Purl Up and Die (7 page)

Eric looked skeptical. “Really? That doesn't make any sense.”

Steve, Kelly, Megan, and Lisa all smiled. “Girls don't need to make sense. We're inscrutable, remember?” Lisa teased.

Eric rolled his eyes. “That is so weird.”

“Like I said, girls are weird,” Steve advised sagely, then drained his soda.

“He's right, you know,” Kelly added. “Girls do not tease boys they don't like. Now, I never teased boys. If I didn't like 'em, I ignored them.”

Eric got a little smile. “What'd you do if you liked them?”

Kelly grinned. “I let them know.”

Steve spoke up. “Don't believe it. She couldn't stand me when we first met years ago.”

“True that,” Lisa said, laughing.

“You're kidding,” Eric said, eyes alight.

“We all thought something was wrong with her,” Megan joined in. “Here was this great guy who was also cute paying attention to her, and Kelly wouldn't give him the time of day.”

Clearly incredulous, Eric demanded, “Why? Why didn't you like Steve?”

“Yeah, why?” Steve teased.

“Because he was so sure of himself. Like O'Leary.”

“No way!” Eric retorted.

“Thank you.” Steve grinned.

Kelly laughed softly. “Not as bad as O'Leary. But he reminded me too much of my old boyfriend in college, who dumped me after I'd tutored him through all his accounting classes.”

Eric screwed up his face. “What a jerk.”

“Yeah, I thought so. Anyway, it took me a while to see Steve's good qualities, shall we say.” She gave Steve her best inscrutable smile.

Steve just laughed. “It took forever. She wouldn't go out with me. She let me take her up to Rocky Mountain National Park to watch the elk rut. That took months.”

Eric laughed. “Wow.”

“I had trust issues.”

“That's for sure,” Megan said authoritatively.

“I still remember what she said to me when we first met. I was trying my best to get a smile out of her. Something. She gave me that look and said, ‘You must spend a lot of time hanging around the golf course. What are you, a caddy or something?'”

This time Kelly laughed along with Eric, Megan, and Lisa, and Steve, of course. Hard to believe she'd taken so long to warm up to Steve. Another memory pushed forward from those earlier days.

“You know, your grandpa Curt got to see Steve and me
after we first met. He knew my aunt Helen in high school, and I was trying to find out information that might help me learn who really killed her. I figured it might be someone from her past.”

Eric's eyes nearly bugged out of his face. “You thought Grandpa Curt killed your aunt!”

“No, no, not at all,” Kelly said, waving her hand. “I already knew he was a friend of hers, and I just wanted to ask him some questions about who she knew in high school.”

Steve spoke up. “Kelly wanted to go up to Curt's ranch alone and ask him questions. Well, I didn't know your grandpa then, and I didn't think it was a good idea. So, I invited myself along.”

“Which just annoyed me no end,” Kelly chided.

“Turns out she needed my help—”

“Did not.”

“We had to follow Curt from the Wool Market in Estes Park all the way to his ranch. I figured my truck would be less conspicuous on the road than her red car.”

“What happened then?” Eric asked.

“Yeah, you never told us exactly what happened up there, Kelly,” Megan said, leaning forward. “You said Curt was a nice guy and was really helpful answering your questions about Helen.”

Steve smiled. “Next time you see your grandpa Curt, ask him if he remembers Barbie and Stevie.”

Kelly started to laugh. “I figured we needed a reason to show up at Curt's ranch, so we posed as Barbie and Stevie, who were engaged and wanted to get into the alpaca
business. Of course, Curt didn't have alpacas, but it gave us an excuse to show up in his ranch yard.”

“I decided to make it realistic while we were talking to him, so I put my arm around her shoulders while we talked to Curt. Your grandpa was looking at us real funny-like.”

Eric grinned. “I bet. I know that look.”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve continued. “Kelly didn't like having my arm around her, so when Curt's cell phone rang, she leaned over and said, ‘Move the arm or lose a rib.'”

Eric let out a hoot of laughter; so did Megan and Lisa.

“That is
so
you, Kelly,” Lisa cackled.

“Did you move your arm?” Eric asked.

“Oh, yeah. After a minute. I was having too much fun teasing her. Then she gave me a jab in the ribs, and I backed off.” He laughed.

“I gotta ask Grandpa about that,” Eric said.

“You do that. See what he says and tell us,” Steve said. “Listen, why don't we get you a hot dog like Kelly's and Megan's. Those two slices of pizza aren't going to get you through an afternoon game.”

Eric's eyes lit up. Teenage boy hunger calling. “Sounds good. Dad gave me money.”

Steve stood up and stretched. “Naw. My treat. C'mon. Want anything else, Kelly?”

“I'm good, thanks.” Kelly watched as Steve and Eric climbed down the bleacher rows and walked off.

“Steve's a good guy,” Lisa said, watching them.

“And Eric's a good kid,” Megan added.

Kelly nodded, watching them walk away, Steve's arm around Eric's shoulders. “True that.”

•   •   •

Steve
pulled his truck into a parking space at City Park ball fields. “I'll be over at the Rolland Moore south field. Our game starts earlier than yours, so text me when you guys are getting close to finishing up. I'll come over as soon as I can.”

“Will do,” Kelly said, hearing her cell phone's music go off. “See you later.” She grabbed her backpack with her first baseman's glove, water, walnuts for a snack, and her dad's old USS
Kitty Hawk
Navy hat.

Burt's name flashed on her phone screen as she stepped down from the truck to the ground. “Hey, Burt, what are you and Mimi up to? We missed you over at the ballpark yesterday.”

“We're sorry we couldn't get there, Kelly. But Mimi had a private lesson scheduled for late in the afternoon, so we just went out to dinner after that. We needed to relax.”

Kelly walked toward the north ball field. Bleachers were already filled. She saw Megan and Lisa on the field already, so she picked up her pace. “Oh, good. You two deserve it. Where'd you go?”

“We treated ourselves to your favorite place. Yours and Steve's. The Jazz Bistro.”

“I'm so glad. As I said, you and Mimi deserve it.”

“Listen, Kelly, I don't want to keep you from your game, but I wanted to tell you what I learned tonight. Dan called as Mimi and I were driving home and told me the name of the college student who was killed in her apartment the other night. I'd mentioned to him that Mimi was worrying
the girl might be one of her students. And, sad to say, it turned out that the young woman actually did come to the shop for knitting lessons.”

Kelly stopped at the edge of the bleachers. “Oh, no! Was she one of Mimi's ‘girls' as she calls them? That's her worst nightmare.”

“Actually, she wasn't. Mimi and I went back to the shop and checked the class registration files. She was a student in Barb's intermediate advanced knitting class. Name was Laura Brewster.”

“I don't recognize the name, either, Burt. I only sat in on Barb's class once, and I never asked anyone's name. I was too busy trying to keep up with Barb's instructions. But I recall several college-aged girls there. Grad school, maybe.”

“Well, this Laura was enrolled in graduate school at the university. But there's no record of her ever taking a class at Lambspun before, so none of us has any recollection of her. Mimi even called Rosa and Connie. The name didn't ring a bell with them, either.”

“How's Mimi doing? Even though this girl wasn't one of her special ones, you know how Mimi gets when bad things come too close.”

“Ohhhhhh, yes. She was shocked when she heard it. Then she felt even sadder that none of us remembers the girl at all.”

“Sounds like Mother Mimi.”

“Yep. But we sat and talked about it over a nice brandy, and now we're going to bed. I just wanted to let you know.”

“Thanks, Burt. I'm kind of sorry I didn't take the time to meet some of those girls. I did talk to one of them,
Elizabeth. She had the friend who knew that professor at the university who was accused of assault, remember?”

“No way I could forget that,” Burt said with a sigh. “But right now, I want to join Mimi and finish off that brandy and go to sleep. Talk to you later, Kelly.”

“Thanks, Burt. Give my love to Mimi and have a good night's sleep. Oh, did Dan say how this girl was killed? Was she shot?”

“Nope, she was strangled. And on that graphic note, I'm hanging up the phone. Brandy is waiting.”

Kelly listened to the sound of Burt's phone clicking off. “On that graphic note,” Burt had said. That was a good way to describe the murder. Strangulation meant the killer had to get up close and personal with the victim and literally choke the life from her.

A shiver passed over Kelly's skin even though the summer evening was still in the nineties. “Graphic” didn't begin to describe it.

Monday morning

Kelly
stepped into the Lambspun foyer and looked around, hoping to see Mimi. She walked through the central yarn room and into the main room. To her surprise, Mimi was sitting in a back corner beside a window, spinning wheel whirring away.

“Hey, Mimi, I was looking for you,” she said as she set her briefcase bag on the library table. “That was awful news Saturday.”

“Yes, it was. Even though I didn't know the young woman, I couldn't help feeling sad. Her family must be grieving.” Mimi didn't look up from her spinning while she talked. Her eyes were focused on the pile of lavender-colored fleece in her lap.

Kelly pulled a chair closer to the spinning wheel. She could sense Mimi's subdued mood. Once again violence had
come close to Lambspun. “I know that must have been hard for you to hear. I know how much you worry about your ‘girls.'”

Mimi didn't answer right away, simply kept spinning. The sound of the spinning wheel, turning, turning, started working its familiar magic. It was soothing. Kelly had always been drawn to the sound of the wheel as it spun fibers into yarns. She watched strands of the drafted lavender fleece, now turned into roving, slide through Mimi's expert fingers, joining the soft white mohair and a darker violet fiber already on the wheel, and wind around and around, then onto the fattening spindle.

The sound of the turning wheel was almost hypnotic. “An ancient art,” someone had once said to Kelly in describing their craft. Kelly always relaxed whenever she was around the spinners. The rhythmic movements of the spinners' hands and feet, moving in separate motions yet at the same time, never failed to awe Kelly. She doubted she could ever master those motions—feet moving back and forth on the treadle, causing the wheel to turn.

At the same time, the spinner's hands moved through more delicate motions—allowing the drafted fiber to slide between the small opening between the spinner's thumb and forefinger and onto the wheel, forming yarn. “Not too much. Not too little,” she remembered hearing Mimi admonish beginning spinners. Kelly also remembered what happened when a spinner's fingers opened too wide, and too much fiber passed through and onto the wheel. Suddenly, the spinner would find the fiber in her lap, twisting and coiling like a snake. That's the first time Kelly had ever
heard spinners scream. Their neat piles of drafted roving turned into a mass of twisted fiber.

Kelly still remembered what she'd heard said to a class of beginning spinners—forewarning them of possible trouble. “Loosen your fingers a little, so the yarn twist will form smoothly. Not too much. If your fingers open too much, the twist jumps right through and winds the roving.” Soon, several of those beginning spinners had a twisted mass of fiber in their laps rather than the fluffy roving they'd spent time drafting. It happened so quickly.

“Worrying doesn't stop bad things from happening, unfortunately. I wish it did.” Mimi's movements with the wheel paused while she drafted more of the wool fleece in her lap, stretching the fibers so they became batten or roving. The better to spin with, as the fibers slid smoothly between her fingers and the wheel resumed its spin. Rhythmic.

Kelly watched in silence for several minutes. She loved to watch the spinners. She found it calming. The rhythm of the wheel, spinning, the wool sliding smoothly through Mimi's fingers and onto the wheel, turning, turning, and onto the spindle, fattening with newly spun twists of yarn. Yarn twists.

“I asked Burt to tell Barb it was one of her intermediate advanced knitting students who was killed. It's bound to be a shock to her. After all, she tries to get to know her students.”

Kelly glanced at her watch. “She should be in pretty soon. Her class starts in an hour.”

“Mimi?” Burt's voice called from the central yarn room. Mimi looked up for the first time.

“I'm in here, Burt.”

Burt rounded the corner into the main room and, spotting Kelly and Mimi, his serious face spread with a smile. “Hey, I was wondering when you'd give in to the call of the lavender fleece.”

Mimi smiled, the first smile Kelly had seen since she arrived. So unlike bubbly, enthusiastic Mimi. “Somehow it felt like a good day to spin the lavender.”

Burt came over to her chair and leaned down. Mimi raised her face for his kiss. “How're you doing?”

“All right. The spinning helps. It always does.”

“I know it helps me to watch you folks spin. It's relaxing, calming. I don't know how you two keep from falling asleep when you're doing it,” Kelly joked.

Kelly was hoping to coax a laugh from both Mimi and Burt, and it worked. They both laughed softly.

“The mere thought of all that tangled yarn that would happen if we fell asleep is what keeps us awake,” Burt said.

“Oh, my, yes,” Mimi added. “What a mess that would be.”

A loud voice came from the central yarn room as Big Barb rounded the corner. “Mimi? I'm going to use that turquoise yarn I found in a drawer downstairs in the basement. It was the last skein. Do you mind?”

Mimi looked up at Barb with a smile.
Coming back to herself
, Kelly thought thankfully. “Go right ahead, Barb. I don't have plans for it.”

Rosa appeared beside Barb, standing in the archway between the two rooms. “Mimi, I have that distributor from Oregon on the phone. Do you want to talk to her?”

Mimi's feet and hands stopped their rhythmic
movements and the wheel slowed to a stop. “Yes, yes, I do.” She pushed back her chair.

“I'll bring in those other skeins in a few minutes, Mimi,” Burt said as Mimi and Rosa headed toward the front of the shop.

“Well, I'd best go downstairs and retrieve that turquoise yarn before anyone else spots it. That dye lot was gorgeous.” Barb dropped her oversize knitting tapestry bag onto one of the chairs beside the library table.

“Uh, Barb, could you hold off on that for a few minutes?” Burt said. “I wanted to talk to you about something. Something to do with your class.”

Barb looked surprised. “Is something the matter? Has a student complained?”

“No, no, nothing like that. It's just something I heard over the weekend.” Burt stood up, then glanced at Kelly.

“Kelly, why don't you join us in the café? It's between breakfast and lunch so there are some quiet spots to talk.”

Surprised by Burt's request, Kelly quickly nodded. “Sure.” She rose, to follow after Burt and Barb as they walked toward the café. The small alcove looked even cozier empty. Burt chose the corner table away from view of knitting shop customers on their way to the restroom facilities. Then he pulled out chairs for both Barb and Kelly and sat across the table from them.

“You've aroused my curiosity, Burt. What is it about the class you want to talk about?” Barb asked.

Burt folded his big hands in what Kelly recognized as his “settling in to talk” position. “Actually, it's not about the
class itself. But one of the students in your intermediate advanced knitting class. I had a call last night from my old partner Dan at the department, and he said that they were going to release the name of the young woman who was killed at her campus apartment. He knew how much Mimi worries about her girls, as she calls them, so he gave me the victim's name. And. . . she was one of your intermediate advanced knitting students. I'm sorry, Barb.”

Barb's eyes got wide. “What?”

Burt nodded. “Mimi and I came back to the shop after dinner and went through the class registrations. Mimi didn't recognize her, but we knew that you always get to know your students. Her name was Laura Brewster. Did you get a chance to know her when she was in your class?”

“No, she only came to one class.” Barb peered at Burt. “What happened to her?”

Burt shook his head. “They don't know yet. Dan says it looks like an intruder got into her apartment, because things were pulled out all over. Drawers and papers. Who knows? Maybe this Laura came in and surprised the guy, and he strangled her.”

Barb's eyes went wide again. “That's awful! Do the police think it was drug related?”

“The police may never know. It could very well be drug related. Or, it could simply be a violent intruder. Whatever, I'm sure the police will find out. And I'll make sure Dan keeps me updated. I'll let you all know anything I learn.”

Barb glanced at her watch. “Oh, goodness. Time has slipped away on me. I'd better set up for my class. Students
will be here in fifteen minutes.” She pushed back her chair and rose.

Kelly and Burt followed suit. “Are you going to tell the students in your class, Barb?” Kelly asked as all three walked toward the hallway leading back to the knitting shop.

“Oh, Lord, I don't know,” Barb said. “It's so awful. I'll see how the class goes.” Barb strode faster and entered the workroom, then she turned and looked at Burt. “Thank you, Burt, for telling me. I appreciate it.”

“You're welcome, Barb.”

Kelly glanced at her briefcase bag on the library table. “I'm going back to the café and grab an iced coffee. Do you want some?”

“I'll pass right now, but thanks anyway. I'm going up front to see if Mimi needs any help.” He turned toward the front of the shop.

“Talk to you later, Burt,” Kelly called behind him, then she headed down the hallway toward the café. Her cell phone jangled suddenly. Lisa's name flashed on the screen.

“Hey, Kelly. Just wanted to remind you of practice tonight.”

“Already on my daytimer. Are we at the Rolland Moore Park fields or elsewhere?”

“This week we're using Lincoln Junior High fields. A little farther north and west.”

“Yeah, I've been to that school for a coaching class. By the way, Burt's old partner from the police department told him the name of that grad student who was killed in her
apartment the other night. He knows how Mimi worries about her students. Well, it turns out the girl was taking Barb's intermediate advanced knitting class.”

“Oh, no. I'm sure Mimi is taking that hard. Did she know her well?”

“Actually, no. Mimi never met her, and Barb said she didn't get to know her because the girl only took one class. Rosa and Connie didn't meet her, either. Naturally, that made Mimi sad, too.”

“Of course. Mother Mimi. Oooops. Another call is coming in. See you tonight.”

“Tonight,” Kelly echoed as she clicked off her phone and headed for the café. A cozy corner table and a steady supply of coffee were the perfect partners for complex client accounts.

•   •   •

“Hey,
there, Kelly!” a familiar voice called as Kelly walked along the sidewalk bordering the café's garden patio. Kelly glanced around the garden but all the tables were filled with customers enjoying one of Pete's delicious lunch selections.

“Over here, girl!” the voice called again.

Then Kelly noticed a hand waving between the cars parked along the far side of the café's garden patio. Colorado cowgirl Jayleen Swinson smiled broadly as she strode toward Kelly on the flagstones that provided a pathway through the garden. Clad in jeans no matter how hot the summer, the most deference Jayleen ever paid the hot weather was to switch from denim shirts to tee shirts complete with bandanna around her neck. Her Stetson was in place as usual.

“Hey, Jayleen, how're you holding up in this July heat?” Kelly said as she walked to meet her friend.

“Fair to middling,” Jayleen answered. “A whole lot better than that gawd-awful heat last summer. C'mon over here and join me for a cup of coffee.” Jayleen beckoned Kelly toward the patio garden.

Kelly followed her friend to a table in the dappled sunlight and shade. Last summer was the Summer of Fire for Northern Colorado. The High Park wildfire raged for two weeks. Jayleen and all her neighbors had been chased away from their ranches by the fire in Bellevue Canyon. Kelly and the Gang and other friends of Jayleen drove through the smoke last year to rescue Jayleen's alpacas and take them to safer surroundings until the wildfire was put out.

“Are you doing errands and such? I spotted you at the ballpark a week or so ago, but didn't get a chance to come over and talk.” Kelly settled into a wrought iron chair across from Jayleen.

“We'll try and get over there this weekend. Both Eric and Cassie will have games. So, if your team is playing or maybe Steve's, then we'll try to catch that, too.” Jayleen grinned. “Now that we're keeping up with grandchildren's sports, our weekends are busier than ever.”

“I hear you. Say, Eric came over to our bleachers last weekend while Cassie was playing. Steve, Megan, Lisa, and I were there, and we got a chance to catch up with what he's doing. I hadn't had a chance to talk to him since the holidays. He's a great kid. And boy, does he have a busy schedule with all that ranch stuff.”

Jayleen grinned even wider. “Eric's a fine boy. We're real
proud of him. And he's picking up the ranching real easy. Born to it, you might say.” She glanced toward the knitting shop straight ahead. “Is Cassie here or is she off playing tennis or working on computers at Greg's lab?”

“Uhhhhh, let's see. If it's Monday afternoon, then she's with Lisa at the sports clinic, watching the physical therapists work on patients.”

Jayleen wagged her head. “I declare, that girl is busier than the busiest bee in the hive. But she's getting a whole lot of experience in a bunch of different things.”

“She loves all of it, too. She tells us everything she's doing. It's really fun to watch her enthusiasm.”

“Oh, yes. She tells Curt and me the same thing. And you should see her with the animals when she comes over. She just loves the alpacas. And she's even learned how to brush them. I swear, they come over to Cassie as soon as they see her.” Jayleen chuckled. “She's got a knack with animals, for sure.”