Tension At The Full Bobbin

 At The Full Bobbin, our fabric is color-coded, our stitch circles come with snacks, and our gossip is mostly harmless. That is, until my 85-year-old great-aunt Clara got mugged at a yard sale—for a quilt. Not cash. Not heirlooms. A faded, hand-stitched quilt she'd practically wrestled out of a bin like it was Black Friday at JoAnn's.And just when I start to think maybe it was all a misunderstanding and we can go back to reorganizing the batiks, the local quilt show judge turns up dead – strangled with a piece of fabric. Now I'm juggling my shifts, a flood of gossip, and a surprisingly sharp-tongued policeman who thinks my to-do list is adorable. (It is not.)I'm Maisie Schreffler—inventory manager, reluctant people-pleaser, and now apparently, amateur detective. Because someone's patching lies into this town faster than I can say "e;chain stitch,"e; and if I don't figure out what's really going on, this year's quilt show might be showcasing a second corpse.