Threads of Deceit (Vineyard Quilt Mysteries Book 1) by Mae Fox, Jan Fields

pressing at the edge of all the portable lights, it all seemed unreal. Why would anyone hurt George? He was such a nice, cheerful guy.
    She brushed her cheek and realized she was crying. She wiped the tears away, then looked down at her damp fingers. Julie Ellis didn’t cry. She wrote it off to exhaustion and shock. She had seen a lot of rough scenes in her life, but this was her first murder, and it was someone she liked. Her attention sharpened as she heard Daniel raise his voice to a man in a rumpled suit. She drifted toward the conversation.
    “You can’t think I had anything to do with George’s death,” Daniel said. “He was my best friend!”
    “And you had no disagreements?” the man asked blandly. Julie realized he must be a police detective. She eased a bit closer, careful not to catch his eye.
    “Everyone has disagreements.”
    The detective looked up from making his notes. “That sounds like yes.”
    Daniel shook his head. “It shouldn’t. George sang while he worked.” Daniel managed a single chuckle while he thought about it. “He made up his own lyrics, and they were always terrible and distracting. So I complained, but it was halfhearted. Truth is, I always wanted to hear what nonsense he would come up with next.” At that, Daniel’s face seemed to slip, as if the skin had suddenly grown tired. His eyes looked dark and hollow in the artificial light. “I don’t know why anyone would want to kill George.”
    The detective nodded, though Julie didn’t see a speck of sympathy on his face. “These questions are just routine. Can anyone confirm when you left Winkler Farm this evening?”
    “Maddie maybe,” Daniel said. “She was cleaning up the farm stand, and I waved as I drove out.”
    “Maddie Winkler?”
    Daniel nodded.
    The detective continued to ask more and more questions, and none of them sounded routine. Suspicion rolled off the man like fog from the river. He clearly believed Daniel had killed his friend. He was merely trying to work out why.
    Julie walked over to the two men. “Did George drown?”
    The detective’s gaze turned to her sharply. “And you are …?”
    Stupid , Julie thought. She did not need this man’s attention. “I’m the innkeeper at the Quilt Haus Inn. Mr. Franklin is staying at the inn. And you are …?”
    “Detective Frost.” He cocked his head, like a hawk eyeing his prey. “Do you visit farms in the dark with all your lodgers?”
    “That would be an odd activity,” Julie answered with a nervous laugh. “Though I’d like to think any of my guests could count on me in an emergency. They’re all away from home, after all. That’s what lodging at an inn usually means.”
    “Was George Benning staying at your inn too?”
    Julie shook her head. “He was staying out here at the farm. There had been incidents, vandalism on the dig site.”
    “And you knew this because?”
    “Mr. Franklin told me.” Then Julie smiled tightly. “Though he’s not the only one I heard it from. Straussberg is a small community and very friendly. That can translate into everyone knowing your business, as you are probably aware, Detective Frost.”
    He dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement of what she said. Then he turned to look at Daniel again. “I’ll have more questions when I hear back from the coroner. You’ll need to stay in Straussberg for the duration of the investigation.”
    “I don’t plan to go anywhere. My excavation is here.”
    The detective nodded. “We will, of course, need to secure this site while we investigate.”
    “I assumed that would be the case,” Daniel said. “And I hope you plan to extend your list of suspects beyond me. Someone killed my friend. I hope you’ll look long and hard to find out who.”
    The detective kept his steely gaze firmly on Daniel. “I will find the killer.” Though he didn’t say anything more, Julie could practically hear the words in the man’s head. He believed he’d already found the killer,