Close Knit Killer

by Maggie Sefton

  Nelson glanced toward the garden. “Yeah, you’re right about that. I guess anybody who had a disagreement with that bastard will be questioned.”

  That comment brought the other unpleasant image from the back of Kelly’s mind. “And that means my friend Barbara will be questioned, too. She had an angry argument with Rizzoli in front of a whole bunch of people out here. And if that wasn’t bad enough, I heard that Barbara went to Rizzoli’s seminar that night and confronted him again! In front of a couple hundred people. Security guards had to remove her and threatened to call the police.” Kelly frowned. “Brother, now that I’m repeating all of that, it sounds like Barbara may be in worse trouble than Malcolm. She confronted Rizzoli twice.”

  The sound of a vehicle coming down the driveway caught her attention, and Kelly turned to see a blue van pull into a parking spot on the gravel only a few feet away from them. The van’s door slid open, and Malcolm stepped out.

  “Well, well, I was hoping that he would come in today,” Nelson said, with an approving nod. “I told Malcolm that he still had a job with me if he wanted it. Looks like one of the Mission staffers dropped him off. Hey, Malcolm.” Nelson beckoned him over.

  Kelly started to back away, not wanting Malcolm to feel any more uncomfortable than he probably already did. She waved at Malcolm as she turned toward the sidewalk. “Hey, there, Malcolm. Hal told me you guys are coming into the final stretch on this project. It’s looking good.”

  Malcolm caught her glance and sent Kelly a little wave as he walked to meet Nelson. Kelly hurried away down the sidewalk, wanting to give the two men some time to talk in private. She ran up the steps and into Lambspun, pausing as she entered the foyer.

  New yarns peeked out from wicker baskets. Strawberry reds, lime sherbet green, blueberry blue, cotton candy pink, and lemon pie yellow.

  Stroking the silky fibers in one basket, Kelly moved into the central yarn room. New yarns were here as well, begging to be touched. Silks, cottons, bamboo.

  As she moved farther into the room, Kelly glimpsed Mimi and a young girl at the other end of the knitting table. Cassie. It had to be, Kelly thought. And it looked like they were knitting. Or rather, Mimi was watching Cassie knit. Kelly moved around the round maple table in the middle of the room, stroking several soft skeins of pink bamboo yarn. However, her attention was focused on the library table in the main room and the instruction taking place there. Mimi was speaking quietly to Cassie, so Kelly couldn’t really hear what she was saying. Kelly assumed Mimi was telling Cassie the same things she’d told Kelly when she was struggling through her first efforts.

  Kelly tried to get a glimpse of Cassie’s face, but couldn’t. Cassie was leaning over obviously concentrating on the knitting, and her shoulder-length dark brown hair fell forward, hiding her face. Kelly stepped closer to the entrance to the main room, and Mimi glanced up and spotted her standing there.

  “Why, hello, Kelly!” she said with a bright smile. “Come on in and join us. I’m teaching Pete’s niece Cassie how to knit.”

  Cassie quickly looked up, and Kelly saw that Burt and Jennifer had not exaggerated. Two big blue eyes stared out at her. Kelly saw curiosity and surprise, and maybe a little bit of wariness, looking out.

  “Well, hello, Cassie,” Kelly greeted, giving her a friendly smile. “I’m a friend of Mimi and Burt and Pete and Jennifer. They told me you were coming.”

  “Hi,” Cassie replied in a soft voice, then glanced back to her knitting needles.

  Kelly walked over to the table and sat on the opposite side across from Mimi and Cassie. “Mimi’s an excellent teacher. She taught me how to knit when I first came here a few years ago,” Kelly said as she reached into her briefcase and brought out the small fabric bag where she kept the baby hat she was knitting.

  “That’s right, Cassie, and Kelly’s an excellent knitter now,” Mimi declared, then pointed toward one of Cassie’s needles. “That’s it, slide the needle to the left of the stitch, dear.”

  Kelly watched Cassie obediently slide the right needle beneath the stitch on her left needle. Boy, did Kelly remember doing that. Had it really been four years ago when she first came to Lambspun?

  “Mimi’s being kind, Cassie,” Kelly said as she drew the yellow-and-white yarn and partially finished hat from the little taffeta bag Lisa had given her for Christmas. “I was a lousy student. I kept arguing with the yarn.”

  Cassie looked at Kelly, puzzled. Kelly could tell she didn’t know whether Kelly was kidding or not. “How do you argue with yarn?” she asked, a tiny hint of a smile peeking out.

  Kelly picked up her stitches where she left off on the small hat. “Ohhhh, I’d get mad when the stitches didn’t want to slide off the needle. I’d have to convince them to slide off. Coax them, you know.” Kelly smiled at her. “Like, ‘You want to leave the needle. You want to go. You want to go. That’s it. Slide off, slide off.’”

  Cassie’s hint of a smile grew. “Did it work?”

  Kelly shook her head. “Nope. They ignored me. They tightened up and sat there. Drove me crazy.” She pointed to the five rows of stitches on Cassie’s needle. “Look, your stitches are more obedient than mine. You’ve got five rows. You’re better than I was already.”

  “Kelly loves to exaggerate,” Mimi said with a smile. “I keep telling her how good she is, but she doesn’t believe me.”

  “I suffer from low yarn self-esteem,” Kelly said, then gave a dramatic sigh. “Dr. Mimi says it’s not fatal, but I do have attacks every now and then.”

  Cassie gestured to the baby hat. “You must be good. That looks really pretty. Do you have a baby?”

  Kelly had to laugh. “No, I don’t. I’m knitting this for one of Mimi’s charities. Lots of knitters around town knit hats for the babies and young children who have to come to the hospital for cancer treatment. The hats help keep up their body temperature level. We lose most of our body heat through our heads. Did you know that?”

  Cassie’s big blue eyes widened even more. “Wow, I didn’t know that.”

  “Cassie, you’re doing really, really well,” Mimi said. “You’ll have this cute scarf done in no time. And if you’d like, I can show you some of those ribbon yarns that knit up real skinny. You can use them for belts or little scarves.”

  Cassie looked over Kelly’s head into the central yarn room. “You mean like some of those hanging out there?”

  “Why, yes!” Mimi chirped, scooting back her chair. “Let me bring some of them over here.” She scurried into the adjoining room where several summery scarves hung from the ceiling.

  Kelly took that moment to lean over the table and asked, “How’s it going, Cassie? You settling in over at Pete and Jennifer’s?”

  Cassie gave a little shrug. “Yeah, kind of. It’s different.”

  “Feels kind of funny, doesn’t it? I moved around a lot as a kid because my dad’s job kept assigning him to different states. I remember how funny it felt coming into a new place.”

  Cassie glanced up. “Yeah, it does. Did you have to go to different schools?”

  Kelly nodded. “Lots of them. Sometimes we’d only be in a city two years, then we’d have to move again.”

  Cassie’s eyes widened even more. “Wow. That must have been hard.”

  Kelly gave a little shrug of her own. “Yeah, it was. I was always having to make new friends.” She smiled. “It taught me how to meet new people.”

  “How’d you do that?”

  “Actually, it’s easy. You just walk up to them and smile and say ‘hi.’ That usually worked. And playing sports helped, too. I’d join the school teams, and that way I met a lot of girls my age. I played softball all the way through high school.”

  “Wow, you must have been good.” Cassie had let the knitting drop to her lap.

  “I don’t know how good I was, but I sure had a lot of fun,” Kelly said, smiling. “Have you ever played?”

  “Yeah, a few times in school. I was never on a team.” Cassie returned her at
tention to the scarf.

  “You know, I’m coaching a bunch of girls your age this summer. Beginners’ softball clinic. If you’re interested, I’d love to have you join the group. I’ve got nine girls signed up so far. It’s not a team or anything, just real low-key. You know, relaxed, having fun.”

  Cassie looked over at Kelly with a dubious expression. “I don’t know if I’d be any good.”

  “Hey, it’s a beginners’ class. You can’t be any worse than the others. Nobody is gonna be very good.” She gave a good-natured shrug. “You can give it a try and see how you like it.”

  Mimi bustled back into the room then, four colorful, ribbon-like skinny scarves dangling from her hands. “I found several that you might like, Cassie. Several of my other teenage knitters simply love these new yarns.” She spread the four jewel-colored creations across the table in front of Cassie.

  “Ooooh, these are so pretty,” Cassie said, fingering the ribbony yarns. “Are they hard to make?”

  “Not at all, dear,” Mimi said, picking up one of the scarves. “See, it’s the very same stitch you’re doing now. The yarn makes it look different.”

  Kelly watched Mimi explain, much the same way she had with Kelly four years ago. Calmly reassuring. Just then, the glimpse of a white car slowly passing in the driveway caught Kelly’s attention. She turned to get a better look. It wasn’t an ordinary white car. This one had blue lettering. FORT COLLINS POLICE.

  Curious, Kelly set the baby hat aside and pushed back her chair, noticing that Cassie was engrossed in examining the ribbon scarves. Kelly walked through the central yarn room, past the adjoining room with the Mother Loom, and into the front room where there were more and larger windows. She watched the police car pull into a parking spot along the walkway. Two men in suits exited the car. Detectives, Kelly decided.

  “Hey, Kelly,” Connie called to her from behind the front counter where she was ringing up a customer’s order. “It looks like the cops have come back. Probably want to question the builder guys outside.”

  “I think you’re right, Connie,” Kelly replied, her attention focused outside. The two detectives were standing and talking with Hal Nelson. She looked around for Malcolm but didn’t see him. Uh-oh, she thought, hoping he hadn’t taken off for the river trail again.

  “Is that the police outside?” the customer asked as she took her package from Connie.

  “Afraid so,” Connie replied in a matter-of-fact voice. “Did you see those news stories about a dead man who was found in a parked car? Well, that was here. And it turns out the guy was murdered.” Connie’s voice dropped scary-movie low.

  “Ohhhh, my!” the older woman exclaimed, eyes wide as saucers as she stared toward the windows.

  Kelly kept her mouth shut, not wanting to add to local gossip any more than necessary. Thank goodness Mimi wasn’t anywhere around to hear Connie’s dramatic remarks.

  “Hey, Kelly, I betcha the cops have come to question that other builder guy. You know, the one with the beard. The skinny one. He got into a fight with Rizzoli, remember? Right outside in the driveway! You were standing there, too. They were yelling at each other. And that night Rizzoli was killed!” Another dramatic tone.

  “Good heavens!” the older woman said, hand to her face now, clearly horrified.

  Kelly sighed inside, searching for patience, and found a little. “Yes, I was there,” was all she said, not wanting to add to an already blazing imaginary fire.

  Meanwhile, she continued watching Hal Nelson and the detectives talking. Nelson pointed toward the remodeled building and walked toward it. A few seconds later, Nelson reappeared with Malcolm by his side. Kelly watched a wide-eyed Malcolm nod and speak to the detectives, who were obviously asking him questions. One detective had his notebook out and was scribbling notes.

  Hal Nelson stood right beside Malcolm while the detectives continued to question. Kelly watched Malcolm glance down at the ground and shift side to side, his hands in his work pants pockets as he spoke. He definitely looked uncomfortable as the detectives kept asking questions. One of them gestured toward the golf course . . . or beyond. She figured they had to ask Malcolm about his Friday night slide away from sobriety. Oh, brother.

  Kelly couldn’t picture Malcolm killing Jared Rizzoli. Stabbing someone in the throat was an act of anger. But, she reminded herself, she had witnessed Malcolm yelling at Rizzoli in anger and helpless fury. Had he been angry enough to kill?

  The two detectives stepped away from Malcolm and Hal Nelson. The one taking notes closed his notebook as they walked along the walkway leading to the patio garden. Kelly shifted her position to a tall window on the adjoining wall that looked out into the garden behind the shop. Sure enough, the two detectives walked through the garden flagstone pathway, amid curious stares of the lunchtime customers seated outside.

  Burt appeared around the corner behind the front counter. Catching Kelly’s eye, he beckoned, as he squeezed behind Connie and into the room. “Hey, Kelly, you should go back to your cottage. The detectives are here questioning everyone who had seen Rizzoli last week. They’ve just come into the café, so I imagine they’ll be knocking on your cottage door soon.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up, Burt.” Kelly started retracing her steps to the main knitting room. “I’ll go over right now. Walk with me and let me know what you’ve learned from these guys.”

  “I haven’t spoken to them yet, but I’ll be curious what they ask you. So I’ll hang around if you don’t mind,” Burt said as he followed after Kelly.

  Kelly walked to the knitting table and gathered up her knitting project and her briefcase. Cassie was already knitting with the ribbon yarn under Mimi’s attentive gaze.

  “I have to go back to the cottage and make some business calls,” she said as she slipped the briefcase’s shoulder strap over her shoulder. “I really enjoyed talking with you, Cassie. Let me know if you want to go to the softball clinic with me tomorrow morning. It’s at ten o’clock.”

  “Okay, sure.” Cassie nodded.

  “See you later, Kelly.” Mimi gave her a smile, then returned her attention to her pupil.

  Kelly grinned at Burt as they walked to the foyer. “Mimi’s positively in her element,” Kelly said in a lowered voice.

  “Ohhhh, yeah,” Burt said. “She’s been with Cassie all morning. We treated Cassie to breakfast in the café so she could see Pete and Jennifer at work.” He chuckled. “She was fascinated. And practically twisted her neck off watching Jennifer and Julie going back and forth serving customers.”

  Kelly pushed open the front door. “I got to talk with Cassie for a few minutes. Some with Mimi, then alone. She’s a really nice kid. I told her about that beginners’ softball clinic I’m teaching this summer. I think I told you about it. The kids are Cassie’s age group, too. Just two mornings a week, so let me know if she wants to go. It’s no problem for me to take her and bring her back to the shop.”

  “I think it’s a great idea, Kelly,” Burt said as they went down the steps. “Let’s see if Cassie wants to do it.”

  As Kelly headed across the driveway, Burt beside her, she noticed one of the detectives approach Hal Nelson again. Nelson then pointed toward Kelly, and the detective walked her way.

  “Good thing we came outside. I’m betting that detective is looking for you, Kelly.”

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” the middle-aged man called to her as he approached. “Are you Kelly Flynn?”

  “Yes, I am. Are you with the Fort Connor Police? I noticed you asking questions earlier.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m Detective Geller. My partner Detective Lasky and I are investigating the death of Jared Rizzoli over the weekend.”

  Burt extended his hand. “I’m Burt Parker, formerly with the department. My wife operates the knitting shop here.”

  “Good to meet you, Mr. Parker. I’ve heard about you,” Geller said with a little smile.

  “Something good, I hope,” Burt joked.

  “Oh, yes.”
Geller turned to Kelly. “Ms. Flynn, this is your residence, is that correct?”

  “Yes, sir, it is. I inherited the cottage when my aunt died a few years ago.”

  Geller opened his notebook and scribbled for a few seconds. “I’m sure you recall the newspapers’ recent stories that Mr. Rizzoli was found in his car early Saturday morning in this parking lot. Right over there beneath those trees.”

  “Yes, I remember the café staff telling me about it when I came in on Saturday for lunch.”

  “Well, Detective Lasky is in the café now, asking the staff what they remember seeing on the day Jared Rizzoli was last seen alive. I believe he was here earlier that Friday afternoon on the day he was killed. And we were told that you had witnessed a confrontation between Mr. Rizzoli and another man that same afternoon. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, it is,” Kelly answered, noticing Malcolm working outside next to Hal Nelson now. Malcolm glanced her direction more than once. “I was walking over to the shop, and I noticed two men yelling at each other. Since I knew one of the men, I went over to see what was happening.”

  “And what did you see?”

  “Uhhhh, well, they kept yelling at each other.” Kelly hesitated to add more.

  “Could you hear what they were saying?”

  Kelly paused. She did not want to answer, but she had to. “Some of it. Malcolm, one of the workers over there—”

  “That would be Malcolm Duprey, who’s assisting Mr. Nelson with the remodel?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Malcolm said that Rizzoli ruined his life.”

  Geller scribbled away, and Kelly shot a quick glance to Burt. He nodded, encouraging her. “What else did you hear?”

  “Rizzoli called Malcolm a worthless piece of crap. And said that everything that’s happened to him was his own fault. Rizzoli said he paid his debt to society.”

  Geller looked up from his notebook. “Did you see one of the men place his hands on the other?”

  Kelly sighed. “Yes. Malcolm jabbed his finger into Rizzoli’s chest. Rizzoli slapped his hand away, then he pushed Malcolm back. Hard. So hard, Malcolm fell down backwards to the ground. Hal Nelson came to help him up.”