Free A Fatal Fleece by Sally Goldenbaum

and puffing about something. He didn’t sit down, really, just put his hands on the table and started talking at her. He kept his voice low, but his eyes about seared right through her head.”
    “So you didn’t hear anything?” Cass asked.
    “Oh, I heard enough. Not the close face-to-face stuff. But after he had his say, he started to walk away, then looked back again, like he’d forgotten something. I couldn’t tell if Beverly was mad or sad. But I know she had tears in her eyes when he said the next thing.”
    Merry lifted her brows and paused for effect.
    “Yes, dear?” Birdie said, urging her to continue.
    “By then I was wiping off the table next to them and I could hear him plain and clear. He told her she’d ripped a piece right out of her mother’s heart and killed it. And wasn’t that enough for her? Hadn’t she ruined enough lives without killing any more?
    “Those two didn’t like each other,” Merry concluded. “Not so you’d notice, anyhow.”

Chapter 7
    N ell had twenty minutes to run into the Cheese Closet before getting home to help Ben. As usual, she wasn’t sure who would show up for Friday-night dinner on the deck, but cheese, wine, and the cheese shop’s spicy sausages were a staple, no matter who—or how many—came. And on the rare occasions when there was too much food, Father Northcutt’s soup kitchen and sometimes Father Larry himself were grateful for any leftovers.
    The Cheese Closet was on Oak Street, nestled between the library and the old three-story stone building that housed the city offices. It was one of Nell’s favorite places in Sea Harbor, and she fervently hoped it would escape the plight of so many small shops that disappeared in the blink of an eye. But as Ben often said, if the Endicotts’ purchases were typical, Peggy and Tim Arruda’s Cheese Closet would be around for a long, long time.
    She pulled into an empty parking place and walked into the welcoming shop, taking a basket from the stack just inside the entrance. Getting in and out was usually difficult for Nell—she nearly always ran into acquaintances. But today, much to her surprise, the shop had only a half dozen people savoring its cheeses, exotic olive oils, sausages, and spreads.
    “A temporary lull,” Peggy Arruda assured her from across a display case. “Friday is always a busy day.” The owner handed Nell a toothpick holding a square of cheese. “Try this. It’s Nisa—fromPortugal. Timmy and I honeymooned there. The cheese is to die for. Ben will be crazy about it.”
    Nell nibbled on the small square. “Very smooth and creamy. Goat’s milk?”
    “No. It’s from sheep. Merino, just like Izzy’s lovely fleece yarn.” She handed Nell another piece. “We both appreciate that magnificent beast. Izzy uses its amazing coat, and I use the milk.”
    Peggy was right: Ben would love it. Nell added a round to her basket, then moved through the aisles, filling the rest of it with far more than she had come in for. Enough , she scolded herself, and stepped into the short line that had formed at the checkout counter.
    At first she didn’t recognize the woman standing in front of her. It was the beautiful bottle of wine in her basket that caught Nell’s eye. A flock of painted butterflies circled the bottle, merging together almost like a Rorschach test. Surrounding it were cheese and crackers, a package of colorful napkins, and two plastic wineglasses.
    Beverly Walden turned and smiled at Nell.
    “I was admiring your choices,” Nell said. “It looks like the makings for a lovely, romantic picnic. All you need are candlesticks.”
    Beverly glanced at her basket, then blushed slightly. “I’m splurging.”
    “It’s difficult not to in here. Is it a special occasion?”
    “Special? No, not really. Well, yes, maybe. I guess it is special.” A slow blush colored her cheeks.
    Nell smiled. “Good. We all need special now and then.”
    “It’s for a picnic over on the island,” she