I thought owning a yarn shop would help me get better deals on my favorite luxury blends. Instead, I’m spending my days protecting high-end inventory from a clever thief who seems to have the goal of stealing from every business in town.

It’s not that I’m the police’s prime suspect this time, which is a nice change, but watching someone systematically rob the shop I inherited from my late friend rattles differently. This is my community’s business, and when the police investigation stalls, it’s up to me to find the answers.

Naturally, I turn to my partner in crime-solving, Rumple, a sassy, talking raccoon who is equal parts rescue and roommate. Except Rumple has discovered the joys of binge-watching television and absolutely refuses to leave the house. He’s developed an irrational fear of cats and a very rational preference for the couch. Getting him to help investigate is like trying to teach a yarn ball to roll uphill.

But someone has to catch this thief before they empty the shop of its most expensive stock. And if Rumple won’t go with me, I’ll have to be clever enough to solve this mystery alone.

Perfect for fans of small-town charm, quirky sidekicks, and clever amateur sleuths, Kill One, Purl Two is a cozy tale of found family with neurodivergent characters that proves retirement is anything but boring.

Excerpt

My new car, a sensible silver sedan that practically purred when I accelerated, felt luxurious after years of driving my old vehicle. The inheritance money from Sharon had allowed me to upgrade a few things, and the car had been one of them. It still felt strange to drive something that didn’t rattle or smell faintly of mildew. I was most grateful that the air conditioner blasted air cold enough to be labeled a polar vortex.

I was already heading toward the shop that morning, mentally planning the day, when my phone rang through the car’s speakers.

“Matilda?” Paige’s voice was high and strained. “There’s been a break-in at the shop.”

My hands tightened around the steering wheel. “What? When? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Reid and I came in to open this morning and… someone broke in through the back. I called the police as soon as Reid saw the door was open, and then I called you.”

My stomach dropped. “I’m on my way. I’m already heading that direction.”

“Okay. The police are just now getting here. Detective Rutledge is with them.”

She hung up before I could respond.

I pressed slightly harder on the accelerator, hoping and praying that the three stoplights in Gunther’s Landing would be green. They weren’t. The first two were red before I got to them. The third turned red just as I approached.

Adding insult to injury, a yellow school bus pulled in front of me at the second light, followed by another halfway to the third light.

Autumn mornings meant the buses were running their usual routes, and I’d forgotten about the timing. What should have been a five-minute drive stretched to ten. It was like the universe was mocking me at every turn.

When I finally turned into the alley behind the yarn shop, my heart was racing.

Paige paced outside the back door. Tears streamed down her face. She rushed toward my car before I’d fully shifted into park.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, pulling me into a hug the moment I stepped out. “I don’t know how this happened. I swear that I locked everything up properly last night. I checked everything.”

“It’s not your fault,” I replied automatically, though I was already scanning the alley, the dumpster, the back door of the shop. The door was ajar, but I could see the lock had been forced.

Reid was sitting on the concrete step outside the stockroom entrance, his head in his hands. He looked up when he heard us, and the expression on his face was absolutely devastated, like he’d personally failed everyone and blamed himself, even though he left early yesterday.

“Matilda, I…” he started, but couldn’t finish.

“Reid, what’s wrong?” I asked gently.

Before he could answer, Detective Rutledge emerged from the shop. He looked tired, like he’d already been awake for hours. Seeing him sent that complicated flutter through my chest again, attraction mixed with the residual stress of our last major interaction involving a murder investigation.

“Matilda, we’ve got a situation.” The lines in his forehead deepened.

“Tell me,” I choked out the words, my heart in my throat.

About Author R.A. Muth…