“No, I’m afraid Hal Nelson has claimed that spot now.”
Jayleen’s eyes popped wide. “What? That’s crazy! Hal Nelson couldn’t kill anyone! What in hell is wrong with the police?”
“They have a witness who saw Hal talking to Rizzoli in his car that evening, right in the driveway in the same place Rizzoli was found dead the next morning. The temporary cook who replaced Pete also works at that new brewery café across the street. Burt told me this morning that the cops questioned Frank yesterday, and he recalled seeing Rizzoli’s parked car in the driveway. Apparently Frank the cook recognized the car and he recognized the man talking to Rizzoli. Frank had seen Hal come into the café several times while he was substituting for Pete. Burt even said he described Hal’s blue jacket.”
Jayleen stared at Kelly, her expression half shock, half anger. “Damnation! What in hell would Hal Nelson be talking to Rizzoli for?”
“That’s where it gets sticky. Burt told me police found a connection between Hal and Rizzoli. Years ago, Hal’s mother lost all her life savings in Rizzoli’s Ponzi scheme.”
“Oh, Lord . . .” Jayleen wagged her head.
“And what makes it doubly tragic, Hal’s mother’s breast cancer returned about a year or so later, and she died. Apparently Hal was one of the Fort Connor residents who wrote to the newspaper with the story. He claimed his mother’s despair at losing everything she’d worked and saved for over a lifetime caused her cancer to return and kill her.”
“Good Lord almighty . . .” Jayleen whispered, her face reflecting her obvious sorrow.
“It’s simply awful. I still can’t believe Hal Nelson would kill Rizzoli, but . . .” Kelly let her words drift away. She had nothing else to say.
Jayleen stared out over the golf course. “God have mercy on Hal Nelson. He’s gonna need it.”
Seventeen
“I’m going to be out of the office until the middle of next week,” Don Warner said. “Let me call you when I’m back and we’ll find a time to meet. I want to go over some of my ideas for projects.”
“Sounds good, Don,” Kelly said, cradling her cell phone between her chin and shoulder as she gathered file folders together. “Knowing you, I’m sure you’ve got lots of plans already.”
Warner’s chuckle sounded over the line. “You can say that again, Kelly. I’ll talk with you next week.”
“You got it,” Kelly said, then clicked off her phone and dropped it into her briefcase along with her laptop and files. Grabbing her empty coffee mug from the kitchen counter, she left the cottage and headed across the driveway toward Pete’s café. At nine thirty in the morning, it was time for another shot of high-voltage caffeine. Her brewed coffee was good, but Eduardo’s was way better. Another dimension of good.
As she walked across the driveway, Kelly spotted Hal Nelson standing in the doorway of the newly remodeled garage. She slowed for a second, wondering whether Hal would want to talk, then decided to simply ask.
“Hey, Hal, do you have a minute?” she called out as she gave him a wave. “I was going to have a cup of coffee in the garden here. Why don’t you join me?”
Nelson glanced up, then smiled. “Sure, Kelly,” he said, and walked over to her as she stood on the sidewalk beside the garden entrance.
Kelly noticed Hal Nelson had a haggard look to his face now that she hadn’t seen before. Being a police suspect in a murder investigation could certainly do that to you, she figured. Dropping her briefcase on one of the wrought-iron tables, Kelly pulled out a chair for herself and gestured across the table for Hal to do the same. “I need some of Eduardo’s high-octane brew. How about you?”
“Don’t mind if I do, Kelly,” Hal said, settling into a chair. He gave her a crooked smile. “I’m afraid my first two mugs of coffee have already worn off.”
“I know just how you feel,” Kelly said as Julie walked up to them, pad and pen at the ready.
“You two going to have some breakfast?” Julie asked.
“No, we just want some of Eduardo’s strong coffee,” Kelly said with a smile. “Mugs would be better. Cups don’t hold enough for the likes of us.”
“You got it.” Julie laughed as she scribbled, then hurried off.
Kelly looked over at Hal Nelson. “How’re you doing, Hal? I mean, how’re you really doing? Burt told me what happened with Frank the temp cook’s statement to police.”
Nelson glanced down at his big hands in his lap. “I kinda figured you had something on your mind, Kelly. I’ve been able to tell that about you while I’ve worked here.” He looked up and met her gaze. “I’m doing okay. Not great, as you can imagine. It really knocks your legs out from under you to learn that police think you killed a man.” He shook his head slowly. “Lord help me, I never intentionally hurt anyone in my life, Kelly. So, it’s hard for me to even comprehend all of this.”
“Well, for the record, Hal, I believe you. And so does Burt.”
An unmistakable look of gratitude appeared in Nelson’s eyes. “Thank you, Kelly. That means a lot.”
“Unfortunately, you were one of the few people who saw Rizzoli while he was still alive that night,” Kelly continued. “We know that Malcolm was in the vicinity, but he’d been drinking. So who knows if he saw or spoke to Rizzoli.”
Nelson shook his head firmly. “I never saw Malcolm anywhere around here that evening. So he couldn’t be involved.”
Kelly stared at Hal Nelson, still protecting Malcolm even at his own expense. Hal rose even higher in her estimation. Other men would have eagerly grabbed at the chance to incriminate someone else so they could shift attention from themselves.
“I was very sorry to hear about your mother’s struggle with cancer,” Kelly said in a quiet voice. “That must have been heartbreaking for you to watch. I watched my father battle lung cancer, only to lose eventually. So, I have an idea of the sense of loss you must have felt.”
Nelson stared solemnly at Kelly for a long moment. “I can truthfully say that was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Watch my mother’s life ebb away slowly . . . and I was unable to do anything to stop it.” He looked out over the garden patio. Several breakfast diners were lingering over late breakfasts or brunches. “She was such a gentle soul. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Julie appeared then with two large mugs of coffee. “I already know how both of you take it, so dive in and inhale that caffeine, you two.”
“Thanks, Julie,” Kelly said as the cheerful waitress scurried away to tend other customers. She looked across at Hal. “I know what you mean, Hal. My father was an easygoing, good-natured guy, a great dad, and a good friend to everyone who knew him. Part of me still feels cheated that he was taken away too early. But then . . . I have to admit that Dad did help that cancer grab hold of him. He was a lifetime smoker.” She frowned. “I kept telling him to quit, but he couldn’t seem to do it.”
Hal exhaled a long breath. “Yeah, my mom couldn’t quit, either. She said it helped calm her nerves.” He wagged his head again. “Until she got cancer the first time. That scared her, and she stopped finally. And she beat it, bless her heart.” His mouth tightened. “She’d beat it, then that bastard Rizzoli stole all her money. That’s what broke her heart. You can never convince me that wasn’t the reason my mother’s cancer returned. It was Rizzoli’s fault she fell into despair and died. Damn him!”
Kelly saw the remnants of anger flash through Nelson’s eyes and realized that the memories of his mother’s tragic death were still very much alive in Hal Nelson’s heart and mind. That made Kelly a little uneasy, and she decided to probe gently.
“I can understand your feelings, Hal. I would feel the same if it had happened to my father. Is that why you went to talk to Rizzoli that evening?”
He glanced over at her, then out into the patio garden again. “Not at first. I saw Rizzoli pull into the driveway when I was getting into my car. I’d just left a remodeling invoice for Mimi and Burt in their mailbox so I was standing there as he pul
led in. I decided to set Rizzoli straight about Malcolm. Tell him about Malcolm’s struggles and how he’d turned his life around. And then . . . tell him about my mother.” He shrugged.
“What did Rizzoli say when you told him all that?” Kelly asked, leaning her elbows on the table as she sipped from the large coffee mug.
Hal Nelson looked over at her with a jaded expression. “Nothing. He didn’t say a word. He simply stared coldly at me as I told him about Malcolm and my mother. He just stared at me like I was wasting his time.” He scowled as he glanced away. “Coldhearted bastard.”
Kelly watched him carefully. “And you told the police all this, right?”
“Of course. I told them everything I just told you now. They asked me what I did after I spoke to Rizzoli, and I told them I walked away and got into my truck. I watched Rizzoli park his car. He was still sitting there when I drove off, like he was waiting for someone.”
The “mystery text.” The text sent from Jennifer’s missing cell phone. The text sent to Rizzoli asking him to meet her in the Lambspun parking lot that evening at seven o’clock. That was why Rizzoli was sitting in his car, looking like he was waiting. He was waiting. But unbeknownst to him, he was waiting for the killer.
She looked at Hal. Clearly he was still angry at what had happened to his mother years ago. But was he angry enough to kill a man? The murder weapon was a knife that came from his toolbox. Could he have killed Rizzoli in a sudden act of rage? If so, Hal was a skilled liar. He appeared honest and sincere. Was he?
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am about what’s happening with you, Hal. I wish I could help in some way, but . . .”
Hal smiled at her. “I appreciate it, Kelly. Just knowing you believe in me is help enough.”
Kelly wished that were true. But she’d been involved in too many murder investigations to believe it.
* * *
“One Wicked Burger with all the trimmings,” Jennifer said as she set Kelly’s lunch order on the café table.
“And all the calories,” Kelly joked as she scooted her chair closer to the table. She’d moved inside when the clouds darkened and the wind picked up.
Maybe this afternoon’s thunderstorm would bring rain. Yesterday’s clouds brought only lightning strikes and rumbles of thunder. All of northern Colorado needed rain. The capricious weather pattern called La Niña had stolen away the normal spring snows and rain. Nary a flake nor a drop fell the entire month of March.
Kelly couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. March was always Colorado’s snowiest month. And April and May usually brought delightful warm spring temperatures and rain showers. But not this year. There was a smattering of rain in April; then high temperatures arrived and the drying heat continued throughout May. Now it was well into June, and they’d barely had more than a few sprinkles along the Front Range.
The high heat caused their usually healthy snowpack to melt even faster. Last year’s plentiful snowstorms in the High Country left the Front Range with a snowpack that was more than 200 percent of normal. This year, even the High Country was shortchanged because of capricious La Niña. Less snowfall meant a shorter ski and snowboard season. And the snowpack was only 25 percent of normal.
They were all in Deep Drought, and the forests were bone-dry kindling. That was a dangerous situation because thunderstorms had routinely rumbled throughout Colorado’s Front Range every week since spring. They brought little to no rain but multiple lightning strikes. Brilliant, frightening lightning shows that lit up the night sky in dramatic jagged forks, flashing. Dramatic and dangerous. The majority of Colorado’s wildfires were caused by lightning strikes.
“I saw you talking to Hal Nelson outside.” Jennifer gestured through the window. “How’s he doing? I heard that Frank saw him talking to Rizzoli that evening.”
Kelly popped one of the fries into her mouth and savored before answering. “He looks worn-out and ragged around the edges, as you can imagine. Being the number one police suspect for murder would make anybody depressed.” She devoured another crispy fry. “This is the most heartbreaking murder investigation I’ve ever witnessed since I’ve been here in Fort Connor.”
“You mean since you’ve been sleuthing around?” Jennifer teased as she leaned her hand on her hip.
“Yeah, I guess so. I mean, it’s so awful. Every one of the police suspects is someone we know and care about. That’s awful! I’ve known Barb the longest, and I guess Malcolm would be next, but I’ve grown really fond of Hal Nelson since he’s been working here.” Kelly stared off into the café, not even seeing the other lunch customers there. “I cannot picture any of them killing Jared Rizzoli. Especially in such a brutal, bloody fashion.” She screwed up her face, picturing how Rizzoli must have been killed, according to the medical examiner.
“I know what you mean, Kelly. It makes my stomach hurt just thinking about it.”
“Jen, your order’s up,” Eduardo called from the grill counter.
“Listen, try to forget about all of that for a few minutes and enjoy your Wicked Burger. I’ll talk with you later.” Jen hurried back to the counter.
Kelly took her friend’s advice and took a big bite of the thick, juicy burger topped with melted cheese and grilled onions. Yummmm! Ohhhh, the calories, not to mention the fat. But today Kelly didn’t even care. Her conversation with Hal Nelson had left her feeling disheartened. So, her usual willpower had disappeared. Besides, what had Eduardo once said? A little grease is good for you. Or . . . was it a little fat? Wasn’t that the same thing? She couldn’t remember, but it was close enough. The Wicked Burger might not make her feel better about bad things happening to good people, but it did taste good. Wickedly good.
Barb turned the corner of the alcove into the café and noticed Kelly. Kelly gave her a wave while she swallowed another large bite of yumminess.
“Hey, Barb, how’re you doing?” Kelly beckoned her over. “Got a moment for coffee?”
“Just a couple,” Barb said as she approached, an empty coffee mug dangling from her hand. “I have to get back to the doctor’s office in half an hour.”
“Did you come over to help Madge teach a class?”
Barb perched on the edge of the chair across from Kelly at the table. “No, I brought over another of Mom’s fleeces to Mimi to sell.”
“Oh, that’s right. Mimi will be at the Wool Market this weekend with her booth. Will you be going? Do you have items that you’re going to put up on consignment at Lambspun’s vendor booth there?”
“I was thinking about it a couple of months ago, but then all this other stuff came along and distracted me, you know.” Barbara glanced off into the café. “I was going to try to spin more of Mom’s fleeces, but I never got around to it.” Her voice drifted off.
Kelly put the rest of her Wicked Burger on the plate and leaned forward over the table. “I’m sorry about everything that happened, Barb. I can’t imagine how frightening it was for you, having the police question you again and again. I can vouch from my own experience, being interrogated by a police detective is not a pleasant experience.”
Barb’s mouth twitched into a little smile, then was gone. “You’ve got that right, Kelly.”
“Have the police spoken with you this week?”
Barb looked at her intently. “No, they haven’t. Have you heard something?”
Kelly pondered how to phrase what she was about to share. “I’d heard that one of the temporary cooks saw Hal Nelson standing beside Rizzoli’s car that evening, talking to him. That makes Hal probably the last person to speak with Rizzoli.”
Barb’s eyes widened. “No! I hadn’t heard that. Why would Hal Nelson talk to Rizzoli? Did they have an argument?”
Kelly shrugged. “Who knows? I spoke to Hal this morning, and he told me he wanted to tell Rizzoli about Malcolm and how he’d remade his life. Then Hal admitted he wanted to tell Rizzoli about his own mother’s struggles with cancer. It was clear that Hal still blames Rizzoli’s robbing
his mother’s life savings for causing her cancer to return.”
“Good Lord,” Barb said, staring off into the café again. “I . . . I can’t believe that. I knew about Hal’s mother. She and Mom were good friends years ago, and Mom told me about her fight with cancer. But I never really knew Hal well. I’d seen him around town with some charitable organizations and such, that’s all.” She stared off. “Do you think police seriously consider Hal a suspect in Rizzoli’s murder?”
“I’m sad to say that they do. Burt said so. Of course, that’s awful news for Hal, but it is also good news for you, Barb,” Kelly said. “It was obvious that police considered you as a suspect, even though no one ever saw you anywhere near Lambspun that night. Now that there’s a witness placing Hal Nelson here, that certainly means you’ve dropped lower on the police radar screen. Along with Malcolm. Witnesses saw him there, but he was drunk.”
Barb released a long breath. “Lord, I hope you’re right. But I hate to tell Mom. This will really upset her. She was fond of Hal’s mother, Bernice.”
“Well, I’m sure that will be outweighed by her relief that police no longer are looking at you,” Kelly said with an encouraging smile. “She’s been so worried about you, Barb.”
“I know. Bless her heart. She worries so.”
“I remember her telling me how upset she was when you were out driving the evening of Rizzoli’s death. She said she’d gotten a bad feeling when you came home and told her you were driving in the canyon.”
Barb looked at Kelly sharply. “What? Mom wasn’t there when I got home that evening. Why would she say that?”
Kelly shrugged. “Who knows, Barb. Your mother’s been under a lot of stress watching you go through this police investigation and interrogation. She probably just got confused.”
“I guess you’re right. She has been under a lot of stress with this investigation. No wonder she’s forgetting things.” Barb smiled. “She even forgot about the neighbors’ sprinklers and walked right through them that night. Her dress was soaked when she got home.” Glancing at her watch, Barb rose. “I’d better head to my office now. Don’t want to be late. Patients will be stacked up in the waiting room. Thank you for bringing me some good news, Kelly. Good for me, that is. I appreciate that.”
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