Lizzie smiled obediently as she toyed with her coffee cup. Claudia had touched neither pastry nor coffee. Kelly took a deep drink of her own coffee, searching for the right words to say what she wanted to say. Finally, she simply blurted out her feelings.
“Claudia, I can’t tell you how sorry I am about your, uh, your legal situation. I wish there was something I could do to help, but . . .” Her voice trailed off.
Claudia looked up and stared directly into Kelly’s eyes. “You’ve already helped, Kelly. You found wonderful young Marty to represent me. He’s an excellent lawyer and smart as a whip, too. He’ll save me. I know he will.” Claudia nodded with fervor, her eyes alight.
Kelly felt her heart squeeze. No matter how smart or how fine a lawyer Marty was, he couldn’t change the facts in the case. Claudia looked guilty as hell. And Lawyer Marty couldn’t “save” her from the facts.
Since Claudia had already opened that door, Kelly decided to walk right through it. “Marty said you told him you never left the motel that night.”
“I didn’t, Kelly. Please believe me!” Claudia swore earnestly as she leaned forward. “I never left the motel. Besides, I don’t even know that woman, Juliet Renfrow. I’ve never even met her.”
“When did you leave that evening, Lizzie?”
Lizzie stared at her cup. “I left around eight o’clock or so. It was getting close to my bedtime, I’m afraid.” She glanced up with a contrite expression. “Oh, how I wish I’d stayed later. Then Claudia would have an . . . an alibi, isn’t that what they call it?”
Kelly had to smile. “That’s okay, Lizzie. You can’t worry about such things.” Turning to Claudia again, she said, “Think back, Claudia. Was there anything you did that might prove you were in your room? Did you order food? Anything at all?”
Claudia frowned for a moment. “No, I didn’t. Lizzie was kind enough to bring me something from the restaurant down the street before she left.” She shook her head. “No one came to the door. I stayed in and tried to watch television. Then my daughter called, and I talked to her for quite a while.”
“Hey, that’s something,” Kelly said, feeling a little rush of excitement.
The excitement of discovery. The discovery of clues. Kelly hadn’t poked around in any crimes since last winter. “Sleuthing,” as her friends called it. She’d forgotten how addictive it could be. And how dangerous.
“When did your daughter call? Can you remember?”
“Uhhhh, it was later that evening. I can’t remember exactly.”
Later in the evening. Juliet Renfrow was hit and killed later in the evening, when she walked back to her home from Jeremy’s house. “Claudia, did you tell Marty about your daughter’s call?”
Claudia looked away. “I . . . I can’t remember. Everything about yesterday is just a blur. Maybe I didn’t tell him.”
Lizzie reached over and placed her hand on Claudia’s arm. “You must call him, dear. Right now. Your daughter’s phone call could prove that you were here in the motel that night.”
“Yes . . . you’re right. I’ll call him . . . right away,” Claudia said, glancing about the room. “Have you seen my cell phone?”
That was Kelly’s next question, and Claudia just answered it. Claudia had a cell phone. Cell phones were portable. If Claudia’s daughter did indeed call her mother in late evening, the fact that Claudia’s call came in on a cell phone would prove nothing. As far as the police were concerned, Claudia could have been parked in her car on the street, talking with her daughter while she waited for Juliet Renfrow to appear.
“That’s a good idea,” Kelly encouraged anyway. “Marty can contact your daughter and obtain her phone records as well as yours.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful news!” Lizzie exclaimed. “It will prove Claudia’s innocent!”
Kelly couldn’t let them build up false hope. It would be unkind. “Well, not exactly, Lizzie. Since Claudia has a cell phone, which is portable, the police won’t consider it proof that Claudia was in her motel room.”
Lizzie’s happiness deflated in an instant, like a child’s popped birthday balloon. She bit her lip.
Claudia appeared crestfallen. “You’re right, Kelly,” she murmured. “But . . . but what about a call here in the room? My daughter had to call me twice, because my cell phone battery was low. And she called me the second time here in the motel room.”
Kelly stared back into Claudia’s eyes. Her gaze was clear and open. Honest and sincere. She appeared to be telling the truth. Why then was there a little niggling doubt in the back of Kelly’s mind?
Why hadn’t Claudia remembered that crucial information before? If there were phone records, they would show the motel phone number. Maybe that could help prove Claudia’s whereabouts. Why then hadn’t she remembered it until now, after Kelly told her the cell phone wouldn’t prove anything?
“Claudia, you need to call Marty right away and tell him all of this. It’s important,” Kelly said as she stood up. “I’ve got to leave for the bazaar, but I’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you, Kelly,” Claudia said as she dug in her purse. “I’ll call Marty right now. You’re a lifesaver.”
Kelly didn’t reply. She simply walked to the door, Lizzie accompanying her. “Give me a call later, will you, Lizzie?”
“Oh, yes, dear, I certainly will.” Lizzie’s excited coloring had returned.
“Has anyone come to relieve you? Have you gotten to church?” Heaven help that the churchgoing Lizzie would miss Sunday Mass.
“Actually, I’ve convinced Claudia to come with me. We’re going to the twelve noon service.” Lizzie glanced over her shoulder at Claudia, who was already engaged in a phone conversation. “Claudia needs to get out of this room and back with people, but she’s afraid that no one will speak to her. She’s convinced everyone in town is gossiping about her. Even so, I’m going to do my very best to take her out. Even if I have to force her.”
Kelly saw the determination on the elderly knitter’s face. “That’s a good idea, Lizzie. And a church service is a good place to start,” she said as she opened the door. “Better say a prayer for Claudia.”
Kelly leaned against the knitting booth’s front table. It was nearly empty. The last of the Hats for the Homeless had flown off the tables as if they had wings. Lambspun sweaters, scarves, crocheted shawls, felted purses, everything fiber-related went like veritable hotcakes. Clearly, the throngs that clogged the bazaar aisles were doing their Christmas shopping.
Now all Kelly had to do was finish hers. She’d only gotten four presents yesterday. Lisa, Megan, Jennifer, and Mimi. She was seriously behind on shopping. Once Megan came to relieve her, Kelly could join the holiday hordes once again.
A middle-aged woman walked up to the booth beside Kelly’s. Quickly shedding her winter coat, she set about arranging the stacks of fliers and brochures that littered the front table. They all advertised an antique shop on the southern edge of Fort Connor.
“I was wondering if someone would show up at your booth today,” Kelly said. “There were several people working yesterday.”
The woman glanced up with a smile. “Those were mostly family members. I had to man the shop all day.”
Kelly remembered a comment Mimi made at Thanksgiving. “So, you’re the antique shop owner. I think we have a mutual friend, Mimi Shafer.”
“Oh, yes. Mimi and I go way back,” the woman said as she approached. “From the days when we were first young professors’ wives here in town. Getting used to the university life and Fort Connor. Of course, Fort Connor was much smaller then.”
Kelly extended her hand. “I’m Kelly Flynn, and I think Mimi must have mentioned me. I sold an older farmhouse in Wyoming last summer, and it was filled with antiques. My cousin Martha had quite a collection.”
The woman’s eyes lit up. “Ohhhh, yes! I remember Mimi telling me about that. Apparently she’d seen them, too. She said you had some lovely pieces. She also mentioned you might be interested in sell
ing some.”
Kelly shrugged good-naturedly. “Not yet, I’m afraid. I want to wait and see if I find a house I like. Nothing has struck my fancy yet. Meanwhile, they’re all in storage.”
“Well, if you change your mind, please give me a call.” She handed Kelly a business card. Then, glancing to the side, she said, “Sheila, you didn’t have to come in again today. My daughter said you worked last night.”
Sheila Miller approached, dark blue winter jacket dangling over her arm. “It’s the holiday season, and I wanted to be useful,” she said, darting a look at Kelly.
Kelly decided to stifle any annoyance or dislike she might feel toward Sheila and be friendly. In the spirit of the holidays. “Hey, Sheila. Looks like you’re doing double duty like me. Didn’t I see you the other night at Saint Mark’s helping with the children’s knitting projects?”
Clearly surprised at Kelly’s pleasant observation, Sheila managed to return Kelly’s smile. “Yes, I’ve been trying to help them every night for a couple of weeks now, so the kids could finish on time. Besides, there’s so much to do at the church, getting ready for the holidays.” Her smile widened, and Kelly watched Sheila’s normally stern expression melt away.
“Good for you. Jennifer and I have only been able to manage a few nights. But Hilda and Lizzie have been working every night, especially since . . .” She left the rest of the sentence dangling to avoid any mention of Juliet Renfrow’s death.
Sheila’s expression sobered anyway. “Yes, they’re organizing everything at Saint Mark’s, it seems. I heard they’re even in charge of the Nativity portion of the Christmas Eve family service. Now that’s a job I wouldn’t want. Teenagers are nothing but trouble, from what I’ve seen.”
Kelly had to laugh. Sheila Miller actually had a sense of humor. Who would have thought? Turning her attention back to the browsing bazaar shoppers strolling past, Kelly called out, “Holiday hats and mittens! Only a few left.”
Three women approached the antique booth, and Kelly recognized them as some of Mimi’s new crochet students. They were also the same ones who had clustered near Hilda and Sheila at the knitting table the other day. They were the Anti-Claudia group and had been asked to leave with all the rest of the arguing fiber folk.
“Sheila, have you heard?” one of the women said as she raced up, the others close behind.
“Claudia Miller killed Juliet Renfrow!” another interrupted as they clustered about the front table.
“I told you she was desperate, didn’t I?” another barbed, jabbing her friend’s shoulder.
Sheila caught Kelly’s gaze briefly then turned her attention back to the hovering gossipers. “Yes, yes, I’ve heard. It’s simply awful, isn’t it? Claudia’s behavior has shocked even me, and I thought I’d seen everything.”
Kelly started rearranging the assortment of yarns left for sale, while she stayed attuned to the conversation nearby.
“I heard the police want to put her in jail!” the first woman announced.
“How awful!” another declared.
“Serves her right. She’s a murderer.” The third emphasized the word.
Kelly had to bite her tongue to keep from responding to the vicious gossip. Claudia wasn’t imagining things. The news of Claudia’s implication in Juliet’s death was spreading faster than a Colorado wildfire.
“Away in a manger . . .” the recorded choir sang overhead. Kelly shuffled her grip on her packages so she could grasp the Cinnamon Spiced Latte the young barista handed over the counter.
“Thanks,” Kelly said before weaving her way through the crush of holiday shoppers who’d decided to take a sugar break the same time she did. Maneuvering around them, Kelly escaped the popular mall coffee shop and headed toward the central plaza. She vowed to keep shopping until she’d found at least one more present for Steve.
Since Megan had relieved her at the bazaar booth, Kelly had been shopping all afternoon. She’d been to three outdoor shopping centers and several niche brand-name shops. All in the hunt for the “perfect” gift for Steve. So far, she hadn’t found it.
Tools? He had everything.
Cologne? The one he used was her favorite.
Music? She’d already created a mix of his favorites. Ready for Steve to download onto his music player.
She’d also bought him new tennis warm-ups. And found the latest novel from his favorite mystery author.
But she needed another gift.
In desperation, Kelly fell back on the tried-and-true holiday present that women everywhere—be they wives, mothers, girlfriends, or daughters—fall back on when they can’t think of anything else to buy for the men in their lives.
The Holiday Sweater.
She’d already searched through all the trendy brand-name shops and found several sweaters she knew he’d like. They were all soft and lush with deep forest colors. Steve would love any of them.
Kelly looked down the length of the mall to the department store anchoring one end. Big-Name Department Store. It beckoned, too. It would be awash in men’s sweaters and women pawing through them. Good, solid, Establishment sweaters.
Hmmmm. Establishment sweater or Trendy Brand-Name sweater. Decisions, decisions.
She took a sip of the sugary coffee. It almost made her teeth ache. Pausing near the central plaza, Kelly looked up at the huge Christmas tree dominating the center of the mall. Oversized decorations of every description hung from the branches as lights twinkled.
She wanted something else for Steve. Something different and unique. A sweater just wasn’t unique. What else could she find?
Sipping the sweet drink, Kelly watched Santa’s elves guide waiting children into line for their Santa visits. The younger children wiggled and danced about, barely able to contain their excitement. Older children bided their time, watching the model train circle around the Christmas tree, its track rising onto three levels.
Kelly sipped and watched the little locomotive choo-choo its way around the evergreen branches. Train whistle blowing that sharp tinny sound. Around and around . . .
A train. Why not? She’d had a train when she was a kid. Maybe Steve had, too. Kelly remembered how much fun she and her dad had had setting it up every year. Trains were fun. Sure, it would be a frivolous gift, but it was definitely unique. Would Steve like it?
She pondered that for a moment as the little engine pulled its colorful cars around the multilevel track again and again.
Okay . . . how about a sweater and the train set? Traditional and unique. Now, that felt right.
Kelly drained the sugary coffee and looked for a trash can. Time to go back on the Hunt. Face the crowds again. Somehow, she’d found a whole new enthusiasm for shopping.
Thirteen
Kelly pushed open the front door of Lambspun with her back, as she maneuvered a large cardboard box through the doorway and into the foyer. She spotted Hilda sorting through a yarn bin.
“Hey, Hilda, I didn’t see you at the bazaar,” she greeted the elderly knitter. “How’s your holiday knitting coming along?”
“I’m starting my last baby blanket today,” Hilda said, comparing yarns. “That is, if I can decide between pink rose and lilac lavender. Is that the balance of the bazaar items? I saw Burt and Mimi outside unloading their cars.”
“Yeah, I thought I’d give them a hand. But I should have worn my jacket. It’s chillier now than when I ran earlier this morning.” She headed for the main room and plopped the box on the library table.
“If there are any hats, gloves, or mittens left, I can always take them to the homeless shelter for their giveaway box,” Hilda said as she followed after Kelly.
“They’re all gone,” Kelly announced as she opened the box. “Also the felted purses and crocheted afghans and knitted chenille washcloths sold out. In fact, everything fiber-related was sold. Even the yarn is gone. Lisa closed up the booth last night, and she must have had a going-out-of-business sale. This box is full of stickers and credit card vouchers and odd
s and ends. Oh, and a snow globe Mimi bought at the last minute.”
Kelly gave the small glass-encased wintry scene a shake, sending miniature snowflakes swirling as she set it on the table.
Hilda smiled. Kelly remarked to herself that it was the first time she’d seen Hilda smile for quite a while. She seemed subdued, somehow. Kelly surmised that Lizzie’s frequent absences to babysit Claudia had been difficult for Hilda. She’d been alone more than usual. Kelly also guessed that the rift that had occurred between the two sisters weighed heavily on both their minds. They’d been lifetime companions and good company for each other.
“I’m so glad the sale was successful. And I’m sure it was all due to you and the others. Your youthful enthusiasm is contagious.” Hilda settled at the end of the table in her usual spot.
Kelly started unloading office supplies and other items from the box. “How are you doing, Hilda? You seem quieter than usual.”
Hilda picked up a knitting needle and started casting on with the lavender yarn. “Well, I must confess, I’ve been a bit overwhelmed lately. What with all the extra activities at church, I’ve barely had time to knit. That’s why I’m so late in finishing my Christmas gifts.”
“I can imagine you’re overwhelmed. I heard that you and Lizzie stepped in to take over most of Saint Mark’s holiday preparations after Juliet died. You need to take care of yourself, Hilda. You’re not as young as Juliet.”
“Mind your tongue, miss,” Hilda said, arching a brow, a hint of her old self peeking out.
Kelly smiled. “Let me rephrase. You’re not as young as you used to be, okay? You shouldn’t wear yourself out. Is there anything Jennifer and I can do to help? We worked with the kids’ knitting group several times.”
Hilda’s busy needles stilled, and she looked up. “Well, now that you mention it, Kelly. There is one holiday event that is not going very well, and Lizzie and I are at a loss as to how to proceed. Perhaps you and Jennifer could bring your youthful eyes and enthusiasm to the task.”
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