The Drowning Spool (A Needlecraft Mystery) - Plot & Excerpts
The lights were on, the coffee was brewed, the Bose was broadcasting something light and sparkling from NPR. Godwin turned sad eyes on her and said, “Oh, my dear, Jill called to tell me to be extra nice to you today—and why. Do you want to go back upstairs?” “Thank you, Goddy, but no. I’m upset, of course, but I think I’ll do better if I’m at work.” “Do you really think it’s murder? After all, she was old and had a terminal disease.” “Alzheimer’s doesn’t kill suddenly. The path downward is a long one, and she was far from the bottom. It could have been a heart attack or stroke. All the same . . .” “All right,” Godwin said, nodding. “Maybe the autopsy will tell us something.” “I hope the autopsy is clear.” • • • WILMA Carter’s funeral was a church service in the Hennepin Avenue Methodist Church in Minneapolis. A big, roughly circular building of gray stone, it had a tall, elaborate, delicate spire rising from its center, supported on slim flying buttresses.
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