Murder, Simply Stitched: An Amish Quilt Shop Mystery by Isabella Alan

below Dodger and climbed on top of it. I grabbed the kitten about the tummy and unhooked his claws from the fabric one by one.
    “Mew. Mew. Mew.”
    “I know,” I said as I pulled that last claw free and stepped down. Dodger nuzzled my neck. Oliver barked. He wanted to make sure the kitten was okay. He didn’t trust me with the job. I set Dodger on the floor next to Oliver. The dog snuffled the tiny kitten all over looking for any sign of injury. Dodger rolled onto his back and batted at his canine brother.
    I knelt on the floor to reassure Oliver. Dodger didn’t need any reassurance. He was already up and wandering the living room on a quest for more trouble. “He’s okay, Ollie. There’s not a scratch on him.”
    My curtains were another story. Pinpricks ran all the way up the rod. It appeared Dodger climbed the curtains several times while we had been at the auction.
    Oliver followed after the kitten and pressed his stub nose into the kitten’s side and nudged Dodger into his dog bed. When the kitten was settled, Oliver lay next to him.
    I folded my arms. “You two are turning in for the night?”
    Oliver put a protective paw on Dodger’s back. The kitten nestled into the dog bed and closed his eyes. Oliver watched the kitten sleep.
    •   •   •
     
    The next morning, I woke up to yowls. I sat up straight in bed and saw tiny Dodger hanging from my previously unharmed bedroom curtains. Oliver rooted on the hardwood floor below barking at the kitten, who was only five feet from the ground. I couldn’t tell if he was barking encouragement or reprimand. From the confused expression on Dodger’s face, he didn’t know either.
    I jumped out of bed and examined the pinpricks of slits in my curtain and sighed. I looked down at the kitten and shook my finger at him. “Dodger, we are going to have to get you a scratching post.” Again, I unhooked him from a curtain and set him on the floor.
    The little kitten purred and butted his head against my ankles. This was how he got away with everything. Oliver cocked his head as if to say. “What are you going to do? The kid is cute.”
    I gave Dodger extra points in the cuteness factor. I shook my finger at the kitten. “You’re coming to the shop with us today, so we can keep an eye on you.”
    Oliver woofed his approval as he always felt better when he could supervise his small charge.
    After I had gotten all three of us ready for the day, I drove to the sheriff’s department in Holmesville. Oliver and Dodger rode in the backseat.
    “You guys stay here,” I told them as I stopped the car in the visitor parking lot. I sighed as I walked to the octagonal building. Two months ago, I made this same walk, but as a murder suspect. I was never charged or arrested, but I did have to record my statement and be fingerprinted after finding Joseph Walker’s dead body. Who knew that in such a short time I would be here again because I made another gruesome discovery.
    Sheriff Mitchell’s reserved parking space lay empty. Not that I looked for his car. Okay, maybe I did.
    I pushed the heavy metal door open and moved down the linoleum floor to the desk sergeant. “Hi, Nadine.”
    She grunted and handed me a clipboard. “Sit there.” She pointed at a folding chair. “Record your statement and sign.”
    “Okeydokey.” I perched on the chair and filled out the paperwork. When I was finished, I took it back to Nadine. “At least you don’t have to fingerprint me this time.”
    She held out her hand for the clipboard, and I gave it to her.
    I turned to go when she said, “The sheriff will be seeing you soon I’m sure.”
    “What’s that mean?”
    She gave me the tiniest of smiles. I didn’t even know Nadine knew how to smile. “You’re free to go.”
    Frowning, I left, worrying all the time about Nadine’s smile.
    On the drive from the sheriff’s department to Running Stitch, I peeked in the rearview mirror and saw Oliver and Dodger sitting side by side.