Purl Up and Die (15 page)

Megan just laughed. “Don't be such sissies. You've forgotten our trips to Coors Field in Denver to watch the Rockies play. Remember how loud those noisemakers were?”

“Good Lord, I'd forgotten those,” Kelly said with a frown. “I'd like to go down for a game this summer, but I don't want to come back impaired.”

Megan gave a dismissive wave of her hand and took another bite of her hot dog with everything. Mustard, ketchup, bright green relish, and grilled onions spilled out of the bun.

Kelly spotted Steve walk over to the batter's box, awaiting his turn at bat. He took a practice swing. Powerful. “We
could use a home run right about now. This Thornton team has improved a lot.”

“I'll say.” Lisa picked up her bottle of iced tea. “No way were they this good last year.”

Megan swallowed her big bite of hot dog then offered, “It's the batters. They've taken on a couple of new guys, and boy are they good.” She returned to her hot dog.

“Well, this is perfect timing,” Curt Stackhouse's voice sounded beside the bleachers. “I see Steve coming up to bat.”

“Hey, great to see you two.” She grinned down at Curt and Jayleen. “C'mon up here and join us. There's plenty of room.”

“Yes, join us, please,” Lisa said.

“Good to see you two,” Megan added, smiling at them.

“We're happy to join you folks. We've all been so busy lately, we haven't had time for a get-together. We need to schedule a barbecue before summer is over,” Curt said, offering Jayleen his hand as she climbed up the side of the bleachers.

“Put us down on your guest list,” Megan said, raising her hand. “Marty and I would walk a mile for Jayleen's chili.”

“Thank you, ma'am,” Jayleen said with her wide grin.

“As I recall, you sure didn't ignore those steaks last time you were there, Megan,” Curt teased.

Megan grinned. “I still have dreams about those steaks, Curt.”

Jayleen cackled, then pointed toward the field. “Looks like Fort Connor Red is tied with that Thornton team,” Jayleen said as Kelly scooted down the bleachers, allowing
more room for Curt and Jayleen. Jayleen settled at the end of the row.

Curt climbed the bleachers from the bottom up, swung a long leg over a bleacher, and sat between Kelly and Jayleen. “We could use another run to take the lead,” he said. “I hope Steve knocks one out of the park.”

“Yeah, we need the big bat here,” Lisa said.

Kelly watched the batter on deck hit a pop fly ball that was easily caught by the Thornton fielder. “Oh, boy. Two outs. We really need a run now. They've got both Greg and Marty on base.”

“C'mon, Steve, hit one over the fence!” Jayleen yelled.

At that, Steve turned around and looked toward the bleachers. All of them waved. Steve grinned and waved back. Then he strolled to the plate, took another couple of practice swings, and settled into his crouch.

Kelly crossed her fingers and watched as the pitcher wound up and let fly a perfectly thrown ball. Right over the plate, and right there in the zone. Ripe for the taking. Steve didn't waste time. He swung and connected. Kelly heard that sweet sound of ball meeting bat.
Crack!
She watched as the ball sailed up, up, and away. Out of the park. Way out of the park.

She leaped to her feet. “
Way to go, Steve!
” she shouted and joined in as the bleachers exploded in cheers, watching Marty, Greg, and Steve round the bases home. Glancing at Megan, yelling loudly beside her, Kelly said, “Now you can let one of those fly.”

“
All right!
” Megan grinned and put her fingers to her teeth.

Kelly already had her fingers in her ears as the first decibel pierced the air. Jayleen cackled and Curt let out a guffaw at the sound.

When all the noise settled, Curt turned to Kelly and said, “Tell Steve to give me a call next week. A friend and I have a building project that should be right up Steve's alley. My friend has the land and I've got the capital.” Curt winked at Kelly and smiled. “We'd like to talk with him about it.”

Kelly's accountant antennae sent out a signal.
Yes!
She returned Curt's smile. “I'm sure Steve will be more than happy to talk with both of you. In fact, Steve may very well give you a call
tonight.”

Thursday late afternoon

“Lucky
we found parking in this block,” Kelly said as she and Jennifer walked along Linden Street, one of the original streets in Old Town Fort Connor.

Linden and cross street Walnut were the two oldest commercial streets in the picturesque Old Town area. Both streets were lined with shops and cafés that spilled right into the Old Town plaza area, which was designed solely for pedestrian traffic. Outdoor cafés sprouted in warm weather like dandelions in new grass. They were everywhere.

“That's because we're here early. It's only five o'clock. Another half hour and the bar crowd will start to trickle in.” Jennifer stopped on the sidewalk in front of Mason's Bar. Only a few outdoor tables were occupied. “Or, everyone is already inside in the air-conditioning,” she said with a smile.

Jennifer walked over and opened the dark wooden
entry door with the ornate brass knocker and stepped inside. Kelly followed quickly. She would appreciate the air-conditioning, too. The July sun was blazing down even at an angle. Hot, hot.

Glancing around, Kelly admired the bar's interior. Tall cushioned booths lined two walls, and tables dotted the dining room. Dark red cushions adorned both the booths and the dining table chairs. White tablecloths and dark red linen-looking napkins were artistically folded and rested on each plate.

“This is a nice place,” Kelly commented as they paused to look around. “I thought it would have more of a sports bar look considering what I'd heard about people getting into fights.”

“Actually, those kinds of altercations are pretty rare for this place. The owners are from Denver, and they've tried to cultivate a more sophisticated atmosphere for Mason's. They own another bar in Loveland, which is definitely a drinking man's bar.” Jennifer began to slowly walk past the dining tables section and toward the back part of the restaurant.

“Nobody's here yet,” Kelly observed as she followed Jennifer.

“Oh, they're here, all right. See? We're so early we've surprised the staff.”

Sure enough, a young woman in a black skirt, white blouse, and black necktie appeared from the back and hastened toward them. “Good afternoon. Would you like a table?” she said with a cheerful smile.

“No, that's okay. We'll sit at the bar,” Jennifer replied, returning her smile.

The young woman gestured toward the back. “Enjoy. If you'd like to have an appetizer, just tell the bartender and we'll bring it to you there.”

“Thanks. We'll remember that,” Kelly said, reassuring the young waitress that she'd done her hostess duties and alerted them to other options.

Kelly followed Jennifer through the archway, which opened to a Victorian-style decor, complete with long polished wooden bar, old-fashioned lighting fixtures adorning the walls and hanging from the ceiling, and an ornate mirror that stretched the length of the bar. Kelly also noticed the bar was completely empty.

“I've never been in here before, but I've heard it was pretty popular,” Kelly said as she and Jennifer walked toward the bar.

“From what I've heard, it still is,” Jennifer said as she sat in one of the red-cushioned bar chairs. “And it's so nice to no longer be recognizable to those young waitresses.” She winked at Kelly.

Kelly slipped into the bar chair beside her and noticed a tall brown-haired guy walk toward them, big smile in place.

“Jennifer! Good to see you,” he said with a bartender's grin. Glancing to Kelly, he added, “And your friend. What can I get you girls?”

Kelly smiled inwardly at the term “girls” as Jennifer spoke up.

“Just a diet cola for me, Manny. What are you having, Kelly?”

“Actually, I'll have a Fat Tire. It's hot out there.”

“That it is, Kelly,” Manny said, wiping invisible lint off the bar with his white towel. Then he looked at Jennifer and
gave her a crooked smile. “I'd heard that you'd stopped drinking, and that's why we haven't seen you around.”

“Oh, I'm still around, Manny,” Jennifer said with her winning smile. “I'm just outside at the cafés having dinner with friends. We're usually out there in the plaza at Bollinger's because the pizza is so good.”

“Well, you're right about that,” Manny said. “But for the record, we miss you on the scene.”

Jennifer gave Manny one of her most alluring smiles. “I was on the bar scene for ten years at least, Manny. That's long enough.”

Manny nodded, with a smile. “If you say so. Anyway, it's good seeing you again.” Glancing to Kelly, he added, “Now, let me get you that Fat Tire.” And Manny walked down the bar to retrieve a tall glass, then proceeded to fill it from one of the tall draft beer dispensers on the bar.

“You handled that very smoothly.” Kelly smiled at her dear friend.

“Thanks. It gets easier and easier, I've noticed.”

Manny walked up, tall glass of amber ale in hand, crested by a frosty head. He set it in front of Kelly.

“Thanks, Manny,” Kelly said, wondering how to start asking questions.

“There's another reason we stopped in today, Manny,” Jennifer jumped in. “One of our friends said he was in here three weeks ago on a Thursday night, and a professor of his from the university got into a fight with a guy at the bar. Apparently they had to be thrown out, he said. Do you remember seeing something like that?”

Manny leaned both arms on the bar. No other customers
in sight. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do. I recognized the professor because he used to come in regularly a couple of years ago. He'd always get drunk and sometimes get into arguments. Professor Smith was his name.”

“Yes, that's his name.” Jennifer nodded. “Another of our friends knew him and had heard rumors. She was concerned. Was he always drunk?”

Manny nodded. “Yeah, every time I saw him. And he'd get into arguments. Other guys at the bar would kind of goad him, though.” Manny leaned forward over the bar. “Smith was the guy that student accused of sexual assault. One of the guys at the bar told me.”

“Our friend said his career at the university took a nosedive afterward, too,” Kelly said, lowering her voice. “That's probably why he drank so much. Our friend knew his family and said he was a great guy. She didn't believe he did it.”

Manny looked over at the waitress who was taking a couple to a table. “Yeah, I heard stories, too. That was a raw deal if he was really innocent. Anyway, he must have sobered up for a while, because he hadn't been in here for a year or so. Until a couple of weeks ago. Damned if he didn't go back to his old habits. Getting drunk and getting into a fight.” Manny shook his head.

“Was it the same thing as before?” Kelly asked. “Some guy giving him a hard time about the assault?”

“Yeah. Some guy really jerked his chain about that charge. Professor Smith started cussing the girl out and calling her a lying bitch. Stuff like that. Then he took a swing at the guy.”

“That's sad,” Jennifer commented. “Especially if he really
was innocent. Sounds like his whole life was screwed up. Ruined.”

“Pretty much,” Manny said, glancing down the bar. A waitress was walking over. “Looks like I've got more customers. You girls enjoy.” And he walked away, blue-striped long-sleeved shirt complete with old-fashioned garter around the arm.

Kelly looked over at Jennifer. “Well, that was certainly interesting.” She took a deep drink of the Fat Tire. Her empty stomach sent a message. Food.

“Indeed it was,” Jennifer agreed, sipping her cola. “I'm glad we took this excursion. That was pretty damning information concerning Professor Smith.”

“I agree. It doesn't look like Professor Smith has been able to move on after three years. And he clearly harbored animosity toward Laura Brewster.”

“That's putting it mildly.”

Kelly took another drink and her stomach growled. “Hey, can you please pass me that bowl of peanuts? I'm going to need something to absorb the ale.”

“Absolutely.” Jennifer captured the bowl of peanuts and placed it in front of Kelly. “Eat up. I don't want to watch you weaving down the streets of Old Town.”

The following Monday morning

Kelly walked down the hallway toward the shop, refilled mug of iced coffee in hand. She was ready to balance Don Warner's financial statements or die trying.

Approaching the workroom, Kelly heard Mimi's voice drift out the doorway.

“That's right. Now that you've pressed your fibers into the silk scarves and wet down the entire scarf, we'll turn the scarf over and wet down the back side of the scarf. See? Watch how Gemma is doing it. Get those sponges wet and press the fibers through the mesh covering. Yes, just like that, Janet.”

“Why are we wetting the back side?” a woman's voice asked.

Kelly paused and smiled, standing for a minute to sip her iced coffee. Mimi was teaching another Wet Felting class.

“Because we need that soapy mixture to saturate the entire piece, front and back. Then you'll carefully roll all of it up, plastic and fabric, around a rolling pin and inside one of those thick bath towels you see over there.”

Kelly heard a murmuring of surprised voices. They sounded exactly like her class last week.

“After that, you'll roll your piece in sets of twenty-five until you reach five hundred.”

Kelly laughed softly, listening to the exclamations of shock, laughter, and protests of, “My arms will fall off!”

Mimi had heard it all before, and Kelly heard her tinkling laughter floating above the protests and exclamations.

“Why five hundred? What's so magical about that?” another woman's voice asked.

“Well, by that time your scarf will be thoroughly wet throughout. Once it's completely saturated and the fibers completely pressed to the silk, they become one piece. Then you can unwrap the towel, remove the plastic, and place the scarf over a wooden hanger. Then we can hang it in the
bathroom shower down the hall for twenty-four hours to drip and dry.”

Kelly listened to the various murmurings and comments for another minute, then continued down the hallway back to the main yarn room. Disobedient accounts were waiting.

•   •   •

Kelly
speared the last morsel of chicken, finishing off the Caesar salad. Glancing about Pete's Café, Kelly saw that the late lunch crowd was starting to thin out. A couple of tables were empty already.

Jennifer approached with a pitcher of iced coffee in one hand and a pitcher of iced tea in the other. “Okay, what'll it be? Right or left?” She held out one pitcher, then the other.

Kelly lifted her nearly empty mug. “No contest. Iced coffee, please.”

Jennifer obliged and poured a long stream of cold black coffee into Kelly's mug. “You really ought to give iced tea a try, Kelly. It's refreshing on a hot summer day. You might like it.”

Kelly took a deep drink of cold black liquid. She could feel the caffeine seeping through her veins. “I have tried it.” She made a face.

Jennifer gave her an incredulous look. “How can anyone dislike iced tea? It's mild.”

Kelly shrugged. “Maybe that's what I don't like. It's not strong enough.”

Jennifer smiled. “If you say so. Sometime I'm going to make you a glass of really strong iced tea. Just to see if you like it.”

“I promise I'll try it, but don't hold your breath waiting for my squeals of delight.”

Jennifer laughed. “You know, Eduardo is right to call you Crazy Kelly. Talk to you later.” She walked away to another table around the corner.

Kelly sipped her iced coffee and looked through the large café window beside her into the patio garden. The late-July heat was tamped down a bit, caused no doubt by the dark clouds forming over the foothills. Soon they'd cover the entire sky and open up with the welcome rain.

The late-July monsoon season was finally upon them. The blazing heat from earlier in the month lessened as the monsoon clouds rolled over the foothills every afternoon. Rainstorms, mostly light but sometimes drenching, appeared for several days in a row, providing much-needed rain after a typical hot and dry July. Some years brought so much rain there was flooding, which was always a surprise.

And one year, Kelly was told, a five-hundred-year-old storm showed up during monsoon season in late July. The thunderstorms “hung up,” as the locals say, right next to the foothills, the edge of the Rocky Mountains, and it rained for twenty-four hours straight. Even the smallest creek in Fort Connor overflowed its banks and came rushing toward the unsuspecting city. Three to four feet of water covered streets and rose higher in low-lying areas, even toppling railcars off their tracks. Homes were flooded, water pouring in through the ground-floor windows. Cars were lifted from driveways and floated down streets, bumping into each other and entangling in all manner of debris carried by the swift current. The newly built lower level of Colorado State University's
library was inundated when the picturesque lagoon located nearby angled down, which allowed several feet of powerful current to gather and crash right through glass and steel, completely flooding the library's collections.

Homes destroyed, beloved pets carried off by the uncaring waters, and worse. Four people died in that frightening night, swept away by the fast-moving water.

So lost in thought and the stories she'd heard told by friends, Kelly didn't even hear her name being called at first. Finally Burt's voice penetrated her thoughts.

“Earth to Kelly,” Burt teased.

Kelly jerked around. “Hey, Burt, I was looking out at the monsoon rain moving in and remembering all those stories people told me about that terrible flood of 1997. I guess I was lost in thought, as they say.”

“Oh, well, that's easy to understand, Kelly.” Burt pulled out a chair across the table from her. “That flood was the biggest disaster Fort Connor ever experienced. And I know, because I was out there with the entire police department that night. It was a zoo, as you can imagine. I was out all night and the next day. All of us were. It was unbelievable.”