Dropped Dead Stitch (17 page)

Kelly felt every muscle in her body tense. If Cal Everett wasn’t already dead, she’d go after him right now.
Damn him.
“That lying bastard. If he wasn’t dead, I swear—” Her threat went unfinished when Julie appeared to fill her mug.

Once the young waitress moved to another table, Burt continued, “I know, Kelly. I feel the same way.” He wagged his head in the way he always did when he was perturbed about something. “But our feelings about Jennifer don’t count, and you know it. It’s Peterson who makes the call. And this new information gives him even more reason to suspect Jennifer. Everett’s assault gave her reason to hate him. Now, there’s a witness who can testify that Everett claimed Jennifer threatened his life.”

“But, Burt, that’s a crock, and you know it,” Kelly protested.

“Remember, Kelly, it doesn’t matter what we think.”

“I know, I know, it’s Peterson who decides.” Kelly expelled an exasperated breath. “It’s just the idea of his showing up at that bar and saying all those things about Jennifer.
Bastard
.”

“I don’t think it’s necessary to tell Jennifer about this, Kelly.”

She nodded. “I agree. She doesn’t need to hear this ugly gossip and Cal Everett’s lies. She’s gone through enough, thanks to him.” Kelly sniffed the dark rich aroma, then took a sip and felt the coffee’s burn as it slid down her throat. “But I am going to tell Lisa and Megan. We can vent in private.”

“I think that’s a good idea. No need to spread this ugliness around.”

Kelly glanced at her watch. She had a full morning’s work on her clients’ accounts. Then, perhaps she could meet Lisa for coffee or something. See if she had some time between physical therapy clients.

“I’ll see if Lisa has some free time this afternoon. Meanwhile, I’ve gotta get back to my clients.” She scraped back her chair. So much for the mellowing yarn effect of a few minutes ago. Her mood had turned considerably darker now.

“See you later, Kelly. Take care,” Burt said as he held up his mug for Julie to refill.

Kelly was about to head toward the café’s back door and walk through the garden to her cottage when she paused. She wanted something to dissipate the bad taste of Cal Everett in her mouth. Even dead, he seemed to be tormenting Jennifer.

“Has Megan given you your daily list yet?” she teased.

Burt’s smile finally reappeared. “Mimi said it’s waiting for me up front. So, I guess I’d better get to it.”

Kelly gave a low laugh. “I’d say so, Burt. Megan’s a tough taskmaster. Coffee break is over.”

 

 

“Do
you want me to wait till you get home for dinner?”

“Naw, you don’t need to wait,” Steve’s voice came over the phone. “That meeting could run late.”

Kelly steered into the parking lot adjacent to the Sports Health facility. “That’s okay. I can wait. We can meet at the Wine Bar and have tapas and wine for dinner.”

“That’ll work.”

“Okay, give me a call when you’ve finished, and I’ll go over and grab a table.”

“Sounds good. See you later.” He clicked off.

Kelly quickly parked her car and walked toward the ever-opening glass entry doors to the sports facility. Heading toward the patient waiting area, she found a chair and pulled out her daytimer. Lisa wouldn’t be finished with her last appointment for a few minutes, so Kelly might as well make some business calls. Then a woman’s voice sounded close by.

“Hi, Kelly. Are you waiting for Lisa?” Greta Baldwin asked.

“I sure am. How’re you doing, Greta? I haven’t seen you since the retreat.”

Greta shrugged. “I’m doing okay. Professors want longer and longer papers, and we have shorter and shorter amounts of time to do them.”

“That brings back memories of university life,” Kelly said with a wry smile.

Greta’s smile faded. “How’s your friend Jennifer doing? I hoped the retreat would help her start to put her life back on track.”

Kelly looked over at the huge indoor swimming pool where therapists were working with patients. “Well, she was making progress on that, until Cal Everett came back to life, so to speak.”

Greta stared at Kelly, clearly confused. “What do you mean?”

“You know. The medical examiner’s suspicions about Everett’s death. That’s why Peterson came back to question us again, remember?”

“I remember.”

“Yeah, that,” Kelly said. “Well, it was during that second round of questions that Detective Peterson learned about Jennifer’s assault. So, naturally, that makes her the number one suspect on Peterson’s list.”

“
No!
” Greta exclaimed, looking shocked.

“Oh, yeah.” Kelly nodded. “And Jennifer has no way to prove she didn’t do it, because she went out for a walk after we left the campfire that night. Lisa and I were back in the cabin, sound asleep. So, we can’t give her an alibi.” She shook her head disconsolately. “I wish I hadn’t let her go walking alone that night.”

Greta stared at Kelly for a few seconds. “You can’t blame yourself, Kelly. Jennifer probably wanted some time alone that night. It was a pretty intense weekend for her . . . you know, sharing and all.”

“Yeah, I hear you. I simply worry about her,” Kelly said, still staring off.

“Have you been waiting long?” Lisa called as she hurried down the wide hallway, which was filled with clients and therapists standing and talking.

“Only a few minutes. Greta and I were chatting.”

Lisa gave Greta a warm smile. “Hey, Greta, Kelly and I were going for coffee. Would you like to join us?”

Greta shifted her backpack over her shoulder and shook her head. “Thanks, but I’ve got to finish a paper for that other Psychology professor. Maybe another time,” she said, backing away.

“Okay, I’ll hold you to that,” Lisa said.

“Good to see you again,” Kelly called as she watched Greta hurry away.

“Boy, her workload must be way heavier than mine, because she just disappears lately. She’s either in class or in the library studying. We used to always have time for coffee, but no more.”

“Grad school can do that to you,” Kelly said as she shoved her daytimer into her shoulder bag. “Do you still have time for coffee?”

Lisa checked her watch. “Yeah, no clients until five. Where do you want to go?”

“Someplace quieter where we can talk. Burt gave me another update this morning, and it wasn’t good news.”

 

 

Lisa
ran her finger along the rim of the ceramic coffeehouse mug. “That is so unfair. That bastard is dead, yet he’s still hurting Jennifer. With his lies, this time.”

Kelly took a deep drink of the extra dark roast. This coffeehouse, with its Old Town atmosphere, was one of her favorite boutique coffee shops. Non-chain, non-corporate, and not a speck of chrome in sight. Just warm and intimate and cozy.

The century-old building in Fort Connor’s Old Town still had the architectural details that made it distinctive, like the beaten tin ceiling. Now the walls were painted sunset red and mustard yellow, the better to highlight the constantly changing art displays. On one wall was a mural rendition of van Gogh’s
Starry Night
, which gave the coffeehouse its name.

She stared at the black brew, choosing her words carefully. They would almost sound like heresy if she spoke them. But she had to. Lisa had been at the retreat with them. No one else would understand like she would.

“Lisa . . . I know this sounds awful, but I keep thinking about Jennifer’s long walk that Saturday night. And how upsetting that whole weekend was for her, you know?”

Lisa exhaled a long sigh. “Yeah . . . I know, Kelly. That worries me, too. Nobody saw her on that walk. Nobody knows when she returned.”

Kelly swirled the coffee in her cup, hating herself for what she was about to say. “Lisa . . . do you think Jen went to confront him that night? Do you think something . . . something happened while she was there? I mean . . . maybe he tried to hit her or . . .”

Lisa put her forehead in her hand and closed her eyes. “I don’t know, Kelly . . . I just don’t know. But it’s been haunting me, too. What if Jen did go to see him? I can’t picture her doing that, but neither of us knows what she did on that walk.”

Kelly stared at the colorful design beneath the table’s laminated surface. “I keep wondering the same thing, Lisa. What if she did? Everett was pretty drunk that night. Maybe he tried to force himself on her again. She would fight him. We know she would.”

“For sure.”

“And maybe she pushed him. He was so drunk, he could have fallen over that railing and broken his neck.”

Lisa looked up and met Kelly’s gaze. Kelly saw the same fear there that she felt inside herself. Fear for their friend.

“And Jennifer would never be able to prove it was an accident. No one would believe her,” Lisa said sorrowfully.

Kelly simply nodded. Those were the same words that Jennifer had spoken when Kelly went to comfort her devastated friend three months ago. “No one would believe me.”

She was right
, Kelly concluded with regret.
No one would.

 

 

Kelly
speared another bacon-wrapped date and popped the delectable morsel into her mouth.
Way too good
. She could eat an entire plate of the yummy little appetizers. That was the nice thing about tapas—she could dine like a queen on several different selections without overeating. And the wine flights made it all the more enjoyable.

Kelly looked around the wine bar and café. Booths lined one side, tables were set up in different groupings, and chairs and love seats clustered here and there, creating cozy spots. She and Steve were seated near the fireplace, and no one else was nearby, which gave the setting even more privacy.

Steve glanced around the main room. “Boy, they put a lot of work into this place. Hickory floors, beaten tin ceiling, vintage light fixtures.”

Kelly sipped a smooth pinot noir. “Spoken like a builder with an eye for detail.” She paused. “Would you like to do more remodeling of these older buildings? You enjoyed working on Baker Street so much. You know, preserving the historic details while modernizing the other features.”

Steve leaned back in the upholstered chair beside Kelly and drained his glass of sauvignon blanc. The metal and glass hanging light fixtures sent a soft amber glow around the room. “That’s what brought me the most pleasure at Baker Street. Transforming those special details into something entirely new and distinctive.”

“Are there any more projects like that you could get involved with, Steve? That might help get you through this rough patch in the market.”

Steve shook his head. “Even if there were, Kelly, I have no money to invest anymore. Everything’s tied up in Wellesley and Baker Street. I can’t start any new projects. I’m just trying to hang on to the ones I’ve got.”

Kelly placed her hand on his arm, feeling the crisp weave of his cotton shirt. A different feel from his preferred denim work shirts. Denim and jeans and work boots. Steve’s favorite attire when he was busy building new houses. Comfortable clothes.

Not anymore. Now he wore sport coats or suits with dress shirts. Better for meetings with bankers and investment types. His days were spent in his office in Old Town in the Baker Street building. Steve had taken one of the smaller retail shops as his own. No longer tromping through mud and worksite clutter.

The picture of Steve working inside an office instead of striding around a building site was hard to bring into focus. It didn’t seem right. Steve had been building houses for eight years in northern Colorado, all around his hometown of Fort Connor.

Kelly decided to offer another suggestion, rather than her usual reassuring comments, since he’d heard them all before. “Have you considered signing on as an architect with one of the local firms? You know, as a consultant, maybe?”

Steve nodded, not even looking surprised by her comment. “Yeah, I have. If those Wellesley sites don’t sell this summer, I may have to sign up with a company. I’ll have to hustle up money somewhere to cover those new loan payments.”

Kelly sought for something to say, surprised that he had never mentioned to her that he was considering a different course. “You may enjoy designing other peoples’ projects, Steve. It could be challenging, even.”

Steve gave a little rueful smile. “Right now, I’ve got all the challenge I can handle.”

Kelly
leaned against her patio screen door, watching a squirrel scamper across the grassy backyard within a few feet of her sleeping dog. Carl lay stretched out in the sunshine for his morning nap. Kelly sipped her coffee while Brazen Squirrel darted about the backyard, digging in the flower beds, acting totally unafraid of Big-Dog-on-Patrol. Clearly, Brazen Squirrel knew Carl’s habits better than he did. Midmorning was nap time in the sunny corner of the yard. Carl was snoring peacefully as big dogs were wont to do, totally unaware that his nemesis was within easy reach.

Kelly smiled and didn’t make a sound. She wasn’t about to blow Brazen’s cover.
Hey, if you sleep on the job, you’re gonna miss out.
That was one of the big differences between dogs and cats, she’d noticed. Cats might look like they were sleeping, but one eye or their antennae or whatever was always paying attention. Cats were
always
on the job. Something small and tasty might be creeping nearby. There was no way Brazen Squirrel would scamper about so nonchalantly and carefree if Carl the Cat lived there.

Her cell phone jangled in her pocket, playing her latest music download. Burt’s voice came on, excited.

“Kelly, I’m finally calling with good news. In fact, it’s great news.”

“I can tell from the sound of your voice, Burt.” She pushed away from the door. Carl had stirred and raised his head, sending Brazen Squirrel into the bushes. “Quick, tell me.”