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Authors: Maggie Sefton

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BOOK: Purl Up and Die
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“Actually, I'll switch to soda,” Burt said, settling into the chair across from Kelly. “Boy, you weren't kidding when you said you were hungry. You're halfway through that Wicked Burger already.”

“Told you,” Kelly managed after swallowing. “I was buried for two hours this morning figuring out how to free up more funds for Don Warner's next project. So I figured I deserved a reward.” She winked at him.

“You want more iced coffee, Kelly?” Jennifer said as she turned toward the kitchen once more.

“Sure, I can always use a refill in July.” She took another bite.

“While you're finishing off that burger, I'll catch you up on my phone call from Dan early this morning.” Burt placed both arms on the table and leaned forward, the “better to talk” position.

“Did he speak to Manny the bartender?” Kelly asked before she took another big bite.

“Yes, he did, as a matter of fact. And it sounds like Manny repeated everything he told you and Jennifer earlier. So Dan and his partner plan to interview Professor Smith today or tomorrow if they can.”

Kelly swallowed the yummy burger bite and chased it with some iced coffee. “That definitely sounds like Dan and the department are seriously considering Professor Smith as a possible suspect. Just like we thought they would.”

Burt nodded. “So, we'll see how that interview goes. I want to hear what Dan thinks of Smith after interviewing him. Dan can usually get a good read off people. They'll be asking about those assault allegations. It'll be interesting how Smith handles himself under police questioning. That's clearly an open wound with him, so we'll see how he reacts when Dan starts to probe around there.”

Kelly wiped the last bit of Wicked Burger sauce from her mouth with her napkin. “Ahhhhh, three thousand calories of absolute wicked delight.” She grinned at Burt. “I don't regret a bite.”

Burt chuckled. “You just made a rhyme. I didn't know you were a poet.”

“I only wax poetic about food. Sort of like Greg and Marty. And speaking about food, this morning Cassie told me about all the things she cooked at the campsite last weekend. Sounds like she's gotten really good with the camp stove and the outdoor grill over the campfire.”

“She sure has. I didn't have to lift a finger making anything like I usually do. Cassie was on top of it all.”

“Cassie told me everything she cooked at the campsite last weekend,” Kelly said as Jennifer walked up with Burt's large soda. “Sounds like she had a blast.”

Jennifer grinned. “You bet she did. She regaled Pete and me for nearly half an hour telling us all about it.” Glancing over her shoulder, she added, “Better get back to the other customers. Pete and I will be at the ball fields tonight to watch Cassie's team play. Maybe we'll see you there.”

“Mimi and I will be there,” Burt said as Jennifer turned to walk away.

“I told Cassie it made me nostalgic hearing her talk about the camping trip. I remembered all the times Steve and I went camping. My favorite memories are of going to sleep listening to the Cache La Poudre River sing me to sleep with the sound of those waters rushing over rocks.”

“There you go, getting poetic again,” Burt said. Then he glanced up and his smile faded. “Listen, I'll talk to you later. I see Barb and I think I'll go and let her know that the police have now got a second suspect in the Laura Brewster murder. That will maybe ease her mind a bit.” He scraped back his chair and rose.

“That's a great idea,” Kelly said. “That poor woman hasn't smiled in three weeks. I've never seen her look so depressed.” She looked across the café and spotted Barb standing beside the counter. “Good for you, Burt. I can't think of anyone more deserving of a good deed than Big Barb right now.”

•   •   •

Later
that afternoon Kelly tabbed between columns, entering some of Don Warner's expenses for the Denver shopping
center he was renovating. Sometimes builders' initial estimate of project expenses are close to actual costs. When that happy coincidence occurs, everyone is happy: Don Warner and team, landowners, and accountants. But when the opposite occurred—project estimates were lower than actual costs—then the accountant was the one who had to balance the overspent accounts and delayed revenues and figure out how to solve the problems.

Sitting at the main knitting table, Kelly had been able to straighten out two of Warner's disobedient accounts, but she was still knee-deep in the financial swamp of this project. The large room was empty and no customers were browsing in the central yarn room or the foyer. That was an unusual occurrence, but Kelly was grateful for the quiet.

Then a familiar voice broke into Kelly's concentration. “Hello, Kelly.”

Kelly blinked out of the cloud of numbers and looked up to see Big Barb setting her huge tapestry knitting bag at the end of the table. “Hey, Barb, it's good to see you. How're you doing?”

“Thanks for asking, Kelly. I appreciate that.” She looked over at Kelly with a brief smile. “I'm doing really well, actually.” She settled at the table and brought out the baby blanket she was knitting. “Let me see if I can finish this blanket, so I can send it to my niece.”

Kelly pushed her laptop to the side. She hadn't gotten to talk with Barb for a week and was anxious to see if her mood had improved. “I imagine you're relieved that the police have found a second suspect in Laura Brewster's murder.”

Barb gave Kelly a look. “I'll say. Some professor at the
university. And from what I've heard whispered around, this professor had a past history with that . . . that girl.” Barb's proficient needles started to pick up where she'd left off in the pale blue wool.

Surprised by Barb's statement, Kelly wondered if Burt had revealed the connection between Laura Brewster and Professor Smith. Either that, or Mimi had whispered it to Barb. Kelly decided she couldn't feign ignorance, since she was mainly responsible for bringing that information to Burt's attention and subsequently the police's.

“Yes, I'd heard about their, uh . . . past history. It certainly does make you think. This professor has certainly gotten on the police radar screen.”

“I should say. If those police detectives have any sense, they should be putting their energies into building a case against that man and leave my law-abiding, good citizen son alone!”

Barb hadn't looked up from her knitting during her passion-filled statement, but Kelly could still feel the heat coming across. “I think you make a very good point, Barb. I certainly trust that Detective Dan and his men will investigate this professor thoroughly.”

“They'd better. Or they'll have me to deal with.”

Kelly suppressed her smile. Big Barb had morphed into Protective Mom once again. And the Fort Connor Police Department had better watch out.

Sixteen

Tuesday afternoon

Kelly
shoved the cell phone into a pocket of her white summer pants and continued walking across the gravel driveway that separated her cottage from the knitting shop. The early-afternoon sun was bearing down, so Kelly was about to pick up her pace when she heard Burt call her name. She glanced toward the garden patio and saw Burt beckon her to join him at a shady table amidst the greenery.

“Good choice,” Kelly said as she approached the retired detective. “If this wasn't in the shade, I would have pretended I didn't see you and kept walking toward the air-conditioning.”

Burt chuckled. “I understand. I've been darting between air-conditioned car and air-conditioned stores all morning. It's hotter than hot today.”

“Well, we've only had a couple of ninety-nine- and one-hundred-degree days, so you know we were due for more. This is still July, our hottest month.” She settled into the chair across from him and signaled waitress Julie, who was clearing a nearby outdoor table.

“Don't I know it,” Burt said, pulling out a folded white handkerchief and mopping his forehead. “I sat down here only ten minutes ago, but I swear I've downed two glasses of ice water so far. I look forward to August and the gradual drop in temperatures.”

“Maybe we should go inside then,” Kelly suggested, glancing around. “The lunch crowd is starting to slow, judging from the free tables.”

“No, no, what I have to tell you requires more privacy than the shop or the café offer right now.”

Kelly perked up at that. “Well, that certainly has aroused my interest. You must have heard something.”

Julie walked up to them then, a glass pitcher of iced coffee in her hand. “Hey, you two. You both look ready for a refill. Poor Burt was parched when he got in a few minutes ago.” She took Kelly's mug and poured a cold dark stream of iced coffee into it.

“I'm ready for some,” Burt said, holding out his empty mug, which Julie filled quickly.

“Okay, that should hold you two for a few minutes,” Julie said with a grin before she walked over to some other outdoor diners.

Kelly took a deep drink of icy cold black coffee and leaned back into the wrought iron chair. “So, what's up? Did you hear something more from Dan?”

“He left me a message this morning about the medical examiner's report. The ME actually checked Laura Brewster's body a second time, Dan said. Apparently the ME had to use an assistant for the initial examination because of the schedule—”

“Bodies piling up at the morgue?” Kelly said with a devilish smile. “Forgive me, I couldn't resist.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Burt said with a wry smile. “Anyway, the medical examiner wasn't convinced that there were no traces of DNA found under the victim's fingernails. After all, the victim had been strangled, so it would be natural for the victim to try to resist by clawing or scratching at the killer's face.”

“That makes sense.” Kelly tried picturing that, but she couldn't really because she had no image of Laura Brewster in her mind.

“In other words, the examiner doubted that assistant's work, so he examined the victim's fingernails himself. And he did find small amounts of human tissue underneath the nails on the middle and ring fingers of the right hand.”

“Really?” Kelly felt a little buzz go off inside. She'd learned over the years to pay attention to the little warning signs or the buzz she felt occasionally. It always led to something important.

Burt nodded. “The medical examiner sent the tissue off to the crime lab for DNA analysis a few days ago.”

“When do you think they'll hear back? That crime lab seems to be jammed a lot of times.”

“Well, the logjams are being cleared up, thank goodness. So Dan's hoping they won't have to wait too long. Needless
to say, he's enthusiastic about the medical examiner's discovery. It could bring a breakthrough on the case. Of course, both Tommy and Professor Smith would have to agree to submit DNA samples for comparison.”

Kelly nodded. “What if the DNA sample doesn't match either of them? What then? Will Dan go back to the violent intruder theory?”

Burt let out a sigh and sank back in his chair. “Yeah, I'm afraid so, and all we have is a parking lot surveillance video showing a guy in a hooded jacket walking into the building. No face, no identifying characteristics, nothing.”

Kelly looked out into the deep green of the shade plants in the garden. “Wow. That's going to be next to impossible. Trying to find the killer, I mean. There's nothing to go on, really. That guy in the video could be a resident of the apartment. Completely innocent.”

“Tell me about it,” Burt said ruefully.

“Where would Dan start. If that happens, I mean?”

“He'll have to go back to basic police work. Interviewing anyone who knew Laura Brewster once again. Asking more questions, seeing if any relationship or situation turns up. Then questioning the people in that apartment building, hoping someone saw or heard something that night. Or noticed anything different. Anything at all.”

Kelly watched Burt's expression turn pessimistic, as if he were still responsible for finding the killer in this case. “With cases like this, I bet you're glad you no longer have to find out whodunit.”

Burt met Kelly's sympathetic gaze and nodded. “You got that right, Kelly.”

•   •   •

“Hello,
Kelly. How are you this afternoon?”

Kelly stopped digging into her knitting bag and looked up to see Big Barb smiling at her as she entered the main room. Delighted to see a smile on Barb's face, Kelly exclaimed, “Hey, there, Barb. It's so good to see you looking like your old self again.”

Barb set her enormous tapestry knitting bag on the long library table. “Thank you, Kelly. It's good to feel like myself again.” She pulled out a chair at the end of the table and sat. Then she started pulling out several plastic bags of yarn from her oversize knitting bag and piling them on the table. Each bag held a different color yarn.

“Do you have a class today, Barb? I can't keep track of the schedule around here. Something different is happening every day.”

“Yes, but it's not for over an hour, so I thought I'd come early and organize my thinking for the class. I may talk to them about felting. A couple of students asked me about it.”

“I think that's a great idea, Barb. Maybe build some more interest in Mimi's next class. I really enjoyed her last class. Of course, I have to wait till fall to use the felted scarf I made.”

“I believe yours was the striking red silk with orange- and rose-colored fibers felted onto it.”

“Yes, that's mine. Megan was giving me a hard time about being too conservative with the colors I wear. So it was good to be able to flaunt my new creation. And it's certainly easier to do than some of the more advanced projects you're always teaching.”

Barb wagged her head, still smiling. “Kelly, Kelly. How many times have we told you that you are much better than you think? Give yourself credit, my girl.”

Kelly started to laugh as she pulled out the summer top she'd started knitting earlier, before the ribbon scarves. It was an easy pattern that she'd almost finished. Only a few more rows of the variegated royal blue and shamrock green cotton yarn to go before she could start binding off. Maybe she could chat with Barb and finally finish this piece. It seemed like every time she settled in to knit this top, something distracted her.

“Thanks so much for the boost in confidence, Barb. I think I'll sit right here with you as I try to finish this top. And for the record, I've tried to master some of those more complicated stitches you teach. But it didn't work. The yarn would get twisted as I was knitting, or I would mess up another stitch when I tried to do it. So I'd go back to the reliable old garter stitch and purl stitch with some yarn over stitches thrown in for variety. That's about as adventurous as I'll get in knitting.” She grinned at Barb.

“You can do it, Kelly. Take charge. You need to make those stitches behave,” Barb decreed in her old authoritative voice.

Kelly was so glad to hear Big Barb sound like her old bossy self, she willingly played along. “Yes, ma'am,” Kelly replied, interrupting her knitting to do a half salute. Deciding to broach the subject that had been responsible for the improvement in Barb's mood, Kelly glanced around to make sure no one else was close by. “It's good to have the old Barb back,” she said with a grin.

Barb glanced up from examining the bags of yarns and returned Kelly's smile. “Well, I've felt a lot better now that the police have located another suspect in the death of that girl.”

“I'm sure you have. By the way, how's Tommy holding up? Under all that stress, I mean.”

“As well as he can, poor dear.” A frown captured her face again. “I hope this ordeal can be over soon. I had a feeling something would come out of the girl's past. Burt confirmed the rumors I heard. She had made accusations against this other man in town, this professor, a few years ago. And it seems his career at the university had been severely affected. That sounds like a reason to kill to me.”

Kelly was struck by the coldness of Barb's tone, so she chose her words carefully. Clearly, Barb was back in her role as Protective Mother. Super Mom. Ready to swoop down and wreak havoc on those who would threaten our children or families.

“It certainly sounds suspicious to me,” Kelly agreed.

Burt suddenly appeared in the archway between the main and central yarn rooms. He glanced first at Barb, then at Kelly, and his familiar smile broke out. “Hello, you two. So nice to see the both of you,” he said as he walked over to the table and chose a chair close to Barb.

Barb peered at Burt. “Have you heard any new information from your former partner?”

“No new information yet. But Dan did leave me a message that they had contacted Tommy early this morning and asked if he would submit a DNA sample for the medical examiner. Tommy readily agreed and went to the
department downtown and submitted a sample. I thought you'd be pleased to hear that.” Burt smiled at her.

Barb simply stared at Burt, not returning his smile. “What? He didn't tell me he was going to do that. Was our lawyer present?”

Obviously surprised by her response, Burt replied, “I don't know. Dan didn't mention a lawyer. But it's a simple procedure. Just a swab from inside the cheek. I'm sure Tommy knew that. He is a doctor, after all.” Burt gave a half smile.

Barb didn't return that, either. Instead, she looked annoyed. “Still, he should have called me.” She reached for her huge knitting bag and dug inside until she pulled out a phone. “I'm going to call him right now,” she said, springing from her chair.

Kelly and Burt watched her hasten out of the main room and head for the foyer. Kelly glanced over at Burt. “Wow. I guess Super Mom wanted to be consulted.”

Burt wagged his head, staring after his old friend. “I guess. Barb is used to being bossy, but Tommy's a grown man.”

“I get the feeling he's never really cut those apron strings. In fact, I got that feeling years ago when he was temporarily a suspect in his girlfriend's murder.”

“Really?” Burt looked surprised.

“Oh, yeah. Remember, I'm not an old friend of the family like you and Mimi are. I'm an outsider, so I saw that ‘dominating mother, submissive son' relationship years ago.” Kelly glanced into the room, remembering. “Wow. That was almost three years ago. Gee, time really does fly, doesn't it?”

Burt chuckled. “You're right about that, Kelly. It passes too darn fast for me. And I've got news for you. The older you get, the faster time passes. Lightning speed sometimes.”

“I've heard that said, Burt, and I have a feeling you're right. It's hard to believe that it's been six years since I came back here for Aunt Helen's funeral.”

“And you've been here ever since.” Burt grinned. “And speaking for myself, Mimi, and all your gang of friends, we are mighty glad you came.”

Kelly returned his warm smile. “So am I, Burt. So am I.”

•   •   •

“Ooooooooh,
is that buttered?” Megan asked as she dipped her fingers into Marty's box of popcorn that evening.

“Of course,” the redhead replied as he leaned back against the Rolland Moore ball fields' bleachers. Extending the box toward the bleacher row in front of him, he said, “Eat up, guys. I'm gonna go get some with jalapeño butter. I'm craving hot and spicy.”

“Seriously?” Greg said, putting his half-eaten hot dog aside. “I'll pass it around. After I have some, of course.” Greg scooped up a big handful of buttery popcorn and gobbled it up. Two or three kernels dropped down between the bleacher rows.

“Pass it along. You're still eating your third hot dog,” Lisa said, taking the box and offering it toward Kelly and Steve at the end of that row of bleachers.

“Don't mind if I do,” Kelly said, taking a sticky handful. “Want some?” She offered the box to Steve, who was leaning back against the bleachers behind them.

“Sure.” Steve took a few kernels and tossed them one at a time into his mouth.

“Have you ever noticed how people eat popcorn?” Pete asked Jennifer, seated on the other side of Kelly. “Kelly took a small handful. Steve tosses them into his mouth one at a time. Then there's Greg's technique—”

“Gobble and gorge,” Lisa said with a devilish smile.

Kelly and friends laughed out loud at that image.

Greg put both arms up in a wrestler's pose, flexing his muscles. “Hey, I'm carbo-loading. I've got a race this weekend.”

“In Fort Connor?” Megan asked.

“No, Loveland. It's a short one. Just twenty miles. Charity event.” Greg reached his long arm down the row where the popcorn box had landed—next to Pete—and scooped another huge handful.

BOOK: Purl Up and Die
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