Dyeing Up Loose Ends Page 2

  Kelly laughed lightly. “That’s a snapshot of real life for sure.”

  “Well, let’s hope there aren’t any mean bullies in little Jack’s class,” Mimi said in her most maternal tone before she walked into the workroom next door.

  Cassie glanced to Kelly with a smile. “Mimi is so sweet. She wants to picture everything and everyone in the very best light. Nothing bad ever happening.”

  Kelly let out a sigh. “I know. Mimi has seen a lot of tragic events in her life, so naturally she tries to focus on the good things.”

  Cassie peered at Kelly. “I know about Mimi’s son dying in the Poudre Canyon when he was at the university. He took drugs at a party one weekend and walked right over the side of a cliff into the ravine and broke his neck. That is so awful. Mimi must have been devastated.”

  “I’m sure she was. I didn’t know her then. In fact, that was so long ago I was probably still in university myself.”

  Cassie’s brow arched. “You said that Mimi’s seen a lot of ‘tragic’ things in her life. What were the others?”

  Kelly hesitated. If she answered Cassie’s question honestly, she would be opening a Pandora’s box of memories—some happy but others heartbreaking.

  Cassie’s gaze narrowed, and she smiled a little. “You’re thinking about whether to tell me or not. I can see it on your face, Kelly. You’re hesitating.”

  Kelly had to laugh. “Boy, Cassie, you’ve learned to read me really well. Can’t get away with anything, can I?”

  “Nope,” Cassie said with a grin. “So tell me. You’re making me really curious.”

  Kelly laughed again and looked out into the central yarn room beyond. No one else was around. No customers and no browsers. No Lambspun elves were nearby or close to the knitting table, either. She beckoned Cassie closer. “C’mon over here. I’m going to lower my voice. I don’t want anyone else to overhear.”

  Cassie immediately jumped up from her chair at the end of the library table and swiftly joined Kelly along the side. She pulled out the chair beside Kelly. “Now I can’t wait to hear.”

  Kelly took a long drink of coffee. She figured she was going to need it to deliberately sort through her memories for some of those traumatic events she and her Lambspun friends had witnessed several years ago. Kelly didn’t have to search very far. One of those distant memories suddenly appeared before her eyes. The image of a young woman bent over and floating facedown in one of the basement sinks in the Aztec Blue–dyed water.

  Kelly closed her eyes and quietly repeated what happened years before. “A young college girl was killed in the shop basement late one night, years ago. She was drowned in a sink filled with water . . . and Aztec Blue dye.”

  Two

  Cassie’s big brown eyes popped wide. “WHAT!” she whispered in a raspy voice. “Who killed her?”

  “You wouldn’t know the person, Cassie,” Kelly said. “This was years ago before you came to live with Pete and Jennifer. I’ll just say that the killer knew the college girl and found her alone in the shop one night, downstairs dyeing fibers.”

  “But why would they kill her?” Cassie probed.

  Kelly closed her eyes and went back in time to a deep memory. “If I remember correctly, the girl had information that the killer didn’t want revealed.”

  “Didn’t the girl scream or try to get away?”

  More memories surfaced as Kelly answered. “Apparently, the killer held the girl beneath the water until she drowned. At least, that’s what I was told.”

  Cassie glanced toward the front windows. “Whoa . . .” she whispered. “That’s . . . that’s so . . .”

  “Gruesome, I know.” Kelly took another long drink of coffee. Thank goodness it was still hot.

  “Who found her? I hope it wasn’t Mimi.”

  “I think it was maybe Rosa or another Lambspun helper who went downstairs to check on some freshly washed fiber that was drying in the furnace room. I don’t think it was Mimi, but that was at least ten years ago, so maybe it was.” She gave Cassie a wry smile. “I certainly haven’t dredged up that memory since then, either.”

  Cassie stared off into the central yarn room now. “Maybe I’ll find a quiet time and ask Rosa.”

  Kelly released a long sigh. “I had a feeling I shouldn’t have dragged out those old stories.”

  Cassie eyed her with a little smile. “That was only one story. What are the others?”

  Kelly wagged a finger at Cassie. “You are persistent, that’s for sure. I’m not sure I want to dig up any more of those old memories.”

  Just then, another distant memory suddenly materialized before her eyes—the murder that brought Kelly back to Fort Connor to stay thirteen years before. Kelly’s beloved aunt Helen was strangled in her cottage one night. Police told Kelly that a troublesome vagrant was responsible and they had him in custody. But Kelly found proof of the true killer’s identity and alerted authorities.

  “You’re remembering something else; I can tell,” Cassie observed, watching Kelly carefully.

  “All right. I’ll tell you the reason I came to Fort Connor and stayed all those years ago. My aunt Helen was murdered right over there in her cottage. My cottage, now.” Kelly pointed toward the windows. “She was strangled by this horrible man who was trying to gain control over the land Helen owned. Apparently, Helen refused to sign his contract and sell her land, and he strangled her in a fit of rage.” Kelly looked out through the windows toward the driveway, which bordered the cottage and the golf course. “He’s still in prison, where he belongs.”

  Again, Cassie’s eyes went wide in obvious astonishment. “Oh my gosh. That’s awful! But why would he strangle her just because she wouldn’t sign a real estate contract? That doesn’t make sense.”

  Kelly realized she would have to expand her explanation of Alan Gretsky’s behavior. “Well, it’s kind of complicated. Alan Gretsky was a semi-successful real estate agent here in Fort Connor, and he really liked to hang around with all the most successful real estate brokers and agents. The top dogs, so to speak. Jennifer told me that Gretsky had taken out loans to make it appear that he was a ‘big spender’ like his hotshot buddies. Well, he did get a real estate investor client who wanted to buy two properties that were side by side here in Fort Connor. The client wanted to build a big-box store and an attached shopping center on those two properties. One of those properties was owned by an investment company that also held the rental lease on Lambspun knitting shop.” Kelly paused and waited for Cassie’s reaction. It came as quickly as before.

  Cassie’s eyes popped wide. “Oh no! That would have been awful. What did Mimi do?”

  “There’s not much a renter can do if their landlord, whether it’s a single person or a company, decides to raise the rent or if they decide to cancel the lease entirely. The landlord controls the property.”

  “What about that second property? Was that your aunt Helen’s?”

  “Yes, it was, and it was just enough land to hold the cottage and the storage building. But combined with the Lambspun property, which is on a corner lot, there was sufficient land to build the big-box store.”

  Cassie pondered that for a few seconds. “Did your aunt Helen ever explain why she didn’t want to sell her property? Did she hate the idea of a big-box store on her land? Or maybe she didn’t want to have to find another place to live.”

  “I think all those things played into her decision. But there was another reason, too. A really fascinating one. It seems Aunt Helen had a boyfriend in high school—actually, Lizzie explained to me years ago that Helen was one of the prettiest and most popular girls in Fort Connor High School all those years ago.”

  “Lizzie told you this?” Cassie asked, clearly surprised.

  “Yes, apparently, Lizzie and Helen were in the same class together at Fort Connor High, and Lizzie loved keeping track of popular Helen. Lizzie
confided that she and Hilda were pretty shy and sheltered and were not allowed to date in high school. She said, ‘Papa wouldn’t allow it,’” Kelly added with a smile, remembering when Lizzie told her that.

  “That sounds like Lizzie,” Cassie said with a grin.

  “Meanwhile, Lizzie liked to know what her high school acquaintances were doing, and she discovered that Helen had a secret boyfriend in high school. His name was Lawrence.” Kelly decided not to provide any further information on names. “And the reason Helen and Lawrence had to keep their relationship a secret was because Lawrence was the oldest son of one of Fort Connor’s wealthy founding families, and Helen was the daughter of a poor sugar beet farmer who barely scraped by every year. There was no way their relationship had a future. Lizzie said Lawrence was already promised to marry the daughter of another Fort Connor founding family.”

  “Wow. This is a great story, Kelly.”

  Kelly grinned. “It sure is, and it gets even more involved because Helen got pregnant. She and Lawrence had started staying up in the canyon every now and then . . . and things happen.”

  “What did those families do when they found out?”

  “They never did. Helen went to Wyoming to stay with her cousin Martha and family. She had the baby there and placed the little boy up for adoption. Then she came back to Fort Connor, went into the university, and married a really nice guy who became my Uncle Jim. They lived on that land that holds both Lambspun and the cottage and raised sheep on the land that’s now the golf course. She lived there until Uncle Jim died, which is when she thought about selling for the first time.”

  “So why didn’t she sell it when that real estate guy Gretsky offered her a contract?”

  “Because her cousin Martha in Wyoming told her Gretsky was actually her out-of-wedlock son who was born in Wyoming. Martha had kept track and learned that the baby was adopted by a Wyoming couple that moved to Fort Connor. So when persistent real estate agent Gretsky showed up at Helen’s door, pressuring her to sell, Helen decided she would donate the property to the City of Fort Connor for a golf course before she let Gretsky have it for a big-box store, because she and Uncle Jim loved that land.”

  “Did Gretsky ever learn that Helen was his real mother?”

  Kelly nodded. “Yes, apparently, he eavesdropped on a conversation between Helen and Lizzie here at Lambspun and heard the truth. Unfortunately, Gretsky figured that Helen had to sign the contract because he was her son and told her that. He admitted he’d gone into debt with his real estate business and really needed her help.”

  “What did Helen say?”

  “Helen told Gretsky he wasn’t looking for a mother, just a meal ticket. Then she handed him an envelope with twenty thousand dollars in cash and told him she never wanted to see him again. And that’s when Gretsky admitted to Burt and me that he snapped, and he choked her to death.”

  “Wow . . .” was all Cassie said. “I’m so sorry he killed your aunt, Kelly.”

  “I know, it’s a sad story. But the only good thing that happened because of it was that I returned to Fort Connor. Aunt Helen’s favorite yarn shop was Lambspun, and she and Mimi were good friends. So, naturally, I had to visit Aunt Helen’s favorite shop, and that’s when I met all these great people and wound up staying in Fort Connor and living in her cottage.”

  “That’s a great story, Kelly.” Cassie said with a grin. “What are some of those other Lambspun stories?”

  “You mean what are some of the other murder stories?” Kelly asked with a grin. Just then, Kelly’s cell phone gave its distinctive ring with her current musical selection. Kelly glanced at the screen and recognized her client Arthur Housemann’s name. “Sorry, Cassie. I’ll have to catch up with you later. This is one of my clients.” Kelly clicked on her phone as she walked through the shop toward the front entry door.

  Cassie picked up some of the magazines on the library table in front of her and returned to sorting.

  Within a few minutes, Jennifer walked into the main knitting room with her oversize knitting bag in hand. “Hey there, Cassie. Are you concentrating on something or can I take my knitting break here?” Jennifer settled into a chair on the same side of the library table where Cassie sat.

  Cassie’s eyes lit up as she leaned over the pile of magazines. “Jen! Kelly’s been telling me some of those fascinating stories about Lambspun years ago and the murders that happened here.”

  Jennifer’s eyes popped wide as she stared at Cassie. “What! You’re kidding, I hope.”

  “Not at all.” Cassie pointed toward the driveway. “She told me about her aunt Helen and how she was strangled in her cottage over there by this real estate guy who was actually her son!”

  “Oh boy,” Jennifer said, wagging her head as she withdrew a hot pink yarn from her knitting bag.

  “And she told me how someone drowned a girl downstairs in the basement sink!”

  At that, Jennifer closed her eyes. “Oh no. Not the Aztec Blue Dye murder. It took everyone here at Lambspun months to be able to go downstairs alone after that. Mimi and Rosa and everyone in the shop would go in twos whenever they took yarns and supplies to the basement; everyone except Pete.” Jennifer smiled. “Bless his heart. Nothing shakes him. Pete kept taking his bakery items downstairs to warm close to that furnace room. You know, the room where we take yarns to dry. Well, there’s another room right below the kitchen where Pete has metal racks for bread and pastry items to rise.”

  “Oh yeah, I remember seeing those down there. Boy, it must have been scary to find that girl in the basement.”

  Jennifer glanced to the side as her fingers worked the bright pink yarn. “I think I remember that it was Rosa who discovered the girl down there.” She gave an exaggerated shudder.

  Cassie observed her for a second. “What were some of those other murders? Kelly said there were several, and it sounds like they’re all part of Lambspun’s history. Tell me,” Cassie cajoled.

  Jennifer glanced up at her with a smile. “Boy, you’d make a good lawyer. You are really, really persuasive. Okay, I’ll tell you about one of those early murders. This was years ago. I happened to be up in Bellevue Canyon with Kelly when she discovered the dead body of one of our friends from the shop here. Vickie Claymore. She and Jayleen were friends.”

  Cassie’s eyes popped wide again. “Oh no! Who killed her? What happened?”

  Jennifer exhaled a sigh. “She was hit from behind with a very heavy statue-like object. The blow was so severe, she was knocked unconscious, and she bled to death on her beautiful handwoven rug.”

  “Whoa . . .” was all Cassie said, clearly shocked by Jennifer’s description.

  “Vickie was a really talented weaver. Plus, she had a successful business breeding alpacas. Kelly and I first met Jayleen at Vickie’s ranch because Jayleen was an alpaca breeder, too. Jayleen also did the bookkeeping for Vickie. Jayleen was just building her breeding business, so it wasn’t as successful yet. People don’t understand how long it takes an alpaca breeder to actually get to the point of supporting themselves with their business. Some never do.”

  “So who killed Vickie Claymore? And why?” Cassie probed.

  “One of Vickie’s friends and fellow alpaca breeders,” Jennifer answered. “A rancher named Geri Norbert. Jayleen told us after the murder that she had learned that Geri Norbert was in a lot of debt to Vickie Claymore because she’d borrowed a great deal of money to keep her alpaca business going. Since Geri could no longer pay her debt, Vickie told her that she was taking ownership of Geri’s alpaca ranch. That’s when Geri Norbert snapped. Kelly told us that it was really spooky sitting there at the ranch listening to Geri explain what had happened. Kelly said Geri had clearly lost touch with reality.”

  “Wow . . . that does sound scary.”

  Jennifer nodded. “That’s exactly what Kelly told us.”

  Cassie cocked her he
ad to the side. “Do you remember any of those stories that aren’t that scary?”

  Jennifer pondered, as she knitted another row. Wrapping the yarn over and around. Slip, wrap, slide. Slip, wrap, slide.

  “Let’s see . . .” Jennifer pondered. “Non-scary. Non-scary. Oh, I know. There was one murder Kelly solved that featured a caramel macchiato–flavored coffee drink.”

  Cassie laughed. “You’re kidding.”

  “No, I’m serious. Why don’t I call this person Murderer Number Three?”

  “Boy, how many are there?” Cassie asked.

  Jennifer arched a brow. “Don’t ask. Anyway, Kelly told me that Number Three put sleeping pills in one of those popular caramel flavored coffee shop drinks then handed it to the victim. This happened here in Fort Connor and involved several Northern Colorado fiber artists. I think one of them was having an exhibition of artistic weaving.”

  Three

  “That was Allison Dubois,” Megan spoke up as she walked into Lambspun’s main room. “Both Kelly and I met Allison over here at Lambspun where she learned how to weave, and we’d both been encouraging her to enter some of her beautiful weavings in those local and regional fiber artists’ competitions. She did, and she started winning prizes and attracting national attention, too.” Megan set her voluminous knitting bag on the library table then settled into a chair across from Jennifer at the table and took a sip from her take-out coffee.

  “Perfect timing, Megan.” Jennifer gave a smile. “Cassie was asking me about some of the, uh, how shall we say it, some of the more dramatic events that have happened at Lambspun or with Lambspun people over the years.”

  “Well, we’ve certainly had several that would fall into that category,” Megan agreed.

  “You mean the murders, right?” Cassie probed. “That’s what I was asking Kelly about. She told me about her aunt Helen’s murder. Then Jen told me about this alpaca rancher’s murder up there in Bellevue Canyon. Jen said she was with Kelly when they both walked into this rancher Vickie Claymore’s house and found her dead on the floor. Some other alpaca rancher was in debt and killed her because Vickie Claymore was going to take ownership of that woman’s ranch.”