Dropped Dead Stitch

by Maggie Sefton

  “Kelly . . .” he chided softly.

  “Hey, I said ‘probably,’ so it wasn’t completely false.” She held up her hands in a surrender gesture. “But it worked. Peterson asked all of them at the same time if they’d ever met Everett or been to the ranch before this weekend, so it was easier for Jennifer to kind of fade into the background.”

  Burt didn’t scold again, simply shook his head. “I have to admit, I’m not feeling sorry for Everett at all. Sounds like the bastard got what he deserved.”

  “Yeah, I feel the same way. I know it’s not good to speak ill of the dead, but with this scumbag, I say good riddance.”

  Burt glanced toward the other part of the café, where Jennifer was busy with her customers. “Jennifer seems a little quieter than usual today. That’s not surprising, considering what she went through over the weekend.”

  Kelly watched Jennifer smile and talk with her customers. Outwardly, she appeared her usual self. Only close friends recognized she was more subdued. “Yeah, she was quiet all the way home when we drove back yesterday. And she immediately went to help Pete with some catering job that afternoon. I haven’t had a chance to talk with her since we left the ranch.”

  “I imagine it will take some time. She’s still seeing that therapist, right?” Burt asked before upending his cup.

  “Yeah. I figure Jen will be talking with her again this week.” Kelly drained her coffee. “She’ll be okay.” Kelly wished she felt as positive as her words.

  Burt leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “I’m just glad she’s found someone who can help her. I know what a difference a good counselor can make. People go through rough times in life. Everyone needs a little help sometimes.” He gave a crooked smile. “I pulled Jennifer aside back in February right after the assault and gave her a check. I told her I wanted her to schedule as many sessions with that psychologist as she needed, and I wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

  “That was sweet of you, Burt,” Kelly said, not admitting she had made Jennifer the very same offer.

  “Well, she burst into tears, Kelly,” Burt said, shaking his head. “She told me that Dr. Norcross had gotten calls from Curt Stackhouse, Steve, Pete, Lisa, Greg, Megan, and Marty. All saying they would pay her bills anonymously. She was overwhelmed.”

  Kelly stared into Burt’s kind eyes. She had never discussed her own actions with her friends. All of Jennifer’s friends had quietly come to her aid at the same time. “Whoa. That’s amazing. I did the same thing right after she made her first appointment. I guess all of us did.”

  “I told Jennifer that was testimony as to how much her friends valued her.” Burt smiled. “Of course, that made her cry again, so I didn’t say anything else. I just gave her a big hug.”

  “Sometimes hugs are the best thing you can give someone.”

  Suddenly a flash of movement behind Burt’s shoulder caught Kelly’s attention. She peered through the window and glimpsed a familiar face. Pete. Pacing outside on the patio along the edge of the fence, away from the café tables, back and forth, exactly like he had done the first two months after Jennifer was assaulted.

  “Oh my gosh, Pete’s pacing again. He’d finally stopped earlier this month. What happened?”

  “I’m afraid it’s my fault,” Burt admitted. “I drew Pete aside early this morning before Jennifer came in and told him what we’d heard from Lisa. You know, I thought it might help him stop worrying about Jennifer. After all, the man responsible for hurting her is dead.” He shook his head ruefully. “Unfortunately, I was dead wrong. This is the second time this morning Pete’s been out there, walking back and forth. I wish I hadn’t said a thing.”

  Kelly stared through the window at her friend, the kindhearted, gentle café owner. Pacing back and forth, worrying about Jennifer again. The fact that Pete was in love with Jennifer made it even worse. Everyone knew it, but no one said anything. Jennifer always acted totally oblivious to Pete’s adoring looks.

  Kelly knew her friend well. Jennifer was far too wise in the ways of male-female relationships to be unaware of Pete’s feelings. A few months ago Kelly was all primed to have a “conversation” with Jennifer. But the traumatic events of February had changed everything.

  “Don’t feel bad, Burt. Pete was bound to hear it from either Lisa or me. You probably did him a favor by telling him early this morning before Jen came in to work.” She checked her watch. “I’ll go out to talk with him before I tackle my client accounts.” Flagging down the waitress, Kelly held out her mug. Julie retrieved it quickly. The café staff was well-attuned to Kelly’s caffeine addiction and were faithful suppliers. “Put it on my tab, Julie,” she said as she pushed back her chair.

  “Tell Pete I’m sorry,” Burt said with a sheepish grin as he rose. “I’d tell him myself, but Mimi and I have some shopping to do.”

  “Stocking up on wools and such?” Kelly asked as she accepted the mug with a nod to Julie.

  “Actually, this shopping trip has nothing to do with the shop,” he said mysteriously. “See you later, Kelly.” He gave a wave before rounding the corner of the café.

  Kelly swung her knitting bag over her shoulder, took a deep drink of coffee, and headed for the door, intrigued by Burt’s answer.

  She heard something different in his voice and wondered what Mimi and Burt were up to. They’d been seeing each other for over a year now. Both had lost their spouses years ago. Mimi was divorced, and Burt’s wife died of a heart attack. Both in their late fifties, Mimi and Burt seemed the perfect couple to Kelly and her friends. A wonderful example of love arriving later in life.

  Taking another deep drink of coffee, Kelly headed for the café’s back door and her anxious friend pacing outside. Sometimes, lovers had a harder time finding each other.

  “Ooooh, pesto pizza,” Lisa exclaimed. “Put that one in front of me.”

  “And me,” Kelly added as she sipped her favorite Colorado microbrew. The colorful label had a mountain bike leaning against a tree.

  “Steve’s not here yet, so we can eat his share, can’t we, Kelly?” Greg asked, lifting a slice from a tray the waitress set in the middle of the table at the outdoor café.

  Kelly glanced around Old Town Plaza, searching for a glimpse of Steve. At six o’clock on a May evening, the sun was still high, moving toward the Summer Solstice, the longest day of the year. “He wasn’t sure how long those meetings would take, so go ahead. We’ll order another pizza when he comes.”

  “Is this the meeting with the bankers?” Marty asked before biting into a pepperoni-filled slice.

  Kelly nodded as she savored the delicate pesto topping. Too good. Taking another sip of ale, she said, “Yeah, this is the ‘let’s get serious’ meeting, where the money guys tell Steve if they’re willing to extend the loan on his Wellesley development.”

  Greg shook his head. “I can’t believe all those houses haven’t sold yet. That’s a nice little subdivision. Great starter homes.”

  “It’s the same for every developer,” Marty said, sipping his beer. Collar loosened, tie in his pocket, white shirtsleeves rolled up, Marty didn’t resemble the razor-sharp trial lawyer he was during the day. “I’ve got clients who’re having to restructure their company because they can’t handle the debt they’re carrying on their properties. It’s getting bad.”

  Kelly studied the beer label with a worried frown. “Jennifer says the buyers who are out there are biding their time, waiting for prices of resale houses to drop even more. And sellers are slashing their prices in response. So, builders have had to do the same with new homes. It’s really scary out there. I’ve never seen Steve so worried. And Jennifer is scrambling for clients.”

  “Speaking of Jennifer, let’s hope this weekend will be a turning point for her,” Lisa said, leaning her arms on the metal table.

  Greg held out his bottle. “To Jennifer. A fresh start. God knows she deserves it.”

  Kelly clinked her bottle with her friends around the table a
s they all toasted a new beginning for Jennifer. The past was buried, or soon would be.

  Megan ran her hand through her raven black hair as she sank back into the wrought iron chair. “Well, I have to be honest. I’m glad that guy’s dead. I know it sounds awful, but maybe knowing that the guy isn’t going to suddenly show up again will help Jen recover.”

  “Sounds like he already did last weekend,” Marty said, reaching for a piece of pesto pizza. “Man, Jennifer must have totally freaked.”

  “Just about,” Kelly said after taking another bite of pizza. “She didn’t know the guy’s real name until then.”

  “To Karma,” Lisa said, holding up her nearly empty bottle. “He got what he deserved in my book.”

  “I still wish Steve and I could have beaten him up first,” Greg added.

  “What are we toasting?” Steve’s voice came from behind Kelly as she and her friends clinked bottles once more.

  “Karma.”

  “A bad end to bad guys.”

  “Burying the past.”

  “New beginnings.”

  “Gotcha,” Steve said as he pulled out the waiting chair beside Kelly, bottle of his favorite ale already in hand. “To Jennifer and a fresh start. Bless her heart.” He upended his bottle.

  Kelly handed him a slice of pepperoni pizza. “On a scale of one to ten, how was it? The meeting, I mean?”

  Steve sank back in his chair and took another deep pull of his beer before answering. “On a scale of one to ten? About a two.” He devoured the pizza slice.

  “Ouch,” Kelly said with a grimace. She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. “You mean they won’t extend the loan?”

  “Nope. But they did agree to restructure it, so the payments are reduced.” Steve dangled the bottle by the neck over the edge of the chair.

  “Hey, that sounds good,” Lisa offered.

  “For a price,” Steve said, his face clouding. “I had to put up the Baker Street lofts as collateral.”

  Kelly drew back. “Oh, no, Steve . . . not Baker Street.”

  Steve’s pet project. The one development closest to his heart. He’d just paid off the construction loan last year when all the units were sold. Now, there would be a lien against the property, and if the housing market didn’t improve . . . Kelly didn’t want to think about that scenario.

  “Damn, Steve, I’m sorry,” Greg said, clearly concerned.

  “That one’s your baby,” Megan commiserated.

  “It’s only a lien, Steve. You can get it removed as soon as this cycle is over,” Marty offered.

  “Yeah, remember what Jennifer always says. Markets go up, and markets go down. It’s a cycle,” Kelly added, wanting to find something encouraging to say. “This is just a phase. The down part of the cycle. It’ll start back up.”

  Steve gave her a crooked smile. “Let’s hope it’s soon, guys. Real soon. I’ve slashed prices on those Wellesley sites down to the bone. Profit margin is a memory. Hell, I’m thinking of renting them out just to help cover the loan payments.”

  Greg looked up. “Really? For how much?”

  Steve shrugged. “Ohhhh, probably twelve hundred dollars a month. Definitely below market.” He drained his beer.

  Greg and Lisa exchanged glances. “You’re kidding,” they chimed together.

  “The condo management just raised everyone’s rent,” Lisa said. “We’d be paying nearly twelve hundred for our three-bedroom condo near Old Town.”

  “How big are those Wellesley homes? Three bedrooms or four?” Greg probed.

  “Both,” Steve said, swinging the empty beer bottle by its neck. “Three bedrooms run around sixteen hundred square feet. Are you guys serious?”

  Greg and Lisa grinned and spoke together again. “Absolutely.”

  Steve sank his chin in his hand and looked at his friends. “Guys, there are some strings attached. You’d have to be willing to let real estate agents schedule showings, so people would be coming through. We’re still trying to sell those houses. That would be a bother for sure.”

  Greg shrugged. “That’s okay. If Lisa and I are enjoying ourselves in the bedroom, we’ll simply put a DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door.”

  Lisa swatted him. “Believe me, I can put up with some visitors in order to have a real house at last. It’s taking us forever to save up a down payment.”

  “Yeah, and when we do, you’ll be building it,” Greg said, saluting Steve before he upended his beer.

  “Well, you’ll have time to save, guys. This downturn isn’t over yet, I’m afraid.”

  Marty grinned from behind another piece of pizza. “Hey, Harry About-to-Be-Homeowner. When are you gonna invite us over for barbeque? Do you guys have a grill?”

  Lisa’s eyes lit up. “Whoa! That’s right. We’ll have a yard at last. Wow! No more grilling on the balcony.”

  “And all the yards are landscaped, too,” Kelly added, bragging. “Steve’s had grass and trees and bushes put in. And fences, too.”

  “Man, that is a deal,” Megan said, taking a bite of pesto pizza.

  “Yeah, it is.” Greg nodded, toying with his empty bottle. “Whoa, grass means a lawnmower. Are those sales still on?”

  Steve waved his hand. “Save your money. Since we’re still trying to sell these houses, my yard crew will keep mowing.”

  “Wow! You guys are making out like bandits,” Marty said, signalling the waiter. “Makes me wanta take a look over there. When can you have us over, Greg?”

  Kelly joined in the laughter that flowed around the outside table while the waiter brought another round. Friends helping each other. That felt good. She ran her hand over Steve’s arm and leaned closer. “Do you think you should ask for references?”

  Eight

  Kelly shouldered her way through the Lambspun front door, balancing her laptop computer, briefcase, and full coffee mug. It was a beautiful spring morning, and she didn’t feel like working inside the cottage. Outside beckoned. Lambspun had a secluded side patio which would be the perfect place to settle into and work. But first, there was always time to indulge an attack of fiber fever. She could catch up on accounts while surrounded by spring yarns.

  She paused in the central yarn room and indulged herself. Touch, touch. A bin of bamboo and silk beckoned first, shades of green from chartreuse to lime to shamrock. Next, a bin of hand-dyed merino wool and silk, all shades from Veracruz Vermilion to Santa Fe Sunset. Soft and softer. Then, the crisp feel of silk ribbons enticed her fingers, all tied in bundles of blues and greens.

  Kelly left the bins and plopped her laptop, mug, and briefcase onto the library knitting table.

  “Well, good morning, Kelly,” Mimi sang out as she walked through the room. “It’s good to see you in the shop early.”

  “It’s so pretty, I thought I might start working in here then move outside to that side patio under the arbor. It’s one of those luscious spring days. The birds are singing, and I can’t stay inside.”

  Mimi turned to her with a bright smile. “You work wherever you like, Kelly. In fact, I may bring one of my knitting classes outside if there’s room at some of Pete’s patio tables.”

  “I haven’t looked yet. Is Pete still pacing on the patio?”

  Mimi’s smile disappeared. “Yes, I’m afraid he is. Poor dear. He says the pacing helps calm him down. Every time he starts worrying about Jennifer, he just can’t stop. So, he goes outside.” Mimi shook her head, looking for all the world like a Mother Hen worrying about one of her chicks.

  Kelly nodded. “I told him that the retreat really had been good for Jennifer. She made some great strides there. But of course, he doesn’t believe me, because he wasn’t there to see it. Cal Everett’s death overshadows everything. You can tell how Pete is thinking.”

  “I worry about him, though. He confessed to me last year that he’s got borderline high blood pressure, and all this worrying is not doing him any good,” Mimi said as she rearranged fluff balls in a nearby yarn bin.

  �
�Well, things should settle down soon,” Kelly said, wishing she was as confident as she sounded. Jennifer was still deep into quiet. Kelly decided she had to find a few minutes today to talk with her friend.

  Burt appeared around the corner then. “Mimi, that supplier from North Carolina is on the line. Do you want to take her call now or later?”

  “Right now. I’ve been trying to get her for weeks.” Mimi sped from the room.

  “Busy, busy,” Kelly teased as she settled into a chair and opened her laptop. Remembering something, she asked, “Hey, how was your shopping trip yesterday? What did you guys buy?”

  Burt’s curious little smile returned. “You’ll have to go up front and ask Mimi. She’ll show you. But right now, I thought I’d let you in on what I heard this morning.” He pulled out the chair beside Kelly.

  “What’s up?”

  “I called my buddy, Vern, with the county police and asked how Peterson’s investigation into Cal Everett’s death was going. I was curious if the cause of death was determined to be accidental due to Everett breaking his neck when he fell off the deck.”

  Kelly felt a little buzz somewhere inside. Her warning buzzer. “What’d Vern say? It was accidental, right?”

  Burt nodded. “Yep, that’s the official cause of death, but he said that Peterson is extending the investigation at the request of the medical examiner.”

  “Why?”

  “Apparently the medical examiner wants to look more carefully at how Everett fell. He told Peterson that in his opinion, Everett fell over the deck, straight down, headfirst. The examiner thought that was a little strange. He said if Everett was sitting on his deck railing, drinking, and fell over, he’d probably fall sideways. If he was so drunk he tried to kill himself, he probably would have climbed over the railing and jumped, falling face-first onto the slope below.”