Dropped Dead Stitch (20 page)

“What is it, Lisa? There’s something else, I can tell.”

Lisa gave Kelly a crooked smile. “You’d be good in our business, Kelly. Your antennae are razor sharp.”

“They don’t call me Sherlock fer nuthin’,” Kelly teased. “You found out something else, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I did.” Lisa exhaled a sigh. “And I’m feeling guilty about it.”

“Why?”

“Because I overheard a private conversation between Greta and Dr. Norcross, and I shouldn’t have listened. I should have turned the other corner and left the room. Instead, I stayed.”

“You didn’t plan on eavesdropping, Lisa, so don’t beat up on yourself.”

“Yeah, but now . . . now I’m feeling really unsettled.”

“Exactly what did you overhear?”

Lisa screwed up her face. “That’s just it, Kelly. If I tell you, then I’m compounding the invasion of privacy.”

Kelly considered Lisa’s dilemma. Clearly, her friend was conflicted over telling Kelly something she’d overheard. That would only happen if she overheard something disturbing. That made Kelly’s little buzzer go off.

“Listen, Lisa. You didn’t take an oath of doctor-patient confidentiality or whatever it is. You’re not a doctor, and you’re not a psychologist. So there are no professional or legal restrictions binding you. It’s clear to me you overheard something that bothered you. And I know that you wouldn’t have mentioned it if you didn’t want to tell me, right?”

Lisa wagged her head, a wry smile curving her mouth. “Man, you’d make a good lawyer, too. You been taking lessons from Marty or something?”

Kelly smiled. “No, I simply pay attention. If something’s bothering you, there’s always a reason.”

Lisa knitted several more stitches before answering. “They must have been standing outside Dr. Norcross’s office because I heard their voices in the hallway around the corner. Dr. Norcross was talking to Greta, and she said, ‘I know the retreat brought back lots of disturbing memories from the past. That’s to be expected.’ Then Greta said something I couldn’t hear, and they closed the door.”

Kelly pondered the scene her friend recounted. “Disturbing memories from the past” that were triggered by the retreat. Many things happened on that retreat in Poudre Canyon. A lot of them disturbing.

“That could refer to all sorts of things, Lisa. It was an emotional roller coaster of a weekend for a lot of people. And on top of everything, we discovered Everett’s dead body at breakfast. That episode alone would bother most people.”

“I know what you’re saying, Kelly, but something tells me Dr. Norcross wasn’t talking about Everett’s death. She was talking about all the stories the women were sharing about their experiences.” She knitted another few stitches. “And now I’m wondering if Greta was a victim of sexual assault herself. Maybe she didn’t share it with anyone except Dr. Norcross.”

Kelly considered what Lisa said. “You know, you may be right, Lisa. Maybe those are the ‘memories’ Dr. Norcross was speaking of. And maybe that’s why Greta went into martial arts. Maybe she didn’t ever want to be a victim again.”

Lisa stared at the yarn bins for a moment, then nodded. “That’s possible.”

“Has she ever given you any indication that she was assaulted?”

“No, she hasn’t. The only thing I’ve ever heard Greta say was that women need to protect themselves. And I’ve seen her get very concerned when college girls come in and talk about some of their experiences at parties.”

Kelly knitted another row. “I wonder why she didn’t choose to share at the retreat. Do you think she simply wanted to keep a kind of professional distance or something? You know, since she’s trying to become a psychologist herself.”

“That could be it. Maybe—”

Lisa was interrupted by a mini-hurricane that resembled Mimi, hurrying through the doorway, fluffy balls of yarn in her arms. “Lisa, Kelly, could you give me a hand, please? Burt and I have got to run off and do errands before dinner, and the delivery truck has dropped off three boxes of new yarns. Connie is too busy with customers at the front to unpack.”

“New yarns? I’m on it,” Kelly said, dropping her vest onto the table. “I take it you want them in the center room. These bins are already full.”

“I’ll help, too, Mimi,” Lisa said, shoving her knitting back into her bag.

Mimi dumped the colorful fluff balls onto the library table, sending them scattering. “You girls are lifesavers. I feel like that proverbial chicken running around with its head cut off. I swear, I’m running so fast I’m meeting myself in the middle.” She pointed to the central yarn room. “All of these yarns go into those bins along the wall, Kelly. I’ll bring some more in a minute. Burt’s already loading the shelves on the other side of the room. Lisa, you can help me unpack and load the shelves in the back room.” Mimi hurried from the room.

“See you tonight at practice, Kelly,” Lisa said as she followed after Mimi.

Kelly gathered up all the fluff balls and headed to the central yarn room, where Burt was opening another box of yarn. An empty box lay at his feet.

“Hey, Burt, I see Megan’s got you two running so fast you’re meeting yourselves in the middle.”

“You’re right about that, Kelly,” Burt said without turning around. “Mimi and I are seriously considering running off to elope this weekend.”

“Too late for that, Burt,” Kelly said as she started filling bins with fluff balls on top of fluff balls. “Dresses have been bought, cakes are being baked, or will be. You’re stuck now.”

Burt chuckled. “But you know what?” He turned to eye Kelly. “I like being stuck with Mimi.”

Kelly laughed softly as she continued to load the balls of colorful yarn into bins. Mimi brought out another box, and Kelly started loading those yarns as well. The bins and shelves fairly spilled over with the abundance of fiber. Merino wool, cotton and silk, eyelash, crinkly ribbons.

“Anything new on that investigation, Burt? Any word from your friend?”

“Nothing new, according to Vern,” Burt said, reaching deep into the box. “They were finally able to interview the last retreat attendee. She’d been away on business ever since Peterson started the second round of investigations.”

Kelly looked up with interest. “Did she say anything different from the others?”

Burt shook his head, then emptied the box. Two fluffy balls and crinkly skeins fell onto the floor. “Not really. She did mention something about Greta hearing a noise in the middle of the night.”

“Really? Well, that’s something. I don’t recall Greta saying anything about that.”

“It doesn’t sound like anything, though. Edie is the woman’s name, and she and Greta shared a cabin. She said she awoke in the middle of the night and saw Greta standing in the open doorway. Anyway, she asked if anything was wrong, and Greta said she thought she heard something and got up to check outside. She didn’t see anything, though.”

“Maybe she heard Bill Zarofsky’s truck engine like Dr. Norcross did. What do you think?”

Burt shrugged. “I don’t know, Kelly. Maybe.” He glanced over his shoulder and gave her a smile. “But it really doesn’t matter what we think. It’s Peterson’s ball game. He calls the plays, and we’re not on his team. Officially, that is.”

 

 

Kelly’s
bat hit the ball with a loud crack. The sweetest sound in the world to Kelly’s ears. She watched the ball sail up, up, and away as she dropped the bat and took off, rounding first base in a loping stride. Good-natured teasing and cheers sounded as she ran.

They were all hitting well tonight. Everybody connected with line drives, even home runs. “Outta the park,” as one of Kelly’s summertime teenage baseball players would say.

If this were a game rather than a practice, they’d be burying the other team with their bats.
Oh, yeah
.

“Lookin’ good,” Megan called, giving Kelly the high sign as she rounded third.

Boy, were they ready. The season started tomorrow night.
Bring it on.

Kelly
slammed the door of her cottage and raced down the steps. The light showers predicted for this morning had appeared exactly on schedule. She ran through the rain, across the driveway, and into the flowering patio garden behind Pete’s café. Since spring’s showers had been abundant in April and May, the garden was already lush and green with plants.

Flowering lilac bushes threw their wet scent into the air, peonies burst into bloom, and vinca vines covered the flower beds with green leaves and purple flowers. Yellow and pink irises edged the fence, and the blossoming crab apple trees were heavy with pink and white flowers.

Kelly scampered up the wooden back steps to the café and burst inside, shaking raindrops off her clothes. “Boy, it’s chilly today,” she declared, brushing droplets out of her hair. “I really need that coffee now.”

Jennifer took Kelly’s mug from her outstretched hand and poured a stream of Eduardo’s black brew. “One of these days, you’ll learn how useful jackets are on rainy days. I thought you had a jacket with a hood.”

“I do, but I always forget to wear it,” Kelly said as she eagerly accepted the refilled mug. She sniffed the heady aroma trailing upward. “Did you learn anything about Zarofsky yesterday?”

“A little. There wasn’t much to learn,” Jennifer said as she headed back into the busy café.

“Did your commercial broker friend know him?” Kelly asked as she settled at a table in the alcove along the side of the café.

Jennifer paused at Kelly’s table, scanning the seated customers before answering. “Ralph never heard of him. He checked his associations’ lists, and Zarofsky isn’t there. So, the only thing Ralph and I can figure out is maybe Zarofsky is a ‘wannabe.’ You know . . . he pretends to be a developer when in reality, he doesn’t do squat.”

“Maybe so,” Kelly said, sipping her coffee. “I had a feeling he was lying.”

“Well, that’s what I figured after I talked with Ralph. Then yesterday afternoon I took some paperwork over to another real estate agent who has an office in the Commercial Bank Building. While I was there, I checked the directory, and sure enough, Zarofsky has an office in the building. And he’s listed as ‘Commercial Real Estate.’ ”

Kelly stared at her. “What? But he’s not working in commercial. Your guy said so.”

“Yeah, I know. I thought that strange, too, so I went up to his office. His name is on the door, all official, but it was closed and locked. Not a soul in sight.”

“That is so bizarre,” Kelly said, shaking her head. “This guy is lying. I can feel it. But why?”

“I know, it doesn’t make sense. There’s a possibility he’s getting started in the business and hasn’t joined the associations yet. But, that’s kind of unlikely. Real estate is a business of networking. Everyone knows everyone else in the business. You’ve got to work with people to be successful. Maybe he’s so new at it, he simply doesn’t know what he doesn’t know.”

“Yeah, riiiight. I still think he’s lying, but I can’t figure out why.”

A customer on the other side of the café lifted his cup, and Jennifer turned away. “Gotta go, customers calling. But there was one other thing. I checked the county real estate records and found out Zarofsky did put that lien on Everett’s ranch.”

“He did?” Kelly exclaimed. “Whoa, now that’s something serious, according to Jayleen. When did he do it?”

Jennifer started to walk away. “The Monday following the retreat. Talk to you later.”

Kelly’s thoughts sped up. Monday was the day after they found Cal Everett’s dead body. Boy . . . Zarofsky sure didn’t waste any time, did he? Why would he put the lien on Cal’s property so soon after their fight? Unless . . . unless Zarofsky already knew Everett was dead. And if he was the one who “helped” Cal over the railing, then Zarofsky knew Everett would no longer be a problem.

Her mind buzzing, Kelly pulled out her laptop and set up on the café table. She had client accounts to enter. Work to do. Boring, yes, but necessary.

Gray, rainy days were actually unusual in Fort Connor, since it boasted approximately 320 sunny days a year. So, those days were conducive to snuggling in a warm, cozy spot and working. She flipped open the laptop and powered it up. Her hand moved the cursor over the screen as she tried to force her mind into accounting mode. It wouldn’t go. Instead, the cursor stopped over the Web browser icon. Always so tempting.

She paused, staring at the icon. Kelly’s last search on Zarofsky revealed nothing except alpaca associations. Maybe Megan had learned something. She dug out her cell phone and punched in the familiar number.

Megan answered quickly. “Hey, there, I was about to call you.”

“Why? Did you find something on Zarofsky, I hope?”

“Well, yes and no. Like you, I didn’t find anything about a commercial real estate connection—”

“Neither did Jennifer,” Kelly interrupted. “But she did find his office in the Commercial Bank Building. All closed and locked. Nobody there.”

“That’s bizarre.”

“Isn’t it, now? I know that guy is up to something. I can feel it. Did you find any legal problems or stuff like that?”

“Not on William Zarofsky, but I did find some past history on a Kevin Zarofsky. He was arrested several years ago for selling drugs.”

“Whoa! I wasn’t expecting that. He must be related to Bill Zarofsky, don’t you think? I mean, with that same last name. ‘Zarofsky’ isn’t exactly common.”

“I think that’s probably a good bet.”

“Way to go, Megan! You are fantastic. You and those special websites of yours. How long ago did this happen? Was he convicted? How long was he in jail?”

“Hold on, let me check my notes.” Megan paused. “He was convicted seven years ago on two counts of possession with intent to distribute methamphetamines. Looks like he served five years in the Colorado State Department of Corrections in Buena Vista.”

“How old is he?”