Close Knit Killer (18 page)

Barb’s eyes widened. “No! I hadn’t heard that. Why would Hal Nelson talk to Rizzoli?
Did they have an argument?”

Kelly shrugged. “Who knows? I spoke to Hal this morning, and he told me he wanted
to tell Rizzoli about Malcolm and how he’d remade his life. Then Hal admitted he wanted
to tell Rizzoli about his own mother’s struggles with cancer. It was clear that Hal
still blames Rizzoli’s robbing his mother’s life savings for causing her cancer to
return.”

“Good Lord,” Barb said, staring off into the café again. “I . . . I can’t believe
that. I knew about Hal’s mother. She and Mom were good friends years ago, and Mom
told me about her fight with cancer. But I never really knew Hal well. I’d seen him
around town with some charitable organizations and such, that’s all.” She stared off.
“Do you think police seriously consider Hal a suspect in Rizzoli’s murder?”

“I’m sad to say that they do. Burt said so. Of course, that’s awful news for Hal,
but it is also good news for you, Barb,” Kelly said. “It was obvious that police considered
you as a suspect, even though no one ever saw you anywhere near Lambspun that night.
Now that there’s a witness placing Hal Nelson here, that certainly means you’ve dropped
lower on the police radar screen. Along with Malcolm. Witnesses saw him there, but
he was drunk.”

Barb released a long breath. “Lord, I hope you’re right. But I hate to tell Mom. This
will really upset her. She was fond of Hal’s mother, Bernice.”

“Well, I’m sure that will be outweighed by her relief that police no longer are looking
at you,” Kelly said with an encouraging smile. “She’s been so worried about you, Barb.”

“I know. Bless her heart. She worries so.”

“I remember her telling me how upset she was when you were out driving the evening
of Rizzoli’s death. She said she’d gotten a bad feeling when you came home and told
her you were driving in the canyon.”

Barb looked at Kelly sharply. “What? Mom wasn’t there when I got home that evening.
Why would she say that?”

Kelly shrugged. “Who knows, Barb. Your mother’s been under a lot of stress watching
you go through this police investigation and interrogation. She probably just got
confused.”

“I guess you’re right. She has been under a lot of stress with this investigation.
No wonder she’s forgetting things.” Barb smiled. “She even forgot about the neighbors’
sprinklers and walked right through them that night. Her dress was soaked when she
got home.” Glancing at her watch, Barb rose. “I’d better head to my office now. Don’t
want to be late. Patients will be stacked up in the waiting room. Thank you for bringing
me some good news, Kelly. Good for me, that is. I appreciate that.”

“That’s what friends are for, Barb.” Kelly returned her smile.

Barb hastened to the café doorway just as Jennifer walked up to Kelly’s table. “Big
Barb heading back to the doctor’s office?”

“Yes, indeed. I made it a point to tell her the bad news about Hal Nelson, which is
also good news for Barb. She’s probably dropped off the police radar screen.”

“Well, let’s see what else turns up.” Jennifer wiped off a nearby table. “I just heard
from Bridget, the temp waitress who works three jobs. She’s looking for a few extra
hours, if you can believe. Anyway, she told me the police detective was finally able
to schedule a time between all her jobs when he could ask questions. So, who knows
if she saw anything suspicious. Maybe she saw Malcolm over here before he got drunk.”
She shrugged.

Kelly didn’t even want to think about it. She was tired of all the different murder
scenarios playing in her head. She stared at the remaining half of her Wicked Burger.
She couldn’t eat another bite. “Did Bridget say anything to you?”

“I didn’t really ask. This whole murder in the parking lot has spooked all of us.
I don’t think I can handle any more details.” She gave Kelly a rueful smile. “You
gonna finish that burger?”

“I can’t. Could you please box it up, and I’ll take it over to the cottage fridge.
I can have it for lunch tomorrow.”

“Will do. Are you going back there now?” She picked up Kelly’s plate.

“Yeah, I have some phone calls to make, then finish one of Warner’s accounts. We’ve
got a softball game tonight in Wellington.”

“Knock it out of the park,” Jennifer advised with a grin.

* * *

Kelly
nosed her car into the ball field’s parking lot as she reached for her ringing cell
phone. She saw Burt’s name and number flash on the phone screen. “Good timing, Burt.
I’m arriving at the ball field right now. What’s up?”

“Hey, Kelly. I won’t keep you. I just wanted to bring you up to speed on the latest
and probably last round of witness questioning.”

“Oh, yeah. Jennifer told me that police finally were able to meet with that workaholic
Bridget. Boy, I don’t know how that girl finds time to sleep.”

“I hear you, Kelly. She puts most college kids to shame. Apparently she impressed
the detective as a real down-to-earth sort. She told him she went over to the driveway
that evening to pick up her bike, which she’d locked in the café’s bike rack. She
thinks it’s safer than the one at Big Box.” He chuckled.

“Well, that’s entirely possible. Plus, no people coming into the café. Did she see
anything?”

“Nope. Bridget said she didn’t see Rizzoli or his car because she never even went
around to that side of the driveway that evening. She retrieved her bike and rode
off along the edge of the golf course, heading to another restaurant job.”

“A working fool, as Jayleen would say,” Kelly observed as she closed her car door
and popped open the trunk, which contained her softball gear.

“I’ll say. So . . . I’m afraid that leaves the situation as it was. Hal Nelson is
the main suspect with Barb and Malcolm tying for second place.”

Kelly heard his tired sigh over the phone. “I know how you feel, Burt. It makes me
sick to think of that.”

“Yeah, it does. Listen, Mimi and I are going out to dinner tonight. Something to take
this situation off our minds for a spell. You guys have a good game, you hear? And
knock it out of the park for me, will ya?”

“I’ll do my best, Burt.”

Eighteen

Kelly
spott
ed Madge crossing the driveway beside Lambspun, her arms filled with two large bags.
Kelly hurried down the sidewalk to help her. “Hold on, Madge, I can get the front
door for you,” she called to the slightly built older woman.

Madge turned at the steps leading to Lambspun’s entry. Only her head was visible over
the plastic bags stuffed full of cinnamon brown fleece. “Why, thank you, Kelly. I
could use an extra hand,” she said as she climbed the brick steps.

Kelly skipped up the steps ahead of her and pulled the heavy wooden door open, holding
it wide. “It looks like you and Barb have been spinning. Are these for the Wool Market?”

“They sure are.” Madge walked into the foyer. “Mimi said she’d be glad to take up
any fleeces I brought, so Barb and I got to work last night and finished spinning
Sweet Georgia Brown’s fleece. It’s such a distinctive shade of brown, I think it will
sell easily.”

Kelly followed after her. “I imagine your spinning went faster now that you and Barb
have that weight lifted off your shoulders. Here, let me take a bag.”

Madge allowed Kelly to relieve her of one bag of fleece. “You’re right, Kelly. I am
relieved that police are no longer scrutinizing Barbara, but I’m heartsick to think
that Hal Nelson is now in their crosshairs.” She looked at Kelly, concern evident
in her eyes. “I’ve known Hal Nelson since he was a boy. He could no more kill someone
than Barbara could.”

“I feel the same way, Madge,” Kelly said in a low voice, so as not to be overheard
by nearby customers. “But we can’t escape the fact that someone killed Jared Rizzoli.
I doubt he stabbed himself in the throat. So, police are naturally going to scrutinize
anyone with a grudge against Rizzoli. And Hal admitted to me he still blames Rizzoli
for causing his mother’s cancer to return and kill her. He even told me that’s why
he talked to Rizzoli that night. He wanted to tell him face-to-face.”

Madge frowned, her brows knotting together. “I knew his mother Bernice well. She was
my best friend in Fort Connor. So I know how her despair affected her. And how her
death affected Hal. So I understand his resentment. But why, oh, why did he choose
that evening to confront that awful man? Of all times . . .” Her words drifted off
as Madge stared out the nearby paned windows.

“I don’t know, Madge.” Kelly sought something to ease Madge’s worry. “Hal told me
he was outside putting a remodeling invoice for Mimi and Burt into the Lambspun mailbox.
Jared Rizzoli drove into the driveway while Hal was standing there, and it sounded
like Hal decided to speak to him on the spur of the moment.”

Madge wagged her head, worry still creasing her face. “That awful man, that awful,
awful man is still hurting people,” she said in a quiet voice.

“I know how you feel, Madge.”

Madge looked at Kelly, doubt still clouding her face. “Have you heard any more about
that roving gang of thieves? Police should be looking for them.”

Kelly leaned closer, speaking quietly. “They did find them. In fact, they caught them
in the act of stealing a car. And when they interrogated them, Burt said the cops
learned that all those guys were at a party that night. Plenty of witnesses can swear
they weren’t involved.” She met Madge’s disappointed gaze with her own. Not knowing
anything else to say, Kelly fell back on one of her father’s old sayings. “The truth
will come out. It always does.”

Rosa walked up then and addressed them both. “Are those fleeces for the Wool Market?
If so, bring ’em this way, so I can tag them and get them in the new storage building.”
She beckoned them toward the front room and the winding table, where Kelly saw tags
spread out next to a large notebook.

“Looks like you guys are all organized,” Kelly said, setting the bag of fleece on
the floor beside the table as Madge did the same.

“Burt and Mimi will start taking things up to Estes Park tomorrow to the exhibition
hall of the fairgrounds. Connie and Mimi are up there today setting up the booth.
Tomorrow we’ll be taking things up in shifts all day to get ready for Saturday morning’s
opening.”

“Mimi and Burt will be staying up there starting tomorrow night, right?” Kelly asked,
as her cell phone’s music sounded from her briefcase.

“You got it. Go ahead, Kelly. I’ve got it covered here. You go back to work,” Rosa
said with a grin.

“Slave driver,” Kelly teased, then gave Madge’s arm a reassuring squeeze as she dug
out her phone. “Don’t worry, Madge,” she repeated. “Things will work out.”

Madge gave a pinched smile. “You’re probably right, Kelly.”

Kelly sent the older woman one more reassuring smile before answering her phone. Her
client Arthur Housemann’s name flashed on the screen.

* * *

Delicious
aromas of tempting lunchtime selections tickled Kelly’s nostrils as she turned the
corner into the café from the knitting shop. She’d finished the Wicked Burger last
night before going to her game. There was no way she’d succumb again, she swore to
herself, ignoring the yummy plate sitting on the counter as she passed by. Deliberately
turning her head away, Kelly walked into the front of the café, away from the grill.
Less tempting, she figured.

Spotting a small empty table near the front door, Kelly plopped her briefcase on an
empty chair and claimed a seat. She quickly scanned the daily lunch specials and decided
on a healthy blackened chicken salad with lots of greens. Plus a slice of Pete’s scrumptious
whole wheat bread.

A young brunette woman who looked college-age approached the table, notepad in hand.
She looked vaguely familiar to Kelly.

“Hi, there. I’m Bridget. What can I get for you today? We’ve got a fantastic tomato
basil soup on special for lunch. And the spinach and feta quiche also.”

“Hey, Bridget, you’re one of the temp waitresses. I thought I’d seen you before,”
Kelly said, smiling. “Jennifer said you’re actually juggling three jobs and going
to school, correct?”

Bridget smiled brightly. “Guilty as charged. I’m insane, I know. But I can’t afford
to finish in four years otherwise.”

“Whoa, girl. I wonder when you sleep. Jen told me even the cops had to bow to your
schedule,” Kelly teased.

“Yeah, I felt bad about that, but, hey . . .” She laughed softly. “Two of my jobs
are right next to each other at the university labs, so I go from one to the other.
And there’re no strangers allowed in the sterile rooms where I work on cataloging
seeds. So, they had to wait for a break in my schedule.”

“Boy, I’m impressed, Bridget. You make the rest of us feel like we’re moving in low
gear.”

Bridget laughed again. “I don’t know about that. You’re Kelly, right? I’ve heard Jennifer
and Pete talk about you. You’re certainly not moving in the slow lane.”

“Coming from you, Bridget, that’s high praise.”

“What can I get you, Kelly?” She poised her pen over the pad.

“You know, I was about to have a salad, but those lunch specials enticed me away.
Why don’t you bring me that tomato basil soup and the spinach and feta quiche. That’s
a favorite of mine. Oh, and a refill of black coffee, too.”

“I remember that part about you, Kelly,” Bridget said, then winked as she took Kelly’s
mug.

Suddenly curious, Kelly ventured, “By the way, I confess I’m curious. Were you able
to help the cops at all? Did you see anyone hanging around Lambspun that evening?
Jennifer said you parked your bike over here.”

Bridget shook her head. “Naw, I’m afraid not. I never even went around to that other
side of the driveway, so I didn’t see that guy in his car. I came across the street
to this side of the shop, right here in the front.” She gestured out the window. “This
bike rack is way safer than that one across the street at Big Box. I keep my bike
here the nights I work at the store. I get off at seven.”

Kelly glanced out the window and spotted the bike rack tucked between the adobe outside
wall and a metal storage shed near the front entrance. “That makes sense. Way too
many people walking around Big Box. It’s too bad you didn’t see anyone else walking
around that evening. That nice builder guy who was remodeling the garage outside is
in the cops’ bull’s-eye right now. Apparently he was seen talking to that Rizzoli
in his car.” Kelly stared out the window.

“Yeah, I talked to him a couple of times when I worked here last month. You know,
when Pete was in Denver. He seemed a nice guy. I’m sorry I couldn’t have been more
help. But I didn’t see anybody sneaking or lurking around the building. Only that
little gray-haired lady who teaches spinning classes in the shop. She was around the
back of the shop at the faucet washing her hands.”

Kelly turned back to Bridget quickly. “Madge? You saw Madge outside washing her hands
at a faucet?”

Bridget nodded. “Yeah. She was washing her dress, too. Weird. I guess she’d been pulling
weeds again or working in the garden. I’d seen her outside pulling weeds from the
patio gardens. They’re so pretty. She must be a gardener at heart, as well as a spinner.”
Bridget smiled down at Kelly. “Well, I’d better get this order in so you can have
lunch.”

Kelly stared at her blankly and nodded. “Sure. Thanks.” Kelly watched Bridget hurry
off toward the grill; meanwhile her mind was going a mile a minute. Her instinct was
buzzing, and thoughts were bombarding her, demanding her attention.

Madge was seen washing her hands at the faucet behind the back of the Lambspun knitting
shop. In the back. Outside. Where no one could see her. Why would Madge be washing
her hands at seven in the evening that Saturday? Had she been pulling weeds in the
patio garden as Bridget suggested? Or had Madge gotten something else on her hands?
Something else that needed to be washed off. Something like blood?

Other thoughts darted in and claimed Kelly’s attention, dancing in front of her eyes.
Barb said that Madge was not at their home when she returned from driving around the
canyon. But Madge had told Kelly she
was
at home because she’d asked Barb where she’d been when Barb returned from driving.
That was a lie. Barb clearly was surprised to hear her mother had claimed to be at
home. Barb also said her mother came in later that evening, and . . . and her mother’s
dress was all wet. She’d laughed and told Barb she’d accidentally walked through the
neighbors’ sprinklers.

Kelly stared out the window without seeing, her thoughts darting and zooming, little
bits of information she’d heard or learned coming forward now. Rosa saw Barb outside
talking to Hal Nelson as he showed Barb his tools. But . . . Rosa also said that Madge
was there in the garden beside the fence, pulling weeds.

Madge clearly was there to see and hear Hal talk about his tools. So, Madge knew exactly
where to find the knife that was used to stab Jared Rizzoli in the throat. Violently
stab Rizzoli in the throat. The medical examiner said the wound was jagged, indicating
that the knife was jerked to the side, too. A large, bloody wound in Rizzoli’s throat,
which obviously resulted in a great deal of blood. Blood that obviously got on Rizzoli’s
killer . . . and on the killer’s hands and clothes.

Kelly pictured petite Madge squatting beside the outside faucet at the back of Lambspun.
Washing her hands, washing her arms, washing her dress. Of course she’d wash off the
blood. There was no way she could walk into a store and use its restroom facilities
to clean up. Even gas stations gave out keys for the facilities. And Madge certainly
couldn’t arrive home to greet her daughter while she was still covered in blood. No . . .
she had to clean up first. Wash off all trace of Rizzoli’s blood.

“Here’s your soup. Enjoy,” Bridget said, placing a steaming bowl of tomato basil soup
in front of Kelly.

“Uhhhh, thanks . . .” was all she could manage. Kelly’s thoughts had left mundane
issues like lunch or hunger. They were slowing down now in the pattern Kelly recognized
from all her earlier sleuthing efforts. Usually she’d taken some time to sit quietly
and knit on a project while her thoughts sorted themselves out. But she didn’t have
her knitting with her now. Her almost-finished baby hat was still at the cottage.

Kelly stared at her soup, the enticing aroma drifting upward. She picked up the soupspoon
and dipped it into the rich, creamy, red mixture. Her thoughts would simply have to
sort themselves out over soup this time, she decided, and took a sip. Delicious.

She proceeded to slowly savor the soup while her thoughts started arranging themselves
in logical order. The conclusion they brought was shocking. Almost incomprehensible.
How could such a sweet, slight older woman like Madge commit such a brutal murder?
Was it possible? Was Kelly seeing things that weren’t there? Drawing bogus conclusions?
Maybe, maybe not. She would have to run all this by Burt and see what he thought.
One thing Kelly had learned over these last few years of involving herself in murder
investigations was that nothing was impossible when it came to murder.
Especially
when it came to murder.

* * *

Kelly
listened to the last of Steve’s phone message saying he’d be home later tonight because
of a late meeting. Kelly leaned against the kitchen counter at her cottage and stared
outside at Carl sniffing about the backyard. The sun was in the middle of the afternoon
sky. She pondered for another minute, then scrolled through her phone directory. Pushing
Burt’s number, she listened to the rings. Again and again. Not surprising. Burt and
Mimi were probably inside the loud exhibition hall setting up the vendor booth.

Kelly waited for the voice mail beep to come on. “Hey, Burt, Kelly here. When you
get a chance, could you give me a call when you’re in a quiet place. I need to share
some information with you. Something I’ve just learned concerning the Rizzoli murder.
Something important. I’d like your advice. I know you and Mimi are busy up at the
Wool Market, so call when you can. I’ll be heading for the house in a little while
and I plan to be home this evening. So, give me a call. Thanks.” She clicked off.