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

sort of retribution if she mentioned them by name to this reporter? If the young woman did two minutes of research on the Internet, she was bound to arrive at the same conclusion.
    “I do have a guess,” Maggie said, finding her voice again. “There’s a group of knitting graffiti artists active in this area. Around Boston and out here in Essex County. They call themselves the Knit Kats. It may have been them,” she said, hoping to sound as if she were putting forth one possibility of many. When, as far as she knew, there were no others.
    “The Knit Kats,” Chelsea repeated. “What were their motives? Why would they do this?”
    “Installing parking meters on this street created quite a controversy in town. Many people think they’re unnecessary and a nuisance. Especially the shopkeepers,” she added. “Perhaps the Knit Kats are trying to protest by mocking the meters?”
    “Mocking the meters, of course,” Chelsea echoed. Maggie could tell she liked the turn of phrase. “Can our viewers find out more about this group of outlaw knitters?”
    “Oh, yes, the Knit Kats have a website. It’s all there for anyone to see. Though their identities are secret. They each have a pseudonym and wear masks and makeup in their photos. That sort of thing.”
    “Fake names? Masks and makeup? Sounds a little . . . extreme.”
    The young woman was trying to build this up, make it more newsworthy than perhaps it really was.
    “I think it’s all very harmless. They display their work in public to amuse and entertain. To make a social comment. In a clever way. They’ve covered telephone booths, taxis, school buses. On the Fourth of July one year they went into Boston and covered all the statues of colonial patriots—George Washington, Paul Revere, and Samuel Adams. Red, white, and blue yarns, of course.”
    “Of course.” Chelsea nodded, looking pleased. Maggie could tell that was all the information she needed. More than she needed, probably. The reporter turned to the camera, her long hair whipping perilously close to Maggie’s cheek.
    Her voice was suddenly deeper. “That’s the story from Main Street, Plum Harbor, on this mysterious and odd incident of vandalism. This is Chelsea Porter . . . for News Alive . . . 25! ”
    “Great, Chelsea. Cut,” the cameraman called out.
    “How was that? Want to take it again?”
    “We’re good,” he answered. “Let’s get another long shot of the street. Then a few close-ups on the cat faces.”
    Chelsea turned and offered Maggie her hand. “Thanks again, Maggie. You were great.”
    “Thank you, Chelsea,” Maggie said politely. “You were . . . super,” she added with a small smile.
    A few minutes later, Maggie and Lucy were safely inside the shop, sipping coffee at the long oak table used for classes and group work. Maggie still felt a bit shaken.
    Lucy’s dogs were tied on the porch, and she sat acrossfrom Maggie with her coat still on. She worked at home, as a graphic artist, but still had to be at her desk by nine.
    “I can’t wait to see the segment. You should tape it, and we’ll watch it tonight. At the meeting.”
    Maggie wasn’t nearly as eager to see herself interviewed. “I’ll ask Phoebe to set her DVR. But I’m going to look just awful. I didn’t have on a drop of makeup, and I really should have washed my hair last night.”
    “You look fine. Don’t be silly. I hope she mentions the shop. These things get trimmed down to a few seconds. A tiny sound bite.”
    “Let’s just hope so.” Maggie had already begun setting out the needles and yarn for the sock class, which was due to start at half past nine. “You’d think if a reporter was sent on an assignment like this, they would do a little research beforehand. She didn’t seem to have a clue about the Knit Kats.”
    “She didn’t. But you filled her in nicely. I think those mobile units just drive all day and producers back at the network tell them where to go. The reporters