Wicked Stitch by Amanda Lee

were setting up their booths. I didn’t catch what it was about, but several of us heard their raised voices, and it was obvious they were angry with each other.” She tsked. “Her poor sister . . . she must feel terrible now. Wouldn’t you? Fighting with someone you loved and then having them wind up dead? How awful!”
    “That
is
awful.”
    As I strolled to the next booth, I wondered what Nellie and Clara had argued about. I didn’t think Nellie was strong enough to have killed her much larger sister . . . but, still, she had been quick to throw suspicion onto Ted and get him kicked off the case. What was she hiding?

Chapter Ten
    B efore going outside the merchants’ building, I went back to my booth and stored my purchases under the table.
    “You made quite a haul,” Ted said.
    “I actually showed great restraint and didn’t get half the things I wanted. And I
was
able to learn a few things about yesterday.” I told him that while few of the merchants had anything nice to say about Clara, most of them had seen her arguing with someone yesterday. “One of the people she was arguing with was Nellie.”
    “And that never made it into Nellie’s statement,” he said. “Imagine.” He took out his cell phone. “Granted she was shocked and upset last night, but I’m still going to call Manu and let him know so he’ll be sure to bring that up when they question Nellie later today.”
    “Okay, sweetheart.” I kissed his cheek. “I’m off to do more sleuthing.”
    He grinned. “Don’t forget your purse.”
    I held up my arm and showed him that thedainty drawstring purse was hanging from my wrist. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. If you need me before then, call me.”
    “I will.”
    He was already talking with Manu when I left the merchants’ building.
    As I walked out into the sunshine, I was happy we had such beautiful weather for the opening day of the festival. The first person I encountered as I began strolling through the fairgrounds was the lady falconer and Herodias.
    “Hello!” I said. “Good morning, Herodias.”
    The bird peered at me. I’m a dog person. I can tell what Angus is thinking . . . or at least I can
imagine
what he’s thinking. I had no clue whether this falcon was happy, unaffected either way, or wanting to rip my eyes out.
    Her handler, however, was friendly today.
    “Hi, there,” she said. “I’m sorry I didn’t get your name yesterday.”
    “I’m Marcy Singer,” I said. “I own the Seven-Year Stitch, and I have a booth set up in the merchants’ building.”
    “Of course. Your shop is there on Main Street. I’m Amelia Banks.”
    “Nice to meet you, Amelia. Do you do needlecrafts?” I asked.
    She shook her head. “No. I’ve never had enough patience for it. My mom does, though. I think she’s been in your shop a time or two. It has a memorable name—I like that.”
    “Thank you. How’s Herodias today? Does the crowd bother her, or does she just take it in stride?”
    “She’s pretty used to it by now,” said Amelia. “We go to a lot of these types of festivals, and we go to schools and nature centers . . . things like that. Where’s Angus?”
    “I decided to leave him home this morning,” I said. “I thought the food and all the commotion might be a bit much for him to handle. We have a high fence around our backyard, and since the weather was so pretty today, I let him stay out there. He has the back porch, a swing—which he loves to lie on—and plenty of food, water, and toys.”
    She laughed. “By the end of the day, I’ll probably wish I’d gone to your house to stay with him.”
    “Me, too,” I said. “Incidentally, did you happen to see anyone else arguing with the lady with the rabbit yesterday, or did you notice anyone hanging around the merchants’ building who looked as if he or she didn’t belong there?”
    “Not that I recall. Why?”
    “Haven’t you heard? That woman was found strangled to death with the