Dyer Consequences

by Maggie Sefton

  Kelly nodded, a little shiver running over her skin. “I remember.”

  “With him, it started with vandalism, just like at your place. The next buyer didn’t live here, so whoever’s doing this simply waited until the woman was in town to check out the property. Then they killed her dog.” Jennifer glanced away as she shook her head. “I swear, Kelly, it’s all connected. I know it is. I can feel it. Someone doesn’t want you to have that ranch.”

  “But why?” Kelly protested. “Who would want to keep me or anyone else from owning the ranch?”

  “That’s what I’m going to find out. At least I’m gonna try.” Jennifer shoved her knitting back into the bag. “I’ll start with a records search back at the office and see what pops up on all these transactions.” She slung the bag over her shoulder as she rose. “You know, I really hate leaving you here to worry about Carl all alone. Do you want me to stay?”

  “Naw, that’s okay. Steve said he’d come out as soon as he finished at the Old Town site. With any luck, he’ll bring food, too.” She grinned, hoping to ease her friend’s concern.

  “More food always helps. That’s my motto. Anything I can get you before I head to the office?”

  An idea inched from the back of Kelly’s brain. “Yeah. You can get that out-of-town buyer’s name and phone number for me. I want to give her a call.”

  Kelly leaned against her car door and drew Steve closer, their embrace warm in the frigid night. His kiss lingered before he lifted his mouth from hers.

  “You okay now?” he whispered. “Promise you won’t drive over here in the middle of the night?”

  “I promise,” Kelly said as she leaned out of the embrace. “I’m going straight home and falling into bed. Turn off my cell and sleep late.” She fished her car keys from her jacket pocket.

  “Carl’s going to be okay, Kelly. Those last liver tests showed his levels dropping. You can stop worrying now.”

  Kelly opened the car and tossed her bag inside. “I won’t stop worrying until Carl’s back at home and acting like himself again.” She draped an arm across the car door and stared up at the ink black sky. Cloudless and clear and brilliant with stars. And bitter cold. No cloud cover to warm the nighttime temperatures. “He looked so pathetic and helpless lying there,” she said, recalling the glass oxygen-filled intensive care unit where Carl lay.

  “He’s going to be okay, Kelly. The big guy is gonna be back in the yard before you know it.” Steve reached over and zipped up Kelly’s half-open jacket. “You need to knit yourself a hat,” he said before he turned away. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

  Kelly waved goodbye as she climbed into her car and revved the engine. A blast of icy air poured from the heating vents.

  She heard the throaty roar of Steve’s truck engine come to life behind her. His blinding headlight beams cut through the darkened veterinary school hospital’s parking lot. Kelly nosed her car out of the lot and into the diminished nighttime traffic flow.

  Heading toward the streets that led home, Kelly dug in her jacket pocket again and withdrew a slip of paper. She held it up, catching Steve’s headlights through the back window to quickly scan the number. Flipping open her cell phone, she punched it in.

  The phone rang five times before the call was answered, and Kelly began to regret calling so late. Suddenly, the phone picked up. “Is this Jacquie Weeden?” Kelly asked when a woman answered.

  “Yes, it is. Who’s this, please?”

  “My name’s Kelly Flynn, Ms. Weeden. I’m the one who bought your Colorado ranch in December. I’m sorry to be calling so late, but I had a question about the property.”

  The woman paused for a few seconds. “Oh, oh, yes . . . I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize your name. An attorney acted on my behalf at the closing. I don’t know if I can help you or not, Ms. Flynn. I confess I don’t remember much about the ranch.”

  Kelly pulled to a stop at a traffic light and watched Steve give her a goodbye wave as he turned onto another street. “I understand, Ms. Weeden, and I appreciate anything you can tell me.”

  She paused, wondering how to phrase what she was about to say. Kelly sensed that Jacquie Weeden had deliberately closed off certain memories concerning her Colorado real estate experience.

  “Actually, Ms. Weeden, I’m hoping you can tell me about the last time you visited the ranch and . . . and the attack on your dog.”

  There was a long pause before the woman answered, and her voice was noticeably softer. "I . . . I would rather not, Ms. Flynn. I’ve been trying to forget that awful day.”

  “I can understand, Ms. Weeden, and believe me, I would never mention something so painful to you except that my dog was attacked early this morning.”

  Ms. Weeden sucked in her breath. “No!”

  “I’m afraid so. Someone tried to poison him by throwing hamburger that had been mixed with antifreeze into the yard. Carl ate most of it, of course. Thankfully, I got him to the vet school hospital before his liver was destroyed.”

  “Oh, no . . . that’s awful!”

  “My friend Jennifer works in the same real estate firm as your agent, and she told me what had happened to your pet last December, and I was wondering if you had any idea at all who could be behind these vicious attacks.”

  “I’m afraid not, Ms. Flynn. Believe me, if I did, I would press charges. I . . . I wish I could help you. I cannot understand why anyone would target me and now you. It makes no sense.”

  Part of Kelly agreed with Ms. Weeden, but she continued. “Were you at the ranch alone that day? There’s a caretaker, Bobby. Was he there?”

  “No, I was there alone. I met Bobby the day before when he was feeding the animals.”

  “Did you notice anyone else in the vicinity? A parked truck or car near the driveway? Anyone walking around near the pastures?”

  “I don’t recall seeing anyone lurking about, if that’s what you mean. As for parked trucks or cars, well . . . I remember seeing trucks parked everywhere along that canyon road.” She exhaled a sigh. “I’m sorry, Ms. Flynn. I wish I could be more helpful, but I have really tried to forget everything about that horrible experience. In fact, I have trouble even remembering what the ranch looked like. And... and I think that’s a blessing. If you know what I mean.”

  Kelly knew exactly what Jacquie Weeden meant. “I understand completely, Ms. Weeden. If it had been Carl that had been killed like that, I’m sure I’d want to block it out of my mind, too. Please forgive me for disturbing you. I was simply searching for answers. I want to find the person who’s responsible.”

  “I wish you good luck, Ms. Flynn. And let me know if you do. Although, I’m not holding out much hope.”

  “I promise I will. Good night, Ms. Weeden, and thanks again.”

  Kelly clicked off her phone and tossed it onto the seat beside her as she steered around a darkened corner.

  She’d find the culprit. Kelly swore she would.

  Nine

  Kelly reached across her corner desk and grabbed the ringing cell phone, her eyes still on the computer screen. “Kelly here.”

  “Hey, Kelly.” Burt’s voice came over the line. “I hope you haven’t burrowed into your accounts yet, because I need you to spread the word. I’m throwing a little get-together for Mimi and Pete tonight after the shop closes. Just the shop family and all you guys, of course. We’re keeping it kind of quiet and low-key.”

  Kelly took a sip from her coffee mug. “That’s a great idea, Burt. Mimi’s coming, right?”

  “Oh, yeah. I think she really wants to go back.” He paused. “But I can tell she’s a little scared, too. And that’s understandable, considering what happened to poor Tracy. Mimi’s still haunted by that. But coming back to see the shop all put together again will help Mimi a lot. At least, I hope it will.”

  “I think you’re right, Burt. Okay, I’ll start spreading the word. What do you want us to bring?”

  “Just yourselves. This is my treat. I’m bringing pizza and beer.
I want to get Pete out of the kitchen, so he can relax and celebrate with the rest of us.”

  “Burt, you’re a sweetie to do this. It should definitely help Mimi.”

  “I sure hope so. I’ll see you tonight after the shop closes, okay?”

  “Sure thing. By the way, what’s happening with the investigation into Tracy’s death? Any leads on that boyfriend she told Jennifer about?”

  Burt sighed. “Dan said they haven’t learned anything new, I’m afraid. They’ve interviewed all of Tracy’s classmates who knew her and the staff at Jennifer’s real estate firm. Everyone said she was a quiet, hard-working student who kept to herself. No indication of trouble with anyone and no enemies, either. And nobody could recall Tracy ever mentioning a boyfriend or anyone else who was ‘special’ in her life. Apparently she only told Jennifer and didn’t give any name or details.”

  “Not much to go on.”

  “I’m afraid not. But they’re working all the angles they can. Dan is contacting some of his informants who’ve been useful in the past. Maybe one of them knows something about those guys who vandalized the shop. It still looks more likely that they committed the murder.”

  Something about that still bothered Kelly. She wasn’t sure why. “Maybe so, Burt. I don’t know. . . .”

  “Neither do I, Kelly,” Burt admitted. “But somebody killed that poor girl. She sure didn’t fall in the tub and drown herself. Not with those bruise marks on the middle of her back. Someone held Tracy under that hot water until she died, and I promise you, Dan and the guys are gonna find out who.”

  Kelly heard the frustration in his voice and switched subjects. “Did you learn anything about dogs being poisoned in town?”

  “Thanks for reminding me, Kelly. I’m going in so many different directions, I forgot about Carl. The animal and humane officer said we haven’t had an instance of dog poisoning like that for two years. I guess this was an isolated act of cruelty.”

  “I don’t know, Burt. I used to think all these incidents were random, but now I’m not so sure. Did Jennifer talk with you?”

  “Yeah, she did, but I think it’s a stretch to try to connect what happened to those other people who bought the ranch with what’s happened to you.”

  Kelly frowned into her little phone. “Three days ago I would have agreed with you, Burt. But that was before Carl was poisoned. And before learning that this other woman’s dog was killed at the ranch. Now I’m worried that Jennifer may be right. Somebody doesn’t want me to have that ranch, and they’re hoping to scare me off. First, by trashing my place, and now, by trying to kill Carl.”

  Burt paused for a moment. “I wish I had something to say that would reassure you, Kelly, but I don’t. Just trust that the police are looking into everything, okay? Meanwhile, come on over tonight and have some pizza and beer with us. It’ll make you feel better. See you later.”

  Kelly listened to the click of his phone and wished pizza and beer could chase away the cold feeling in her gut, but she doubted it.

  “Have you heard from the vet this morning?” Megan asked, looking across the long library table.

  Kelly could see the worry in her friend’s face. And the nearly-completed Shamrock green sweater was a dead give-away. Megan had been knitting furiously.

  Between keeping Mimi company and worrying about Carl, Megan was in danger of depleting her wool stash. And Megan’s stash was bigger than anyone’s except Mimi’s. Most knitters had bags and bags of gorgeous yarns they bought because they couldn’t resist the luscious fibers. Unfortunately, the amount of knitting time available did not increase in proportion to the size of the larger stashes. There weren’t that many hours in the day.

  “I saw the vet early this morning when I went to check on Carl. His liver values continue to drop. Thank God. I saw him through the window and he’s drinking water, but he still looks weak. The vet said I can come inside and pat him this afternoon if he continues to improve.”

  Megan closed her eyes. “Oh, thank goodness. We were all so worried. Lisa and Mimi and I must have gone through a basket of yarn yesterday morning, we worried so much.”

  Kelly glanced around the room, now restored to its former organized layout of full yarn bins and bookshelves. “Maybe that’s what helped Mimi return to the shop. She needed more yarn,” Kelly joked softly.

  Megan leaned back in her chair. “So many awful things have happened lately. Tracy’s been killed, the shop and café vandalized. And now, Carl has been poisoned. Do you think there’s any connection, Kelly?”

  Kelly pulled her scarf from the knitting bag, mulling over what Megan said. Vandalism at her cottage. Vandalism at the shop. Tracy killed, most probably by the vandals. Police had found no one else who could be responsible. Their searches had turned up no boyfriends and no enemies. No one. It seemed her death was a tragic accident, just like the police said. A horrible act of random violence. But random was hardly the word Kelly would use to describe the incidents that had happened to her.

  “No, Megan, I don’t,” she answered at last. “I used to think the vandals that hit my place were the same ones who trashed the shop. But now, I don’t. Not after talking to Jennifer. She’s convinced me that someone is after the canyon ranch, and they’re trying to scare me into selling.”

  Megan looked up, wide-eyed. “You’re kidding?”

  “No, I’m not. The first buyer was scared off when his building site was torched last year. The second buyer dumped the property when her little dog was killed in her car while she was checking out the ranch.”

  Megan cringed. “Oh, how awful!”

  “Yeah. Whoever is after the ranch must like to kill dogs. That’s why Carl was attacked. So, you can see that I’m definitely being targeted. Just like the other buyers.” She picked up her needles and resumed knitting. “Tracy’s death appears to be accidental. A horrible, brutal act of random violence, just like the police said.”

  “Kelly, what are you going to do? To protect yourself, I mean . . . and Carl?”

  “Well, Carl won’t be in the yard unless I’m there to watch him. And, there are lights everywhere now. Maybe we can catch the bastard who’s doing this if he comes creeping around again.”

  From the corner of her eye, Kelly saw Mimi walking through the next room, staring into yarn bins, touching, stroking fibers, as if reassuring herself that her beloved Lambspun was intact. The ugly murder that had happened in the basement hadn’t touched what was good and beautiful above.

  Megan lowered her voice. “Mimi is much better. She’s still not herself yet, but she’s better.”

  “I couldn’t help but notice how quiet and subdued she is. She’s not talking much. When I came in this morning, she rushed over and gave me a huge hug, but all she said was that she was praying for Carl.” Kelly watched Mimi assisting a customer pick out yarn. “I just hope we get the old Mimi back. Burt thinks getting together tonight should help.”

  Megan leaned forward over the table. “Did Burt say anything about Tracy’s murder?” she whispered. “I’ve been afraid to mention it anywhere near Mimi. Have the police learned anything new about those vandals?”

  Kelly glanced over her shoulder to check, but Mimi was deep into yarn talk. Even so, Kelly lowered her voice. “When Burt called this morning, he said the police were targeting some informants they’ve worked with before, to see if they know anything. So keep your fingers crossed.”

  The shop doorbell jangled then, and Lisa strode into the room. “Kelly, I got your message on my cell. The big guy is on the mend, right?”

  “Yep. He’s officially off the critical list.”

  “That’s good news. And seeing Mimi back in the shop is even better news.” Lisa plopped her knitting bag on the table beside Megan and withdrew a skein of variegated yarn— scarlet red, royal blue, and emerald green—and circular needles with only a few rows of stitches. Clearly, a new project.

  Too small to be a sweater, Kelly noticed. “What are you working on?” She pointed to the
small circlet of vibrant yarns.

  “I’m making a hat for one of the therapists at the fitness center. It’s her birthday next week. The big five-oh.” Lisa’s fingers picked up speed. “It’s easy, Kelly. You should try it. Aren’t you getting bored with scarves?”

  “Not yet. Besides, it’s winter. You can never have too many scarves,” Kelly said, slipping another finished stitch off her needle.

  “Yeah, you can.”

  “You should try a hat, Kelly. It’ll be easy,” Megan promised as she continued working the bright green yarn.

  Kelly laughed. “That’s what you always say whenever I try a new project. And invariably, I get all tangled up and make a million mistakes.”

  “It’s yarn, what do you expect?” Lisa teased.

  “Why don’t you start a hat while it’s still winter?” Megan suggested.

  Kelly watched the colorful stitches fill her needle. Maybe she should try making a hat after she finished this scarf. She certainly could use one. Hadn’t Steve mentioned that she needed a hat last night?

  Besides, the green knit hat Megan made for her had accidentally fallen into the washing machine and shrunk. It was now suitable for dolls. Hot water and knitted wools—not a good combination unless you were felting.

  “You know, I just might give hats a try after I finish this scarf.”

  “Well, it’s either a hat or socks, Kelly. Which one?” Lisa asked. “I was here when you made that promise to Hilda in December, remember?”

  “What promise?” Kelly searched her memory, but no hat or sock discussions surfaced.

  “I remember it, too,” Megan added with a big grin. “You promised Hilda you’d learn to knit socks when she learned to spin. Well, I sat in on one of the spinning classes last week, and Hilda’s coming along fine. A little slower than the others, but she’s spinning.”

  “That does it, Kelly. You don’t want Hilda to start ragging on you. She’s relentless,” Lisa warned.

  “And you’re not?”

  “Consider it encouragement.”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll do it when I finish the scarf,” Kelly agreed in surrender as she slipped another stitch off her needle. “I’ll try the hat. It looks easier than socks.”