A Yarn About Yarn

To celebrate National Crochet Month I have been writing about yarn.  To wind up the month, I thought I'd offer a little Yarn about Yarn.   I hope you enjoy.

Molly Pink's Latest Crochet Caper

I’d just unlocked the front door of Shedd & Royal Books and More, when a woman wearing a red baseball cap rushed in. Before I could ask her if she needed help any help, she’d sped past me across the bookstore to the yarn department. I know what you’re thinking – a bookstore with a yarn department. It’s hard to keep a bookstore afloat these days, so you have to do what you have to do. This time more really was more. 

My name is Molly Pink and I’m the assistant manager of the bookstore and complete manager of the yarn department. There was one person who worked at the bookstore who was really more qualified to run the yarn department except for one thing – her aversion to knitters. As it was, since March is National Crochet Month, she convinced me to spotlight the crochet hooks and shove all the knitting needles off into the shadows.

We were having our usual Wednesday morning story time and parents with their kids had begun to arrive. The usual plan was they’d drop off the kids in the children’s alcove and then they’d hang around getting coffee in the café. As I watched them coming in, my eye kept going back to the yarn department. I could see the woman in the red hat moving around and I began to wonder what she was up to.

Her head shot up as I approached. I was about to offer my assistance when her arm swung forward and her hand jutted out. The overhead lights reflected off the shiny metal knitting needles she clutched. "Don’t come any closer," she said in a menacing voice. To further make her point she waved her hand in a stabbing motion. I recognized the needles as the double pointed kind used for making socks and things in the round. I had no doubt they could pierce skin if given enough of a thrust. And I was sure it would hurt.

"Okay, then," she said when I kept my distance. "Now lets go and empty the cash register."

I blinked a few times as her demand sunk in. "You’re kidding, right?" I said. "Or you’re just very new at this robbery business. We just opened and most people don’t even pay with cash anyway. We have maybe a hundred dollars in small bills for change."

"What’s going on?" a voice behind me demanded. I turned and almost smashed into Adele Abrams Humphries. She was the more qualified employee with the aversion for knitters I mentioned before. She was also in charge of Story Time which was her excuse to dress up in a costume. Adele was big on promoting the idea that woman could do anything apparently which included being a pirate judging by her current outfit. She’d even blacked out a couple of her teeth.

It was then that I noticed the parents were all gathered behind her and had sensed something going on and all their arms were in the air holding cell phones to capture the moment.

"Hey," the woman called out. "Don’t you dare film this and send it to the news in time for their eleven o’clock broadcast. And nobody call the cops." I waited for an "or else" but it didn’t come.

"Where’d she get the knitting needles," Adele said angrily. "I thought you’d hidden them all since it's National Crochet Month."

"It’s also National Craft’s month," a voice with a New York accent said. I recognized Rhoda Klein. She belonged to our crochet group the Tarzana Hookers, but was there bringing her grandchild to story time. She sized up the situation. "If we all work together, we can take her down," she said nodding toward the woman who had just taken the red hat off mumbling something about it throwing a shadow over her face.

She shook her head and fluffed her long sunny blond hair. As I got a good look at her I realized who she was. Since there were a number of studios in the San Fernando Valley, a lot of actors lived in the area. Lindy Adams had been a child star and then in a hit teen show. After that it was guest starring stints and several series that never took off. She had enough of a name to carry several reality shows that followed her life and struggles. I knew she was married to an actor whose main claim to fame was being her husband and that they had a slew of kids. I began to shake my head as I remembered a story on the news recently about a fracas she’d had in a coffee shop, claiming there was glass in her food. The news piece had shown her having a friendly conversation with the police followed by a mention that she was in talks about doing a new series

My late husband had his own PR firm and I’d helped out. I knew there were people who thought that all publicity was good even if it involved them doing bag things. Lindy was obviously one of them. In the distance I heard sirens and there was a loud thwack starting above the bookstore which I guessed belonged to the police airship.

The truth was I felt for Lindy and her need to keep her face in the news. I was sure she needed work and she was too recognizable to get a job at Trader Joe’s as if she’d even do that. But I wasn’t about to let this go on any longer. I knew a thing or two about being caught up in crimes. There were people who thought of me as the Sherlock Holmes of Tarzana.

Disregarding the menacing wave of her hand, I walked right up to her and put my hand on her shoulder. "It’s all just an act, isn’t it? Maybe research for an upcoming role? " Why not give her a chance for a graceful exit. It wouldn’t really serve a purpose for either her or the bookstore for her to get arrested.

Lindy blinked in surprise and her face eased into a smile. "Uh, yes. You’re, uh, right – that’s what it is. It’ll make a funny story when I have my meeting this afternoon at Universal to discuss a new series." She was talking to me, but playing to the crowd and their cell phone cameras.

I pulled the knitting needles from her hand just as a bunch of uniforms pushed through the crowd. Homicide Detective and my ex Barry Greenberg pushed ahead of them. "What’s going on?" he said glancing around trying to find the threat.

"Nothing anymore. All taken care of," I said with a smile.