Craft Circle Cozy Mystery Boxed Set Read online

  Craft Circle Cozy Mystery Boxed Set

  Books 1 - 3

  Stacey Alabaster

  Fairfield Publishing

  Contents

  Copyright

  Message to Readers

  Steps from Death

  Arts, Crafts and Murder

  A Finely Crafted Murder

  Thank You!

  Copyright © 2017 Fairfield Publishing

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Except for review quotes, this book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the written consent of the author.

  This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental.

  Thank you so much for buying my book. I am excited to share my stories with you and hope that you are just as thrilled to read them.

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  Steps from Death

  Chapter 1

  "Sorry, no dogs allowed in the house."

  I stopped, my high heels just about to step onto the polished hardwood floors of the house I was hoping to become the new owner of. "Really?" I asked the real estate agent. She was blonde, with red-painted lips and a permanently-fixed smile. "Surely if I buy the house, I can have as many dogs inside the house as I like." I stood up straight and flashed her a bright smile. "And I certainly intend to!"

  She glanced at the hardwood floors and made a 'you can do whatever you want, crazy lady' face. "If you purchase the house, that will be an entirely different story of course. But until then, sorry, no dogs allowed."

  A whimpering noise came from my ankles. I looked down. "Sorry, Jasper. You're going to have to stay outside." I held up my hands. "Not my choice! Don't shoot the messenger."

  The real estate agent made another face. Okay...so, this lady talks to her dog. She's one of those people, I could see her thinking.

  Jasper looked up at me with sad eyes.

  The agent shifted uncomfortably, clearly ready to get on with the tour. She laughed a little nervously while I tied Jasper's leash to the front door and told him not to run away. "Maybe you should leave him at home next time," was her not very helpful suggestion.

  I shot her a wink and followed her into the house. "Oh, I take him everywhere. Abandonment issues," I said with a knowing look.

  "Right."

  I could tell she wasn't a dog person.

  I didn't know much about Jasper. I'd only had him for two weeks, the same amount of time I'd been living in Pottsville. Before that, Paris. Yes, from Paris, a city of over two million people, to Pottsville, a town of seventy-five hundred, give or take a few. Pottsville, with its small town charms, full of artists and crafters and painters and antiques collectors, seemed like the perfect spot for me—for now.

  I hadn't met many people so far. But I had met Jasper. It had been love at first sight, though he had a naughty streak and a few behavioral issues. We could work on those.

  The rescue shelter hadn't even provided me with the right birth certificate for him. It said he was twenty pounds, when he was clearly closer to forty, and it said his coat was red, where really it was black and white.

  He was a border collie, I knew that much. You could tell just from looking at him, but also from his intelligence, typical to that breed. They are the most intelligent breed of dog. But I didn't know how old he was, or who his previous owners had been, or what had caused them to abandon him. I only knew that he didn't like to be left alone. One could hardly blame the poor fellow!

  "Nice bangle," the real estate agent commented. She used the kind of ambiguous tone that wasn't clear whether she was being genuine or sarcastic. Or just making small talk. I decided to take it as praise though, swirling the large bangle, with its blue and yellow balls, around my wrist.

  "Thanks!" I exclaimed. "I made it myself."

  "Oh?"

  I nodded. "I'm a bit of an arts and crafter...and a jewelry maker. A bit of everything, really."

  I could see her eyes glaze over. I could tell from her expensive suit that she wasn't exactly a 'homemade' kind of gal. The kind of chunky, loud, handmade jewelry I was wearing, not just around my wrist but around my neck and ankle as well, was definitely not her style. Still, I decided to have some fun with her.

  "I've opened up a new store in town. George's Crafts," I said to her. "You should come in and look around some time."

  She frowned. "Who is George? Your husband?"

  I had to stifle a laugh. I got this all the time. Shaking my head, I explained it to her. "George, short for Georgina. Most people call me George."

  "Oh," She looked a little embarrassed. "So, what do you sell there?" she asked, cringing and trying to be polite.

  "Bit of everything. It's a bit ramshackle, just like myself! Paper, of course, crafting tools, beads, jewelry supplies—basically anything you need to make your D.I.Y. dreams come true!"

  She looked a little pale at the idea of 'do it yourself.' "Okay," she said, fixing her smile back to her face. "What do you think of the place then?"

  The house was beautiful. Large, four bedrooms, two bathrooms, glass windows all around the open plan kitchen and dining room, with a view out to the woods and lake behind. Something like this in Paris would have taken me a few lifetimes to pay off! But in Pottsville, it was suspiciously cheap.

  I narrowed my eyes at the sprightly young real estate agent, my long upper lashes brushing against my bottom ones.

  "So why is it so cheap?" I asked. "There's got to be a catch, right?"

  "Haha," she laughed, uneasily. "No catch as far as I can see. The owners left Pottsville in a hurry, they are just ready to sell."

  I pursed my lips. "No one died here, did they?" I saw the look of shock on her face, so I let out a loud laugh to let her know that I was only joking. "Don't be so serious," I said, waving my hand. "I love the house."

  A sudden shriek came from the front of the house.

  "Umm, sorry about that, I'll be back in a second," she said, almost tripping over her heels as she ran to see what the issue was. I decided I'd take the chance to check out the backyard.

  I wandered around. The yard was large, full of luscious green grass before it backed onto the woods. Perfect for Jasper. He was an intelligent dog—too intelligent, I sometimes thought—and he needed space to run around and play. Too much time cooped up inside and he became bored, turning his attention to destroying furniture and items of clothing. The month-to-month rental I was in was far too small.

  The yard would be good for him.

  And the house would be good for me. I closed my eyes and breathed in the fresh air, so different from the sooty, meaty smell of city air. I'd miss life in a big city, of course, but there was no use in dwelling on it. Life had been fun before. Fun, and messy, and disastrous at times. But now it was time for a change. Pottsville and this new, beautiful, far too cheap house were my homes now.

  The real estate agent ran back into the yard. I expected an apology to come from her lips, but it was she who was demanding an apology from me. "That dog of yours got loose and got into the neighbor's yard, destroying the rose bushes!"

  That explained the screaming then. I made a face. Whoops. Looks like I'd made an enemy of the neighbors already and I hadn't even moved in yet.

  I could see Jasper in the distance, dirt around his mouth and paws.

  "Come here," I called and he ran over, wagging his tail. "Good boy." I straightened up and gave him a very serious look. "So, Jasper, do you think this is our new home?"

  His tail wagged even harder
in answer. "I guess I'll put in the offer, then." I grinned at the agent, who was looking down at Jasper's muddy paws in horror. "How soon will we be able to move in?"

  A smashing sound came from the back of the craft store. I closed the magazine I'd been lazily flicking through and straightened up. "Jasper?" I called out. Yikes. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to let a border collie loose in a shop full of glass items.

  An irritated looking woman peeped her head out from behind an aisle. "Sorry," she said, creeping out, a broken glass tile in her hands. "I knocked it over with my purse. I will pay for it of course," she said, sticking her hand into her purse.

  I waved my hand. "Don't worry about it. I've got plenty more." I winked at her. "They only cost two dollars each! Price of doing business!"

  I'd expected a bit of gratitude from her, but she straightened up and pulled a 'just sucked on a lemon’ face.

  "This is no way to run a business!"

  "I'm sorry?" I said.

  She came stomping over to the counter. So much for timid. "Just what is this place, anyway? I can tell you're not a serious crafter."

  "I..I...Erm." I was not often lost for words, but this lady had me stumped.

  "You've got too many different things in here!" she said, clearly having taken the gravest offense at this, for some reason. "It's all over the place. Baskets, beads, picture frames, jewelry items..."

  "Yes," I answered. "It's a craft shop."

  "Some of this stuff isn't even for crafting, it's just junk!" She narrowed her eyes at me. "And don't think I didn't see that display in the back, trying to sell your own jewelry. Is this a crafting supply shop, or just an excuse for you to sell your own junk?"

  A bit of both, I wanted to say. I tried to not laugh at her, biting my lip. "I take it you didn't like my jewelry then," I said, returning to my magazine.

  She pulled two dollars out of her purse and slammed it down on the counter. "I insist on paying for what I broke. And if you are any sort of business woman, you will insist on making people pay for items they break!" She shook her head before she stormed toward the door. "You have a lot to learn about this town, young lady!"

  Young lady? I raised an eyebrow, unsure of whether to be miffed, or pleased by the compliment. At forty-three, I wasn't old by any stretch, but I was no teenager. That said, I'd always had a youthful way about me that made people mistake me for being far younger than I was. Men, especially, seemed to make this mistake.

  The woman was just about to leave. "Make sure you come back tomorrow night for my first craft circle meeting! It's going to be a lot of fun!" I called to her, trying to stifle my laughter as she stomped out, shaking her head.

  I looked out the window as the woman hurried down the street.

  Surely there had to be some more likeminded people in this town? I mean, sure, I knew I'd moved to the middle of nowhere. That was part of the plan. The middle of nowhere was where I wanted to be. But I'd still thought there would be a little excitement, from time to time. At least some women my own age that I could make friends with.

  I turned my head to the side and examined the sign I'd put up in the front window. "Craft Circle. Meets every Tuesday at 6:30pm. Refreshments provided." It had a sort of homemade charm to it. Totally appropriate for crafting group, right?

  But I'd only had three sign-ups so far. I sighed heavily and raised an eyebrow at Jasper, curled up in his bed by the window. "You'll come along tomorrow night, won't you, Jasper?"

  He gave me a sleepy look and returned to his nap.

  Maybe not.

  I'd thought a small, informal gathering of local crafters was going to be a chance to chill out, drink some wine, have a laugh, and make some new friends. I was wrong. These crafters turned out to be the more serious type. Crafting in Pottsville was clearly a serious business.

  When the middle-aged woman from the day before with the broken tile walked into the shop at 6:30 on the dot, I couldn't wipe the look of surprise off my face.

  "My name is Brenda," she said, with a tight-lipped smile. "I thought I'd come along and see how you run this thing." She took a very stiff seat in one of the chairs I'd set out.

  "Wonderful."

  There were only two other human members of the group that night, though Jasper was sniffing around as well. A nice, smiley man named Billy who had an interest in soap making, and a bright-faced woman, around my age, named Amanda, who was already keeping me sane. "Don't worry," she'd said, leaning in to whisper to me while I carried the cheese platter to the center of the room. "You're not the first person to be on the end of Brenda's wrath."

  I grinned at her. "I'm glad to hear that!"

  She let out a laugh and took a piece of brie off the plate, popping it into her mouth. She was wearing a bright floral dress with a rose decal. "I love my rose bushes," she said. "And flower arranging. Anything flowers. Anything loud and bright, really."

  I shot her another grin. "Sounds like we have a lot in common." Thank goodness Amanda was there.

  "So I thought for the first meeting, we'd keep things light and breezy," I said with a smile, flipping my hair over my shoulder, my large bangle flashing for everyone to see. Maybe I'd get some jewelry buyers out of this, at least. But Brenda just scowled at my wrist. "Anyone want any wine?" I asked, reaching over to open a fresh bottle of pinot noir.

  Brenda pursued her lips. "So you have no intentions of this ever being a serious crafting circle?"

  "We can be serious and still drink wine, can't we?"

  Brenda glared at me. "I'd rather talk about my paper mache, thank you very much."

  I caught Amanda's eye. She was trying not to laugh. I was doing the same.

  "What’s so funny?" Brenda demanded to know.

  "Nothing," I said quickly. Suddenly Jasper ran over to Brenda and jumped on her, his paws on her lap, licking at her face while she screeched and pushed him away.

  "What are you thinking, letting a filthy dog in here!" she yelled.

  Billy stepped in to my defense. "Come on, Brenda. Georgina is new in town. We can at least try to be friendly to her." He called Jasper over to him and ruffled his head. "And to this gorgeous boy."

  I smiled gratefully at him but Brenda had already had enough. "I'm leaving," she announced, making a show of brushing herself off before she left. "And I don't think I shall be returning."

  Amanda and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. We took the rest of the hour to chat, introduce ourselves, and consume plenty of wine and cheese. Billy had to leave a little early, but that only gave Amanda and I a better chance to bond. We both loved dogs, flowers, handmade jewelry, and a good glass of red. Finally, someone I actually got along with in this town!

  "I'm glad you moved here," Amanda said, picking up her purse when it was finally time to leave.

  I waved Amanda goodbye. "I'm glad you're around, too," I said with a wink. "This town would be dead boring without you."

  Chapter 2

  "Jasper!" I screamed, watching the trail of mud he left as he dashed from one end of the hallway to the other. "No!"

  Maybe the real estate agent had a point about no dogs in the house. First day, boxes still sitting unpacked, and I already had a huge mess to clean up. I glanced over my shoulder at the new hole in the front yard. What I needed to do was break his hole-digging habit.

  I placed the box I'd been carrying down in the hallway--the last one--and stumbled into the kitchen. I hadn't unpacked much but I had unpacked the kettle. I'd invited Amanda over for afternoon tea, the very first in my new house. We hadn't had a chance to talk since the craft circle five days earlier and I was looking forward to seeing her again. I put the kettle on the stove and checked the time. She was ten minutes late. Oh well, I wasn't exactly the most punctual person myself!

  I heard my phone ringing and looked around to see where the sound was coming from. Oh, don't tell me I've packed it.

  Eventually I realized it was coming from my coat pocket. "Hello, George here," I said brightly. />
  There was no response for a second. Then, a male voice spoke up. "Georgina? I-I'm sorry to say, Amanda won't be making it to your appointment today." The voice on the other end sounded eager to get off the line.

  "Oh," I said, disappointed. "Did I do something wrong?" I asked. Then I thought to ask, "Who is this, by the way?"

  "My name is Officer Mathews."

  My stomach dropped a little. "What's wrong?" I asked. "Is Amanda in some kind of trouble? Has she been arrested?"

  "No." The voice on the other end of the line was quite matter-of-fact about the next part. "She's just dead."

  So much for life in Pottsville being quiet and boring.

  I was stunned. Shocked. But I managed to wrangle a leash onto Jasper's collar as I walked the half-mile to Amanda's cottage by the lake. I still hadn't bought a car since arriving in Pottsville. I'd had to rely on an over-priced moving company to move my boxes into the new house, and knew I needed to get a vehicle soon. The walk to Amanda's seemed to take forever.

  I'd never been to her house before, but I could tell it belonged to her at first sight. "Sit, boy," I murmured to a nervous Jasper as I looked at the bright blue cottage with the rose garden in front. I stood back a moment and surveyed the scene. There was a police car out front.

  There were two officers wandering around the front, taking notes. Two uniformed officers. Hmm. Probably not a murder then. Still, there was an uneasy feeling as I approached the cottage.

  "I'm Georgina Holt," I said, introducing myself to one of them—the one who seemed to be in charge. "We spoke on the phone, I think."

  I tried not to look at the red roses outside the front window. I could see how much pride and care Amanda must have taken in them. They were perfectly pruned, tall, red, no rotten leaves or brown petals.