A Killer Stitch (12 page)

Kelly felt Curt's stern gaze settle over her, bringing a chill. “Neither Jennifer nor I believe Diane killed Derek. I know the police think she killed him in a drunken rage and blacked it out, but I don't buy that, Curt.”

“What if the police are right? This girl is a drunk, Kelly. She may have killed him and can't remember doing it.”

“If she was that drunk, she wouldn't have been able to drive out of the canyon, then,” Kelly retorted. “She'd have run off the road.”

“Don't be so sure about that,” Curt said solemnly. “People can do all sorts of amazing things when they're scared and trying to escape.”

The image that Curt Stackhouse painted began to form in Kelly's mind. Diane, horrified at killing her lover and terrified of being caught. The chill spread, awakening all those similar thoughts she'd had about Diane from the start. “I…I just don't believe that, Curt,” was all she could think to say.

“Well, it doesn't matter what you or Jennifer believe, does it?” Curt continued. “Because she's up there with Jayleen now. What if she gets drunk again and attacks Jayleen?”

The chill ran right up Kelly's spine. Could that happen? Good Lord. Curt was right. If she and Jennifer were wrong about Diane, then Jayleen might be in danger.

“Jayleen's taking her to AA tonight,” Kelly said. “Diane's really trying to stay sober. And you know Jayleen doesn't keep liquor around her house.”

“All the same, I think I'll go on up there and take a little look-see,” Curt announced, as he removed several dollar bills from his wallet and dropped them on the table. “Meet this Diane for myself. I take it Jayleen has her work right alongside her.”

Kelly rose from the table with Curt, considering her next words. “You'll get a chance to meet her this Sunday, Curt. Jayleen's bringing Diane to help with the party. Unless you don't want her there, of course. We'd never do anything against your wishes.”

Curt paused at the doorway, Stetson in his hand. Kelly watched his familiar smile return and felt herself relax. “That'll be fine, Kelly. In fact, that will work even better. Now, you go back to work, and I'll see you Sunday. And wear your boots. We've got tons of snow at the ranch. In fact, I may put some of those boys to work shoveling.”

“Hey,
Kelly,” Lisa called across the driveway.

Kelly barely heard her over the roar of the snowplow that was scraping the curved driveway, which skirted the knitting shop. “Be right there,” Kelly yelled, trying to navigate through the foot-deep snow that had drifted from the golf course across her front yard overnight. Her boots sank into the dry, crunchy snow, bringing back childhood memories. Colorado powder. Squeaky snow.

“That's another reason I like living in a condo,” Lisa said, watching Kelly maneuver through the depths. “No snow to shovel. They do it for you.”

“I have to borrow Mimi's shovel. I tried three places last night, and they were sold out.” Kelly joined Lisa on the front steps to Lambspun and stamped snow from her boots.

“Welcome back to Colorado,” Lisa said as they escaped the frigid air into the warmth of the shop. “Remind Steve we're going skiing after the holidays, okay?”

“It's been so long, I hope I don't run into a tree,” Kelly said as she shed her coat and dropped her things on the knitting table.

Lisa did the same and settled into a chair beside Kelly. “By the way, I did some checking at Social Services,” she said, glancing around the empty room. “And I also checked with the therapist who worked with Lucy a couple of years ago. She suggested I encourage Lucy to come back to see her. We're both concerned. Do you know if Lucy's even seen a doctor about the baby yet?”

Kelly shook her head as she removed the nearly completed alpaca wool scarf from her bag. With a little luck, she could finish and have the scarf in the mail to Eugene Tolliver tomorrow. “I could ask her friend Ellen. She seems to know Lucy the best.” Kelly checked her watch. “In fact, Lucy's spinning class should be over soon. Ellen and the others will be coming out. I'll ask her then.”

“And I'll try to catch Lucy. That's why I'm here this morning. I actually rescheduled a client's therapy so I could talk with Lucy. I've been worrying about her ever since we spoke last week.”

Kelly smiled at her friend, who was concentrating intensely on a red and green wool sweater. “You're a sweetheart, Lisa, you know that.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

Megan burst through the classroom doorway then, rushing up to Kelly and Lisa. “Oh, fantastic! I'm so glad to see you guys,” she said, breathless. “I need your help right away! My tennis partner, Sam, has to go to the hospital to be with his wife. She's gone into early labor.”

Kelly grinned up at Megan. “I thought spinning was supposed to be calming. Why are you so excited? You're not having the baby.”

Megan made a face. “That's true, but now I don't have a doubles partner, and we've got a big match after the weekend. Everybody I know is already teamed up, and I'm the president of the tennis club, for heaven's sake! Do you know anyone? Anyone at all?”

Kelly drew a blank. She'd been focused solely on softball and running since she'd returned to Fort Connor last spring. “Afraid not, Megan. Neither Steve nor I am anywhere near your level. We'd do more harm than good.”

“Sorry, Megan,” Lisa commiserated. “I can't help either. But I'll ask Greg. Does Bill play? You know, the guy you met last week?”

Megan shook her head. “Nope. He's a cyclist. No ball sports.” She released a huge sigh. “It's mixed doubles, so I have to find a guy. And at this late date, he doesn't have to be good. I guess I'll have to keep looking.” With that, Megan scooped up her knitting bag and hastened to the entrance, winter coat dangling over her arm.

“Boy, I hope she remembers to put her coat on when she gets outside,” Kelly said.

Lisa laughed. “She will when she feels the cold.”

The remaining spinning students tumbled through the doorway then, and Kelly spied Lucy talking with Ellen. “Class is over, here's your chance,” she said to Lisa.

Lisa was already stuffing the half-finished sweater into her backpack. “Wish me luck.”

Kelly chatted with the spinners who milled about the room as they fondled soft skeins of wools, alpaca, and silk. All the while, she kept an eye on Lisa, who was hovering beside Lucy and Ellen, clearly awaiting her turn.

At last Ellen gave a wave and approached the yarn bins, indulging herself like the other spinners. Kelly watched Lisa gesture Lucy toward the small alcove off the main room. Lucy's expression changed from curiosity to surprise to anxiety as she listened to Lisa. Her face paled, and her eyes became huge as she stared, not uttering a word.

Suddenly, tears. They burst forth like a dam had been breached, pouring down Lucy's face. “I can't…I can't,” she cried out, then clapped her hand to her mouth and ran from the room. Kelly heard the familiar tinkle of the doorbell sounding after her.

Kelly glanced to Lisa in dismay. Lisa looked stunned, obviously unprepared for Lucy's emotional response to their conversation. Kelly beckoned her over, and Lisa collapsed into a nearby chair.

“Good Lord, I thought Lucy was getting better,” Kelly said. “Apparently not.”

Lisa shook her head, staring across the room. “I thought so, too. Believe me, I never would have approached her if I thought she would respond that way.”

“Don't beat yourself up, Lisa. Her reaction was way over the top. I mean, you were suggesting counseling, for Pete's sake. And she's had that before.”

“I know, that's what worries me, Kelly. I wasn't suggesting anything that she hasn't done before, so it wasn't strange to her. I'm concerned that she needs more care than a group counseling session can provide. And I'm worried about the baby.” Lisa frowned. “We need to find a way to help her.”

“I hope you have better luck than I did,” Ellen commented from behind them, obviously having overheard their conversation. “I've tried every way I can to convince Lucy. But she won't go to therapy, and she hasn't seen a doctor for the baby yet.” Ellen toyed with a skein of red and orange yarns. Burnt umber, pumpkin gold, and fire engine red.

“That's not good,” Kelly said, turning to include Ellen in their conversation. “She's strung so tight she's going to break.”

“I know, I've told her that myself, and she blames it on morning sickness.” Ellen shook her head. “I've heard that there are medicines for that. I've even offered to go with Lucy to the doctor. Anything to get her some help.”

“There has to be a way,” Kelly insisted. “Maybe we can, uh, take her ourselves, you know—”

“You mean against her will?” Lisa countered. “Not a good idea, Kelly. In her present state, she'd be terrified out of her mind. That would make it worse.”

“Yeah, you're probably right,” Kelly admitted, watching Ellen nod bleakly.

“Let me talk to some more therapists. I'm way out of my league here, and I don't want to do any more damage than I may have already,” Lisa said, pushing away from the table.

“C'mon, Lisa,” Kelly objected, “you were only trying to help. Just like Ellen.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lisa said distractedly. “Listen, guys, I have to leave for the clinic. I'll see you later.” With a quick wave, she was gone.

After a murmured goodbye Ellen also headed for the doorway, leaving Kelly alone once again. Even the main room was temporarily empty of holiday shoppers.

She let the comfortable relaxed feeling of knitting quietly settle over her. Meditative and peaceful, ordering her thoughts, freeing up new ideas. Even knotty accounting problems loosened as her fingers worked the yarn, moving through the familiar stitches. This time, however, Lucy's panicked expression interrupted the peaceful feeling.

Poor Lucy. Pregnant and alone. Just like Kelly's aunt Helen years ago. Helen had a family, true, but they practically disowned her when they discovered she was pregnant, particularly when Helen refused to reveal the father's name. Aunt Helen must have felt equally abandoned, until she went to Wyoming to stay with her cousin Martha's family. At least Helen had someone she could confide in there, someone who cared and supported her. Kelly watched the gray and white stitches gather on her needle as she imagined how her aunt would have felt in small-town Colorado being an unwed mother. Alone and unwanted, just like Lucy.

Lucy had found someone to confide in with Ellen, but clearly, Lucy needed more. She needed someone who could convince her she needed help. If Lucy's friends couldn't get through to her, who could?

The answer to Kelly's question appeared right before her eyes. Snowflakes glistening on her cherry red wool coat, Lizzie bustled into the room, settling herself in her usual place at the knitting table. “Good morning, Kelly,” she said cheerfully. “How's that alpaca scarf coming? It appears you're nearly finished.”

Kelly looked up at Lizzie and gave her a huge grin. Lizzie.
Yes
. Kind-hearted, solicitous, gentle Lizzie, who loved nothing better than to listen to other people's stories. Maybe Lizzie's warmth could penetrate the barrier Lucy had built around herself. “Matter of fact, Lizzie, I am,” she said, holding up the scarf proudly. “Look how nicely it turned out.”

Lizzie examined the scarf, making appropriate sounds of approval. She beamed at Kelly. “It's lovely, dear. That gentleman at the gallery will wear it everywhere, I'm sure.”

Kelly resumed her knitting, while Lizzie turned to her multicolored yarn. “Where's Hilda?” she asked, waiting for an opportunity to confide in Lizzie, and hoping they wouldn't be invaded by others in the meantime.

“Oh, she's checking the class schedules out front. Hilda has been inspired by Lucy's students, and she's convinced she can finally learn to spin.” Lizzie's dimple showed in her round cheeks.

Ahhhh, Kelly exulted, as Lizzie provided the opening she was waiting for. “Speaking of Lucy, I was hoping you could help us, Lizzie,” she said, in an attempt to catch Lizzie's considerable curiosity. “Several of her friends are concerned for her well-being.”

Lizzie's attention left her knitting immediately. “Goodness, what's the matter? I thought she was slowly recovering from her grief over losing her lover so tragically.”

“Well, we thought so, too, but we've learned it's, well, it's more complicated than that.” Kelly deliberately dangled the vague comment.

“Oh, really?” Lizzie said, bright blue eyes widening as she leaned closer. “What are the, uh, complications, so to speak?”

Kelly let her needles drop to her lap and leaned closer. “You'll have to swear you won't repeat this to a soul, not even Hilda,” Kelly said solemnly, trying to ignore the sting of her own conscience at invading Lucy's privacy again.

Lizzie's eyes grew huge. “I swear.”

“Lucy is carrying Derek Cooper's child,” Kelly announced in a hushed voice. “She was about to tell him, when Derek was murdered. So you can understand why she's been an emotional wreck since his death.”

“Oh, my,” Lizzie said, catching her breath.

“Apparently, she'd only told her friend Ellen, in class. Ellen confided in Megan and me because she was worried about Lucy. She needs to talk to a counseler. A grief counseler, at least. And she needs to see a doctor about the baby.”

“Oh, goodness, yes! You mean she hasn't spoken with anyone?” Lizzie looked horrified. “Oh, she must, she must! That poor child! Bereft and alone…and with child. Oh, my, we must help her.”

“Well, both Ellen and Lisa have suggested counseling, but Lucy refuses. In fact, she burst out in tears when Lisa offered to take her to see a therapist she'd used in the past.”

Lizzie wagged her head. “Poor dear.”

Kelly paused. “I thought maybe you could get through to her, Lizzie. I was sure that Lisa could reach Lucy, because Lisa had helped with Lucy's therapy years ago. But no. Lucy ran out of the room crying at the suggestion.”

“How could I help, Kelly? I'm certainly not trained like Lisa.”

“Actually, I think that might be better. You're a warm, caring, maternal woman, Lizzie.” Kelly emphasized with an encouraging smile. “And if anyone is in need of some old-fashioned mothering right now, it's Lucy.”

A small smile tweaked Lizzie's lips. “You're very sweet to say that, Kelly. And if you think I can help, I will gladly try my best to get through to the poor girl.”

“See if you can convince her to see a counselor, someone, even a minister.”

“Hmmmm, that's a thought. I'll do my best, dear. Oops, here comes Hilda. Not a word.” She shushed dramatically.

“Good morning, Kelly,” Hilda broadcast as she marched toward the knitting table and took her customary seat at the end. The better to teach class. “I have officially registered to resume my quest to learn to spin. Let us hope the old adage ‘three's the charm' is correct.” Hilda withdrew a delicate azure blue yarn from her bag and began to crochet, her hooked needle moving quickly. “I see you're nearly finished with that scarf for the Denver gentleman. Excellent. You'll have time to knit another gift.”

Kelly did her best to look appalled. The better to tease Hilda. “Not a chance, Hilda. One gift per holiday is my limit. It takes too long.”