Not two seconds passed before Jennifer spoke up, “My, oh my. That little backyard confrontation must have really fired up Steve’s interest.”
“Yeah, Kelly. He really likes you. I can tell,” Lisa said.
“Well, that’s too bad,” Kelly retorted vehemently, “because I don’t like him.”
“Why?” Megan peered at her.
“He annoys the daylights out of me.”
“Steve?” Jennifer asked, incredulous. “Why? You don’t like good-looking guys or something?”
“He’s too good-looking,” Kelly shot back, more forcefully than necessary. “I don’t like that. And he’s too smart-mouthed and has that arrogant, easy way about him.” Kelly tightened her grip on the needles, jabbing at a stitch.
The others exchanged glances before Megan ventured softly, “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” She quickly ducked her chin and concentrated on the turquoise wool.
“Ah, yeah,” Lisa said. “I sense there’s more to this reaction than meets the eye. Am I right?”
Kelly jabbed another stitch and yanked the yarn between the needles, scowling at the wool now. “He reminds me too much of the Slime,” she confessed finally.
“The Slime?” Lisa lifted a brow.
“Got to be a guy,” Jennifer decreed.
Kelly dragged that stitch off the needle and jabbed at another. The stitches had tightened once more. “Jeff was my boyfriend all through college. Love of my life, actually. I thought we were soul mates. Boy, was I wrong.”
“Tell,” prodded Lisa.
“Nothing to tell, except he dumped me right after graduation. Bastard. If it hadn’t been for me, Jeff wouldn’t have made it through business school.” Yank went the yarn. The wool was fighting her now. Her grip tightened even more with the memories. “I mean, I studied with him, tutored him, practically did his homework as well as my own.”
“Men are scum,” Jennifer intoned. Megan giggled.
“Well, this one was. He told me he was rethinking his life and our relationship.” She snorted. “Rethinking, my ass. I found out later he’d been sneaking around with another girl. Some art student.”
“Really?” Megan sounded horrified.
“I told you. Scum.” Unfortunately, Jennifer couldn’t keep a straight face any longer.
Kelly noticed and relaxed her death grip on the needles. The wool positively sighed in relief. “So, that’s why he’s the Slime.”
“And Steve resembles him?”
“Well, yeah, a little. Tiny bit, I guess. But it’s that attitude I can’t stand.” Kelly scowled again. The yarn practically trembled in fear.
Lisa glanced at her watch and immediately gathered sweater, yarn, and needles into her bag. “Oops, I’ve gotta get to the clinic. I have clients scheduled from noon to five. See you in the morning,” she said as she rushed from the room.
Jennifer checked her watch as well. “Yeah, I’d better get back to the café. Pete’s real lenient with my break time, but I don’t want to abuse it.” She shoved the green wool back into her bag as she rose. “I’ll stop in for a few minutes this afternoon late, in case anyone’s here. See ya.” She waved and left.
Kelly glanced at Megan. She was curious about Megan’s consulting business, since that had always been a dream of Kelly’s. Leave the corporate grind behind and strike out on her own. Now, with the cottage and its huge mortgage, that dream looked farther and farther away.
“Their schedules seem to work out for them,” she ventured as she continued her knitting. Now that she’d relaxed once again, the wool cooperated as well. “I’m curious. How does your schedule work, Megan? I’ve actually thought about consulting one of these days.”
“My schedule varies every day. That’s why I like it,” Megan offered. “I spent four years in corporate IT and couldn’t take the stress anymore. So, I checked into independent consulting and discovered that I could develop my own client list and not compete with the big guys.” She eyed Kelly. “There’s a lot of opportunity out there, Kelly. You should look into it during these months you’ve got here. You might be surprised at what you find.”
Something in what Megan said resonated inside and Kelly nodded. “Maybe I will.”
A burly, middle-aged man appeared from the spinning room. Kelly guessed he was Burt, since he was carrying what must be a modern-day spinning wheel. It sure didn’t look like anything George and Martha had at Mount Vernon.
“Hey, Burt,” Megan spoke up. “Have you met Kelly?”
“No, I haven’t, and I’ve meant to.” Burt set the wheel in the corner and approached, hand outstretched. “I’m Burt Parker, Kelly. Pleased to meet you.”
Kelly took his large hand, felt the roughness, and smiled back into Burt’s suntanned, lined face. It was a good face. “Nice to meet you, too, Burt. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“And we’ve heard a lot about you, too, Kelly. You were the light of Helen’s life, you know.”
Kelly almost choked up on that but swallowed it down. “Yeah, she was pretty special to me, too.”
Burt reached out a large paw and gave Kelly’s shoulder a fatherly pat. “That’s okay. Listen, I look forward to talking with you some more, Kelly, but I’ve gotta run right now. See you later.” He gave a friendly wave and left.
Darn, Kelly mused. She was anxious to talk to Burt, since he was a former police investigator. Lieutenant Morrison had brushed aside several of Kelly’s questions about Helen’s murder. Morrison seemed to have ready answers for everything—finding no trace of the loan money, the vagrant showing up right after Helen cashed the large loan check. Only the missing purple knitting seemed to puzzle him.
Kelly, however, didn’t like coincidences. They set off her warning buzzer. She was hoping to run all of it past Burt and get his professional opinion. Maybe she was worrying over nothing. If so, maybe Burt could tell her.
“Hey, good timing,” Jennifer called out from the knitting shop’s front door. “Finished your errands?”
“Yeah,” Kelly said as she exited her parked car and headed across the driveway. “I’ve got my Internet service provider, got everything fired up and ready to go, even bought office supplies. Now, all I need are my account files.”
Jennifer pushed open the oak door. “You deserve a break. I’m meeting friends in Old Town tonight, want to join us?”
“I’d love to, but I’ve got so much e-mail waiting for me, it’s unreal.” Kelly shook her head. “I’d better spend tonight clearing it up. Ask me again next time, okay?”
“Depend on it,” Jennifer said as they made their way through the shop.
Customers always seemed to be browsing, Kelly noticed, no matter what time of day. She glanced toward the counter in the far room and hoped they were buying as well. Mimi scurried through the room then, pencil behind one ear, notebook in her hand.
“Hey, Mimi, how’re those cabinets coming?” Jennifer asked as she paused in front of a whole wall of yarns. Fat yarns and skinny yarns tumbled out of the artistically arranged wooden crates, tempting Kelly with their texture and colors.
“Steve’s going to pick out some I can choose from tomorrow. I’m hoping he’ll be able to get them installed next week. Of course, that depends on his schedule.” Mimi said all this as she passed through the room and out again.
“I guess he’s a pretty busy handyman,” Kelly ventured, squeezing several pudgy skeins.
“Who?” Jennifer asked, squeezing some herself as she moved among the crates.
“This Steve guy.”
Jennifer stopped and turned to Kelly with a laugh. “Steve? Trust me, the only person he does handyman jobs for is Mimi. And that’s because he and her son were friends growing up.” She grinned. “Steve’s actually a builder. Pretty successful, too. He’s been involved in some big projects off the interstate lately.”
“Oh,” Kelly said, clearly surprised
. “Then why is he always hanging around here and the golf course next door?”
“Installing cabinets and playing golf, probably.” Jennifer gave her an enigmatic smile before she returned to the yarn. “Take a look at these yarns and picture a winter scarf,” she said, holding up a fat multicolored bundle.
“I’m already knitting a scarf,” Kelly countered.
“Yes, and a beautiful one it will be when it’s finished. But right now I sense you need a boost of confidence that only comes with finishing something. Something really pretty.” She fingered the colorful strands. “These wools knit up fast because they’re big and bulky and you use large needles. You can knit one up in a weekend. See?” She pointed to a chunky wool scarf of mottled cream and chocolate that hung beside the crates.
“Wow,” Kelly breathed, fingering the soft fibers, the huge stitches. “That’s the same wool?”
“Yep. And all you use is the knit stitch. You already know that. So, which one do you like?”
The idea of completing something fast was as appealing as the yarns. She grabbed the fat bundle from Jennifer’s hand. “This’ll be beautiful.”
“I agree,” Jennifer said and grabbed a matching bundle. “You’ll need two. Go grab a chair while I get the needles and put these on your tab.” She raced off.
Kelly was surprised to see Burt sitting at the table, several books spread open before him. “Hi, Burt. Preparing for your spinning class?”
Burt smiled. “Yeah, I try to give everyone lots of references so they can learn from the experts, too.” He went back to scribbling on a pad.
Kelly glanced around and saw that they were alone in the room and decided to grab the quiet moment. She settled into the chair nearest Burt and leaned over the table. “Burt, do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions?” she asked in a soft voice.
Burt looked up. “Sure, Kelly. Have you started to spin, too? I heard you’re learning to knit.”
“Ah, not exactly,” Kelly had to laugh at the image. “No, I have some questions about some of the, uh . . . the details surrounding Helen’s death. Several things are bothering me, and, well, I just wanted to run some of them past you if I could. Mimi told me you were a retired police investigator.”
The relaxed expression on Burt’s face faded and another one appeared. He settled back into his chair. “Sure, Kelly. But the person you should be asking is the lead investigator. Lieutenant Vern Morrison. He’s in charge.”
“I’ve already spoken with him, and he’s, well, he’s not all that forthcoming,” Kelly said, gesturing. “I get the feeling that I’m almost bothering him.”
“Did he answer your questions?”
“Yes, but his answers left me with more questions.”
Burt peered at her for a moment. “Why don’t you give me an example. I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“Okay. I told him that I thought it was just too coincidental that this dangerous vagrant happened to show up at Helen’s house right after she’d cashed a check for twenty thousand dollars.”
Burt’s eyes widened. “Twenty thousand dollars?”
Encouraged that she’d actually gotten a reaction from a police investigator, even a retired one, Kelly explained. “Helen’s lawyer told me the other day that she’d recently refinanced the cottage so she could withdraw a large amount of money. She cashed the loan company check that afternoon, and that evening she was killed.” Kelly shook her head. “Coincidences like that make me suspicious. But Morrison simply stared at me and said nothing. Like it wasn’t important.” She sat back and watched Burt.
He examined the calluses on his right hand for a few seconds. “I’m sure he was thinking the same thing, Kelly, only he didn’t show it. Morrison is a good cop. Close-mouthed, yes. But he doesn’t miss much.”
“Well, I’m afraid he may be missing something here. I don’t believe that drunk just happened to stumble into Helen’s house that night.” Kelly’s hand jerked out in irritation. “The lawyer called it a ‘senseless act of random violence. ’ I don’t buy that.”
“I’m afraid it does happen, Kelly,” Burt offered, his face revealing traces of the tragic scenes he’d witnessed.
Kelly made a disgusted sound. “Why is there no trace of that money? Helen got twenty thousand dollars in cash, and yet there wasn’t one bill found floating on the river or in the bushes.” Kelly scowled. “Morrison said there were all sorts of people who could have found the money and grabbed it, then gotten out of town before the police ever searched.”
“Well, that is true. It would be easy for some trouble-maker to make off with the money. Grab it, run down the trail past the river, then hop over to the bus station, and get out of town.”
Kelly sighed. Darn it. She was hearing the same scenario from Burt that Morrison gave her. Was she the only one who saw things differently?
“But what I’m curious about, Kelly, is why Helen would need twenty thousand dollars. What was happening?”
A huge sigh of relief shot through Kelly. At last. Someone had picked up on her primary concern. “Now, that’s the biggest puzzle of all, Burt,” she confessed. “I took care of Helen’s affairs, and she never indicated anything was wrong. It was totally out of character for her, and I’m clueless as to why she’d do it.” She watched Burt process her answer as well as her concern.
“That’s interesting, Kelly,” he said after a moment. “I can understand why you’re concerned.”
“Oh, goodness me, Burt, are you still here?” Lizzie chirped as she fluttered into the room.
Kelly concealed her disappointment at being interrupted. At least Burt had validated one of her concerns. She wished he’d say something more. “Have you been here all day, Lizzie?” she asked.
“Well, I’ve been in and out,” Lizzie said as she settled at the end of the table. “Hilda is teaching one of the advanced knitting classes. I wanted to watch. And help, of course.” She dug into her bag and removed the beautiful blue blanket.
“Okay,” Jennifer announced as she bustled into the room. “Here are the needles and yarn. I’ve got enough time to cast on some stitches and get you started.” She plopped into the chair beside Kelly.
“Well, you ladies have a good evening,” Burt instructed as he stood and gathered his books and notepad. “I’ll see you folks next week.” Before leaving, however, he patted Kelly on the shoulder again. “Nice talking to you, Kelly. I’m sure we’ll have another chance to chat.”
“I hope so, Burt. Nice meeting you,” she said as he waved goodbye. Turning her attention back to Jennifer, she saw her casting on loopy, loose multicolored stitches onto the biggest needles Kelly had ever seen in her life. She blinked. “Whoa! Those look like something out of a cartoon. Are they really needles?”
“Sure are, and you use them with these great chunky yarns. That’s why the scarf knits up so fast. Watch.” Jennifer proceeded to slowly do the knit stitch and suddenly big stitches appeared in a chunky row.
“Well, I’ll be darned,” Kelly observed.
“Here. You can take over. I’ve got to go home and get ready for tonight.” She handed over the huge needles and ball of yarn. “Enjoy.” She grabbed her tote bag as if to leave.
“Hey, don’t leave yet,” Kelly pleaded. “I want to make sure I can do this.”
Kelly stared at the needles, then fondled the beautiful soft yarn. Yummy. This could be fun. Did she simply jump in?
“Start knitting like you’ve been doing,” Jennifer coaxed. “Same motions.”
“Okay,” Kelly said, still dubious. She pushed the big clumsy needle beneath a stitch, wrapped the springy yarn over the needles, and slipped the stitch. It certainly did look strange. Not neat and tidy and even like her stitches were starting to look like in the smaller yarn.
“Keep going. Finish the row.”
Kelly did as instructed and stared at the row. It still looked strange. Colorful, but stran
ge.
“Now do another.”
She did and was amazed how far apart these rows were from each other. She held up her efforts. “You sure it’s supposed to look like this?”
“Absolutely,” Jennifer reassured. “Just keep knitting row after row and trust in the process. I guarantee that you’ll love it after ten rows. I’ll stay till then.” She checked her watch.
“If you say so.” Kelly went back to her stitches. After a couple more rows, Kelly found she was liking the way the part chunky, part skinny yarn looked. The stitches were all different. Springy and soft, soft, soft.
“Kelly, dear,” Lizzie spoke up after a moment. “I’ve been wondering if you’ve heard from Helen’s cousin since you’ve been here? I spotted her at the service. But she’s such a shy person, she didn’t stay like everyone else. Has she given you a call?”
Kelly stared at the colorful wool in her lap, but this time she didn’t see it. Cousin? What cousin, she wondered. Helen never mentioned any other living relatives. Neither did her dad.
She peered at Lizzie. “I wasn’t aware Helen had any other living relatives. She always told me she was the last one left in her family.”
Lizzie paused her knitting and pondered for a second. “Well, perhaps she’s a distant cousin or something. I think she used to live in Wyoming. At least that’s what Helen said when I asked her a couple of years ago.”
Knitting forgotten in her lap, Kelly continued to probe. “Does she still live in Wyoming? What else did Helen say?”
“Well, that’s about all,” Lizzie replied. “Helen seemed reluctant to talk about her for some reason, so I didn’t press it. I do remember asking if her cousin would like to be contacted by the Altar Guild. I was serving as chair-woman that year, you see. But Helen was quite adamant about saying no. She said her cousin was terribly, terribly shy. That’s why she never stayed after church and introduced herself, apparently.” Lizzie gave a little sigh as if it was hard to believe that anyone would not enjoy the company of others.
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