Dyer Consequences (21 page)

“All right, Burt, let’s see what turns up,” Kelly repeated, allowing herself to be reassured. “Just make sure you keep me updated, okay?”

Burt chuckled. “Don’t worry, Kelly. I always do.”

“Heel!”
Rosa commanded, and Carl immediately fell into step on Rosa’s left side as they paraded down the slushy driveway. Rosa made a quick about-face, and with only a little prodding, Carl kept up with her.

Carl appeared to be enjoying the workout, Kelly noticed, still amazed at Naughty Carl’s transformation into Sometimes Obedient Carl. At least that’s who he was with Kelly. When Rosa was anywhere around, he was Always Obedient Carl.

And it was all done to please. Rosa’s only reward was lavish praise and attention and head rubs, which Carl clearly reveled in, gazing at Rosa attentively.

Rosa and Carl came to a halt right in front of Kelly. As soon as Rosa stopped walking, Carl sat. Even in the wet slush.
Amazing.
Rosa turned to him enthusiastically. “Good dog,
Carl
! Such a good dog you are. Yes, you are. Good sit. Good sit. Now,
stay.
” She held up her hand and came to stand beside Kelly, who was watching from the edge of the Lambspun shop sidewalk.

Kelly’s cast had mud splatters on it already from traversing across the fast-melting snow and slush mixture that mired the driveway between her cottage and the shop. Was this a taste of springtime to come? It was already the first week of March, which meant springtime would soon start to tease them with warmer temperatures. And if Kelly remembered her Colorado weather correctly, the teasing would quickly be followed by a frigid blast blowing across the mountains to remind everyone that winter was still in charge. Most of Colorado’s blizzards occurred in March.

“He’s doing great, Kelly,” Rosa said. “I’ve enjoyed working with him. He’s a quick learner.”

“You’ve worked wonders, Rosa. I could never have done this myself without your training, even without crutches. You know, I’m going to need you to keep working with him until this cast comes off.”

“I’ll be glad to, Kelly,” Rosa said with a smile. “Today’s lesson is a little shorter, because I’ve got to get back to the basement.” She nodded toward the shop. “Connie and I have been working on the basement whenever we get the chance, and we’ve finally got all the rooms in the Lambspun area cleared out and cleaned. We must have thrown out a ton of trash. Mimi said if we didn’t know what it was, we could toss it out.”

“I can’t wait to see what you’ve done down there. Connie told me I should try coming down the stairs on my butt and take a look. I just might do that,” Kelly said with a laugh.

“Wait’ll we finish. We’re starting on the café side of the basement today. Pete was so impressed with what we’ve done for Mimi, he’s paying us to do his side of the basement now.”

Kelly remembered how cluttered the café side was, with refrigerators and shelves packed high with boxes and bags of stored food. “Boy, that will really make a difference. By the time you guys finish, we won’t recognize the basement.”

“That’s the general idea,” Rosa said with a laugh as she stepped beside Carl again. He looked up at her expectantly. “Okay, Carl, let’s take you back home. See you later, Kelly.”

And with a slap to her left thigh, Rosa stepped off, Carl right beside her. Kelly watched in admiration for a minute then swung her crutches in the walking rhythm she’d developed and headed into the shop.

Hurrying around the yarn bins, Kelly found herself able to maneuver with only one crutch now. Much faster, too. She clumped quickly toward the knitting table, where her cell phone jangled. Kelly grabbed her phone as she sank into a chair. Burt’s excited voice came on the line.

“Hey, Kelly, Deputy Don just called from the canyon with more news.”

“Wait a minute, Burt. First, tell me what’s turned up on J. D. Franklin.”

Burt released a sigh. “Nothing so far, Kelly. I mean nothing substantial. Apparently the guy operates right on the edge in real estate, but he never steps over into anything illegal. And there’re no witnesses to his former strong-arm tactics.”

“What about his personal life, Burt? Has anyone else spotted him with Tracy?”

“Not yet. Dan says there’re plenty of people who drink with him at the bars in town. According to some real estate agents, Franklin’s been spending a lot of time in Fort Connor working on some development deal. No details, though.”

“Damn, Burt. Tracy’s murder investigation is going nowhere fast,” Kelly complained.

“Not true, Kelly. The guys are working hard. But the process takes time. It’s not like you see on television when the murder is solved in sixty minutes with time for commercials.”

Kelly had to laugh. “Okay, okay, you’ve made your point. Patience is not my strong suit, that’s all.” She leaned back into her chair beside the knitting table. “So, what’s up with Deputy Don?”

“That garage owner called and said the gray pickup reappeared yesterday, and he was able to get the license number. The guy and his wife went to a concert in Denver and returned late at night, and there was the truck. He spotted it as soon as they drove past the shop.” Burt chuckled. “The guy told Don he jumped out of his car and wrote down the tag number in case it disappeared again. And sure enough, when he looked this morning, the truck was gone and there was the Toyota.”

Kelly took a sip from her ever-present coffee mug. Customers browsed around and behind her, poking in bins, stroking fibers, browsing through books. “That is so weird, Burt.”

“Oh, it gets better. Don traced the license right away, and the truck is registered to Robert J. Lester.”

“Any idea who that is?”

“Not yet, but do you want to take a guess as to what this Lester’s address is?”

Kelly sat up straight and set her mug aside. “You are kidding me.”

“No, I’m not. It’s 15432 County Road 11, Colorado Springs.”

Kelly stared across the table into the billowy bunches of coral pink and lime green fibers draping the wall.
“What?”

“That’s what I said. Don, too.”

“What the hell are they doing on that property? Running a commune or something?
Everybody’s
living there.”

“Well, it’s got Deputy Don’s nose itching off his face. He told me he’s going to start checking out the canyon ranches for any sign of that pickup. He thinks it’s time to ask some questions. Trouble is, everybody in the canyon has a pickup and lots of them are gray, so it may take a while. We’ll see. Don says he feels ‘lucky.’”

“Let’s hope so, Burt. Have you told the detectives yet? Have they checked out this Lester guy?”

“Yep. Don had already alerted them. Apparently, this guy’s driving record is clean. He’s in his twenties. No arrest record. Nothing else turned up.”

Kelly shook her head. “There we go again. Tantalizing little bits of information that don’t add up. Who the hell is this Lester guy?” Kelly said, letting her frustration into her voice. Noticing customers’ heads turning, she hunched over the table, trying to keep her voice down.

“Burt, it’s looking more and more like Geri’s family is behind all these incidents. Now here’s another person with a truck tied to that same address. He must be involved, don’t you think?”

“I think it’s highly likely, Kelly. But, as I said before, there is no proof. This guy, whoever he is, has been real clever. He’s never left behind anything that could be traced to him until now. But I have a feeling Deputy Don is going to catch sight of him sooner rather than later.”

“Thinking about this guy roaming around the canyon gives me a real bad feeling, Burt. He’s probably the one responsible for . . . you know.” She glanced around. Even more people were milling about the yarn bins than before.

“Well, there is one good thing about having him roam around the canyon. Deputy Don will be sure to spot him.”

Kelly listened to Burt’s goodbyes, but that bad feeling in the pit of her stomach kept growing stronger.

"Whoa, Rosa, what’s all that?” Kelly asked as she half-hopped, half-walked through the main yarn room.

She was getting around much better with one crutch now. In fact, she’d even started putting weight on her casted foot. Testing the waters. It had twinged but not horribly. She had to make sure Lisa didn’t spot her. Lisa would give her hell.

“These are bags of trash from Pete’s storage,” Rosa said as she struggled to carry three stuffed plastic trash bags at once. “You should have seen it down there. Stuff was crammed into closets, shoved behind shelves, piled in the corners. Oops!” One of the bags slipped from her grip and hit the floor.

“Here, let me help you,” Kelly offered. “I can carry it outside to the dumpster.”

“Are you sure?” Rosa peered at Kelly. “Hey, you’re only using one crutch. How’re you doing with that?”

“Actually, it’s easier now than with two, because my right ankle doesn’t hurt anymore. I can put my whole weight on it, see?” Kelly balanced on her right foot. “I can even walk faster. Here, let me get the door.”

“Thanks, Kelly. You’re a real trouper. Listen, I gotta move my car, because it’s parked too close to the dumpster and the trash truck will be coming in a few minutes,” Rosa said, heading down the walkway to the muddy driveway. “Whoa, there’s the trash truck across the street. It’ll be here in five minutes, so—”

“Rosa!”
Connie called from the front door. “Your sister just called. Your little girl was hurt on the playground. She’s taking her to the doctor and wants to talk to you first.”

Rosa paled, the bags slipping from her hands. “Oh, my God, I’m coming. . . .” Glancing back to Kelly, she said, “Listen, Kelly, wave the trash truck away, would you?”

Kelly suddenly had a better idea. “Rosa, give me your keys. I’ll take care of your car and the trash.”

Clearly distracted, Rosa looked at Kelly. “You can’t do that with your cast.”

“The cast is on my left foot, not my driving foot. Throw me your keys and get to the phone,” Kelly directed with an offhand gesture. Now that she could move around better, there was no reason she couldn’t help, was there?

Rosa dug into her pocket and tossed the keys to Kelly as she sped into the shop. Kelly grabbed the bags of trash and made two trips across the muddy driveway to the dumpster. She was clumsy, but she got it done.

The low whine of the approaching trash truck sounded closer, and Kelly hurried to move Rosa’s car before the truck arrived. Unlocking the late-model Honda, Kelly was grateful the driver’s seat was already pushed back. That meant more room for her cast.

Kelly balanced on the crutch while she plopped into the seat, then lifted her heavy left leg inside the car. Catching movement from the corner of her eye, she spotted a huge burgundy-colored trash truck turning into the driveway. Kelly tossed her crutch into the car and slammed the door. Fumbling briefly, she shoved the keys into the ignition and revved the engine, then quickly backed the sedan away from the dumpster just as the truck was approaching. Jerking the car into drive, she pulled down the driveway and out of the way.

Nosing the car into another parking space, Kelly felt a surge of confidence run through her.
Yessss!
She was coming back. She was no longer helpless. At last! The hardest thing about her recuperation was not the pain, Kelly had discovered. It was the sense that she was a helpless invalid. Kelly had never experienced that feeling before, never in her entire life. It was completely foreign . . . and completely repugnant.

Grabbing her crutch, Kelly carefully exited the car, feeling unbelievably proud of herself, almost as though she’d climbed one of Colorado’s Fourteeners—mountain peaks over fourteen thousand feet. Her accomplishment might not be high altitude, but it was heady enough for her.

Clumping back into the shop, Kelly spotted Rosa hurrying toward the door. “How’s your little girl, Rosa?” she said, tossing the keys to her.

“We won’t know until we take her to the pediatrician. It could be a concussion. I’ll call when we know more,” Rosa said as she rushed out the door.

Kelly headed toward the café. Victories, even small ones, deserved tobe celebrated.
Coffee.
Stopping by the front room, Kelly saw Mimi and Connie conferring behind the counter. Surprisingly, no customers were standing in line.

“I sure hope Rosa’s little girl is all right,” Kelly said as she approached the attractively cluttered counter. Buttons, pins, and various accessories were displayed along the length of the smooth wooden surface.

Mimi looked up at Kelly, clearly distracted. "Yes . . . Rosa said she’ll call us.” Then she glanced back at Connie, who was holding a black and white winter ski jacket.

Kelly couldn’t help noticing the concerned look on Connie’s face and sensed it had nothing to do with Rosa’s emergency call. “What’s wrong? You two look kind of funny,” she said with a half smile.

Mimi stared at the counter, her brow furrowed, and Connie spoke in a hushed tone. “Rosa found this jacket when we were clearing out Pete’s side of the basement. It had fallen beside the coatrack in his back room and was completely covered with trash. I recognized it immediately. It’s Tracy’s. She was wearing it that afternoon, the last time she came to the shop.”

Mimi turned away from Connie—and the jacket— clearly disturbed by the reference to Tracy’s last night alive. Connie hastened around the corner. “Don’t worry, Mimi, I’ll take it away. Burt can give it to the police.”

“Here, give it to me,” Kelly offered, reaching for the jacket. “You folks are busy in the shop. I’ll take it to my cottage. Burt can pick it up there.”

Mimi gave Kelly and Connie a quick smile. “Thanks, girls. I appreciate that. It . . . it brings back memories.”