“It’s been seven months, Kelly-girl. I keep track.” He gave her a fatherly smile as he placed his Stetson on his knee.
“I should have known you’d be keeping track, Curt. I was hoping you’d accompany me. That way we can go out and look at the sheep and take a look at the gas wells. They’ve added more, you know. I sent you a copy of the drilling company’s report.”
“I was thinking you might like to take a little ride around up there. Chet Brewster is still taking care of things for you, right?”
“Yes, he is, and he’s getting married this month.” Kelly smiled. “He’s always looked so young to me. I wonder if he’s going to want to continue supervising the ranch. He may want to start building his own.”
Curt gave her a look. “Chet Brewster may want to start building a place of his own, Kelly, but you know young folks nowadays can’t qualify for mortgage loans. Certainly not someone like Chet, who works part-time as a rancher and part-time for the building supply store in Cheyenne.” He shook his head. “It’s a damn shame. Youngsters like Chet who want to go into ranching won’t be able to buy any land of their own to start a spread for several years. Who knows how long it’ll take for banks to get back to business as usual lending money.”
Kelly pondered what Curt had said. “I wish there was a way to help. Chet’s a good man and a good ranch supervisor.” She looked out over the golf course again. “There’s a lot of unused space on that property.”
Curt peered at her. “I can see your mind working, Kelly. You’d like to provide housing for Chet and his new bride. But you’ve got the charity school for girls in your cousin Martha’s ranch house. That only leaves the barns and the outbuildings, but they’re taken up with feed storage and the animals. There’s no other space, unless Chet wants to bring in a mobile home.”
“Hmmmm, that’s a possibility,” Kelly said with a smile.
Curt looked at Kelly for a long minute. She knew him well enough to know Curt was considering what she’d said.
Sixteen
Kelly pushed open the café front door and hurried inside. Determined to resist the tempting breakfast aromas wafting through the air this time, she walked around the corner leading to the back of the café and the grill. Then she spotted Cassie sitting alone at a small side table in the alcove, knitting.
“Hey, Cassie, is that a new scarf you’re making? I love that cherry red with green running through it.”
Cassie looked up from her needles and smiled brightly. “Hi, Kelly. I’m waiting for Lisa to pick me up, so I thought I’d finish this scarf while I wait.”
Julie snatched Kelly’s dangling coffee mug as she passed by. “Looks like you could use a fill-up.”
“Mind reader,” Kelly teased as Julie headed to the grill. “Boy, I’m impressed, Cassie. You finish scarves way faster than I ever did,” she said as she walked over to Cassie’s table. Leaning over, she fingered the long, dangling end of soft mohair and wool combination. “Your stitches are better, too.”
“You’re always saying you can’t knit stuff, Kelly. Then I see what you’ve done, and it looks great to me.”
Kelly dumped her briefcase on an adjacent chair and sat across from Cassie. “Great is stretching it. On my best day, I’m good. Or, halfway good. Or . . . partially good.” She gave a dismissive wave. “But I never got close to great. Now, Jennifer is great. So is Megan. And Lisa, too.”
“And Mimi,” Cassie added, her fingers working the needles. Stitches appearing neat and orderly, filling the row.
“Mimi? Oh, she’s in another dimension. Sometimes I don’t think she’s human. Maybe she’s an alien, that’s why she’s so super good. She’s from outer space, a planet of advanced beings.” Kelly let her voice drop into a melodramatic tone.
Cassie broke into a giggle as Julie appeared with Kelly’s refilled mug. “You’re so funny, Kelly,” Cassie said when she caught her breath.
“Only my friends think I’m funny,” Kelly teased. “Say, what do you think about the Health Rehab Center? I’ve been there when I was rehabbing a broken ankle a couple of years ago.”
Cassie’s eyes lit up. “It’s amazing! There’s all kinds of machines and equipment and stuff. And all these people are coming in on crutches or with their arms or legs in a sling, and they’re actually exercising! And the PTs like Lisa—oh, wow, they must have magic hands or something, because the patients lying down on the tables in therapy rooms, you know, well, they’re always saying ‘ohhhh’ or ‘ahhhh’ and stuff like that. Of course, some of them say ‘ouch’ or ‘No, that hurts.’ But the PTs still keep working on them.”
Now it was Kelly’s turn to laugh. “That’s funny. And very accurate, too. I remember what it was like rehabbing my broken ankle. Of course, I also got to go in the therapy swim pool and practice walking. Now, that felt good! And it really helped speed up recovery.”
“Oh, yeah, I’ve seen people in that pool. And they look kind of happy.” She grinned.
“Jayleen told me you were going to her ranch. Yesterday, right? How’d you like it?”
Cassie dropped the yarn and sat up straighter. “It was awesome! Totally!” Her blue eyes grew huge. “It’s so pretty up there! I’ve never seen anything like it. And the alpacas are amazing. They are so sweet and gentle. And their big brown eyes are enormous! Jayleen introduced me to them inside their corral, and we walked around with them. They’d come up and gather around me and sniff. Kinda like doggies do when they see you the first time. They sniff you.”
Kelly grinned, thoroughly enjoying Cassie’s descriptions. “I call that an ID check. That’s how dogs figure out what you are. They sniff you, then decide if you’re okay or not.”
“Yeah, kind of like that. Of course, alpacas are bigger and furrier than dogs. Except they’ve all just had their fleeces shorn, so they look a lot happier. Not so hot. Jayleen’s taking all the fleeces, or blankets, she calls them, to the Estes Park Wool Market this weekend. Mimi’s going to the market, too. Pete said I could go with them. It sounds like fun. Burt says there are lots and lots of animals there.”
Kelly nodded. “There sure are. Even llamas are there. And they have demonstrations, too. Sheep are exhibited as well. They’ve even got sheep shearings and sheepdog-herding demonstrations.”
“Oh, wow! That sounds awesome!” Eyes popped wide again.
“I figured you’d like Jayleen’s ranch. It’s beautiful, and it’s cooler up there, too. Her place is pretty high up in the canyon.”
“I know . . . It’s so pretty. And I love her ranch house. You can see the mountains from every window.” Cassie gazed off through the window looking out onto the driveway.
Kelly recognized that “mountain look” in Cassie’s eyes. She had it herself. Or she did once. Talking with Cassie brought back some of those old feelings. A “mountain home.” Would she ever have one? Who knew? Steve was an architect. And she knew him well enough to know that the urge to get his hands dirty once again and build houses had never left. Even though Steve had become a partner in Sam Kaufman’s company, Sam was already talking about retiring “one of these days.” Steve would take over a very successful medium-sized Denver area construction firm. Would he ever build something in northern Colorado again? Kelly figured it was just a matter of time. Fort Connor and the canyons surrounding them were Steve’s home turf. It was just a matter of time.
* * *
A slight breeze lifted the cover of a file folder and ruffled the papers inside. Kelly put her cell phone on top of the folder, holding it in place. Hazards of working outside in nature, but the benefits far outweighed the disruptions.
The café patio garden was empty of customers now in this early June afternoon, and the café was now closed until tomorrow morning. Jennifer was at her real estate office, and Pete and Cassie had gone to Denver to visit Grandpa Ben in the hospital rehab center. The garden had settled into a peaceful, quiet, green retreat. Kelly’s favorite place to work. Even accounting spreadsheets were enjoyable when done in such a
setting. The intense summer heat had dropped due to the clouds darkening the skies now. Maybe they would have rain at last. If they were lucky. The last few times it had clouded up and thundered, there had been lightning strikes, but only a token sprinkle. Kelly could swear she could count the raindrops.
A musical tinkling sound drifted on the breeze from the wind chime that Julie had hung in the huge cottonwood tree near the front entrance steps to the café. The soft metallic sounds blended together pleasantly as they floated by. Kelly tabbed through one of client Don Warner’s accounts, entering numbers, calculating, as the soft tinkling drifted on the light breeze.
Suddenly Burt’s voice sounded over the wind chimes. “Hey, there, Kelly.” She turned to see Burt walking along the flagstone pathway through the garden, coffee shop take-out cup in hand.
“Hey, Burt,” she called as he approached. “What are you up to this afternoon?”
“I’ve finished all the errands and am going to teach a spinning clinic. How to fix your mistakes.” Burt pulled out the chair across the patio table. “But I wanted to update you first on what I learned this morning.”
That got Kelly out of her spreadsheet focus quickly. She saved the spreadsheet, and pushed her laptop to the side. “What did you hear, Burt? Did the cops get to interview temporary cook Frank?”
Burt nodded. “Yes, they did. Apparently Frank worked both Friday and Saturday nights at the brewery café across the street from Lambspun. When the detectives questioned Frank the first time, it was the Saturday after Rizzoli was found dead in his car in the parking lot. All the café staff were asked if they’d seen anything unusual or noticed anyone walking around the car. No surprise that none of the café workers saw anything because they were too busy cooking and serving customers. But this time, the detective asked Frank if he’d seen anyone around the driveway leading into Lambspun that Friday night. After all, the brewery’s grill is at the end of the café next to a large window looking out on the street and right into the driveway. Frank told the detective that he remembers seeing an expensive car in the Lambspun driveway that evening. He’d paid attention because he loves European sports cars. Frank also said he saw someone standing beside the car, talking to the driver. He said when he saw the car being towed away on Saturday and noticed the license plate, he realized it was the same car. So, Frank sounds like a pretty reliable witness to me.” Burt took a deep drink of his take-out coffee, the familiar green logo on the cup.
Kelly watched Burt closely. She’d learned to read his body language over the last few years, just as she knew he’d learned to read her signs. Burt had learned something else. Something he didn’t like. She leaned back into the wrought-iron café chair and sipped her coffee. “That sounds like great news, Burt. But you don’t look too happy. Don’t tell me he saw Malcolm.”
Burt gave her a crooked little smile. “No, it wasn’t Malcolm.”
Kelly exhaled in relief. “Whew. I was afraid you’d say it was. Thank goodness. So, did Frank describe the man he saw? Is there enough for police to investigate?”
“Frank didn’t have to describe him. He recognized the man. He said it was Hal Nelson who was standing beside Rizzoli’s car, talking.”
Kelly stared back at Burt, not believing what she’d heard. But the sad expression in Burt’s eyes told her she’d heard correctly. Hal Nelson? She couldn’t believe it. What was he doing there in Lambspun’s driveway Friday evening? Surely, Hal Nelson couldn’t be Rizzoli’s killer . . . could he?
“Oh, no! I don’t believe it! Is Frank sure it was Hal?”
Burt nodded sadly. “Dan said Frank was positive. He’d been working at the café for nearly a week, and he’d seen Hal and Malcolm outside and in the café every day. Frank even described Hal’s jacket. It sounds exactly like the jacket I’ve seen Hal wear many times.”
Kelly closed her eyes, not wanting to picture the blue sports jacket with the logo she’d seen him wear. Not wanting to believe that good, kind Hal Nelson could be involved in Jared Rizzoli’s murder. That “awful man,” both Mimi and Madge called him. “This is awful, Burt. Surely police can’t suspect Hal Nelson of killing Rizzoli, can they?”
Burt leaned both arms on the table. “I’m afraid they do, Kelly. Dan said he checked into Hal Nelson’s background after he spoke to Frank. Nelson does have a link to Rizzoli, unfortunately. Hal’s mother lost all her life savings in Rizzoli’s Ponzi scheme. And she was recovering from breast cancer surgery when she learned that her savings were wiped out.” Burt shook his head. “Dan said he spoke to one of the attorneys who prosecuted Rizzoli years ago, and they had written depositions from all the Fort Connor residents who accused Rizzoli. One of the depositions was from Hal Nelson. In it, Hal said that his mother’s despair at suddenly finding herself bereft of the funds she’d saved her entire life and counted on to pay her doctor and hospital bills caused her cancer to return. Tragically, she died a year and a half later.”
The images from the newspaper stories relating accounts of Fort Connor residents who’d lost money in Rizzoli’s swindle—sad stories, angry stories, tragic stories—appeared before Kelly’s eyes. Barbara’s father took his own life because of Rizzoli’s scheme. Malcolm lost his wife and his career because of Rizzoli. And Hal Nelson’s mother’s life ebbed away with despair. All because of that “awful man.” Rizzoli.
“This makes me sick, Burt. More people we know keep getting entangled in this Rizzoli murder.”
Burt let out a long sigh. “I know how you feel, Kelly. It makes me sick, too, just thinking about any of the three we know being involved in this.” He wagged his head in the way Kelly had seen him do since she first came to Lambspun. A lifetime of watching and investigating people committing crimes against one another.
“I would never have expected Hal Nelson. No one would have if not for Frank.”
“You’re right, Kelly. And Hal also was in the shop and café when Jennifer’s phone went missing.”
Without even thinking, Kelly found herself wagging her head in imitation of Burt. Three people she cared about were now suspects. This Rizzoli murder web was widening, stickier than any spider’s web. She looked up at the gray clouds, darkening. A thunderstorm was definitely coming. Kelly could feel it.
* * *
Kelly shoved her laptop into her briefcase and gathered her client account folders that were spread over the outside café table. The wind gusts were picking up as the sky darkened even more. Threatening. Rumbles of thunder and more lightning strikes. Still, not a drop of rain fell.
She’d decided to do a few errands before driving back to the Wellesley house, and was about to pour the last of the iced coffee from the carafe into her mug when she heard the sound of a truck engine coming down the knitting shop driveway. Kelly looked up to see Jayleen pull into a parking space outside the patio garden fence. She waved as her alpaca rancher friend stepped down from the truck.
“Hey, Jayleen. Come on over. I’ve got some iced coffee left if you want it.”
“Hi, there, Kelly-girl. Looks like you’d better move inside,” Jayleen said as she approached, walking through the garden. “We may finally get ourselves a rainstorm.”
“I sure hope so. I was just getting ready to do some errands. What brings you here this afternoon?”
Jayleen pulled out a black wrought-iron chair across the table from Kelly. “I brought my champion gray’s fleece to show her. It’ll be in the Estes Park Wool Market this weekend.”
“Ooooh, is it in your truck? I definitely want to sink my hands into that gorgeous gray.”
“Treat yourself, Kelly,” Jayleen grinned. “Or you can wait until the Wool Market. Why don’t you and Steve drive up this Saturday. It’s been a while since Steve’s been there. He’d enjoy it.”
“That’s a good idea. I’ll mention it. By the way, Cassie told me all about her visit to your ranch this morning when I dropped by the shop. She was beyond excited.”
Jayleen beamed. “She sure was. Bless her heart. She had such
a good time at Curt’s place last weekend, I figured she’d enjoy seeing my place. What with the alpacas and all. And, boy, did she ever! She just loved those critters exactly like I thought she would. She wanted to wander all around the place. And she sure enough fell in love with those mountain views, yessiree.” Jayleen gave Kelly a sly smile. “Just like someone else I know.”
“I got a big kick out of listening to her describe everything. Awesome was her favorite word.” Kelly grinned.
“She’s such a cutie. And sharp as a tack, too. She was full of questions the whole time she was over at Curt’s and at my place. Wanted to know where the animals ate and slept and what we fed them and how often they had babies.” Jayleen laughed softly. “And of course she fell in love with Curt’s horses last weekend. I expect he and I will be taking lots of trail rides this summer with the young’uns. Eric loves to ride. He’s pretty good, too. Cassie will be a fast learner. I can tell by how she handled herself last weekend.”
“I kind of figured she’d fall in love with your ranch. And the alpacas.”
Jayleen leaned back in the chair. “Yeah, she took to those critters like a duck to water.” She glanced around the garden and toward the remodeled garage. “Have Hal and Malcolm finished up? I don’t see Hal’s truck.”
“I think they have. They were painting inside the last time I saw them here.” Kelly paused, deciding how to tell Jayleen what she’d learned from Burt earlier. “Maybe Hal is taking some time at home. He’s got a lot on his mind, from what I’ve heard.”
That statement caught Jayleen’s attention right away, and she peered at Kelly, clearly curious. “What have you heard, Kelly? Have police charged Malcolm or something? From what Burt told me, it looked like old Malcolm was at the top of their suspect list.”
Kelly reached for the carafe and began to pour iced coffee into her mug. “Someone else has pushed Malcolm out of the number one spot on that list.”
“Lord have mercy! Are they suspecting Big Barb now?”
Close Knit Killer Page 17
