Read Online A Crafty Killing by Lorraine Bartlett - Free Book Online

folding chairs and a couple of tables to put out the pizza. While he’d set them up, Katie had taken a trip to the grocery store for disposable cups, napkins, and soda, and to restock her dwindling supply of hard candy. When she’d first decided to hold the meeting, she hadn’t anticipated feeding a crowd, but free food often put people in a more receptive mood to hear bad news—and that’s the only kind she had to deliver.
    More than half the pizza had already been scarfed up by the time Katie reached the meeting area. People had gathered in knots, with conversations buzzing in the warm, dusty old loft.
    Katie sought out a familiar face and made a beeline for Edie Silver. “Thanks for coming.”
    “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss it. Looks like I’ll need to restock. Most of my merchandise is already gone,” she said, her expression smug.
    “That tells me crafters can sell here.”
    “I always knew it.” Edie raised a hand to wave to someone.
    Katie looked around. “Do you know any of these people?”
    “Heck, I know most of ’em. We do a lot of the same shows.”
    “Shows?”
    “Art festivals, canal days, and holiday craft sales. There’s a slew of big shows every year in the Rochester area. I only do the local ones, but some of these folks go all over the state and even out of state to sell their stuff.”
    Katie blinked. “If you guys mingle in other venues, why was Mr. Hilton so prejudiced against ...” She hesitated before finishing, “Low-end crafters?”
    Edie shrugged, not in the least offended. “A purist, I guess. A lot of highbrow artists think craft means crap. But people on a budget can afford to spend twenty bucks on a pretty eucalyptus swag when they can’t afford a primitive-style painting to hang over the fireplace in their tract house. When can we talk about my booth location?” she asked, changing the subject. “The lobby’s great, but I want a more secure space.”
    “How about first thing tomorrow morning?”
    Edie nodded and smiled. “Guess I’d better grab some pizza before it’s all gone.”
    She’d taken only a step away when another, much younger, woman—petite and blond, and closer to Katie’s age—took her place. Smartly dressed in a denim jacket, black turtleneck, tight jeans, and black leather boots, the newcomer was the epitome of business casual. She looked vaguely familiar. Hadn’t Katie seen her in the local supermarket or drugstore?
    The woman stuck out her hand. “Katie Bonner? I’m Tracy Elliott.”
    For a moment the name meant nothing. Then, “Are you related to the woman who runs the tea shop?” Katie asked.
    “She’s my mother. Sorry I was out when you came by earlier. My computer monitor blew and I had to drive into Rochester to get a new one.” She rolled her eyes. “It’ll be years before a decent computer outlet comes to this hick town.”
    Katie didn’t see what that had to do with selling tea and pastries, but she didn’t get the opportunity to ask.
    “A lot of our business is on the Internet. Check us out,” Tracy said, handing Katie a business card. “I can’t bake worth a damn, but I wanted to be part of the shop. When I suggested we sell some of Mom’s blended teas online, it seemed like I’d found my niche. Now we make more money on that than the shop itself.”
    “Then, why—”
    “Are we a part of Victoria Square? It’s Mom’s hobby. And ... well, she had other reasons for being a part of the Square.” Tracy didn’t elaborate. “Ezra was a great guy, but he kept both feet firmly planted in the twentieth century. I offered to build him a website. It would be good a marketing tool for Artisans Alley. He wouldn’t take advice from a woman—let alone someone young enough to be a grand-daughter. Mom says you’re part owner. If you want a website, I’d be glad to set the whole thing up for you for a competitive price.”
    “That’s awfully nice of you. Thanks.”
    “Why don’t we talk about it tomorrow? Mom