often we refer to famous people by their first and last names as if it’s one name.

  “I certainly hope so,” Connie interjects. “As a needle felter, Claire Rivera should appreciate the time and effort that went into this exhibit.”

  Needle felting is the process of repeatedly stabbing animal fibre with a barbed needle to manipulate the fibre into 3D sculptures. Each miniature character and object in our display took hours of work and thousands of stabs.

  Connie is my other part-time employee and surrogate mother. Connie and I met when Adam, Hannah, and I first moved to Harmony Lake almost seventeen years ago. 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 just twenty-one. So, when Connie and I met, I was a young, recently married, new mum who was grieving. I’d wandered into Knitorious to buy yarn because I had knitted through my entire yarn stash while knitting through my grief during Hannah’s naps. Connie welcomed us, nurtured us, and filled the mother and grandmother-shaped holes in our hearts. At almost seventy-one years young, she’s the most beautiful, smart, and sophisticated woman I know. Connie is the original owner of Knitorious. I started working for her part-time about six years ago. Last year, she decided it was time to retire and move out of the apartment above the store. She moved into a new condo with her boyfriend, Archie, and I took over as owner of Knitorious. So, now I own Knitorious, and Connie works for me part-time. We’ve come full circle.

  “According to the Harmony Lake rumour mill, Claire Rivera has been in town for over a week already,” Marla informs us, smoothing her salt-and-pepper pixie cut. “Rumour has it she and her assistant are staying in a rental cottage on the lake, and she’s writing the next Familia book.”

  Most of that is probably true. The Harmony Lake rumour mill’s remarkable accuracy rate is matched only by their speed and dedication.

  “Has anyone seen her around town?” I ask.

  “Not that I’ve heard,” Marla responds, “but apparently, she’s reclusive when she’s working.”

  “Claire Rivera isn’t the only celebrity in Harmony Lake this week,” Connie reminds us. “I heard that Jules Janssen and her entourage booked an entire floor at King of the Hill.”

  Jules Janssen is an award-winning, A-list Hollywood actor. She’s attending the Between the Covers Book Fair to sign copies of her autobiography, Pretending to be Real: My Life as an Optical Delusion.

  King of the Hill is one of the two ski resorts in the Harmony Hills mountains. The mountains border our cozy town to the north, and the lake borders us to the south. Harmony Lake is a tiny patch of small-town paradise nestled snugly between a lake and a mountain range. The mountains keep us busy with tourists during the winter months, and the lake ensures we’re overrun with tourists in the summer months.

  “Why would she need an entire floor?” I wonder out loud.

  Marla counts on her fingers and replies, “Her manager, her agent, her publicist, her security team, her glam squad…”

  “I get it,” I say, nodding. “It takes a team of people for Jules Janssen to go anywhere.” Great, now I’m referring to people by their first and last names too.

  “This will be our biggest, most successful book fair ever. We’ve never had three celebrities before,” Marla observes. “And none of them would be here if it weren’t for you, Megan. I can’t tell you how thankful the book club is.”

  “It was nothing,” I reply. “I just made one phone call.”

  The book club worried the annual book fair would be a bust because Harmony Lak
e has had some less-than-positive publicity over the past year, thanks to a sudden surge in mysterious deaths. It scared the organizers that book lovers might skip Between the Covers in favour of book fairs hosted by towns with lower murder rates.

  The organizing committee embraced the negative publicity and made murder mysteries and crime thrillers this year’s book fair theme. To help make the book fair a success, I asked my father, famous mystery author Mitchell Monroe, to attend as a guest author and maybe do a reading and sign some books. My father, who loves to be the centre of attention everywhere he goes, graciously accepted the invitation. He and my stepmother, Zoe, are scheduled to arrive in Harmony Lake tomorrow.

  I doubt he’ll be as excited as Marla about two other celebrities; Mitchell likes to be the most famous person in whatever room he occupies.

  “Well, because of your phone call, the other two celebrities came to us!” Marla sounds amazed. “First, Claire Rivera contacted us because she heard we scheduled Mitchell Monroe to attend, then Jules Janssen contacted us and asked if we could fit her in as a guest author. Can you imagine? A celebrity worried we might turn them away!”

  “I’m looking forward to seeing Mitchell and Zoe again,” Connie says, changing the subject. “I hope we’re able to spend some quality time together between book fair engagements.”

  “We’re having a family dinner on Saturday night,” I remind her. “And I’m sure Mitchell and Zoe will make time for you. I think they come to Harmony Lake as much to visit you and Archie as they do to visit me and Hannah.”

  Hannah is my daughter. She’s nineteen years old and attends university four and a half hours away in Toronto. Mitchell and Zoe are stopping in Toronto to visit Hannah on their way here. They’re staying in Toronto overnight, then driving to Harmony Lake tomorrow morning.

  “Well, I’m carrying around a few copies of the celebrity authors’ books and a pen, so if I bump into them around town, I can ask them to sign them for me.”

  “That sounds heavy,” I respond. “If I bump into one of them, I guess I’ll have to ask them to sign my e-reader,” I joke.

  While we tidy the store to prepare for the big needle-felting-reveal party and celebrity-author guest star, we gossip about the rumoured plot of Claire Rivera’s next Familia book and the outlandish tabloid magazine stories about Jules Janssen’s love life. Our conversation ends when the bell over the door jingles, and a customer enters the store.

  “Hi, there,” I greet the customer, smiling.

  She acknowledges me with a tight-lipped smile. Sophie rushes from her bed to the door to greet the new arrival, but the customer either ignores or doesn’t notice the corgi pacing at her feet trying to get her attention. Sophie finally gives up and jumps on the sofa in the cozy knitting area to lick her wounded pride.

  She doesn’t look familiar. But with her dark sunglasses and baseball cap pulled down over her eyes, it’s hard to tell. She might be a tourist in town for the book fair.

  I busy myself pushing a broom around the back half of the store, aware of the mystery shopper lingering nearby. She sneaks glances at me as she slowly wanders toward me. When I feel her gaze on me, I turn and she looks away. She pets the yarn like she’s shopping for canned goods, not squishy, fluffy yarn. I don’t think she’s a fibre artist.

  “Can I help you find anything?” I ask when she’s about a metre away from me.

  “Are you Megan Monroe?” The mystery shopper asks.

  “I was. Once upon a time,” I reply. “No one has called me that for over twenty years. Do we know each other?”

  “I’m sorry.” The mystery shopper shakes her head. “I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t find any information about you online. You’re Mitchell Monroe’s daughter, right?”

  Great. She’s a Mitchell Monroe fan. I bet she’s here to ask me to help her meet my dad.

  “Yes, Mitchell Monroe is my dad, but my name is Megan Martel,” I explain. “Listen, if you’re hoping to meet Mitchell, he’s scheduled to read from his latest book…”

  The mystery shopper waves her hands, interrupting me mid-sentence. “I’m not a fan,” she elaborates. Then she chuckles. “I’m sorry, that sounded rude. I mean, I am a fan, I’ve read several of your father’s books, but that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to ask you a favour.”

  This piques my interest.

  “What kind of favour?” I ask.

  The mystery shopper takes off her sunglasses and baseball cap. She shakes out her thick, glossy, auburn hair and flashes me an impossibly white, toothy smile.

  “You’re Jules Janssen,” I say, shocked and maybe a bit starstruck.

  She nods. “Is there somewhere private where we can talk?” she asks, checking behind both shoulders for potential interlopers.

  Why would an A-list celebrity look for information about me online? What kind of favour could she possibly want me to do for her? There’s only one way to find out.

  “Sure,” I reply, “follow me.” I jerk my head toward the back room.

  Chapter 2

  I gesture for Jules to go first, and as she steps in front of me, a finger taps my shoulder.

  “Is that Jules Janssen?” Connie mouths, exaggerating her silent words to ensure I understand her.

  “Yes,” I mouth, nodding.

  “What does she want?” Connie mouths, concern creasing her forehead and the corners of her blue eyes.

  I shrug. “I don’t know,” I mouth. Then in my normal volume, I add, “Why don’t you join us? I’m sure Marla can cope by herself for a few minutes.”

  Connie nods in agreement and slips past me into the back room.

  Marla is busy making adjustments to the front display window and didn’t seem to notice our incognito guest. I guess Jules’s disguise works. I tell Marla that Connie and I will be back in a few minutes, and tell her to holler if she needs us.

  Jules introduces herself to Connie, and I invite them to have a seat at the table in the kitchenette area. I offer Jules a tea or coffee, which she declines, and join them at the small table.

  “I understand Claire Rivera is planning to visit your store this evening,” Jules says.

  “Where did you hear that?” I ask, neither confirming nor denying her statement.

  “Irrelevant,” Jules responds, waving away my comment. “I’ve been trying to meet with Claire for months. She won’t take my calls or answer my emails. She’s a hard person to get in touch with. I’ve resorted to following her to book fairs and book signings to get some face time with her.”

  “OK,” I acknowledge with a one-shoulder shrug. “What does it have to do with me?”

  “I’m hoping you’ll give Claire a gift for me,” Jules explains, unzipping her backpack and pulling out a gift bag with tissue paper artfully sticking out of the top.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  Jules Janssen might be famous, but I don’t know her, and I’m not comfortable acting as a liaison between her and Claire. Especially if Claire has made it clear that she doesn’t want to talk to Jules, and if I don’t know what I’m passing along to Claire on Jules’s behalf.

  “Just a few small tokens,” Jules replies. “I’ll show you.” She pulls the tissue paper out of the bag and places it on the table. “A copy of my autobiography, signed of course.” She places the book on top of the tissue paper, flattening it, then she pulls out another book. “A popular needle felting book, signed by the author, with a personal inscription for Claire.” She places the needle-felting book on top of her autobiography. “I had to pull a few strings to get this,” she says, smiling and tapping the felting book. Jules reaches into the bag once more and pulls out a small felted sheep. “I needle felted this sheep myself. I learned how to needle felt to show Claire that I’m the perfect actor to play Mama in the film adaptations of the Familia book series.”

  The Familia book series tells the story of a modern-day organized crime family and their matriarch, Mama. Mama is a complex, interesting character. She’s a loving mother, PTA member,
and moral compass, but she’s also a ruthless mob boss who will stop at nothing to protect her family and their interests. She’s also a needle felter, and her needle felting acts as a plot device to show the reader how Mama feels; the more aggressively she stabs her current project, the angrier she is.

  “I wasn’t aware the Familia series is being made into a film,” Connie says, excited at the prospect.

  “It’s not,” Jules confirms, looking at Connie, “but I plan to change that.” Jules looks at me. “I was born to play Mama,” Jules insists. “I know Claire has said publicly that she’ll never allow the books to be made into movies, but I know if I talk to her, I could change her mind.”

  “And you’re hoping these gifts will convince her to talk to you?” I deduce.

  Jules nods enthusiastically. “Exactly!” Her smile shows more teeth than I think I have in my entire mouth. “When she reads my autobiography, and this note I wrote to her,”––Jules opens the cover of the needle-felting book to reveal an envelope addressed to Claire in cursive handwriting––“I know she’ll see I can help her bring Familia to life and introduce the series to a whole new audience.”

  I feel like she’s trying to sell me something. This is definitely a practiced sales pitch.

  I sigh. “If I see her,” I disclaim, “I’ll give Claire the gift bag, but I can’t guarantee she’ll contact you, or that she’ll even open it.”

  “That’s all I ask,” Jules says, then she places her hand on top of mine. “Thank you, Megan! I appreciate it.”