A Birdie with a Yellow Bill...

A robin came for a drink today and stayed there so that I could admire him all I wanted.  He looked sleek and well-dressed for spring dating.  Look at that bright eye.  He was feeling fine.


Today I mostly trudged up and down the stairs doing laundry which I did not take a picture of.  You're welcome.




While I was down there I wound the yarn I bought at the quilt show into three cakes like this one.  I'm thrilled at the way the colors glow together.  That's twenty bucks well spent.








Tonight I cast on and started knitting on a pair of mosaic mitts.  I'm going to be teaching mosaic knitting at guild next year and want to have a few items to show the members.  Besides I'm in a mitts-knitting mood and these are going to look cool.

14 March--Barbara Malcolm, Three Cheers for Murder. 

Returning to his office after spending hours in an interrogation room with Kenneth Edwards, Archibald sat at his desk and found the final report on Kimmy’s murder from the coroner.  He groaned with fatigue, searched out a pair of reading glasses buried under a pile of reports that need filing, and began to read the coroner’s report.  The findings were similar to Tiffy’s murder, a small piece of an as-yet-unidentified type of stone was found wedged in the bones of her neck and, most interesting, the blood found on the neckline of Kimmy’s tennis dress matched neither Lars, the tennis pro and Kimmy’s lover, nor the victim herself. 

Archibald checked the time, picked up the phone and called Lars to tell him he’s no longer a suspect in Kimmy’s murder.

“Mr. Arneson?”

“Yes.”

“This is Detective Archibald of the Ashville Police Department.  We spoke at length last Saturday night at the club.”

“Yes, I remember you.”

“You’ll also remember I’m investigating the murder of Kimberly Neal.  I have the final report from the coroner and I’m happy to tell you that your blood does not match that found on the victim’s garment.”

“What does that mean?”

“This evidence clears you of any suspicion in the death of Ms. Neal.  I appreciate your cooperation with the investigation.  Please give me a call if you remember any other details of that night.”

“Detective, I’ve thought of nothing else since Saturday.  I wrack my brain and have thought of nothing I haven’t told you.  I wish I could have seen who killed my Kimmy.  Believe me, Detective, if I’d seen him, I’d have killed him and then you wouldn’t have had to search for the murderer.  He’d have been lying on the locker room floor by my beautiful girl.”

“I understand your feelings, Mr. Arneson.  Thank you again for your cooperation.  Good night.”  He hung up the phone and, putting his hands behind his head, leaned back in his chair and gazed at the stained ceiling hoping for inspiration to strike.  No other case, or cases, have caused him so much grief.  His supervisor was on him to find the killers.  The media criticized his every move.  Even Cecilia was trying to play detective, scurrying around asking questions, interrupting their dates with her intuitions.

I'll go to the Y tomorrow to hike to nowhere on a treadmill.  I would have gone today but I did the laundry instead although I didn't walk up and down the stairs enough to equal a turn on the treadmill.  I'm afraid that they'll close the Y next week.  I guess we'll do what we gotta do to diminish the risk of that virus.
--Barbara