The tone reminded her of people whose views closely aligned discussing some political event. Apparently this had to do with the weight of yarn and the size of hooks.
They both appeared to be very passionate.
“Excuse me.” Eve held up her badge. “Lieutenant Dallas, Detective Peabody. We contacted you earlier.”
The woman who looked like someone’s sensible grandmother, despite the bun on the top of her head wrapped up in some sort of yarny thing that matched the sweater, patted a hand on the man’s arm.
“Give me a minute, Sherwood.”
“Of course, Karleen. I’ll be over with the alpaca. Lovely scarves, ladies. Your own handiwork?”
Eve just pointed at Peabody.
“I used Angel brand Black Knight, medium weight, number nine needles for the main body and seven for the thin stripe. For mine, it’s In the Pink alternating every six rows with White Knight then Sing the Blues, using a seventeen because I wanted it really chunky.”
“May I?” He took the end of Peabody’s scarf, examined it—one side, the other. “Lark’s head knot for the fringe?”
“Yeah.”
“Really exceptional work.”
“Thank you. I’ve worked with alpaca a couple times for special projects, but it’s usually out of my range. It’s just a fabulous store, and I’m coming back on my day off. I could spend hours.”
Eve’s patience frayed like a sloppily sewed seam. “Yeah, it’s great, but we really need to speak with the clerk about that fabric.”
“Of course, of course. That was Lydia. Let’s go hunt her down. I’ll be back with you shortly, Sherwood.”
“Take your time, dear.”
“Lydia should be … Yes, yes, there she is. In silks. Lydia?”
The clerk set a bolt of red on a stack of jewel tones, and turned.
Mid-twenties, Eve judged, in a short green dress with brass buttons running down the front and back, green tights with colorful socks topping a pair of short boots.
“These are police officers.”
“Oh, well, jeez.”
“It’s about some fabric you sold.”
“Was something wrong with it?”
“We’re interested in who bought it.” Eve pulled out the photo. “This fabric, this woman.”
“That’s Playful Penguins. Look, Karleen, she made a coat with it.”
“Yes, I see. Interesting choice. Apparently she bought five yards, Lydia, in the Black Friday sale.”
“Oh man, that was a crazy day. I mean ca-ra-zee!”
“Do you remember the sale?” Eve pressed.
“Honestly, after a couple of hours, I barely remembered my name. We sold this mostly for craft projects, right, Karleen?”
“That’s right. Take a moment, think back. I’m just going to go get what we have left of the bolt. We opened at eight,” Karleen reminded her as she hurried off.
“How could I forget?” The clerk’s eyes shot to the heavens. “We had regulars waiting for us to open the doors. A lot of them brought friends. Plus we had specials for the first fifty customers—and those were gone in about twenty minutes.”