Free Threaded for Trouble by Janet Bolin

and I should become volunteer firefighters. I wasn’t going to tell Edna, Opal, or Naomi, though. They’d try to dissuade us.
    “Plug may think that Mona’s shop resembles ours,” Edna said. “I don’t. The rest of us give classes twice a day, four days a week. She doesn’t offer even one class a week. Nearly everything in Country Chic is already finished and decorated.”
    “She sells home décor fabrics,” I said.
    “She hasn’t a clue how to make draperies or upholstery. And do people hop off the Threadville tour bus and head to Country Chic? No. They divide themselves among In Stitches, The Stash, Tell a Yarn, Buttons and Bows, and Batty About Quilts.” She tapped out a rhythm on her steering wheel. “Still, you may have a point. Our philandering fire chief could simply ignore calls from any of us, including Mona.”
    And what about Sam the Ironmonger’s hardware store, between my shop and Mona’s? I would hate to see Sam come to harm. Maybe he wouldn’t. He had owned that hardware store since long before Plug was born, and everybody loved him. “We’re probably being silly,” I said.
    “Silly can save lives.”
    “Sounds like a motto. I’ll embroider it in a candlewicking stitch for the Harvest Festival.” That broke the tension. We laughed, and she pulled into Threadville.
    While the dogs wrestled in my backyard, I dug out the fire department’s flyer. Mona had thoughtfully given me two applications. I shut Sally and Tally into my apartment and ran across the street to Haylee’s.
    She was sewing in the huge classroom on one side of her shop. I handed her an application. “Here’s a new way for us to have fun.”
    She glanced at it and understood immediately. “What a great way to learn more about Plug Coddlefield and the death of his wife!”
    I told her about Plug’s possible threat to all of us. She said she’d remind everyone to make sure they had fresh batteries in their smoke and carbon monoxide detectors. I described Plug and his young nanny.
    Haylee wrinkled her nose. “Ewwww. Two people who might have wanted to murder Plug’s wife.”
    “Dr. Wrinklesides said Darlene’s death was an accident.”
    “What if it wasn’t? What if a murderer is running around loose? We should catch him, or them, before they kill someone else. Like us.”
    It was as good a justification for joining the fire department as any, which was to say it wasn’t very good.
    The applications didn’t require much information besides our names, addresses, and phone numbers. Small print warned of exams that would test our firefighting knowledge and physical fitness. “Push-ups,” Haylee guessed.
    “Ugh. I’d better practice, though Mona is convinced that you and I must be strong from heaving bolts of fabric around.”
    Haylee flexed her muscles. She had substantial biceps.
    I copied her. To my surprise, I had substantial biceps, too. “Wow.” I squeezed my right arm with my left hand. “Running a store really is better exercise than an office job was.”
    “It’s better than everything about that office job.” She never tired of reminding me that I’d been reluctant to give up the security of a salary and bonuses for the uncertainties of retail sales. Security hadn’t been quite the right word for our jobs at Quinlan Financial Management, though. Together, we had investigated our boss and had been instrumental in putting him behind bars for stealing money from his—and our—clients.
    Haylee had started the first of the Threadville shops shortly after Jasper Quinlan was arrested, and her mothers had joined her and opened their own shops. I’d stubbornly continued working at Jasper’s old firm, under new management, until after his trial and incarceration. Then, thanks to those bonuses and to my growing online embroidery business, I’d moved to Threadville and opened In Stitches. New customers discovered us every day. Best of all, Haylee and I both loved living and working here.
    We finished