Skein of the Crime Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgements

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Braided Knit Scarf

  Alex Hazard’s “Triple Threat Triple Layer” Carrot Cake

  Berkley Prime Crime titles by Maggie Sefton

  KNIT ONE, KILL TWO

  NEEDLED TO DEATH

  A DEADLY YARN

  A KILLER STITCH

  DYER CONSEQUENCES

  FLEECE NAVIDAD

  DROPPED DEAD STITCH

  SKEIN OF THE CRIME

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)

  Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

  Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi—110 017, India

  Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE: The recipe contained in this book is to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reactions to the recipe contained in this book.

  Copyright © 2010 by Margaret Conlan Aunon.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Sefton, Maggie.

  eISBN : 978-1-101-43464-2

  1. Flynn, Kelly (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Knitters (Persons)—Fiction. 3. Women college students—Crimes against—Fiction. 4. Fort Collins (Colo.)—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3619.E37S57 2010

  813’.6—dc22 2009052468

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  Acknowledgments

  Once again, I would like to thank my friend Natasha York for her advice and consultation. Natasha is a fellow knitter and an officer with the Larimer County Police Department here in Fort Collins, Colorado. She was very helpful in explaining how illegally obtained prescription drugs wind up on the recreational drug scene.

  And a special “thank-you” to my daughter, Serena, a Doctor of Internal Medicine, who explained the various opiate narcotic prescription painkillers and the dangers of abuse. Serena and I have had “Killer Consults” for as long as I’ve been writing mysteries.

  Last, I must point out that the “Golden Lake” resort mentioned in the novel is based on the real Colorado resort Gold Lake, which is every bit as beautiful and peaceful as I’ve described.

  Cast of Characters

  Kelly Flynn—financial accountant and part-time sleuth, refugee from East Coast corporate CPA firm

  Steve Townsend—architect and builder in Fort Connor, Colorado, and Kelly’s boyfriend

  KELLY’S FRIENDS:

  Jennifer Stroud—real estate agent, part-time waitress

  Lisa Gerrard—physical therapist

  Megan Smith—IT consultant, another corporate refugee

  Marty Harrington—lawyer, Megan’s boyfriend

  Greg Carruthers—university instructor, Lisa’s boyfriend

  Pete Wainwright—owner of Pete’s café in the back of Kelly’s favorite knitting shop, House of Lambspun

  LAMBSPUN FAMILY AND REGULARS:

  Mimi Shafer—Lambspun shop owner and knitting expert, known to Kelly and her friends as “Mother Mimi”

  Burt Parker—retired Fort Connor police detective, Lambspun spinner-in-residence

  Hilda and Lizzie von Steuben—spinster sisters, retired school teachers, and exquisite knitters

  Curt Stackhouse—Colorado rancher, Kelly’s mentor and a dvisor

  Jayleen Swinson—Alpaca rancher and Colorado Cowgirl

  Connie and Rosa—Lambspun shop personnel

  Prologue

  Early August

  Kelly Flynn navigated her car out of the shopping center parking lot and merged into Fort Connor’s thinning late-night traffic. Only a total lack of coffee would force her to stop by the grocery store on the way home from a post-game celebration at her softball team’s favorite Old Town café. It was nearly midnight, but some things were too important to worry about inconvenience. Coffee was at the top of that short list.

  Her cell phone sounded from the seat beside her where she’d tossed it. Kelly pulled to the right lane and slowed down before answering. Her friend Jennifer’s voice came over the line.

  “Good, you’re still up. Did the game run long tonight?”

  “Not really, but we went to our favorite café afterwards. I’m driving home now. What’s up? Why’re you calling so late?”

  “I’m doing Mimi a favor. She tried calling you guys but forgot you and Megan and Lisa were all playing ball tonight, so she called me. Mimi needs help with one of those beginner knitting classes at Lambspun tomorrow morning. You know, the summer ones with guest teachers. Mimi will be out of the shop in the morning, and Rosa can’t spare time away from customers to help, so Mimi asked if one of you guys might be able to. What’s your schedule like? The class is at nine and runs an hour, so it doesn’t take long.”

  Kelly ran through her mental day planner. No outside appointments tomorrow, just regular client work. A former corporate CPA, Kelly could now arrange her schedule at will. Her new consulting business was thriving. “Sure, I can manage that, as long as I’ll be a helper. I’m not qualified to teach classes.”

  “Don’t worry. Barbara Macenroe is teaching. She’s really experienced, too. Have you met her? She’s a nurse over at one of the doctor’s clinics near the hospital. Tall, big-boned gal.”

  “That doesn’t sound familiar, so I don’t think I’ve met her yet. Does she come to the shop often?”

  “I’ve only seen her late in the afternoons when I’ve dropped by after the office, so you may have missed her. But she’s started teaching cla
sses at the shop, helping take the load off Mimi. Anyway, she’s a real ‘take charge’ sort, so you won’t have to worry. You’ll be her assistant, that’s all. I’d do it, but it’s a morning class and I’m working in the café, so I can’t.”

  “Sure. Tell Mimi I’ll be glad to help,” Kelly said as she turned onto another large avenue. A Big Box store and its sprawling shopping center shone neon bright ahead. “How come you’re still up? Don’t tell me you and Pete were working a catering job this late.”

  “Okay, then I won’t tell you,” Jennifer joked. “Yeah, we were both beat by the time we finished. I just got out of relaxing in the tub. Now I’m heading to bed.”

  Kelly angled into the left-turn lane. “Me, too, as soon as I get home.”

  “Steve still in Denver?”

  “Yeah. He’s starting to stay down there a couple of nights a week. He’s gotten some part-time work for another company.”

  “After working all day for the architect firm? That’s rough.”

  “Yeah, it is. He barely has time to talk, let alone sleep,” Kelly said, remembering the brief conversation she’d had with her boyfriend earlier that evening. “At least he’ll avoid that morning commute from Fort Connor to Denver. It’s beyond awful. I had to get into that rush-hour mess last week when I was heading out to meet my new client near Brighton. Man, it took me nearly two hours to get there.”

  “I know. I went to a regional real estate meeting a month ago in Denver and allowed over two hours so I wouldn’t be late. But I still got there with only ten minutes to spare.”

  Kelly turned onto the street that bordered her favorite knitting shop, Lambspun. “I hear you. I don’t know how Steve stands it.” She waited for cars to pass, then turned onto the gravel driveway that ran between the shop and her cottage beside the golf course. Ablaze with lights, the little cottage was the only bright light in the dark. Kelly didn’t like coming home to a dark house, especially an empty dark house.

  “Steve doesn’t have a choice, Kelly. He’s only doing what he has to to get through this terrible housing market. I hope things start to improve in a few months. It’s brutal out there.”

  “Yeah, I know, and it doesn’t look like it’s getting any better.”

  “Listen, I’m gonna go to sleep. See you tomorrow.”

  “Bye, Jen.” Kelly clicked off her cell phone, then nosed her car into its space in front of the cottage she had inherited three years ago after her aunt Helen’s murder. The car’s high beams bathed the front of the beige stucco and red-tiled roof cottage in bright light. Kelly heard her Rottweiler Carl barking his “welcome home” bark in the backyard. Carl could always tell the sound of her engine and knew when she returned.

  Grabbing her bag, she exited the car and headed down the walk to the steps of her snug cottage. Once inside, Kelly opened the patio door where Carl stood, not so patiently, barking to come in and join her.

  “Hey, Carl, how’re you doing?” she said as Carl bounded inside, barely pausing for a head pat before heading toward the kitchen. Maybe forgotten food crumbs lingered.

  Glancing outside to the concrete patio, Kelly searched for Carl’s water dish. “Carl, did you drag your water dish into the bushes again? I swear, you must be dying of thirst by now.”

  She stepped out onto the patio and scanned the ground for the blue dish when a slight movement to the left caught the periphery of her eye. Turning quickly, Kelly was startled to see a young woman standing only six feet away from her on the patio.

  Kelly instinctively jumped back, her heart racing double time. “What the hell?” she cried, staring at the young woman standing in the dark. “Who are you?”

  The young woman didn’t answer. She simply stared back at Kelly, smiling. Kelly could see her features from the lights shining inside the house.

  “Who are you, and where did you come from?” Kelly demanded, peering at the girl. The young woman appeared college-aged and was slightly built with medium-length blonde hair, a pretty face, and a snub nose. She was wearing a print dress that came to the tops of her knees, and she was barefoot.

  Again, the girl made no answer, but her smile grew wider. She clasped her hands together in front of her and began to rock gently side to side.

  Suddenly, Kelly knew. Drugs. The girl was stoned. Totally. That vacant, not-really-there look in her eyes, that big pumpkin grin, and the rocking. Gently rocking back and forth, as if to some inner music. Ohhhh, yeah, Kelly thought to herself.

  She’d seen this before. Years ago in college at parties where drugs were freely available. Some chose to partake and temporarily “leave the planet behind” so to speak, and others stayed, feet firmly planted on terra firma. Kelly always stayed planted.

  Kelly studied the girl again and lowered her voice, trying once more to get a response. “Where did you come from? What’s your name?”

  But there was no response. The girl continued to grin and rock back and forth. Kelly backed away toward the patio door and stepped inside the house, sliding the door shut. Then she flipped the lock, just in case. Even though the girl appeared harmless, Kelly wasn’t about to take a chance. Especially given that the girl was clearly not in possession of her faculties at the moment.

  The girl needed medical help. No telling what drugs she’d taken or how many. There were several apartment complexes across the intersection with the Big Box shopping center. And there were also older neighborhoods housing students bordering the Old Town area. Maybe she wandered down the river trail from one of the parties.

  Early September still brought late summer’s warmth with it, so nights were extremely pleasant. Perfect for outside parties and gatherings like Kelly had enjoyed with her teammates tonight. On such a nice night, the girl could have wandered from anywhere in the vicinity.

  Carl came up beside Kelly and stared through the glass but didn’t make a sound. No barking, nothing. That surprised Kelly. Her extremely loving, sweet dog had always lived up to his Rottweiler reputation as a vigilant watchdog. Evildoers usually left Kelly’s cottage alone. Whenever she heard his “intruder alert” bark in the middle of the night, she was glad he was on patrol.

  “What’s up with this, Carl?” she interrogated, as she went for her phone. “How come you weren’t barking your head off when I came home? And you never even let on there was a stranger out there.”

  Carl looked up at Kelly, clearly perplexed by her concern.

  “I’ll bet you already knew she was spaced-out. Doggy sixth sense, huh?” Kelly punched in the numerals 9-1-1 and felt an anxious twist to her gut. The last time she’d called 911 was years ago when her father was dying of lung cancer and she needed an ambulance.

  The police department’s dispatcher came on the line and asked Kelly to give her name and her location.

  “My name’s Kelly Flynn, and I’m here in my home at 1111-A Lemay Avenue. I came home a few minutes ago and found a college-aged girl, a stranger, standing outside on my backyard patio. She appears to be stoned because she doesn’t talk or answer questions. Clearly, she doesn’t know where or who she is right now. I think she needs medical help.”

  “Officers will be there shortly, ma’am.”

  Kelly stood on her front stoop outside with Carl on his leash, watching the activity unfolding between her cottage and the knitting shop. The gravel driveway was crowded with a police car, an ambulance, and a regular-length fire engine. Kelly didn’t understand why both an ambulance and a fire engine responded to the dispatcher’s call, each with their own EMT or paramedic team. Maybe it was a slow night in Fort Connor. There must be ten people standing about, all surrounding one young girl.

  Every now and then, Carl would emit a low bark or “ruff,” as if he should be patrolling the entire situation.

  “Easy, Carl. They don’t need you there. It’s crowded enough already.”

  Two police officers, a man and a woman, had first responded to her call. Their huge black flashlights sent bright arcs of light shining around her cottage as they ci
rcled it, then entered the backyard. They found the girl still standing on the edge of the patio, gazing up at the sky. Kelly watched from inside the house as they repeatedly asked her questions. The girl didn’t respond to the police, either. She simply continued to smile broadly and rock back and forth as the wail of emergency sirens cut through the night air.

  The police officers led the young girl from the backyard to the front of the cottage just as the fire engine had rolled down the gravel driveway, brushing the overhanging cottonwood branches as it did. Kelly grabbed a cola from the fridge and put Carl on his leash in order to watch the proceedings from her front step. Maybe the paramedics would have better luck communicating with the girl.

  They didn’t. Kelly had watched a team of four encircle the girl. Then one paramedic tried to elicit a response from her while the others checked her eyes, her heartbeat, her skin, all the while asking the girl her name, where she lived, and how she got to this location. To no avail. Kelly was actually surprised all that talking and probing didn’t stimulate some kind of response.

  Only once did the girl respond. But not to the paramedics. She raised both arms slowly skyward, gazed up into the heavens, and began to sing. Kelly couldn’t understand a word and decided she was probably communicating with the “Mothership.” She watched the professionals respond to the girl’s song by asking more questions. No answers came.

  Five minutes later, an ambulance had arrived, and Kelly watched the entire procedure repeated with another team of paramedics. This time the girl stopped singing and simply rocked back and forth the entire time the ambulance team examined her. Finally, those paramedics placed the girl onto a gurney and loaded her into the ambulance.