Prime Crime Holiday Bundle

by Cleo Coyle; Emily Brightwell; Kenneth Blanchard

  Stepping aside, Kelly surveyed her favorite specialty coffee shop in Old Town Fort Connor. Over a century old, the building’s high ceiling was still the original beaten tin imprinted with designs. The aromas of coffee, spices, and chocolate hung in the air, making Kelly hungry. She deliberately turned away from the glass case containing to-die-for desserts. The shop was jammed with holiday shoppers doing exactly the same thing she was—taking a caffeine and sugar break before facing the crowds again.

  The barista handed over the latte, and Kelly inhaled the sweet aromas she always associated with the holidays—cinnamon, cloves, allspice, nutmeg. All mixed into something sweet with caffeine. Now, if she could just finish her shopping before the sugar put her to sleep. All she had left to buy was wrapping paper and gift tags. Tomorrow night would be the perfect time to wrap Steve’s gifts while he was out at a local builders’ meeting. Tonight was another tennis match with Megan and Marty.

  Kelly took a sip and savored the drink while she wove her way around the customers and tables. Late morning sun highlighted the colors of the mural of Van Gogh’s Starry Night that was painted on the wall. As she neared the doorway, she recognized a young woman entering the shop. Her dark hair was pushed up under a knit cloche hat and a fabric baby carrier hung around her neck and shoulders. Inside the carrier was a sleeping baby.

  “Lucy! I haven’t seen you for weeks. How’re you doing?”

  “Hey, Kelly, I’m doing great. It’s good to see you. By the way, I’ve finally spun the last bag of your Wyoming wool. I’ll get it to you next week if you like.”

  Kelly gave a dismissive wave. “Naw, wait till after Christmas. I’m keeping that one for myself.” She leaned over and checked the snoozing babe. “Wow, he’s gotten so much bigger.”

  “Yeah, he’s gonna be a big boy, aren’t you, David?” Lucy said, stroking the front of his snowsuit.

  “Are you coming to the Lambspun Christmas party?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. You know Lambspun is like my family. Thanks to you guys, my spinning business is doing really well.” Her pretty face spread with a smile.

  “Everyone will be there, so you’ll get a chance to catch up. It’s on Christmas Eve this year, because some of us are helping at the Saint Mark’s family service that afternoon.” She held up crossed fingers. “Jennifer and I took over Hilda and Lizzie’s teenagers last night. They’re doing the Nativity story, and believe me, it’s a challenge.”

  Lucy laughed. “Hilda and Lizzie told me all about it. I’ll be at the service, so I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you and Jennifer.”

  Kelly could remember when Lucy didn’t have much to laugh about. A year ago Lucy was pregnant and abandoned by her cheating lover—and the prime suspect in his murder.

  “Thanks, Lucy. Jennifer and I will need all the good wishes we can get.” Her cell phone jangled then, and Kelly dug in her pocket. A business client’s number flashed on the screen. “See you next week, Lucy. Take care,” she said, waving goodbye.

  Kelly flipped her phone open as she pushed through the doorway and out into the crisp air and sunshine. Sunny, bright, and cold. Colorado cold.

  The trunk top of Kelly’s sporty red car popped open, and she lifted a huge bag of dog food from inside. Carl’s favorite kibbles. Carl started his yipping I-see-food bark as he danced beside the backyard fence. Late afternoon sunshine slanted over the foothills, ready to disappear. Sunset came early now.

  “Yes, it’s all for you, Carl,” Kelly said as she carried the bag to her front door. Digging for her keys, Kelly heard her name.

  “Hey, Kelly,” Rosa yelled across the driveway. “I need to ask you something.”

  “Sure thing,” Kelly called over her shoulder as she pushed the cottage door open. Hefting the bag into the kitchen, she plopped it onto the floor. She could off-load it into the plastic storage bin later.

  Rosa rushed into the cottage. “Kelly, did you buy one of those Christmas capes?”

  “No, I’m not really the cape type. Why?”

  “Darn,” Rosa said, deflated. “One of our best out-of-state customers called this morning, and she wants a cape, really bad. And we’re sold out, of course.”

  “Did she see a picture or something on your website?”

  “No, apparently a friend sent her a photo of hers, and now this woman is hot to have one for herself. She buys a ton of yarns regularly, so we’re trying to help her find a cape. She’s hoping to buy someone else’s, and she’s willing to pay double.”

  “Wow, she really does want one badly.”

  Rosa nodded and tucked a fallen strand of dark hair behind her ear. “Juliet only brought us seven capes. We could have sold twice that many.”

  “How are you going to track the buyers? Credit card receipts?” Kelly asked as she checked her coffeepot. Empty. Rats.

  “Yep. Six customers paid with a check or credit card. Megan, Claudia, Sheila, one newcomer to the shop, and two online customers. I’ve checked with each, and they all want to keep their capes.”

  “Sheila bought one?” Kelly asked, surprised. Sheila didn’t look like a cape type, either. And she certainly hadn’t demonstrated a flair for fashion. “Somehow, I can’t picture Sheila wearing it.”

  “I think she said it was a present for her niece.”

  “How about the last buyer? Do you have any kind of record like a receipt or something?”

  “Only one customer bought with cash, and I sold it to him. I remember his saying he was visiting Fort Connor on business, and he just happened to see our shop. Of course we have no record of his name, just the receipt.” She sighed. “That’s why I’m asking everyone I can think of. We’d really like to keep this lady from Michigan happy, if you know what I mean.” Rosa headed for the door. “I’d better get back to the shop.”

  Kelly followed her outside. “I’ll keep my ears open and ask around, Rosa. See you later.”

  A familiar red truck lumbered down the driveway. Steve. Kelly reached for the tennis rackets in her trunk before closing it. Was there still pizza in the freezer? she wondered. If not, maybe she and Steve could make a run through a fast-food place before they headed to the courts.

  “Better leave those rackets,” Steve said as he stepped down from his monster truck. Serious trucks roamed Colorado roads, scaring away the smaller ones. “Marty called and said he and Megan can’t make it tonight. So what do you say we go out to dinner?”

  “I take it you’ve already checked, and we’re out of pizza,” Kelly said, smiling as he approached. “We could steal some of Carl’s kibbles. I just bought a big bag.”

  “And risk losing an arm? I don’t think so. Carl would break through the glass door if he saw us eating his food. How about the Jazz Bistro? We haven’t been for a month.”

  “Works for me,” she said, watching Megan suddenly drive up and pull to a stop in front of the cottage.

  “Hey, how come you two can’t play tonight? Turning chicken?” Kelly made cowardly chicken squawks as Megan leaned out the car window.

  “You wish,” Megan taunted with a grin. “Naw, I’ve gotta drag Marty out shopping tonight. He’s barely bought a thing and Christmas is next week. I had to bribe him to give up tennis tonight.”

  “With what?”

  “Food, what else? I promised him a blueberry pie. And that reminds me. Can I ask you a big favor?”

  “You can ask,” Kelly teased. “What do you need?”

  “I told Mimi I’d be in charge of organizing food for the Lambspun Christmas party. Mimi and the others are simply swamped with taking care of customers. And I wondered if you would make some more of Helen’s gingersnap cookies for the party. Please, pretty please.”

  “Wow, I’m not used to someone asking me to cook anything. Let me think—”

  “Hey, we’ll be glad to make gingersnaps,” Steve interrupted. “I saw more of that stuff left in the cabinet. You know, molasses, brown sugar, and ginger. All that stuff.”

  Kelly turned and saw
the devilish grin on Steve’s face. “What’s this ‘we’ business? You just want to eat the cookie dough like last time. We pigged out. I thought we were going to the Jazz Bistro tonight.”

  “Hey, don’t change your plans for me, guys. . . .”

  “No, that’s okay, Megan. The jazz can wait. Mimi needs our help, right? And Kelly and I are both busy every night this week. So, why don’t we stay home and make cookies tonight? You know, like we did last time.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  Kelly laughed deep in her throat as she caught his meaning. She remembered the last time they made cookies. “Sure, we can stay at home tonight and . . . make cookies.”

  “Thanks, guys. I really appreciate it.”

  “Our pleasure, Megan, believe me,” Steve said.

  Sixteen

  “Carl, sit!” Kelly ordered as she walked her dog across the driveway.

  Carl hesitated just a fraction, then sat on the gravel.

  “Good dog, good sit,” Kelly said, rubbing his smooth black head. “Now, down.” She gave the hand signal to lie down. Once again, Carl hesitated a couple of seconds before complying. “Good dog!” Kelly enthused again. “Now, stay,” she ordered, hand up, signaling the command.

  She dropped the leash and backed away slowly. Carl stayed put. Until a black truck turned into the driveway and headed their way. Carl sat up quickly.

  “Okay, Carl, we’ll continue our training inside the shop,” Kelly said, snatching the leash from the gravel as the truck pulled into a space in front of Lambspun.

  REYNOLDS SHEEP BREEDERS read the white block lettering on the side of the truck.

  A tall woman in jeans and denim jacket hopped out of the truck. “Hi, there,” she called to Kelly. “Do you know if Mimi Shafer is in the shop? I’m looking for her.”

  Kelly paused on Lambspun’s front patio. When she stopped, Carl sat obediently on her left. “Good dog,” she said, patting his head before answering the woman. “Sorry, I don’t. I haven’t been inside the shop this morning.” She scanned the cars parked outside. “I don’t see her car, so I don’t think Mimi’s arrived yet.”

  “That’s okay. We can wait out here,” the woman said.

  We? Kelly wondered.

  The woman walked to the back of her truck, opened it up, and lifted out a fuzzy white bundle. An armful of fuzzy white. A small lamb rested comfortably in her arms as if used to being there.

  “Whoa, what a cute lamb,” Kelly said as the woman approached. The lamb bleated but didn’t make a move.

  Carl, however, immediately broke his sit and stood up. “Woof?”

  It was more a questioning what-the-heck-is-that bark than a declarative stay-away-from-my-house bark.

  “Carl, sit,” Kelly ordered, giving a little reminder tug on his collar to make sure he complied. “Don’t worry,” she reassured the woman. “Carl obeys pretty well, but I don’t think he’s ever seen a lamb this close. So it’s pretty darn tempting to go check it out. He’s pretty curious.”

  “That’s okay. Annie’s real used to dogs. We’ve got three sheepdogs at the ranch.” The woman leaned over and held Annie’s hooves close enough for Carl to sniff.

  Carl sniffed each hoof thoroughly while Annie gave an occasional bleat.

  “Whoa, she’s so tame,” Kelly said, unable to resist stroking Annie’s fuzzy white side. Soft white wool. Very familiar to the touch. A little rough in its natural state, still on the sheep.

  “She should be. We raised her from birth after her mother died. We had to bottle-feed her by hand.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “No, I’m not,” the woman said with a laugh. “Round the clock, too. My husband and I took the night shifts.”

  “Whoa, no wonder she’s so docile.” Kelly stroked again, while Annie hung in her owner’s arms contentedly. She looked up at Kelly with jet black eyes.

  “Baaaah!”

  “She is so cute,” Kelly said, rubbing Annie’s little head, her little round nose. She could feel Carl scowling at her, so she reached over to pat his head. “You’re cute, too, Carl, even if you’re not little and cuddly.”

  “Yeah, my kids just fell in love with her from the start. After a few days of hand-feeding this wee little fuzz ball, I looked at my husband and said, ‘This one is definitely not going to auction.’ By the way, I’m Shelly Reynolds.” She reached a hand out beneath Annie.

  Kelly shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Shelly. I’m Kelly Flynn. And I think you made a good call. Does she live in the barn now that she’s bigger?”

  “Oh, no.” Shelly shook her head. “She’s in the house with us. She’s even housebroken, believe it or not.”

  Kelly rolled her eyes. “Oh, my gosh. Don’t tell me how easy she was, or you’ll give Carl a complex. He’s peeved enough as it is.”

  “I hear you. We have to give the dogs enough time as well.” She set Annie on the ground beside them. Annie bleated twice and set about exploring the stone steps of the patio. “Animals truly rule around our place, I guess.”

  “Your ranch is near Wellesley?” Kelly pointed toward the sign on the truck.

  “Yeah, on County Road 17, near the intersection with County Road 68. It’s been in my husband’s family for generations.”

  “You know, my aunt and uncle raised sheep. They owned all this land once upon a time,” Kelly said, gesturing toward the stretch of golf course, which extended all the way to the river that cut diagonally through Fort Connor. “I can still remember coming here as a little girl and seeing Uncle Jim out in the pastures.” She watched Annie sniff the shrubbery bordering the stone patio. “They kept it going as long as they could make a profit, then times got bad and they had to sell the sheep. Uncle Jim started working for the state land service after that. They boarded horses, too.”

  “You know, I remember Helen and Jim coming to visit my father-in-law years ago. I grew up here, too, so I remember them. You must be their niece from the East. Mimi said you’d moved back to town.”

  Kelly nodded. “Yep. Helen’s cottage is mine now. Complete with mortgage.”

  Shelly laughed a throaty laugh. “Isn’t that the truth.”

  A familiar car pulled into the driveway then. “There’s Mimi now,” Kelly said, getting an idea. “Are you and Annie here for a visit? Because Mimi and the others could sure use a stress reliever right now. Annie is just the ticket. Fuzzy and cute.”

  “Actually, Mimi and I met at the community bazaar last weekend. We brought some sheep and goats for the petting zoo. And Annie posed for pictures. Ever since a story appeared in the newspaper about her, we’ve had schools and church groups ask for her to come for kids’ events and such.”

  “Really? Hey, you’re a celebrity, Annie.”

  Annie couldn’t be bothered to reply. She was much too interested in sniffing and sampling dried plants beneath the shrubbery.

  “Hey, Mimi, you should let us take your picture with Annie, here. She’s a celeb. You can use it in your holiday ad,” Kelly said as Mimi walked toward them.

  “That’s a cute idea, Kelly. Maybe I will.” Mimi reached down and stroked Annie, who glanced up and bleated once, then returned to nibbling plants.

  Meanwhile, Carl sulked beside Kelly, head on his outstretched paws. “You-Know-Who is jealous, so you’d best pay some attention to him,” Kelly added.

  “Oh, of course,” Mimi said, coming over to stroke Carl’s head. “We’ll make sure to take a photo of Carl, too. He’s such a handsome dog, aren’t you, Carl?”

  Carl lifted his head regally. Noblesse oblige. It was about time someone paid heed.

  “I’ll make sure Carl’s ready for his photo op.” She patted her left leg in the signal to heel and quickly headed down the stone pathway that wound around the shop to the back, Carl falling into step beside Kelly. Pete’s café and caffeine awaited.

  “Good job, Carl,” Shelly called after them.

  Annie watched Carl trot away and bleated once, then returned to nibbling dead grass.

&nbs
p; “I’m afraid doggies aren’t allowed in the café, Carl,” Kelly said as she approached the back door. “So you’ll have to wait outside.” Draping Carl’s leash around a banister, she gave him the down and stay commands before racing up the steps.

  Jennifer greeted Kelly as she came through the door. “I saw you coming, so I figured I’d save you the time.” She poured a large mug of coffee and handed it to Kelly. “No need to keep Carl waiting. I’ll be over on break in a few minutes.”

  “Wow, now that’s what I call service,” Kelly said, accepting the mug. “Is anyone else at the table?”

  “Oh, yeah, and they can use your help, too. So it’s a good thing you’ve finished Steve’s scarf,” Jennifer said as she returned to her customers.

  Help with what? Kelly wondered as she took a sip of the black brew and hastened outside. Carl was dutifully waiting.

  “Good dog, Carl!” she praised him, giving another head rub before patting her left leg. Carl immediately rose to walk beside her all the way to the shop.

  Kelly couldn’t believe it. She was knitting another hat. A hat for the shop, too. For sale, yet. Kelly still couldn’t grasp the concept that someone, anyone, would actually pay money for her knitting. Imagine that!

  But according to Mimi, some poor unsuspecting person was going to buy her hat, wrap it up, and present it to another unsuspecting person as a gift. Her knitted hat. Who would have thought?

  Lambspun needed hats quickly. They’d sold out last weekend, and customers were still coming in asking for the “special” knitted hats. Special because of the colorful yarns Mimi created when dying the fibers. Mimi’s answer was to recruit every Lambspun regular to knit hats—as many hats as they could between now and Christmas. And knit them fast. She would supply the yarns for the last-minute knitting sessions. She’d even brought pizza.

  Kelly looked around the library table, crowded with knitters like herself who’d answered Mimi’s call. All of them knitting hats. Kids’ hats. Baby hats. Ski hats. Hats with pom-poms. Hats with tassels. Striped, solid, patterned. All kinds of hats. Kelly had chosen one of Mimi’s gorgeous variegated yarns—bubblegum pink, deep rose, and fuchsia. So far, the knitted cloche was turning out exactly the way it should. Thanks to the circular needles, all Kelly had to do was the knit stitch and stockinette magically formed.