A Dark and Stormy Knit (Black Sheep Knitting Mystery) Read Free Page A

way and now stood on the lawn just below the porch, her two dogs sniffing tufts of winter grass and bits of snow.
    Maggie stared at the duo like a deer caught in headlights. The reporter prattled on. “Are you waiting for this shop to open? It’s adorable.”
    “I’m the owner of this adorable shop. And we open at nine.”
    Chelsea Porter was unfazed by Maggie’s tart tone. “The owner? Fantastic! You must know a lot about knitting.”
    “Yes, I suppose I do,” Maggie admitted cautiously.
    “Could you spare a minute? You’re the perfect person to interview. Can I have your name, please?” Chelsea Porter pulled out a pad and pencil.
    Maggie’s first impulse was to escape into the shop, like a mouse darting into a familiar hole in the wall.
    She hesitated. Then sighed. Lucy was right. This could be good for business. Didn’t people say any publicity is good publicity?
    “Maggie Messina,” she said finally, spelling her last name while Chelsea wrote it down. “This is the Black Sheep Knitting Shop . . . on Main Street, Plum Harbor. We carry a vast array of yarns. Knitting and spinning tools . . . and lessons for all—”
    Chelsea quickly cut off Maggie’s promotional pitch. “I’ll tape a nice intro later. We can shoot with the shop in the background. This porch is a little dark.”
    Better to hide my wrinkles, Maggie thought. But she followed the reporter, then allowed herself be set in place by the cameraman—like some large lawn ornament—about halfway down the walk with her shop in the background.
    “Is the sign showing?” Maggie glanced over her shoulder, hoping the shop’s name would be in full view. What was the point of putting herself through this torture otherwise?
    “We’ll get a nice shot. No worries . . . I’m just going to ask you a few questions, Maggie. It won’t take long.” Chelsea positioned herself alongside Maggie and angled herself toward the camera with practiced flair.
    While she and the cameraman worked out a few more details, Maggie felt around her coat pockets and came up with . . . a ChapStick. She could have sworn she had a lipstick down there, but this would have to do. She swiped some on, then rearranged her scarf—one she had knit herself—at a more fashionable angle.
    Just goes to show, you never know what’s going to happen when you wake up in the morning, Maggie reflected.
    “You look great, Mag,” Lucy called out. She stood nearby, smiling very widely. Too widely, Maggie thought. I’ll get back at you later for talking me into this, my friend, she silently promised.
    “Ready to roll, Chel.” The cameraman’s face was now obscured by the camera, which was pointed straight at them.
    Chelsea turned to her. “We’re talking to Maggie Messina, owner of the Black Sheep Knitting Shop, here on Main Street, Plum Harbor. So, you had quite a surprise when you arrived at your shop today, Maggie. Didn’t you?”
    “I’ll say. Got out of my car, and there they were. Cat faces covering the parking meters. Up and down the street. I’ve never seen anything like it,” she said honestly.
    Chelsea nodded. Maggie could tell she was doing well.
    “Do you have any idea who could have done this? Or why?”
    “Well . . . that’s a good question. This knitting is high-quality work, no doubt,” Maggie answered vaguely. She hesitated to continue. She wasn’t sure why. She’d so freely given her opinion on that very same query moments ago.
    “And you are an expert on that topic,” Chelsea prodded her.
    “I know something about knitting. You might say that,” Maggie agreed warily.
    “So . . . who done it, Maggie? Any knitters you know?”
    Chelsea’s tone was half joking. But a tingle of apprehension crept up across Maggie’s skin, like a tiny insect that had somehow gotten under her sweater. She crossed her arms over her chest. Chelsea was staring at her, nodding in encouragement. Was she worried about the Knit Kats? Afraid there might be some