By Sally Goldenbaum
This brand-new secret sequence spins a yarn approximately knitters and homicide in a old fashioned seashore village. now not lengthy after Isabel “Izzy” Chambers opens up a knitting store within the sleepy fishing city of Sea Harbor, Massachusetts, a various crew of ladies starts congregating every one week to shape the beach Knitters. Izzy increases a few eyebrows whilst she rents the condominium above her store to Angie Archer, whose acceptance for unfastened habit and a short mood has made her unpopular with many locals. yet may possibly any of them have sought after her useless? Angie’s physique is came upon drowned within the harbor, her lengthy crimson hair tangled like seaweed in a lobster catch. An respectable research principles the dying an twist of fate. There are speculations of too many whiskey sours, a slippery wharf, a dismal evening… yet Izzy and the seashore Knitters scent anything fishy. whilst a number of unusual incidents take place above the store, the ladies choose to take concerns into their very own palms. yet earlier than lengthy, their small-town feel of protection is frayed, and the specter of extra violence hangs over this tightly knit group.
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Additional resources for Death By Cashmere: A Seaside Knitters Mystery
It was probably a good thing to do. It protected Pete from himself. ” Ben laughed. “Nope, you’re right about that. Sam Perry was a big help. He got Pete back in his apartment and even stored your pork chops in his fridge. Pete says thanks, by the way. ” Ben took a drink of coffee and sat silently for a minute, his face growing more serious. html chief while we were at the station. He repeated what we’d heard yesterday—that the likeliest scenario is that a stranger killed Angie, someone passing through.
She was bouncing behind the counter to sounds only she could hear, but managed a quick wave as her head moved back and forth to the music. Nell could see Rose in the baby room, helping a customer pick out pale pink fingering yarn for a newborn-size sweater. Skeins of cashmere in pink and lime green and buttery soft yellow were piled on the table like a rich ice cream sundae, and Nell resisted the urge to wander in and scoop them up. Izzy was in the back room, sitting cross-legged on the floor, poring over photographs spread out in front of her.
I can’t think of anything else, Nell. Ham and I found ourselves wandering around the studios today, being sad, then mad, then sad again. So we decided we’d come by and if the door was open, that would be good. ” “We’ve brought a friend,” Ham said, walking across the Endicotts’ kitchen and setting a bottle of wine down on the butcher-block island. A tall, sandy-haired man with a familiar smile followed him across the kitchen. Sam Perry was teaching a photography class at the summer arts academy, Ham explained.