Dyer Consequences (8 page)

“Okay. You just let me know. Meanwhile, I’ll keep an ear out. Talk to you later.”

Kelly clicked off her phone and sipped coffee as she watched the pale winter sun head toward the mountains. She could feel the drop in temperature already, even though she was inside.

The familiar loud rumble of an engine caught her attention.
That sounds like Steve’s truck.
Carl was already at the front door, dancing in place. His best buddy was outside. Could playtime be far away?

She grabbed her jacket and escaped outdoors, where the cold air bit her face and cheeks. The wind had picked up, blowing over the mountains of the Front Range. The foothills, the locals called them.

“Hey, I didn’t expect to see you until later tonight. Aren’t we going to dinner?” she called to Steve, who was already out of the cab and opening boxes in the back of his truck.

“We’re not going to dinner until I install these outdoor lights for the garage, Kelly,” Steve said as he pulled some oval-shaped lights from a box. “And I’ve got extra ones for the cottage, too. Dinner can wait.”

“Did you drive all the way over to Greeley to get these yourself? You shouldn’t have. A couple of days wouldn’t—”

Steve shot her an “I don’t believe you said that” look. “Kelly, a girl was killed here last night. Maybe
you’re
not concerned for your safety, but the rest of us are worried as hell. So don’t even think about arguing with me.” He opened an onboard toolbox and grabbed a portable electric drill.

“
Me?
Argue?” Kelly teased with a grin. “So what can I do to help?”

“You can make a mug of that black tar of yours. That’ll last me until we get to the restaurant. This won’t take long.” He slid a ladder from the flatbed of his truck.

“Coming up,” Kelly acquiesced, heading toward the cottage while Steve carried the ladder to the garage. “I’m gonna let Carl out in the backyard to see you. He’s going crazy inside.”

She stopped in the middle of the fast-freezing mud of her walkway when she saw a police officer exit the knitting shop. Were they still poking around in there? Watching him duck beneath the yellow police tape wrapped around the front entry, Kelly was surprised to see the young man, who wore a buzz cut, stride toward her, a large plastic bag in his hand.

“Excuse me, miss. Are you Kelly Flynn?” he asked as he approached.

“Yes, I am. Were you looking for me, Officer?” Kelly met him at the driveway’s edge. She spied Steve leave the ladder and head their way.

“Yes, ma’am. Lieutenant Morrison asked me to bring this over to you for safekeeping. We found it in the knitting shop. I believe it belongs to the shop owner, Mrs. Shafer.” He held out toward Kelly the plastic bag, which was holding something heavy, from the looks of it.

“Thank you, Officer. I’ll be glad to keep it for her. What is it?”

“Looks like a laptop, ma’am,” the young officer said as he turned away. “Have a good evening.”

“What’s that?” Steve asked as he approached.

Kelly stared into the plastic bag. Sure enough, there was Mimi’s laptop computer. “I don’t believe it,” she said, pulling off the plastic, checking for signs of damage. “Those guys must have missed this last night. Why else would they leave something they could sell so easily?”

“I’d say Mimi got lucky,” Steve said before returning to the garage.

I’d say.
Kelly wondered what kind of vandals would steal a few dollars from a cash box and leave a new laptop worth several hundred dollars. Maybe it was in a drawer or hidden under stuff.

Spotting the young officer back his cruiser away from the shop, she waved at him and hurried over.

“Yes, ma’am?” He looked up at her politely.

“Officer, I’m curious. You and I both know those guys could get a lot of money for this laptop. Was it hidden in the office or buried under yarn so they couldn’t see it?”

He grinned at her, revealing how young he really was. Probably former military, judging by his look and bearing.

“No, ma’am. It was sitting right on top of her desk. Plain as day. Take care, now,” he said before nosing his cruiser down the driveway.

Kelly watched him drive away as the whine of Steve’s drill cut through the fast-disappearing daylight.

“I still can’t believe it happened,” Megan said, her fingers anxiously working a shamrock green yarn, stitches gathering quickly on her knitting needles.

Kelly glanced at her friend across the table in a sunny corner of Mimi’s kitchen. The more Megan worried, the faster she knitted. Kelly had seen Megan worry many times before, and always watched in amazement at the speed with which the knitted garments took shape. From froth to finished right before her eyes. Megan could finish a scarf in hours. Worrying about her friends, worrying about Kelly’s sleuthing, worrying about her computer consulting clients.

But this was worse. Lambspun was a second home for all of them. Not only had it been vandalized, but someone who wanted to join the “shop family” had died as a result. None of them knew Tracy very well, but they had looked forward to learning more about the shy student. And Mimi had taken a motherly interest in her as well.

“I know, Megan. It still feels unreal, like a bad dream.” Kelly worked the variegated red and pink yarn piled in her lap. Unlike Megan’s project, Kelly’s new scarf was far from finished. She had at least three feet to go. Her knitting times disappeared when Lambspun was vandalized.

Mimi leaned back in a rounded maple chair and held her teacup tightly. Sunshine from the window behind brought out the reddish highlights in her hair. “A nightmare, you mean. I barely slept at all last night. These awful dreams kept waking me up.”

Lisa spoke up from across the table. “What does Burt say? Are the police searching for these guys? There’s got to be someone who knows them.” A turquoise and gray sweater bundled on her swift-moving needles.

“Yeah, they’re searching, all right. But finding is the problem, according to Burt. These guys scatter when they hear the cops are looking,” Kelly said.

Kelly watched her needles work the stitches.
Slip. Wrap. Slide. Slip the needle under the stitch, wrap the yarn, slide the stitch off the needle.
Kelly still remembered the cadence someone around the table had recited once. Remembered how she’d struggled to capture the rhythm when she first learned to knit. Now the movements felt natural, almost automatic. And her stitches looked more even and smooth, row after row. Not as many holes or dropped stitches, either.

“Have you heard from Burt today?” Megan asked, glancing toward Mimi.

“I called him this morning and invited him to join us for breakfast. He said he’d come as soon as he had a chance to talk with Dan. They’re hoping the medical examiner will have a report today—”

A brief knock was followed by Burt’s voice as Mimi’s kitchen door suddenly opened. “Good morning. I was hoping to find you folks here.”

“Hey, Burt, glad you could join us,” Lisa called in greeting as he stomped snow from his boots onto the floor mat.

“Looks like we’ll be gathering here at Mimi’s until we can get the shop back up to speed,” Kelly added as she pulled out a chair beside her. “Have a seat.”

Mimi greeted Burt with a hug. “We’ve saved eggs and bacon and biscuits for you. Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll fix you a plate.”

“Just coffee for now, thanks,” he said before giving her a light kiss on the cheek.

“When do you think we’ll be able to go into the shop and clean up?” Megan asked. “Mimi says it’s a mess.”

Burt settled into the chair. “You folks can probably start this afternoon. I’ve already talked with Dan.”

Kelly caught Burt’s subdued tone, and her needles paused. “Are the police still checking the shop?”

Burt nodded as Mimi poured a dark stream of coffee into a ceramic sunflower mug in front of him. “They went back this morning. They should be finished pretty soon.”

“But I thought they had finished yesterday,” Mimi said, looking concerned. “Why’d they go back?”

Burt took a large sip before answering. “They wanted to take another look, because the situation has changed. The medical examiner decided that Tracy’s death was not caused by accidental drowning. He found bruising on the middle of her back and on one wrist, leading him to conclude that she was held under the water until she drowned. That would also explain the blue dye splattered on the wall behind the tub. Splashed there, no doubt by Tracy.” Burt took another drink, then stared into his cup.

Oh—my— God.
Kelly felt the cold creep back to her gut. It hadn’t gone far. Someone murdered Tracy Putnam in the basement of Lambspun. How could that happen? Lambspun was a safe place, another home.

“
What?
That’s . . . that’s crazy,” Lisa protested, her hands gesturing, no longer knitting.

Megan’s eyes went huge, her face ashen. “That’s
horrible
! Why would anyone deliberately kill Tracy?”

Mimi clutched the back of a kitchen chair. “I’m going to be sick.”

Burt rose to his feet, but Mimi had already sprinted for the bathroom, hand to her mouth.

Kelly stared at her friends, her own shock registering in their eyes. They said nothing. The only sounds were Mimi’s German cuckoo clock ticking on the wall and her retching in the bathroom.

Kelly could tell the sun had already gone beneath the clouds without looking out the window. She could feel the chill.

“This refrigerator is clean, Pete. I’m starting on the one in the corner,” Kelly called from the café’s kitchen. Scooping up sponges and towels and cleaning spray, she knelt in front of another undercounter fridge and started in. Dribbles of spaghetti sauce had dried hard and crusty across the polished metal surface. Kelly substituted elbow grease with the sponge for a scrubbing brush so as not to mar the surface.

Across the kitchen, Jennifer sat cross-legged, washing out cabinets. “I think we’re finally beginning to see daylight. How’re you coming with the grill, Eduardo?”

“Ask me later, when I’m not so angry,” the normally genial cook replied before muttering something in Spanish.

“We’re getting there, folks.” Pete’s voice sounded from the dining room. “I’ve almost finished the floors, and Julie’s done the walls. You guys have the scut work. The kitchen was the worst.”

“You know, I’m amazed we’ve gotten so much done,” Kelly said, concentrating on a stubborn drop of tomato sauce. “With luck, we’ll be finished by dinnertime.”

“That’s because Pete was lucky,” Jennifer said as she wiped a towel across shelves and cabinet doors. “I’ve worked in other restaurants that were vandalized, and those places were completely trashed. I mean, windows broken, furniture smashed, walls gouged out, glasses and dishes shattered, everything. Some of those places had to shut down, as I recall.”

Kelly rubbed the last fleck of sauce from the shiny metal while she considered what Jennifer said. “That’s something else that doesn’t add up. Like Mimi’s laptop.” She stopped her scrubbing and sat back on her heels, wiping her plastic-gloved hand on her jeans.

Jennifer glanced over her shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“Most vandals would have done a lot more damage, and they would have stolen Mimi’s laptop for sure. That’s easy money. But that didn’t happen here, and I’m wondering why.”

“I told you. Pete was lucky.”

“Maybe it wasn’t luck.” Kelly reached in and removed the wire racks from the fridge and sprayed inside. “What if there weren’t any vandals? What if one person did all this? That would explain the smaller amount of damage and overlooking Mimi’s computer.”

“You think someone killed Tracy then did all this to make it look like vandalism?”

“Maybe. Maybe the killer didn’t figure anyone could tell Tracy had been held underwater.”

“I don’t know, Kelly. I’m not sure I can buy into that. I still can’t understand why someone would deliberately kill Tracy Putnam. An accidental death is awful and tragic, but murder? It’s horrible.” Jennifer finished wiping the end cabinet then stared off into space. “I wish I’d never told her about the shop.”

“Jen, you can’t blame yourself for what happened to Tracy. It sounds as if there was a lot more going on in Tracy’s life than anyone knew.” Kelly paused. “Did she ever let on that she was having trouble with anyone? You know, a classmate or a boyfriend?”

“If she was having trouble with anyone, she never said a word. But I remember her mentioning a guy once.”

“Oh, really? Was he her boyfriend, you think?”

Jennifer shook her head. “I don’t know. She just said she was seeing someone. Didn’t mention his name.”

“Was he another student? Or maybe even someone from the office?”

“She never said. In fact, when I asked about him, she clammed up. I figured she was super private, so I never asked again.”

“Hmmmm. A mysterious boyfriend with no name,” Kelly said, replacing the wire racks onto the cleaned fridge shelves. “Did she talk about her family at all? Maybe they know something.”

Jennifer gave the last cabinet a parting swipe with her towel before she pulled herself off the floor. “I think she was pretty close to her older sister. I remember her saying how much she missed their phone calls. Apparently her sister works abroad. I can’t remember her name, either. But she seemed to get along with her family all right. She didn’t have any horror stories to tell.”

“Why don’t you check if your office has her family’s phone number,” Kelly suggested as she closed the fridge door and stood up. “Maybe you can call them and—”

“And maybe we should let the
police
do their jobs,” Jennifer said with a smile, leaning against the now-clean counter. “I’m sure they’ll be all over that office first thing tomorrow morning asking questions. And the university will have all Tracy’s personal family information on record.”