Silence of the Lamb's Wool (A Yarn Retreat Mystery) Read Online Free

those your work?” she asked, directing her comment at me. I nodded and she asked what kind they were. I hesitated. The town council wanted everything in Cadbury to have straightforward names without any cutesy flourishes. They’d hassled me when I started calling my muffins fun names like Merry Berry or Heal the World with Chocolate, so I’d renamed the muffins with more practical names. But in my mind I still sometimes called them the fun ones. Cora was really part of the establishment, so I told her they were chocolate and vanilla muffins, but my name for them was Ebony and Ivory.
    Jane seemed a little intimidated by Cora but still managed to mention that half the muffins had already sold and it was just a little after nine.
    “In that case,” Cora said, “why don’t you pack a couple of them up for me. Burton and I can have them with our lunch.” She patted my hand. “Everything you bake is worth every calorie.”
    While Jane packed up the muffins, Cora asked me about the upcoming retreat.
    I described how it was going to start with a sheep shearing and then the group was going to prepare the wool and spin it into yarn. “The grand finale is knitting a shawlette with the yarn.” Cora nodded with interest though I doubted she knew much about yarn craft.
    Her expression dimmed a little and she leaned toward me. “I hope there won’t be any deaths this time.” I didn’t know what to say. Should I correct her and say that only one of the actual deaths took place during my last retreat? It probably wouldn’t help, so I said the only reassuring thing I could come up with and reminded her that I had found the killer.
    “That’s true,” she said. “As I recall, you were quite the detective. Better than our own Cadbury Police Department.” I was relieved when the subject was dropped as Jane handed her the package with the muffins.
    When we rejoined the group in the main room of the Lodge, she held up the bag and told Burton she had treats. I couldn’t help but notice that Burton Fiore and Kevin St. John had struck an adversarial pose. Madeleine had found a chair. I tried to remember if I had ever heard her talk, wondering if she might not be able to speak. As if to answer my thought, Madeleine asked her sister what was taking so long. “Everything seems fine to me,” Madeleine said with a wave of her hand, apparently to indicate all of Vista Del Mar.
    “How many acres did you say this place is?” Burton directed his question to Kevin St. John. The manager muttered an answer under protest and turned his attention back to Cora. It didn’t stop Burton Fiore’s stream of questions. When he asked if Vista Del Mar offered twenty-four-hour room service, Kevin sputtered and I stifled a laugh. Room service?
    The manager mentioned the café, making sure he said the whole name.
    “We offer a full line of drinks, snacks and coffee drinks. It’s up to the guests to plan ahead if they’re going to be hungry after hours.”
    Undaunted, Cora’s husband-to-be walked over to an open area in front of the large window looking out on the wood deck. “Cora, this is the spot I was telling you about. It would be a perfect place to put in a bar.” Kevin St. John immediately dismissed the idea, saying it didn’t go along with the vibe of the place. “We have beer and wine in the Cora and Madeleine Delacorte Café. This isn’t a cocktail or whiskey shots sort of place.”
    Kevin’s usually placid face had taken on an annoyed expression. “This is a historic place, one of a kind. If guests are checking the thread count on the sheets and how plushy the towels are, this isn’t the place for them. There are plenty of resorts in Pebble Beach if they want luxury. People come here for the experience.”
    I waited for Cora to say something in favor of one of the men, but she merely smiled. Madeleine made a
harrumph
sound and wanted to know if the meeting was over yet.
    Cora’s navy blue Chanel-style jacket had gotten askew