Kelly didn’t hear anyone reply, so she assumed Zoe was on the phone.
“I don’t care how late you have to stay up. Just finish it tonight, do you hear? Or I’ll take it out of your wages. You can bring it to the shop on your way to work tomorrow morning. And don’t call me again. I’m busy.”
Kelly quickly turned and retreated into the outer dressing room once again, not wanting to disturb what was obviously a heated conversation. She was also surprised at Zoe’s tone of voice. It was sharp and dictatorial. Ugly. Whenever Kelly saw her, Zoe was always so pleasant and cheerful. Kelly couldn’t help wondering whom Zoe was talking to.
Megan was clicking off her phone call, so Kelly approached and lowered her voice. “Zoe is in the midst of a phone call. I can’t wait, so would you ask her to please mail me a bill, and I’ll send a check right away? I need to finish some financial statements.”
“No problem. She needs to send bills to Lisa and Jennifer, too,” Megan said, running her finger down the smartphone’s screen.
“You can add it to one of your to-do lists,” Kelly said as she left.
* * *
Kelly walked across the driveway separating her look-alike cottage from the Spanish colonial beige stucco, red-tile-roofed farmhouse that had inspired the cottage’s design. Once the farmhouse for Kelly’s aunt and uncle, it was now a lively knitting and fiber shop. The cottage had become Kelly’s when her aunt Helen was murdered nearly four years ago. That was the tragic event that had brought a transformation in Kelly’s life. She’d responded to the warmth and camaraderie of the knitting shop family of regulars. They had become Kelly’s family, replacing the ones who’d passed away. Kelly left her life as a corporate CPA in Washington, DC, and switched gears entirely, drawn by the warmth and friendship that beckoned to her from the friends she’d made at Lambspun.
She turned at the sound of her dog Carl’s deep Rottweiler bark coming from the cottage backyard. Carl was standing on his hind feet, front paws on the chain-link fence, warning the golfers on the adjoining golf course not to trespass. Few disobeyed Carl, Kelly noticed.
Kelly admired the colorful annuals that were still blooming in the flower beds bordering the walkway that led to Lambspun’s front door. Bright red geraniums and white impatiens beside deep purple petunias. Fringy dianthus alternated with sturdy orange marigolds. Colorful, easy, low-maintenance plants. The very same that Kelly had put in the planters lining her cottage walk.
She paused beside the shady patio, debating whether or not to knit here instead of inside the shop. Early September temperatures were still delightfully warm, in the low eighties. The sun shone brightly in the gorgeous blue sky that arched over the golf course. Colorado blue, Kelly called it. Late afternoon, and the sun hadn’t even begun its descent toward the ridges of low mountains on the west side of the university town. The “foothills,” as locals called them. Beautiful was Kelly’s word.
Tempted to drop her knitting on the nearby table or wrought iron chair, Kelly decided she would first see what Lambspun’s owner, Mimi, was doing. She hadn’t had a chance to drop in and visit with her for several days.
Pushing the heavy wooden door open, Kelly stepped inside the wonderland of color and texture and sensuality that always greeted her whenever she entered the shop.
Yarn, yarn everywhere. Wooden crates were stacked one upon the other in the foyer. Shelves lined the walls of the adjacent room. Fat balls and loosely wound skeins tumbled forth from all of them. Tables and chests were piled high with yarns. Sweaters, scarves, and vests dangled from the ceiling and shelves. Long puffy loops of yarn draped along the walls. Wool, cotton, silk, mohair, alpaca, cashmere. Any fiber your heart desired.
“Well, hello, Kelly. It’s so nice to see you,” Mimi said as Kelly entered the foyer. “You haven’t been here since last week.” Mimi was stacking twisted coils of terra-cotta red yarn in a tidy pile beside similar yarns in the middle of an antique dry sink. Moss green, burgundy wine, copper ore.
Autumn colors, Kelly noticed. Although it was still summer outside with balmy Colorado temperatures, the Lambspun crew always had an eye for an upcoming season. Seasonal colors always appeared in the shop overnight, it seemed. She would walk into the shop and find rooms totally transformed as if by magic. Kelly attributed it to the Lambspun “elves,” as she called Mimi and her two main helpers, Connie and Rosa.
Kelly fingered one of the terra-cotta red skeins. HAND-DYED, the label read. It was a merino wool, not as thick as some of the others she’d touched. It would require a smaller needle but would be perfect for making fall and winter knitted hats. Or mittens.
“How’s that bridesmaid shawl coming?” Mimi asked as she gave the yarn piles a pat.
Guilt drew Kelly from her fiber indulgence. “Oh, it’s coming slowly. I’ve been swamped with work and haven’t been able to knit very much.”
She headed to the adjoining main room and dumped her knitting bag on the long wooden library table that served as a meeting place for scores of fiber workers of every description. Not only knitters showed up around the Lambspun table, but also crochet lovers, or hookers, as they called themselves. Quilters turned up, too, as well as spinners, who set up their wheels in the corners. Weavers regularly worked their creations on the larger looms in the two rooms adjoining the large one.
Kelly always thought of Lambspun as an “equal opportunity” shop. Whatever your fiber tastes and inclinations, you would find someone at Lambspun to share them. And Mimi helped spread her expertise in all the fiber arts through a full schedule of classes. Kelly had noticed new classes in tatting and lace embroidery. They both sounded tricky to her.
“Would you like me to help you with it?” Mimi offered as she followed Kelly into the room. “I’d be glad to.”
Now Kelly felt even guiltier. Lisa, Megan, and Jennifer had already finished their shawls. But not her. Now Mother Mimi was offering to rescue her.
“No, no, I’ll get it done,” she promised as she settled into a chair at the table. No other customers around. Good. Maybe she could get more knitting done. Interesting conversations always distracted her, she’d noticed.
She pulled the royal blue bundle from a plastic bag she had protecting it from the jumble inside her knitting bag. There were knitting needles of varying sizes, a tape measure, stitch markers, copies of previous patterns she’d worked, and not one but two plastic containers of yarn needles, perfect for tucking in dangling yarn ends. She held up the bundle which formed a large triangle and examined her work so far. It didn’t look bad. The loose-knit design would be very flattering over the bridesmaids’ bare shoulders.
“Look, you’re halfway finished,” Mimi said with her encouraging smile before she returned to straightening books on the shelves.
Kelly knew Mimi was doing her nurturing best to be kind. Normally she would make a joke, but instead a remembered thought came to mind. “My bridesmaid gown is all finished,” she said, picking up her knitting stitches where she’d left off. “Megan and I went over this morning. Zoe has finished everything, including the headbands. Three weeks early, too. Megan was delighted, of course.”
“Of course. Megan has to stay on schedule, or—”
“Or there’ll be hell to pay. And we’ll all have to listen to it,” Kelly joked.
Mimi laughed her light laugh as she checked the other bookshelves. “I was going to say woe to the vendors who were not keeping up.”
“That, too. Tell me something, Mimi. When I was there this morning, I noticed a dark bruise on Zoe’s face and asked her about it. She got kind of flustered and said she was clumsy and tripped on some stairs. But Megan told me when we were alone that Zoe has an abusive husband. She said Zoe had talked to you about it.”
Mimi turned from the bookshelves and sat across the table from Kelly. Her cheerful smile was nowhere to be seen. Worry lines appeared on Mimi’s face now, showing the years of worrying about others. “Yes, that is true. It’s so very upsetting. I’ve known Zoe for the six yea
rs she’s been in Fort Connor. I remember when she first started her shop four years ago. And I noticed those bruises appearing last year. I asked Zoe about it, and she tried to dismiss my concern like she did with you. But I kept after her. Finally, she admitted that her husband Oscar had become increasingly abusive since he’d lost his new consulting business. He was trying to make it as a financial advisor so he could leave his regular job with the power company.”
Mimi began to trace a pattern with her finger on the light wood of the table. “She said he started to drink heavily, and that’s when he began hitting her more. Apparently he only hit her occasionally before that.” Mimi’s voice had acquired an edge. “I simply cannot bear it when smart women stay with men who abuse them. There were no children to worry about. Oscar had kids from an earlier marriage. I told Zoe I would take her to the battered women’s shelter here in town, but she refused to go. I’ve told her that every time I see her. It’s gotten so she stopped coming in here to visit. She knew I’d remind her of my offer. I can’t force her to go.” Mimi gave a little shrug and met Kelly’s eyes. “I wish I could. With Oscar drinking more, there’s no telling what he might do.”
Kelly had let her knitting drop to her lap. “That is so sad, Mimi. Zoe is so lively and full of energy. And . . . and so talented.”
“I know, it’s so—”
Her sentence was cut off by shop helper Connie, who walked into the room quickly. “Mimi, I’ve got that New England yarn vendor on the phone. It took me half the day calling. You wanted to talk to him.”
Mimi almost leaped from her chair. “Yes! Absolutely. Sorry to leave so quickly, Kelly, but I’ve been trying to reach him for weeks.”
“No problem, Mimi, we’ll talk later,” Kelly said as Mimi hurried from the room.
Kelly returned to the loose-knit shawl as she let the disturbing images Mimi had described dart around her head.
Two
Kelly walked across the parking lot in the business complex where her Fort Connor client had his real estate investor office. Glancing up, she noticed the sun still shining brightly in the afternoon sky. It was early afternoon, so maybe there was enough time to run all those errands that had been accumulating during her busy workdays. If she was lucky, she’d still have time to sneak in a workout run on the river trail before meeting the gang in Old Town.
Friday night, and the temperatures were still invitingly warm enough to meet at one of their favorite Old Town cafés or brew pubs. Pizza and Colorado microbrews beckoned.
Kelly checked her watch again as she clicked her car door lock. If she moved fast with those errands, she could definitely squeeze in a run before she met her friends at six o’clock. Sliding into the tan leather seat of her sporty red car, Kelly dumped her shoulder bag briefcase, then started the engine, her mind already plotting a route for the errands.
As she pulled out of the parking lot and into traffic, Kelly heard her cell phone’s distinctive music, demanding to be answered. Kelly retrieved her smartphone from the briefcase and noticed Steve’s name and number flashing on the phone screen. Surprised, she clicked on.
“Hey, there. Weren’t you leaving for Oregon today?” she asked as she steered the car around a corner.
“I’m in the airport now,” Steve’s deep voice came over the line. Warm and familiar.
Kelly felt herself relax. It always felt good talking to Steve.
“I thought I’d give you a call before we start to board the plane. I wondered how your meeting with Arthur Housemann went. Is he going to sell that piece of land outside Windsor? How’d he respond when you asked him?”
“Actually, he was surprised that Sam Kaufman would be interested. He thought it was a little outside your Denver range. I hinted that you and Sam were dabbling in some different projects and other stuff and might be interested. He said he’d consider it.”
Steve chuckled. “Thanks, Kelly. That was perfect. I don’t know if Sam’s friend would like that location or not, but it looks like it might be perfect. The views are great from the road. When I come back from Oregon, I may ask Housemann if Sam and I can take a walk around.”
Kelly pulled to a stop at an intersection. “I’m sure Housemann wouldn’t mind.” Remembering something, she added, “When are you getting back? There’s a fund-raiser ball game next week, and the guys are gonna join up. I’m meeting them tonight in Old Town, so I can tell Greg. He’ll give you all the details.”
“I’ll be back Tuesday night, but I was hoping to have other plans for that week. How’d you like to join me at the Jazz Bistro for dinner one night?”
“I’d love to,” Kelly quickly replied. Old memories danced through her head as she pictured their favorite Old Town café. Great food, icy martinis, and hot jazz. She and Steve had shared many evenings there, first as friends, then as lovers.
“That’s great.” Steve’s voice had grown softer. “Where are you and the gang meeting tonight? It’s Friday night. Pizza and beer.”
“At Old Town Brew Pub, assuming Lisa and Greg get there early enough to snag one of the outdoor tables.”
“Don’t worry. Greg will be on it. It’s his favorite place.” A slightly wistful tone sounded in his voice. “Maybe I’ll be able to make it up there a few nights before fall turns cold.”
Kelly heard that wistful tone and remembered how much Steve enjoyed relaxing with his friends in Fort Connor’s Old Town plaza. Surrounded by shops and cafés, the plaza was pedestrian only and marked the center of early Fort Connor before the turn of the last century. Several of the original buildings from the late 1800s and early 1900s had been lovingly preserved and maintained over the decades, adding to the picturesque charm of the plaza.
“I hope so, too,” she said. “You’ve been on the road a lot, so you deserve to take a break in between trips.”
“That’s like the pot calling the kettle black,” Steve joked. “Your schedule is as bad as mine.”
Kelly laughed at the expression. “That sounds like one of Jayleen’s old sayings. But you’re right,” she admitted, rounding a corner as she neared a shopping center. “Between Housemann and Warner Development, my dance card is full.”
“Well, save a dance for me, wouldja?” Steve teased. “Hey, they’re about to start boarding. Before I forget, what did you decide to do with that healthy bonus Housemann gave you? You said you’d promised him an answer this week.”
Shifting away from the bantering, Kelly went into accountant mode again. “Yeah, I did. I told him I was going to start investing in the stock market.”
Steve laughed. “Hey, that’s great! I’m proud of you, Kelly. I also think it’s smart.”
His praise warmed her inside. “Thanks, Steve. I decided it was time. The money was sitting in a bank account earning next to nothing. It’s time I learned how to invest money on my own. I’ll have to do a lot of research, but it feels right. It’s a good addition to those Wyoming gas wells pumping away.”
“Those are pretty sweet royalty checks, though.”
“Yeah, but they’ll disappear when the gas runs out. Who knows when that will be? No guarantees, the drilling company said. I need a little diversification, as the investment gurus say.” She nosed her car into a parking space in front of a Big Box store.
Steve laughed softly, bringing that warm feeling inside. “It sounds like a good idea, Kelly. Listen, gotta go. Take care.”
“You, too, Steve. Have a good trip.” She heard him click off and felt the letdown she had every time their phone calls ended.
* * *
“Hey, put that pesto pizza between Lisa and me,” Megan instructed the waiter. “I don’t trust the guys until the pepperoni one shows up.”
“No way! I’m famished,” Marty protested as he wrestled his tie over his head, then dispensed with his suit jacket.
“Yeah, not fair,” Greg chimed in, taking a sip of his Colorado microbrew. “I had to work through lunch. No food. I’m malnourished.”
“Malnourished, my foot,” his
girlfriend Lisa countered as she leaned back in her chair. “I’ve been to your office. Those administrative assistants bring in food every day. Donuts, brownies, muffins, cinnamon rolls, coffee cakes. It’s a wonder you don’t all weigh three hundred pounds.”
“They don’t cycle twenty miles a day, like I do,” Greg retorted. “Lemme have a piece, pretty please.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Marty begged, his tone turning plaintive. “I’ve been dealing with two really demanding clients all afternoon. That’s stressful.”
“Stop whining, you guys,” Megan said as she took a piece of pesto pizza and tore it in half down the middle. “Here, this will hold you until the pepperoni comes.”
Both Greg and Marty snapped up the mini slices. Inhaling them, it seemed to Kelly.
She sank back in the chair at the brew pub’s outdoor table, smiling at her friends. “You guys remind me of hungry seals snapping up fish.” Noticing the waiter approach with two trays of pepperoni and cheese pizzas, she announced, “Hey, just in time. Now our pesto pizza is safe.”
“Salvation at last!” Greg pulled out two hefty pizza wedges and tore into them.
“Now you’re talking!” Marty cried, his eyes lighting up as he attacked the second pepperoni pizza.
Lisa snorted. “Starving dogs.”
“You’d think they hadn’t eaten in days.” Megan separated two slices of pesto pizza and offered Kelly one. “Here, Kelly. Eat fast before they finish theirs and try to steal ours.”
Kelly didn’t need any prodding. She’d raced through her errands and found just enough time to take a short run before showering and meeting her friends at the brew pub. She sank her teeth into the cheesy pesto topping and savored. Yum.
Taking another sip of her favorite Colorado ale, she glanced around the Old Town plaza. Every restaurant, café, and brew pub was full inside and out. All the outdoor tables were taken, filled with college students, middle-aged couples, older couples, all ages.
Cast On, Kill Off (A Knitting Mystery) Page 2
