Free Knitting Bones by Monica Ferris

Gibson-girl face and very pale hair pulled back in a braid was standing there in pale green wool slacks and matching soft flannel shirt.
    “Hello, Jill!” he said. His voice went very high as he added, stooping, “And heh-woe to you, wittle darlin’!” to Emma Beth, who stuck a forefinger in her mouth and looked up doubtfully at her mother. Emma, even fairer than her mother, was delectable in wine corduroy overalls and a pink-and-wine sweater.
    “It’s all right, baby, you may say hello to Godwin.”
    “Woe,” said Emma obediently, looking at him.
    “Not into baby talk, is she?” Godwin remarked, straightening.
    “Not too much.”
    So he made a silly face at the toddler, who suddenly warmed to him, grinning back.
    Jill said, “Betsy told me she was going to send you to find out if Bob Germaine was leading a secret life.”
    “Yes, she did. And I did. And he is.”
    “Really?” Jill looked just a trifle taken aback. Since she rarely showed surprise, this gratified Godwin very much.
    “Oh, yes,” he said, preening, “I have a lot of contacts in the gay community, so I talked to a lot of people. And I described the man I saw getting the check at the EGA convention banquet. That was Bob Germaine, and they said that from my description, it sounded like Stoney Durand, who is quite well known in the community.” Godwin raised and lowered his eyebrows in a complex way and Jill nodded comprehension.
    “Well done,” she said. “Betsy asked me to come over today and talk to her. Is she free?”
    “Sure. Go through the back door of the shop, so she doesn’t have to get up and answer the downstairs buzzer. Her apartment door’s unlocked.”
    Jill didn’t ask if she could leave Emma with Godwin, for which he was grateful.

    E MMA Elizabeth knew what a visit to Betsy’s apartment meant. She turned left into the kitchen with a one-word cry of happiness: “Cookie!”
    “Hi, Betsy!” called Jill. “It seems I brought the Cookie Monster with me by mistake. I thought I had my lovely, well-mannered daughter along.”
    “Cookie!” insisted the lovely daughter.
    “The cookie jar is on the counter near the refrigerator!” called Betsy from her place on the couch.
    “Cookie!” reiterated Emma, who could hear that magic word in any sentence, be it ever so long; and the next sound heard was the pottery lid being lifted off the pig-shaped jar.
    A few moments later they came into the living room, Emma contentedly gnawing on a sugar cookie, Jill smiling a greeting.
    Jill said, “Did you know Goddy can do the wave with his eyebrows?”
    “What? Oh, that thing he’s started doing when he thinks I may be missing a point he’s trying to make. I bet he practices an hour in the mirror twice a week.”
    “Kitty?” asked Emma, looking around.
    But Sophie had vanished in that magical way some cats have, the instant they hear a child’s voice. Though Emma had a habit of spilling lickable cookie crumbs, she also loved to pull the cat’s tail and whiskers. Sophie knew she could gather up the crumbs after the child was gone.
    Jill said, “The kitty is taking a nap. Would you like to take a nap?”
    “No!”
    “Her favorite word,” said Jill with a sigh. “I was just downstairs, talking to Goddy. Were you surprised to find out Bob Germaine is a closeted gay?”
    “I’m not sure he is. I have only Godwin’s opinion.”
    Jill raised her left eyebrow and said, “I take it Goddy is not a detective.”
    “Well…he does his best. But in this case, he had an idea, and I think he only looked for information that would confirm it.”
    Jill cocked the other of her pale eyebrows. “Where did he get that idea to start with?”
    “He is sure Bob Germaine returned a flirting smile Goddy gave him as he went out of the banquet hall last Saturday night. Therefore, according to Goddy, he is a deeply closeted gay man.”
    Jill’s lovely features went still for several seconds. Then she said, “I don’t believe it.”
    Betsy