Penelope sat on the edge of Gwen’s desk chair, her knitting bag in her lap. She clutched the handles tightly.
Agent Donovan settled on the edge of Gwen’s desk and fixed Penelope with a serious, penetrating gaze.
“Mrs. Perlmutter, do you love your country?”
“Why, of course, I do,” she replied. She blinked a few times as he continued to scrutinize her face.
“Your state, your county, your town?”
“Yes, of course. Gwen, what’s this all about?” Penelope asked, alarmed.
“Hear him out,” Gwen urged.
“It has come to our attention, Mrs. Perlmutter, that a major counterfeiting ring is passing fake bills in this state, this county, in this very town that you love so much.”
“Counterfeiters?” Penelope repeated.
“Yes, and this shop has proved to be a good place to pass counterfeit bills.”
Penelope glanced at Gwen, who was blushing a deep red.
“I feel so stupid, Penelope. When someone buys a hundred and fifty-one dollars-worth of yarn with cash, I tend not to ask questions, even if they pay in crisp fifty dollar bills. It’s a nice purchase and I won’t have to pay credit card fees. I thought it was a big win for me, but it turns out the counterfeiters are the only winners. I didn’t find out that those bills were fake until I made the bank deposit.”

“The bank called us in on it,” Agent Donovan added.
“I should have known there was something fishy going on,” Gwen wrung her hands. “She was really vague when I asked her what she was making.”
“This is terrible! But what does this have to do with me?” Penelope pulled a half-finished sock, bristling with double-pointed needles, out of her knitting bag. It looked like she was going to be here for a while. She hoped Bill wouldn’t send out the cavalry despite her warning she would be home late.
“It seems the counterfeiters don’t know we’re onto them yet,” Agent Donovan said. “The woman came in and made another cash purchase last week.”
“And to add insult to injury,” Gwen said, “She bought three skeins of my newest hand-dyed merino and I saw it on eBay the other day for more than what she ‘paid.'”
“Then why don’t you arrest her, Agent Donovan?” Penelope jabbed her needle into the next stitch. “That woman is stealing from a hard-working small business owner who can’t afford to simply give her fabulous yarn away!”
“Er, well,” the agent said, eyeing Penelope’s swift movements and pointy needles warily. “She’s only the tip of the iceberg. Other members of the gang have passed bills at other shops here in town. If we arrest one of them now, the other counterfeiters will melt away and start up again in another town, preying on small business owners. We’d like to make a clean sweep of the entire outfit, which is where you come in.”

“Me? I don’t know anything about catching criminals. “That’s what you do.”
Gwen leaned forward eagerly. “It’s so simple, Penelope! All you have to do is take pictures of your classes next week. I’ve been meaning to ask you anyway, to advertise the classes on the website.”
“Take pictures? That’s it? I don’t understand.” Penelope’s fingers stilled as she tried to puzzle it out.
Agent Donovan shifted on the edge of the desk and beamed down at her.
“That’s it. The counterfeiters target businesses that don’t have security cameras–”
“Can’t afford them yet,” Gwen muttered, red-faced again.
“So, it would be a big help if we could get pictures of them,” Agent Donovan finished.
“I can’t exactly snap one while she’s ‘paying,'” Gwen made a face and sketched air quotes with her fingers. “But you could, under the guise of taking pictures for the website.”
Penelope considered this as she took up her knitting again. She pictured the teaching table in the middle of the shop. She envisioned the angle at which she could snap the pictures. She was getting good at composing photos now that she was a besotted grandmother. Yes, she decided, if she sat in the chair closest to the alpaca display, she would be able to capture the profile of anyone making a purchase at the counter.

Apparently, Agent Donovan mistook her thoughtful assessment of the possibilities as hesitation. He leaned forward reassuringly.
“It’s all perfectly safe, Mrs. Perlmutter. The counterfeiter will never suspect a thing.”
Penelope looked up sharply.
“I am not afraid, Agent Donovan.” Penelope waved a needle dismissively, narrowly missing the end of the agent’s nose. “I was merely determining where I should sit to get the best view of the criminal. When is this going down?”
“Next Tuesday,” Gwen said. “The shops will be open late and crowded with Ladies’ Night Out shoppers.”
“She’s likely to take advantage of the shop being busy,” the agent added.
“Of course, I’ll do it, Gwen. We knitters have to stick together.”
“You’re knit together, so to speak,” Agent Donovan quipped.
Gwen and Penelope stared at him.
“Er, right.” The agent cleared his throat as his joke fell flat. “Well, then, thank you , Mrs. Perlmutter. I’m sure you understand that you must keep this top-secret. We wouldn’t want the counterfeiters to suspect that we’re onto them. You must tell no-one. Not your mother, not your best friend, not even your husband.”

Especially not my husband, Penelope thought to herself as she bundled her knitting into her bag and headed home, hoping Bill had not let the casserole burn–again.