Purl Up and Die (21 page)

“Really? Wow, I recall her saying that she started years ago with a small shop there.” Kelly tried to picture Lambspun's yarns being crammed into a narrow little shop. The image wouldn't come into focus. “I can't picture it, though.”

Susan laughed softly. “It wasn't anything like this. Everything was stacked on shelves and such. But Mimi had such a gorgeous variety of yarns that more and more people kept coming. That's how it grew. That, plus her classes.” Susan opened her large fabric bag beside her and brought out two spools of yarn that matched the purple and blue fibers of the short expanse of woven fabric on the loom.

Kelly wondered how to broach the subject of Barb, but decided there was no way to dance around it. So she resorted to her usual forthright habits. “You know, Patty and I were sharing our concerns about Barb. She's been under so much stress with her son Tommy and that whole situation. Patty said you'd known Barb since childhood and were also concerned.”

Susan's smile disappeared. “Goodness, yes. Barb has not been herself for a few weeks now. She's constantly worrying about Tommy and obsessing about the girl.” Susan frowned. “Ever since that girl was murdered and Tommy became a suspect, Barb has just gotten paranoid almost. Of course, I can't blame her. If it was my son, I'd obsess about it, too, I'm sure.”

“Patty said you were so worried one time when she missed a get-together that you even went to her house to check on her,” Kelly said in a deliberately casual manner. “That was considerate of you. Checking on your friend.”

“Well, I was worried. Barb had never missed bridge club before, so I was afraid she might be sick or something. So I drove over to her house, only to find all the lights on but no one there. Barb's car was also gone from the garage. That is
very unlike Barb. She adores schedules and keeps on track for all meetings and such.”

“It does sound unusual,” Kelly agreed, hoping Susan would continue.

“The next day, when I saw Barb in the shop I asked if she was all right, wondering if she'd had to go to the doctor. She'd never missed bridge before. Barb looked surprised that I'd asked and said she'd decided to go to a late-night movie. Then she walked away to make a phone call.” Susan's frown reappeared. That's so unlike Barb, and that's when I started to worry about her.”

Kelly's little buzzer became louder as Susan related the story.
What was up with Barb?

“A late-night movie, huh? I admit, that does sound unusual for Barb. Now I understand why you and Patty have been worried.”

Kelly looked toward the adjoining yarn room, thoughts starting to buzz inside her head, making no sense whatsoever. She needed some time to think. Checking her watch, Kelly was surprised by the time. It was late afternoon already. She had to be in Arthur Housemann's office in an hour and a half.

“Thanks for explaining all that to me, Susan. Now I know it hasn't been my imagination. I'm going to have to run back to my cottage now and print off some financial statements. I've got a client meeting in an hour or so.” She backed away from the Mother Loom toward the doorway into the foyer.

“You're a busy girl, Kelly. Take care. We'll talk again
another time,” Susan said, returning to the heddles and the beautiful purple and blue weaving she'd started.

“By the way, that is gorgeous, Susan. Really gorgeous. Great job,” Kelly called over her shoulder as she sped
away.

Monday morning

Kelly
swiftly walked across the driveway toward the patio garden of Pete's Café. From the time she'd returned from her run and jumped in the shower, her morning had been packed with phone calls with both her clients, solving minor issues before they became problems. Kelly hadn't had a moment to draw a deep breath let alone relax until now.

And now she wanted to give attention to the thoughts that had been simmering in the back of her mind since Saturday afternoon. Kelly headed for the smaller table in the back corner of the patio garden. Perfect. Breakfast was tapering off anyway. She'd have some quiet time at last.

Bright summer flowers were blooming in their sunny and shady spots around the garden. Annuals—scarlet red geraniums and multicolored impatiens—as well as
dependable perennials—purple and yellow irises—adorned the flower beds.

But what really made the patio garden so enticing was the greenery—bushes and vines and sprawling ground covers. Tiny blossoms peeked through these leaves, nothing showy or dramatic, simply shades of blue or pink. Vinca vines spread among the flowers. And of course, the tall cottonwood trees that provided most of the shade. The smaller crabapple trees also brought shade, their bright pink spring blossoms long gone. But each year they eagerly announced, “Spring is here,” after every winter.

“Julie, could you bring me a large iced coffee, please? Might as well start the summer day off right,” she said as she spotted the busy waitress.

“Sure thing,” Julie said and continued her path toward her customers' table.

Kelly settled in at the back table and pulled out another ribbon scarf. She decided to make one for herself so she could wear it when she went to the kids' games. The ones she had were looking a little worn. They'd gotten a lot of use. This was also a perfect time for sorting through her jumbled thoughts. She needed to “knit on it,” as Mimi always advised. Problems came into focus in those quiet times.

She started the familiar rhythmic motions of knitting. Meanwhile, the thoughts that had been zooming around Kelly's mind, darting into each other, not making sense, began to slowly order themselves.

Could it be? Was it possible that . . . that Barb killed Laura Brewster? The unthinkable thought shimmered for a
second in Kelly's mind. There was no doubt Barb harbored a ton of resentment toward the young woman. Laura Brewster had filed a complaint with the police, accusing Tommy of sexual assault in his doctor's office.
Tommy
. Barb's beloved son.

Kelly slid another stitch from the left knitting needle and onto the right. Barb certainly gave new meaning to the phrase “overprotective mother.” She remembered Barb's reaction last week when Burt told her that Tommy had willingly submitted a DNA sample to police. Barb was angry that Tommy hadn't consulted her beforehand.

That little buzzer nudged Kelly inside. Was Barb's reaction based on her knowledge that the sample might show some DNA markers with similarities? Perhaps Barb's long-cultivated protective mother persona wasn't the real reason Barb expressed aggravation and anger when Burt told her. Perhaps . . . it was a protective instinct for herself.

More thoughts popped up, begging for Kelly's attention. Barb wasn't at her house the night of Laura's murder, and her excuse made no sense to an old friend. Another thought, then another zoomed in. Kelly finished another row of stitches, then another, wondering if she was really onto something or if she was jumping to conclusions. As Patty had said, Barb had been through a lot of stress.

Kelly looked up and spotted Burt walking through the patio garden. He hadn't noticed her in the back corner because he hadn't waved a hello. So Kelly waved and called his name. She could bounce these ideas off Burt and immediately know if she was on the right or wrong track.

“Hey, Burt. Do you have a few minutes?” she called. Burt
turned and sent her his familiar smile, so Kelly beckoned him over.

“Hi, there, Kelly. Looks like you've found the perfect spot to work in peace and quiet.” Burt pulled out a wrought iron patio chair across the table from Kelly. “I'm still with the hot morning coffee.” He took a drink from the large mug.

“I've already switched to cold,” Kelly said, lifting her mug. “Do you have a few minutes to talk? I've got some things I'd like to run past you, and I'd appreciate your input.”

“Sure thing, Kelly. What's up?” Burt placed his mug on the patio table and settled back into the chair. One of his listening positions.

Kelly took a deep breath. “I've been doing a lot of thinking about Laura Brewster's murder—”

“You and Dan and others at the police department,” Burt joked.

“Yeah, I'm sure. Well . . . I've been trying to figure out if there was someone else responsible. Someone other than Tommy, that is.”

“Are you talking about the violent intruder?”

“Uhhhhh, no. I'm talking about someone else.”

Burt's bushy eyebrows shot up as surprise registered. “I'm listening.”

Kelly paused, sorting through the ideas, wondering which one to present first. Then, in her usual forthright manner, she simply jumped in. “I'm wondering if Barb killed Laura Brewster.”

This time Burt's eyebrows knotted. “Barb? What makes you think that?”

“Well, I learned something the other day that really
makes my little buzzer go off. And you know how I pay attention to that.”

“Oh, yeah. So do I. I'm listening.”

“We've both commented on Barb's intense feelings toward Laura right after her accusations of Tommy's assault. That was understandable, of course. Protective mother and all that. But I'm sure you've noticed how Barb still harbors this intense, well, I can't find another word but ‘hatred.' She's always referring to Laura as ‘that evil girl.'”

Burt's skeptical look showed. “That's also understandable. The damage she did to Tommy's reputation survives Laura's death.”

“I know. But I always got a cold chill whenever she said that. I wasn't able to explain it. And these thoughts never occurred until the other day. I was talking with Patty, one of the knitters in Barb's advanced class. She mentioned she was worried about Barb and all the stress she's been under. I said we all had noticed how distracted Barb was lately. Then Patty added that Barb had even missed their monthly bridge club meeting, and she'd never missed a meeting in all the years. My buzzer sent a little signal so I asked when that meeting was scheduled. I recognized the day as soon as Patty said it. That was the same night Laura Brewster was killed.”

Burt's skeptical look deepened. “I don't have to tell you that is definitely not enough to draw suspicion.”

“I know, but then Patty mentioned her friend Susan, a weaver, was so worried she went over to Barb's house that night. It was all lit up but Barb wasn't there, and neither was her car.”

Burt sat silently, listening.

Kelly continued. “That aroused my curiosity, naturally. So then I saw Susan setting up at the Mother Loom.”

“Yes, Mimi is letting her use it to work on this new table runner Susan is doing. Bamboo yarn.”

“Anyway, I spoke with Susan and told her I was worried about Barb and all that. I figured that would get the ball rolling. Well, Susan confirmed everything that Patty said plus she told me that she expressed her concern to Barb the day after the bridge meeting. She said Barb looked surprised. That was her word: ‘surprised.' Barb told her that she'd gone to a late-night movie that evening. Then Barb turned and walked away. Needless to say, Susan found that very strange behavior for Barb. And I have to agree.”

Burt's eyebrows knotted together. “Yes, that definitely sounds out of character for Barb. But, again, any theories that Barb missed bridge that night so she could go over to Laura Brewster's apartment and kill her . . . well, I don't have to tell you, Kelly, that's pretty far-fetched.”

“What if Barb simply went over to Laura Brewster's apartment to talk with her? Maybe try to convince her to withdraw the charges? I don't know. Maybe the conversation went sour. Maybe Laura refused to listen to Barb. What if Laura called Tommy a bad name or something? Something that would make Barb really, really angry. And maybe Barb simply reacted out of anger. A crime of passion. Choking Laura Brewster to death.”

Burt glanced into the garden, not saying a word. Kelly could tell he was thinking over what she said. Kelly decided to mention something else that had piqued her curiosity.

“Maybe that's the reason the DNA results show some markers that match Tommy's. If Barb was the killer, then Tommy's DNA would show a family similarity or connection or whatever scientists call it.”

At that, Burt looked back to Kelly. “That DNA sample was puzzling. But that's still not enough to justify accusations.”

Kelly pondered what Burt said. He and Mimi had known Barb for years. They were friends. Was that why Burt was not giving credence to Kelly's suspicions? Or was it simply because everything Kelly had told him was easily explained. Nothing really suspicious. Barb really could have gone to a late-night movie. No doubt it would have been the first time in her life, Kelly thought.

The accusing thoughts inside her head, however, were not deterred by Burt's apparent lack of enthusiasm. They still prodded Kelly to find a way to convince Burt to take her suspicions seriously.

Just then Mimi appeared, walking along the flagstone path, several skeins of yarn in her hands. She smiled at them as she approached. “You two have the perfect spot in the shade. This has always been one of my favorite café tables.”

“You need some help, Mimi?” Burt said, pushing back the wrought iron chair.

“Thanks. You could bring that bag of fleece on the winding table. I've got a spinning class out here in an hour,” Mimi said, nodding toward the tiny cottage on the edge of the patio garden.

Kelly knew she had to say something to capture Burt's interest, but what? Then, a weird thought zoomed from the
back of her mind. She voiced it without a moment's hesitation.

“Mimi, would you know if Barb has a CSU jacket? You know, the kind that students and players use. Green and gold.”

Mimi let out a little laugh as she paused on her way to the spinning cottage. “A CSU jacket? Goodness, let me think.”

Kelly could feel Burt staring at the back of her head, but she kept her attention focused on Mimi. “It might be an old one.”

“Hmmmmm, you know, I think she does. She's had it so long I'd forgotten. I think it belonged to her father. Why do you ask?”

Kelly shrugged. “Oh, someone I know was looking to borrow one for a party. Sorry, I didn't mean to slow you down.”

“No problem, Kelly,” Mimi said, then headed for the cottage.

At that point, Kelly glanced back up at Burt. This time he was looking at her with a half smile. “Pretty slick, Sherlock. That was quick thinking.”

Kelly gave a shrug. “It's all the accounting. Numbers keep you on your toes.”

“Okay, Kelly. I think the only thing that will settle this is for us to speak with Barb. She's got a class late tomorrow morning. Do you want me to leave her a text message asking her to come in earlier?”

The nagging thoughts finally started to ease off, Kelly noticed. “That sounds like a plan, Burt. I'll be over at the shop as soon as it opens at nine o'clock. Coffee in hand.”

“Okay, I'll meet you, and I promise I'll keep an open mind.
You've got a helluva track record. You and that damn buzzer,” he said with a real smile this time before he walked off.

Kelly had to smile. Thank goodness Burt responded in a positive way. She returned to knitting her red ribbon scarf. She'd done more rows than she thought while ordering her thoughts. This project would be finished quickly, and she'd be wearing her new bright red ribbon scarf while cheering on the kids' teams.
Take me out to the ball game . . .
the words of the old song.
Absolutely
.

The next morning

“You're here early, Kelly,” Connie said as Kelly walked into the Lambspun foyer.

“Yeah, I had a real craving for Eduardo's coffee. Couldn't help myself. That specialty coffee I buy still isn't as good as his.” Kelly paused beside Connie, who was stacking several small skeins of bamboo yarn on the antique dry sink in the corner of the foyer.

“I have to be careful with Eduardo's coffee. It's so strong it'll keep me awake at night if I have it after twelve noon.” Connie gave the pile a little pat when she finished stacking. Cotton candy pink, cantaloupe orange, and lime sherbet green.

Kelly fondled the soft yarn, wondering yet again how something which comes from a tough plant like bamboo can be turned into fiber this soft. Another thought appeared in the corner of her mind. A thought she'd been meaning to ask Connie about.

“How're you doing, Connie?” she asked in a quiet voice, looking into the middle-aged woman's face. A year had passed since that traumatic period when Connie was suspected of killing her husband's lover in Cache La Poudre Canyon.

Connie gazed back at Kelly. “Pretty good, actually. I've been going to that counselor Lisa recommended, and I have to admit she's been a real help. Somehow . . . I never expected that from a counselor.”

Kelly gave her an encouraging smile. “That's so good to hear, Connie. Lisa knows the best ones in town because she works with most of the counselors in various groups and organizations.”

“Well, the counselor suggested I check out the community college and see if they had any courses I might like. And I signed up for a class in power tools and another in basic home repairs.” A smile slowly spread across her face. “I was surprised how much I enjoyed both, so I signed up for another in beginning carpentry. Boy, is that challenging.” Connie gave a little laugh.