Knit Your Own Murder by Monica Ferris Read Free Book Online

was a news segment about it back around Christmas. The bottles come in different sizes and different strengths. And they said even one small bottle can kill a child who drinks it—they come in tempting delicious flavors, apparently. I was quite appalled.”
    But Phil said, “I think those bottles aren’t pure nicotine, they’re diluted. And at least the smokers are not getting all that tar and other things you find in tobacco leaf. E-cigarettes are a lot safer than the real thing.”
    â€œNo, they’re not!” said Alice, surprised. “It’s the nicotine that causes lung cancer.”
    â€œNo, it’s the tar,” retorted Phil, equally surprised.
    â€œI think it’s the formaldehyde,” volunteered Godwin.
    â€œFormaldehyde!” said Doris. “In cigarettes?”
    â€œAbsolutely,” said Godwin.
    â€œWhat, do they embalm the tobacco leaves before they chop them into cigarettes?”
    Godwin leaned sideways, laughing. “That’s good, Dorie!”
    â€œSurely you’re joking; there isn’t any formaldehyde in cigarettes,” said Emily.
    â€œOh, there are all kinds of chemicals in cigarettes,” said Godwin. “Nitrogen oxide, benzopyrene, hydrogen cyanide, and ammonia are just a few, besides formaldehyde.”
    Jill, meanwhile, had sat down at the table and brought out a project: a cross-stitched inspirational motto ornamented with a big, elaborate feather. It read, “She took a Leap of FAITH and grew her Wings on the way down.” Done all in shades of blue, Jill had bought it in Betsy’s shop as a kit.
    â€œHas Joe Mickels stopped in to talk to you, Betsy?” she asked.
    â€œJoe? Why on earth would he want to talk to me?”
    â€œDidn’t you hear what I said? The poison that killed poor Maddy was nicotine.”
    â€œWhat has that got to do with Joe Mickels?”
    â€œRight around Christmas he bought a little chain of e-cigarette stores.”
    Betsy stared at her. “He did?”
    Godwin said, “Why didn’t we hear about it?”
    Valentina said, “I heard he’d gotten into e-cigarettes, that he’d bought a store that sells them.”
    â€œWhere did you hear that?” asked Jill.
    â€œAt the Leipold’s store. Somebody was smoking one in there, said he’d bought the outfit to do it with at Joe’s new store in Uptown.” Uptown was an artsy neighborhood of Minneapolis famous for its night clubs, sophisticated shops, and ethnic restaurants.
    â€œOh my God,” said Doris.
    â€œBut he wouldn’t—he just wouldn’t!” said Emily.
    But Betsy was remembering some years back, when she and Jill stood in Joe’s Excelsior office while he ranted viciously about another murdered woman, saying that if he’d known then what he knew now, he would have killed her himself. She looked at Jill, wondering if she was remembering that, too. But Jill had her deadpan cop face on, so Betsy couldn’t tell what she was thinking.
    â€œWait a minute,” said Phil. “I’ve looked at those bottles of nicotine they sell, and like Alice said, they all smell like candy or flowers, plus they look thick, like syrup. How could Maddy use yarn that smelled like strawberries and stuck to her fingers?”
    â€œThere!” said Emily. “See? There!”
    â€œWhy are you so hot to defend Joe Mickels?” asked Godwin. “He is not a nice man.”
    â€œHe is a sad man. I think he’s lonesome and doesn’t know what to do about it.”
    â€œMy goodness, Emily,” said Alice. “Where on earth did you get an idea like that?”
    â€œI saw him the other day—he didn’t see me—just sitting in his car, and his face was sad, so sad. I almost went over to him, but he drove away. Honest, he was sad!”
    â€œWhen was this?” Jill asked.
    Emily thought briefly. “I’m not sure. Maybe a week