A Body in Redwork

A Christmas quilting retreat is Jenny’s chance to reset and reconnect, with friends and herself. Finding one of their own murdered the first night they’re together, sets her nerves fraying as she attempts to discover the killer.

The new, annual fabric designers convention has the town bound up in excitement, and Jenny must pick out the stitches of truth in world of sewing she only thought she knew. But with alliances and enemies who would kill for the chance at a designers life, how will she know who did?

Piece by piece, Jenny unravels this holiday quilt shop mystery, that proves everyone has something to hide. Before the week is through, she’ll solve the case or find death under the tree, all sewn up in murder.

Applause rang through the theater as Jenny finished her welcome spiel. The crowd was entirely fabric industry professionals, and Ron stood beside her on the stage as they shared in their excitement for the coming event.
“I am so thrilled to be able to say I already know many of you, and I can’t wait to get to know the rest as we go through this week together. We’ll get to introduce your new fabric lines to the quilting community, win over new customers, and hopefully make a lot of new friends! What do you say?”
Cheers resonated through the room and Jenny raised her hands in the air. “Let’s meet some of the company heads that are making this week possible.”
Colored lights flashed on stage like they were at a dance party. Standing in the wings was a line of fabric manufacturers, including Sally Harper and her co-owner, Owen Teak.
The two had their heads together, talking animatedly under the music playing through the overhead speakers. As the announcer called out names, the line got shorter.
When they finally got to Harper Wovens, the pause was evident. Someone had to give the two company owners a push before they realized they were late.
Owen came out waving, with a huge smile on his face, and the crowd laughed. He gave Sally a twirl,
but when they passed Jenny, his smile seemed
strained. Once the other designers were called and
they were excused, Owen was the first one off the
stage.
The whole welcome wasn’t long, but Jenny couldn’t focus through the last stretch. Ron even had to
prod her to wave when it was over. She hurried
offstage into the building filling quickly with designers and manufacturers, but Sally and Owen had disappeared.
Several big names like Vana Suze with her manufacturer stood at the stairs, and a new designer, wearing a dress entirely made of half square triangles, twirled in the lobby. A well-known manufacturer chatted happily with Lizzy Rose, one of Harper Wovens’ top designers. He slipped her a card, and Lizzy hesitated before taking it.
Jenny wondered briefly if Lizzy would really consider switching companies. Before she could go up and talk to her, Hugo Hensen pushed past toward the door.
“Excuse me,” Jenny said, moving out of the way as quickly as she could.
Hugo didn’t seem to notice. He only spared
her a glance before pushing out into the parking
lot.
Sally hurried after him, only to return a moment later, worry lines pinching her forehead.
“Sally? Is everything all right?” Jenny looked out the glass doors where Sally had followed Hugo. She couldn’t see anything but the reflection of the party. “Is Hugo upset?”
“He’s always upset,” Sally said absently. Then she seemed to come back to herself and smiled up at Jenny. “He’s been collaborating with us for a while, and sometimes he’s just like that. Don’t mind him. That was quite a show, Mrs. Jenny Doan.”
Jenny smiled but bypassed the compliment. “Sally, what’s going on? I can tell you’re worried about something.”
Sally bit her lip and rubbed hard against the fingers of one hand with the other, her eyes
darting around the room. They finally landed
back on Jenny. “Owen’s worried about Mickey.
And now Hugo being like this. I don’t know what to do.”
“Can I help? Is it about the note Mickey got earlier? I’d be happy to talk to her. Do you think we should we call the police?” Jenny was trying to remember if she’d put the note in her purse or left it at home when she realized how confused Sally looked.
Her brow had furrowed, and she cocked her head, her mouth open like she was waiting to
speak. “What note? Mickey hasn’t picked up our calls, and I haven’t seen her yet, but I figured it was Mickey being a diva . . . it happens with new designers sometimes. Is there something we need to worry about?”
Jenny had been spending far too much time worrying about this.
“Maybe.” Jenny had never considered Mickey to be anything other than polite but Sally had called her a diva. “I’ll talk to Mickey when I see her.”
“Well, hopefully you’ll have better luck than us. We can’t find her.”