“And I’d like both of you to meet the newest addition to the Lambspun family. This is Cassie Wainwright. She’s Pete’s niece who has lived in Denver most of her life. But now that her grandfather’s health has deteriorated, Cassie’s moved up here to live with Pete and Jennifer.” Mimi gave Cassie a big smile.
“Ah, yes, I remember your telling us about this young lady,” Hilda said, gazing at Cassie over the top her spectacles. “I’m pleased to meet you, Cassie.”
“I’m . . . pleased to meet you, too . . . ma’am,” Cassie said softly.
“Oh, and so am I, my, dear!” Lizzie gushed, her hand fluttering to her lacy bodice. “And what beautiful blue eyes you have!”
Cassie ducked her head, murmuring a soft thank-you as a flush spread across her cheeks.
Kelly shoved her laptop aside, leaned back into her chair, and watched as two lifelong schoolteachers began to draw a bashful Cassie into conversation.
Seven
Wednesday, June 13
Kelly leaned against her kitchen counter and sipped her early morning coffee, all the while listening to her real estate investor client Arthur Housemann on the other end of the phone.
“I tell you, Kelly, it’s hell, not knowing what’s happened in Poudre Canyon. I’ve gone to every single briefing the fire commandant has held. I’ve met with the police department. And no one, not one of them, will let us know the extent of the damage up there. They won’t even give us a hint. I mean, it is frustrating beyond belief!”
Kelly could recognize the sound of carefully controlled anger in her client’s voice. She’d only heard it once or twice since they’d started working together. The first time was a year ago when Arthur had been involved in a real estate transaction with a landowner who had a rather shady reputation.
Usually Arthur Housemann was the model of experienced restraint. Measured. But his property in the Poudre Canyon, right on the river, was dear to Arthur’s heart. He’d built his dreamhouse there. Consequently, anything that might threaten it was met with fierce resistance. However, none of the canyon residents had any defenses against wildfire. It was the most powerful of all adversaries.
“I hear you, Arthur. My friend Jayleen Swinson told me the same thing. None of the Bellevue Canyon residents have heard anything about their homes, either. Of course, firefighters are still putting out fires up there.”
“That’s understandable, up in Bellevue Canyon. They’ve had fires breaking out around Whale Rock and Davis Ranch roads. But our brave crew was able to beat back the flames near Poudre Park. Only a few places were lost, thankfully.”
“It’s incredible what that small crew did, Arthur,” Kelly said, pouring more coffee into her mug. “I heard that there were only a handful of volunteer firefighters on duty that night because everyone else had gone to fight the fire in Bellevue Canyon.”
“They were truly heroic, Kelly.” Emotion was evident in his voice. “That fire swept down the ridge in a horseshoe and they had to fight two prongs. Just a handful of them. Someone said they literally put their bodies between the wildfire and people’s homes. Not just once, but over and over again, in order to save them. I tell you, they deserve medals in my book.”
“I agree with you. Whenever this horrible wildfire is finally put out, the entire community should hold a celebration for those brave firefighters.” She glanced toward her desk in the corner of what was now her cottage-turned-office. Several files lay open on the top of her desk. “I’m afraid the wildfire has thrown a wrench into my normal everyday work schedule. So those midmonth projections I usually give you may be a little delayed.”
“Don’t even bother with them, Kelly. I’ve put almost everything on hold at the office while this fire is still threatening. I have a feeling no one is going to be showing land parcels to anyone for a while. At least not in Bellevue or Poudre canyons.”
“I understand, Arthur. You and your wife were uprooted in the middle of the night and evacuated from your home. I swear, I don’t think I would have handled that well at all. I would probably have argued with them.”
Arthur Housemann laughed, the first laughter she’d heard from him in days, ever since she’d first contacted him after the wildfire broke out. It was good to hear him laugh. Like her two father-figure mentors, Curt Stackhouse and Burt Parker, Kelly thought of Arthur Housemann the same way. He reminded her a lot of her own father. Smart, soft-spoken, and a savvy businessman.
“I imagine you would have, Kelly. At least, you’d have tried.” He chuckled. “But those firefighters don’t take much backtalk, so I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have changed their minds.”
“You’re probably right, Arthur. Listen, I’ll wait to send you the financial reports at the end of the month then. After all this is over. I swear it’s disrupted everyone’s life, even if they don’t live in the fire zone.”
“Yes, it has. My daughter and her family in Loveland have taken in some friends who have property around Stove Prairie, near Paradise Park. I tell you, people are displaced all over.” The sound of an incoming call beeped on his line. “Sorry, Kelly. I have another call coming in. I’ll talk to you another time.”
“Take care, Arthur. And I’ll be sending good thoughts about your Poudre Canyon home.” Kelly clicked off her phone and shoved it in her pocket.
The heat was already building, and it was only midmorning. She had client spreadsheets waiting. Work to do. But once again, it would not be comfortable working here in the cottage. There was no air conditioning. Normally, Kelly had been able to get around the few hot days in July by escaping into the knitting shop to work. But this summer was different. Hot weather had started in May and didn’t let up. Now Kelly spent more days working at Lambspun either in the café or around the knitting table. Clearly, today would be the same.
Kelly closed the file folders, loaded them and her laptop into her shoulder briefcase bag, refilled Carl’s two big water dishes, and gathered her coffee mug. “Keep an eye on those squirrels, Carl,” she called to her dog, who was snuffling around the bushes at the side fence. Carl glanced at her briefly then returned to snuffling, having picked up the elusive scent of squirrel feet. Or, perhaps, a raccoon. Kelly knew raccoons visited her yard at night as they made their nocturnal rounds, checking garbage cans for loose lids, eating grapes from people’s grapevines and arbors, then spitting the seeds all over the patios. Adding insult to injury.
Heading out her front door, Kelly checked the bright annuals that were blooming because of her faithful watering. Pink, white, and coral impatiens proudly flaunted their colors beside the hardy purple and white petunias. Miniature purple petunias snuggled next to the others, vining through the flowers. And the shade-loving violas in another container danced in the breeze beside the pansies—yellow and purple.
She started across the driveway, but she couldn’t help walking over to where there was a break in between the cottonwood trees. There, she stood and gazed westward toward the mountains, searching for any new signs of smoke. Smoke could be seen billowing up from behind the foothills, indicating that there were still fires breaking out.
Last night the wind had gusted strongly, starting in early evening and going into the night. And sure enough, Kelly spotted some new plumes of smoke rising. She’d heard on the news that fire crews were worried about wind from the southwest spreading fire north of the Poudre Canyon Road. Fires were already burning west of Stove Prairie, but fire crews were not as worried because that area was unpopulated and filled with beetle-killed pines.
Turning toward the knitting shop, Kelly spotted both Jennifer and Julie serving breakfast in the garden patio area of the café. She deliberately steered clear of the tempting favorite foods and hastened up the brick steps and into the front door of Lambspun. The cool air-conditioned air felt good.
Kelly took her time walking through the foyer, checking for new fibers displayed. Some of Mimi’s special hand-d
yed yarns sat out on the tables, luscious blends of colors twining together. Now, delicate open-weave tops were dangling from the cabinet doors of a dry sink.
She wandered into the central yarn room where wooden bins lined the available walls. Each bin spilling over with various combinations of Mimi’s hand-dyed yarns—pinks and purples, blues and turquoise, as well as the pastel shades of bamboo yarns and silky cottons.
Brilliant summer colors tumbled out of an antique trunk on the floor—Popsicle red, lemon candy yellow, lime rickey green. Kelly couldn’t resist touching, enjoying the soft brush of delicate cotton yarns.
“Hey, Kelly, how’re you doing?” Rosa asked as she walked from the main knitting room, her arms filled with magazines.
“Okay, I guess, considering what’s going on in the mountains.” Kelly dumped her mug and her shoulder bag on the long library table.
Rosa’s cheerful smile disappeared. “Oh, I know. My next door neighbors had to take in their parents because they were forced to evacuate their place in Bellevue Canyon. They’re not that far away from Jayleen’s ranch. And no one knows if their house is still there. It’s terrible.”
“I was just talking to one of my clients who built his dream house up the Poudre Canyon. He and his wife were chased out at midnight Saturday night. They have no idea if they’ll have a house to return to or not.” Kelly settled into a chair at the table and pulled out her laptop and files.
Rosa plopped the pile of magazines at the end of the table and began removing the older editions from binders and replacing them with newer ones.
“You know, I love going up into the canyons, but I tell you, I don’t ever want to live up there. I mean, it’s too risky. Wildfires can start anywhere. Even without a campfire. They’re saying that this fire started with a lightning strike.” She gestured in aggravation. “All it takes is one strike in these dry woods, and we have hundreds of lightning strikes every spring and summer.”
Mimi suddenly rushed into the room, eyes wide. “I just had a call from Burt. He’s in Landport, helping the Red Cross folks. They’re hearing that fire has spread farther into the lower Buckhorn Valley. The wind whipped it over there last night.”
Rosa gasped, hand to her mouth. “Madre de Dios!”
Kelly stared at Mimi. Curt’s ranch bordered one far edge of the Buckhorn Valley. “Oh, no! There are scores of people and ranches in the Buckhorn. They’re spread all over.”
“Did he say anything else, Mimi?” Rosa asked.
“No, he simply wanted me to know and tell everyone.” Mimi’s concern was revealed clearly on her face. “I’m going to tell Jennifer and Pete in the café.” She hurried away.
Kelly dug her cell phone from her pocket and scrolled down the directory to Jayleen’s number. She listened to it ring and ring then switch to voice mail. Not surprised, she said into the phone, “Jayleen? Kelly, here. I just heard that the fire has spread more into the lower Buckhorn Valley, and I was concerned about Curt’s ranch. I know he’s not actually in the Buckhorn, he’s south of it. But I was worried anyway. When you get a chance, please let us know what’s happening. Take care.”
With that, Kelly clicked off and glanced up at Rosa, seeing her own concern reflected on Rosa’s face. Friends, so many friends, were being put in danger, and their properties were in the path of the wildfire. The capricious, devastating wildfire. Kelly couldn’t think of a worse enemy to face. More dangerous and relentless and unpredictable than any human.
• • •
“Have you heard anything else?” Jennifer asked Kelly as she refilled her glass of iced coffee.
Kelly pushed her laptop to the side. One of Arthur Housemann’s spreadsheets on his real estate properties was open on the screen. “No, Jayleen hasn’t returned my call. But I’m not surprised. I’m sure they’re out trying to see exactly where the wildfire spread to. Outside with all that noise, neither of them would even hear their phones.”
Jennifer stared out into the lessening midafternoon lunch crowd. “Yeah, but the wind has whipped those hot cinders around, so who knows what might happen. Thank goodness Curt’s ranch isn’t right in the Buckhorn. Poor Jayleen must feel like she’s cursed. Wherever she’s taken her alpacas to for safety has become a target for the wildfire.”
“I know.” Kelly glanced around. “I didn’t see Cassie. Isn’t she with Lisa this afternoon at the Rehab Clinic? I know she was at tennis with Megan this morning.”
Jennifer smiled as she gathered Kelly’s almost empty lunch plate. Only two shreds of lettuce remained. “She was in and out again in a minute. Megan was going to take her to lunch then drop her at the Rehab Clinic to meet Lisa.”
“That’s right. It must be Wednesday. Tennis in the morning and watching physical therapists in the afternoon.”
“I swear, she comes back with stories about all sorts of injuries people have and how they’re rehabbing. She tells Pete and me everything at dinner. She even demonstrates some of the therapy Lisa and the others use. Pete and I are getting a kick out of it. Gotta get back to my other customers. Talk to you later.” Jennifer walked toward the grill counter.
Kelly returned to the accounting spreadsheets, sipping her iced coffee. Temperatures were going to reach ninety-eight or ninety-nine today, even with occasional wind gusts. Nothing affected the wind. And it created its own weather system within the wildfire. That was another reason these wildfires in the mountains were so hard to overcome. Two weather systems were in play: Mother Nature’s and the wildfire’s.
Her cell phone rang as it lay on the wooden café table. Burt’s name flashed on the screen. “Hey, Burt, I’m glad you called. Any more news on the fire spreading farther into the Buckhorn?”
“Firefighters moved even more men into those hot spots that opened up last night and early this morning. I tell you, it seems they’re throwing everything they can at it. There’re over twelve hundred firefighters on the ground now, from all over. You should see that tent city at the Armory. I glimpsed it from a distance. Guards don’t let anyone in without fire credentials.”
“Man, we can’t catch a break with this fire, can we?”
“I know it appears that way, Kelly. But these fire crews are working like crazy, twelve-hour shifts in that inferno heat, two-hundred-foot walls of flames, they’ve told me. And they’re trying to build fire lines so the fire can’t spread beyond where it’s burned. The water tanker plane helps but this fire is so strong, that’s like spitting into it.”
Kelly remembered watching the small plane make numerous trips from the Horsetooth Reservoir where it lowered its bucketlike container to refill with water, then fly out over the wildfire again to dump the water where it could help the most. “I agree with you, Burt. At least those water dumps made a difference when the fire spread to Soldier Canyon. Of course, that was a smaller outbreak.”
“And they could jump on it right away, too.”
Kelly heard noise in the background. “Where are you? Running errands?”
“Yeah, I’m picking up stuff for the volunteers who’re out at the Ranch. Oh, that reminds me. I finally heard from my old partner Dan at the department. He’s taking over Andrea’s case. I’m glad. He told me the medical examiner took a look at her and made his report. Cause of death was a broken neck. That’s what we all figured. I mean, that’s what would happen to any of us if we fell down a flight of wooden steps and landed on the rocky ground. Examination indicates she landed on her back because that’s where the major tissue and bone damage were. The department is treating it as an accidental death. No doubt caused when Andrea was trying to evacuate her home when the wildfire started in the canyon.”
“That makes sense. I mean, we would all be rushing about trying to grab things to take with us. I saw those steps, and they were steep.”
Kelly pictured Andrea tripping then falling and hitting the rocky ground. She screwed up her face at the brutal scene.
“Poor Andrea. I surely hope she lost consciousness as soon as she hit the ground. That sounds like an awful way to die. I’d hate to think of her lying there in pain, dying.” She involuntarily shivered.
“She probably died right away, Kelly. Her neck would have snapped.”
Not wishing to picture Andrea’s broken body lying on the ground anymore, Kelly switched subjects slightly. “You know, I’ve wondered about something, Burt. Everyone, including the medical examiner, has decided this was a terrible accident. Does that mean the police won’t question anyone who was with Andrea that day? There were actually a lot of us who saw her on Saturday.”
“Oh, no. Police will definitely question everyone who was with her that day, including you and the gang. But it could take a while. Police are stretched thin with this fire, so there’s simply not enough manpower to spend investigating this death. The department may assign a community service officer to do the preliminary questioning. There’re a lot of people involved, and that will take some time.”
“Yeah, it certainly will. There were the six of us, then Jayleen and Curt, and Dennis Holt, and Jim Carson. And who knows the other people she met with while in the canyon. By the way, did you see that guy who looks like Jim Carson again?”
“No, I didn’t. So maybe he was helping just that one day. And I wasn’t sure it was Jim, anyway. Hey, how’s Connie doing today? Is she still acting quiet?”
“Yeah, I went to the front to see her right before lunch. She still looks withdrawn and doesn’t talk except to the customers. Totally different from her usual lively self.”
Burt’s sigh came over the phone. “She needs counseling badly. She needs to talk to someone. Not us. We’re involved somehow because we know all the players. She needs a trained therapist.”
“I agree, Burt. Has Mimi suggested it to Connie? I think she’d listen if Mimi said it.”
“Mimi mentioned it briefly yesterday, but Connie kind of drew back and shied away. Maybe we should wait another day and suggest it again. I don’t know.” The sound of a beep on his phone interrupted. “That’s another call. Talk to you later, Kelly.”
Yarn Over Murder Page 9
