“It’s Steve, and I introduced myself to him first.” He smiled at Carl. “I can usually read animals pretty well. Believe me, I stay away from the unfriendly ones.”
Kelly peered at the greens skeptically. “How’d those golf balls get all the way over here into the backyard?” she demanded, hands on her hips. This story sounded fishy to her. “You can’t tell me those guys I see hacking away can hit a ball all the way over here.”
Steve laughed. “Well, you’re partly right. No way could they aim a shot over here, but some guys can’t control their drives at all. And this one guy who was complaining so much has a wicked bad slice. Man, his balls go all over. I swear, he loses half the balls in the river.” He jabbed his thumb in the riverbank’s direction.
“You must spend a lot of time hanging around the greens if you recognize a guy’s swing,” Kelly barbed. She wasn’t sure why she was still being combative. The guy had been nothing but friendly. “What are you, a caddy or something?”
A slow grin spread over Steve’s face, and she thought she detected amusement in his eyes. “No. Years ago I spent a summer giving lessons, so I remember lots of the guys. Some improved, others didn’t, like that one.” The smile disappeared. “And this guy can also be a pain in the butt, so I didn’t want you having any trouble right after Helen’s death and all.”
The sound of her aunt’s name jolted Kelly and wiped the scowl away. “You knew my aunt?”
He nodded. “Yeah. She was a sweetheart. Real special.” He glanced toward the cottage. “She’d invite me in for a cup of coffee and talk. I enjoyed spending time with her. She always had something good to say, you know what I mean?”
Kelly knew exactly what he meant, but the idea it would come from the mouth of this stranger was a total surprise. “How in the world did you meet her?” she probed. “Do you come over here to knit with the others or something?” Why she said that she didn’t know.
This time he laughed out loud. “No, I come over whenever Mimi needs some repairs,” he said, clearly enjoying her surprise. “Her son and I were best friends growing up, so she’s like a second mom. I try to help her out any way I can. She’s done a great job with that shop.” He nodded in the direction.
His unfailing good humor and friendliness finally wore down Kelly’s desire to be unpleasant. The faint resemblance was still an irritation, however. She removed the sharpness from her tone. “Yeah, I was amazed with everything she’s done over there. She gave me a tour yesterday.”
Steve extended his hand again. “Let’s start over, okay? I’m Steve Townsend and you are Kelly, uh . . . is it Rosburg, like your aunt?”
She accepted his handshake. “Flynn. Kelly Flynn. My dad was Helen’s brother. Rosburg was her married name.”
“Good to meet you, Kelly Flynn. And good to meet you, too, big fella.” He gave Carl a pat before he swung his long legs over the chain-link fence. “Listen, if you have any trouble from anyone over at the golf course, tell Mimi, okay? I’ll be glad to run interference for you.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out car keys and, with them, the wayward golf glove.
Carl started barking in anticipation. “That’s enough, Carl,” Kelly reprimanded.
“Might as well give it to him,” Steve said, inspecting the ripped finger dangling.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” Kelly said, suddenly contrite. “I’ll be glad to buy you another pair.”
“Nah. Not a problem. I’ve got lots of pairs,” he said, tossing it to Carl who caught it midair. “Remember what I said about the golfers. Tell me if you have any complaints, okay?”
Her curiosity piqued. “Why do you think I might have complaints? Those were probably freak shots that landed in here.”
“Well, let’s just say those balls had some help getting all the way into the yard. But my lips are sealed.” He pulled a golf ball from his other pocket, held it up, and winked at Carl before he walked away. “See you later, Kelly,” Steve called over his shoulder.
Kelly stared after Steve for a second, aggravated all over again for some reason. Why would he see her later? And why was he calling her by her first name like he knew her? Just because he knew Mimi and Helen didn’t mean he’d get to know her. Nope. That self-confident air of his put her off. It was all too familiar. The resemblance to the Slime was getting stronger.
“Carl?” Kelly dragged out the name in the did-you-do-something-you-shouldn’t-have tone. Carl looked back with his “who me?” expression, glove dangling from his mouth. Remembering the ease with which Steve swung his long legs over the three-foot fence, Kelly’s stare turned accusing. “Carl, did you jump over this fence? You’d better not have, or we’ll both be in big trouble.” She rubbed his head, and Carl dropped the glove and slurped her hand, all canine innocence. Kelly sighed loudly and glanced back at Steve’s bright-red truck pull out into traffic.
“Oh, brother, this is worse than I thought,” Kelly muttered, scowling at the loan documents before she drained the last of Eduardo’s strong coffee. The carafe Jennifer had filled for her before leaving for the real estate office was empty. At least it lasted while Kelly sorted through Helen’s bills and wrote checks that afternoon. Now, once again, it was after five and Kelly hadn’t eaten since morning. The mortgage documents spread before her kept all hunger pangs away.
“I know, it’s ugly. Not only would you have to bring twenty thousand dollars to the closing table, but there’re penalty fees if you sell or refinance before two years.” Jennifer gave a professional snort. “I’ve heard of this company and try to steer my clients away from lenders like this. But, bottom line, it’s their money and their decision.”
Kelly glanced around the cozy little bistro restaurant in what was once Helen and Jim’s dining room and kitchen. Pete, the owner, was in the corner balancing out the cash register, ready to close for the day. She hunched over the table. “Jennifer, I don’t have twenty thousand dollars, let alone money for penalties,” she rasped. “But I have to sell the cottage. I’ve got to get back to Washington. My job’s waiting, my townhouse,” her hand shot out in frustration. “Everything’s there. I’ve got to find a way to do this. But how?”
“I wish I could be more encouraging, Kelly,” Jennifer said, her voice sympathetic. “But I’ve seen others try to get around these contracts, and it can’t be done. Usually, they just have to wait out the two years, then sell.”
“I can’t do that,” Kelly protested. “I have to get back to Washington and my job. I was going to call my boss tomorrow and tell him when I’d return. Now this.” She dropped the documents and leaned back into the wooden chair. It creaked as she rubbed her forehead in a gesture from childhood. Thinking posture, her dad had called it.
Jennifer leaned back as well and swirled the last of her latte. “What about working from here? You know, telecommuting or whatever. For a while at least. Would your boss let you do that?”
Kelly stopped rubbing. Was that possible? She remembered when another accountant’s wife had chemotherapy and he worked from home. Maybe . . . maybe she could buy some time that way. Just until she figured out this house problem. “You know, that’s a good idea. I’ve got to have more time to solve this. I mean, Jennifer, I cannot afford a house payment AND my townhouse rent. No way.” She shook her head.
“Could you find someone to sublet your place in Washington for a while?” Jennifer suggested. “I mean, just until you can find someone to rent this place.”
Kelly stared in surprise. “Rent Helen’s cottage?”
“It’s your cottage now. And face it, that’s what you’ll have to do. If you can’t sell it, then you can rent it. That will help with the mortgage payment, and you can get back to D.C. and your job.” Jennifer smiled wryly. “Understand, I’d much prefer you could stay here with us, but my realtor-self is trying to be helpful.”
Kelly frowned at the thought of renting Helen’s cottage with all the memories. Why was that different from selling?
She didn’t know, but it was. “How much would it rent for, do you think?” she forced herself to ask.
“Unfortunately, not enough to cover that big, nasty mortgage payment. But, maybe it would cover two thirds. It isn’t a huge place.”
“I know, that’s what I like about it. It’s cozy,” Kelly mused.
Jennifer smiled. “Then I return to my original suggestion. Tell your boss you’ve absolutely got to telecommute for a couple of months or so and find someone to sublet your townhouse in D.C. I’ll bet you wouldn’t have as much problem renting that place, would you?”
Kelly pondered the idea, even though it was already resonating inside her. “You’re right. There’s a guy in my office who’s been living with his sister in Maryland, and he’s been dying to get a location like mine. I could give him a call.”
“Do that,” Jennifer prodded. “And call your boss. Pull out all the stops. Family and grief and all that.”
Kelly caught the gleam in Jennifer’s eyes. “You’re shameless, you know that?”
“I know. I work at it, that’s why I’m so good.”
Scooping the documents from the table, Kelly slid them back into the portfolio. “I’ll call first thing in the morning. It’s already evening back east now. More importantly, I’m starving. Want to go out for pizza?”
“Better yet, we can have it delivered here,” Jennifer suggested.
“You’ll regret not ordering mine,” Pete spoke up as he approached, coffeepot in hand.
“You’re right,” Jennifer said with a smile. “But Eduardo’s closed up the kitchen, and he’d kill me if I rummaged through his refrigerator.”
Kelly stared covetously at the coffeepot. “Hey, Pete, let me help you finish that off, okay?” she volunteered with a crooked grin, extending her cup. She’d grown comfortable with the cafe’s owner in the last two days with her frequent coffee breaks.
“Man, that is one serious caffeine habit you’ve got there, Kelly,” Pete joked, emptying the last of the dark brew into her cup.
Kelly’s stomach growled. “Yeah, I know. But it’s the only real vice I’ve got, so I treasure it.”
“We’re gonna have to work on that,” Jennifer teased. “While you’re here, we’ll help you develop others.”
“Watch out for her. She’s dangerous,” Pete warned as he reached to dim the lights. “See you tomorrow, Jen.”
“Bye,” Jennifer called over her shoulder.
Kelly shoved the portfolio into her briefcase as they both rose. “Any kind of pizza is fine with me, except sardine. Here, use my card.” She offered Jennifer her credit card.
“Hey, thanks. I’ll call this in while you go and catch up with Mimi and the others. It’s Thursday, so Megan should be here.” She pointed toward the doorway leading back into the knitting shop.
The murmur of voices beckoned through the shop doorway, and Kelly was struck again by the onslaught of color as soon as she entered the room leading from the restaurant. She also noticed something else. Three small weaving looms were set up along a cabinet-lined wall. Each loom had someone hunched over the intricate contraption.
Curious, Kelly watched the beginning weavers in fascination. She’d never seem looms that small before. The last time she’d seen anything resembling the ancient arts of weaving and spinning had been on a weekend tour to Mount Vernon, George Washington’s Virginia plantation. What do you know, she thought. Portable looms. Wouldn’t Martha be pleased.
Mimi glanced over one student’s head. “Well, how’d it go, Kelly? Have you and Jennifer finished studying the loan papers?”
“Yeah, we’re finished, and it’s not good news.”
“Why don’t you go into the main room, I’ll be over in a second.” Nodding to one of her assistants, she gave the student beside her an encouraging pat on the arm. “You’re doing great. Rosa is the best weaving instructor in town, so you’ll be picking up speed before you know it.”
“I hope so,” the young woman said, staring at the shuttle skeptically.
Kelly took her time wandering through the adjoining rooms, feasting on color, fondling fabrics, stroking yarns along the way. When she reached the main room, she was surprised to see Megan was the only person there. Her dark head bent over the turquoise yarn bunching in her lap, needles appearing to move at warp speed. Kelly wondered how long it would take to learn to knit that fast.
Megan glanced up and grinned as Kelly sat down, dropping the briefcase at her feet.
“Hey, Kelly, how goes the mortgage discussions?”
“Not good,” Kelly said and drained the last of the last of the coffee. She hoped the pizza delivery guy drove fast. “I’d have to bring more than twenty thousand dollars to the closing table. Jennifer estimates that with penalties and fees for early sale, it could be close to thirty thousand dollars! And that’s approximately twenty-seven thousand more than I have in savings.”
“Whoa . . .” Megan’s eyes popped wide. “So what are you going to do?”
“Well, I can’t sell, obviously, not for two years, Jennifer says. That’s the only way to avoid penalties.”
“That’s good to hear,” Mimi’s voice chirped, as she pulled out the chair beside Kelly and sat down.
“I’m going to call my boss tomorrow and see if he’ll let me work from here for a while, a couple of months maybe. Long enough for me to figure out how I’m going to pay my mortgage on the cottage and my townhouse rent.” She let out an exasperated breath. “Jennifer made a good suggestion. Maybe I can find someone to sublet my place in D.C. until I can rent the cottage.” Noticing Mimi’s expression, she added, “I know, I don’t want to, Mimi, but I’ll have to. It’s the only way I can pay the bills.”
“You do whatever’s necessary, Kelly,” Mimi said, and gave her a reassuring pat on the arm like one of her novice weavers.
“Well, at least you’ll get to stay here longer. That’ll be great,” Megan offered. “And you can move out of the motel and into the cottage tonight if you want to. It’s spotless, and hey, Carl’s already there.” She grinned.
“That would be great,” Kelly said, then remembered something. “Oh! Did you have a chance to look for the quilt?”
Mimi glanced down at the milk-white shawl in her lap, even her knitting slowed. “We looked everywhere, Kelly. The garage, all over the house a second time. We opened every box or container we could find. Nothing. I’m simply heartsick to think something has happened to that exquisite family piece.”
The cold spot Kelly felt earlier returned to her chest. It gave a little squeeze. “Damn,” she whispered. “Where could it be?”
“I’ll ask everyone who comes in, Kelly, I swear I will,” Mimi promised.
“It’s too much to believe the drunken vagrant took the quilt and the money,” Megan said.
Kelly was about to agree with her when Jennifer appeared, pizza box in hand. She set it on the table with a flourish. The aroma of pepperoni and cheese wafted from the cardboard box, and it wasn’t even open yet. Kelly felt her hunger pangs go into hyperdrive.
“The delivery guy was backed up, so I went across the street to the pizza shop. There’s enough for everyone,” Jennifer announced and plopped down a large plastic bottle of soda. “I also picked up some diet drink.”
Kelly hesitated long enough for Jennifer to grab a slice, then selected two gooey, cheesy slices for herself. She practically inhaled them both. Hunger retreated as the pizza disappeared. Even the knitting needles paused for a few moments as the women all talked and ate.
Now that hunger wasn’t the first thing on her mind, Kelly remembered something else. “You know, I mentioned the missing quilt to the detective this morning, and he more or less dismissed it. He thinks Helen either gave it to someone or packed it away somewhere else.” She let her voice convey her feelings about the ascerbic Lieutenant Morrison. “I could tell he didn’t think it was important at all. And he tho
ught I was real nosy for poking around in his investigation.”
“You’re going to keep poking, I take it,” Jennifer said, pouring more soda.
“You bet. But he did tell me something I didn’t know. Apparently a broken knitting needle was found next to Helen’s body.”
“Really?” Mimi asked. “It was broken?”
“Yes, and the other needle had only a single loop of purple-colored yarn on it. The bundle of skein or whatever was lying on the floor beside her. But there was no trace of the knitting itself, only a dangling strand of yarn and the one loop.” Kelly saw their rapt attention. “Sounds like someone yanked it off the needles.”
Megan’s eyes got even wider. “I remember now! Helen was knitting a purple sweater. Some chunky new wool. She was halfway through the back by the time I saw her that afternoon.”
“Yes, I remember, too,” Mimi nodded. “She was making it for you, Kelly, if I remember correctly.”
Kelly frowned. “Why would the killer steal Helen’s knitting? It doesn’t make sense. First, the quilt is missing, and now stolen knitting.”
“Did the police notice it?” Jennifer asked.
“Yes, Lieutenant Morrison made a point of telling me they had searched around the house and outside but found nothing.”
“Just like the money.”
“Boy, they can’t find anything.”
“No way that drunk would grab Helen’s purse and the quilt, then grab her knitting, too.”
Kelly swished her soda in the plastic cup. “None of it makes sense. And things that don’t make sense bother me.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “I think I’ll head back to the motel and grab a quick run before I check out. Running always helps me think. You know, sort things out.” She grabbed her briefcase and rose.
“Okay, you run and think, and we’ll stay here and knit and think,” Jennifer said, pulling the forest-green yarn and half-finished sweater from her tote bag. “We can compare notes tomorrow.”
Knit One, Kill Two Page 6
