Dyer Consequences Read online

  Fire engine red. Exactly the same color of paint that was thrown on her cottage last month. Quickly racing around the garage, she confirmed her fears. The front and both sides were splashed with red paint.

  Damn it! She knew the guy she saw yesterday morning was up to no good. He was probably one of those bastards come back to check out his handiwork. Pulling off a glove, Kelly touched a finger to the paint, frozen now in the cold. Little ice crystals sparkled, catching the early morning sunlight, mocking her with the beauty of the reflected colors.

  A shaft of anger shot through Kelly as she glared at her vandalized garage. Thank goodness for the heavy-duty lock—otherwise those jerks would have smashed her windshield again, or worse. How come she didn’t hear anything last night?

  Thinking back, Kelly recalled Carl waking her up once in the night, barking. But she had seen nothing when she’d looked out the windows into the back and side yards. She’d even opened the front door and checked the front and the driveway. Nothing.

  “Damn it!” Kelly swore out loud this time as she raced back to the cottage and her cell phone.

  How could a bunch of vandals be so stealthy? Was it a bunch? Or was it just that one guy? Kelly’s mind raced as fast as her pulse as she tossed her gloves and hat to the sofa. She shrugged off her jacket and punched in Burt’s phone number.

  Burt answered on the fifth ring. “Hey, Kelly, why so early? Everything okay?”

  “No, everything’s not okay, Burt,” she complained. “Those bastards came back and threw paint on my garage this time. Red paint again. Thick red paint.”

  “Ahhhh, Kelly, I’m sorry to hear that.” Burt’s friendly baritone turned serious. “Have you called it in yet?”

  “I’m about to. I’ve still got the card of the officer I spoke to last time.” Kelly exhaled in exasperation. “Damn it, Burt, why are these guys targeting me? They’ve slashed my tires, smashed my windshield, thrown paint on my house . . . now they’re at it again!”

  “I know, Kelly, it’s frustrating. Let me give Dan a call, too. I’ll see if he’s gotten any more information on the group that was spotted on the north side of town. I’ll get back to you, okay?”

  “Please do, Burt,” Kelly said, pacing from her small living room into the dining room and back again. “I’ll be here making phone calls. I’m hoping Steve’s cleanup crew can come out before that paint is frozen solid on the stucco. It’s colder now than it was in January when it first happened.”

  “Talk to you later. And, Kelly...”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’ll be okay.”

  “I don’t know, Burt. I’ve got a baaaad feeling in my gut about all this. It’s almost like a . . . a vendetta or something.”

  “I know you want an answer, but vandalism almost never makes sense, Kelly. It’s usually just random. I’ll call you later.”

  Kelly clicked off as she searched her desk for the card of the police officer who had investigated January’s damage. She punched in the number as she started another lap around her living room.

  “Random,” Burt had said. Uh-huh. Right now, Kelly felt anything but random. She felt singled out and targeted. Definitely targeted.

  The drone of power equipment rose and fell in an insistent whine. Normally the sound would be annoying, but this whine was music to Kelly’s ears.

  She took another deep drink of the café’s rich coffee while she watched Steve’s cleanup crew work to remove the thick red paint. Large power brushes spun in blurred circles as their bristles sliced away red paint. Unfortunately, the stucco was sometimes sliced off, too. Kelly could see unsightly splotches of cracked, broken, and missing stucco on both sides of her garage.

  Well, at least it matches the cottage now, she thought with a dejected sigh. Whole sections of stucco had come off the cottage last month when it was being cleaned. Dollar signs danced in front of Kelly’s eyes as she estimated the cost of repairing two stucco buildings this spring. In addition to saving for repairs to the canyon property, of course.

  Her cell phone jangled in the pocket of her ski jacket, and Kelly recognized the number of her friend, mentor, and ranch adviser, Curt Stackhouse. She flipped it open while she drained the last of the coffee.

  “Kelly, this is Curt.” His voice was a deep, resonant bass. “I just heard the bad news. I sure am sorry you’re having to put up with that mess again.”

  “I couldn’t believe it, either, Curt. I feel like these guys are targeting me or something. And I don’t like it.”

  “Don’t you worry, Kelly girl. The police will find ’em. Just you wait.”

  “How’d you hear about it so fast? The Lambspun network must be even better than I thought.” The whine of the power brushes rose in pitch, and Kelly could see a dusty cloud of disintegrated stucco floating above both men’s heads as they cleaned. Stucco was disappearing before her eyes.

  “Jayleen told me you called her this morning. She’s over here helping me sort through Ruthie’s fleeces in the storage shed. I don’t wanta tell you how many bags are in there.”

  “Probably as many as I saw stored at the Wyoming ranch. It sounds like my cousin Martha was a lot like Ruth,” Kelly said, picturing Curt’s late wife, Ruth. “The last time I was up there checking out the place, I counted over a hundred bags of fleece. Both sheep and alpaca.”

  Curt’s chuckle warmed her. “Well, I gotcha beat, Kelly. Ruthie had a whole lot more than a hundred. Jayleen suggested I pay to get them cleaned and carded then hire that little gal over at Lambspun to spin them for me. You know, Lucy, the one who’s expecting a baby.”

  “Good idea, Curt. Lucy could use the work. She’s trying to build her spinning business so it’ll support her and the baby. I promised I’d bring my fleeces to her next summer. That is, providing I can afford to build a new barn by then. There’s nowhere else to store those bags.”

  “How’s it going with the canyon property? You and Steve decided where to build the new ranch house yet?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. We drove up there yesterday and took more pictures. And we both agreed that we’ll put the new ranch house where the old one is now. Whoever did the first place wasn’t much of a builder, but he sure picked the right spot. The views are best from that location. The barn and stable—”

  “What in Sam Hill is that noise in the background? Is Steve’s crew there already?”

  "Yes, thank goodness. And they’re having to work twice as hard to get the paint off this time because it’s frozen solid. In January, we were having a warm spell when the cottage was damaged.”

  “From the sound of those brushes, I suspect you’ll have to restucco both the cottage and the garage come spring. Hate to say it, but stucco doesn’t hold up real well under the best of circumstances.”

  Kelly gave a derisive snort. “Don’t I know it. You should see the clouds of stucco floating away as we speak.” Now that her trusty ranch adviser had opened the door, Kelly rushed through it, bringing her worries with her. “Curt, how am I going to pay for all these extra repairs? I’ve been saving all I can to start work on the canyon ranch in the spring, and now this. . . .” She sighed dramatically. “Damn, it’s so frustrating.”

  “Take it easy, Kelly. It’ll all work out. We can always sell off the rest of the cattle you’ve got on that Wyoming land this winter instead of waiting for spring. You may get a lower price, but if you need the money we’ll do it. Don’t worry. There’s always a way.”

  The coffee’s warmth had evaporated from her veins, and Kelly could feel the cold penetrating her jacket as she stood in the sunshine. She hadn’t noticed it before. The cold must have shaken loose the rest of her anxieties because they tumbled out now as she stamped her feet on the icy driveway, which wound around the knitting shop and the cottage.

  “What it that Wyoming property doesn’t sell, Curt? she asked, worry filling her voice. “Those investors want their loan paid back in June. What if that land doesn’t sell by then? Where will I get the money to repay the
canyon loan? I don’t have anything left to sell.”

  “I’ve told you not to worry, Kelly. Those investors will be more than happy to extend the loan,” Curt reassured her.

  Kelly refused to be consoled. “Yeah, at that awful interest rate, too.”

  Curt’s soft laughter sounded. “Kelly, all this stuff going on with your cottage has got you spooked. You know everything will work out just like we planned. You gotta trust me.”

  “I trust you, Curt, and you’re right, this vandalism is getting to me.”

  “Tell you what. Why don’t you and Steve go out to that fancy café in Old Town you two like so much and listen to your jazz music or whatever. Sounds like you need it. I’m getting another call, Kelly, so I’ll talk to you later.” He clicked off.

  Kelly shoved her phone in her pocket and headed for Pete’s café in the back of Lambspun. She needed more coffee. The afternoon sun had warmed her for a while, but the cold finally won out. Steve’s crew was still working and would be for another couple of hours at least. Racing up the wooden steps behind the café, Kelly escaped into the warmth.

  Julie, one of the waitresses, gave her a friendly wave. “I wondered when you’d be in here. Weren’t you freezing, standing outside all that time?”

  “I was too aggravated to be cold,” Kelly said, accepting the large mug of black coffee she offered. Drinking deep, Kelly felt the dark brew rush down her throat, bringing its familiar burn. “Ahhhh, thanks, Julie. I can feel my toes thawing out now.”

  Tracy Putnam rounded the corner into the café then, and her face lit up when she saw Kelly. “Hey, Kelly. Did you come back to work on the yarns? I rushed through my homework today, so I could go downstairs and try that Aztec Blue again.”

  Kelly had to smile at Tracy’s enthusiasm. Tracy had taken to the dyeing class like a duck to water. Considering how much time was spent with your hands in the big dye tubs, it was like being a duck in water. “Actually, I’m here to warm up with another shot of Eduardo’s coffee.” Kelly lifted her mug, saluting the smiling cook beside the grill. “I’ll gladly leave the extra time in the dye tubs to you. It took me forever to get that magenta color off my hands last night.”

  Tracy laughed. “You weren’t the only one. I swear I still have blue arms.” She held up the looped skein of Aztec Blue yarn and gazed into the shimmering depths. “This may not make sense, but I simply have to see if I can match Mimi’s shade of blue. I got so close last night, remember?”

  “Yes, you were the only one who knew what to do with those colors. And that pink shade you came up with was scrumptious, too. Mimi ought to use it, for sure.”

  “Thanks, Kelly. That’s sweet of you,” Tracy said, her cheeks revealing a faint blush. “Mimi said I could come back and practice anytime and stay as late as I want. That’s why I thought I’d try this blue again. I really, really want to see if I can match it.”

  “Tracy, you may have found your perfect part-time job. You know Mimi can always use a smart, talented person like you in the shop. Think about it.”

  Tracy’s head came up, and Kelly saw excitement flash through her eyes. “Do you really think she’d hire me? I mean, the real estate office is okay, but working here would be...”

  “Heaven for you, probably,” Kelly said with a laugh. “Think about it. Personally I think you’d be a great asset to the shop. And Jennifer can vouch for you, too.” The sight of a familiar car pulling into the parking lot caught Kelly’s attention then. “Excuse me, Tracy. I see Burt outside and I need to speak with him. Good luck with your Aztec Blue, okay?” she said as she headed for the café’s back door.

  Bounding down the steps, Kelly waved to Burt as she called out his name. The whine of the power equipment, however, drowned out her voice. Burt was obviously checking the crew’s results on the side of the garage they’d finished.

  “How’s it look, Burt?” Kelly asked as she strode up beside him. “This one side took them nearly two hours.”

  Burt shook his head. “That paint was a son of a gun to clean, I bet. Especially on stucco.”

  If Kelly heard the words “paint” or “stucco” one more time today, she thought she’d scream. So, she changed the subject. “Did your old partner Dan have any new information? Anything about that bunch in the north of town?”

  “There was another garage break-in near Wellesley last night, and a car was stolen. And whoever did it left their calling card on the fence in red spray paint just like last time. We think it may be the same bunch that stole the electronics gear a couple of weeks ago. But this time, they beat up a guy. It was his car, and apparently he caught them breaking into it.” Burt shook his head. “He says he didn’t recognize anybody, but you can tell he knows them and is afraid to say anything.”

  A chill ran over Kelly that had nothing to do with the cold afternoon air surrounding her. “Whoa, Burt, that’s scary.”

  “Yeah, it is. The problem with these gang wannabes is they scare the hell out of the neighbors. Everyone’s afraid, so no one will identify the culprits.”

  “How will you catch them?” It was impossible to keep the anxiety from her voice.

  “Dan and the guys are working on it. Don’t worry, Kelly. Someone will slip up and say something. And Dan will find them.” Burt’s careworn face drew into what she recognized as a fatherly smile. A former cop’s fatherly smile.

  Kelly managed a sardonic smile in return. “Everyone tells me not to worry. Curt says don’t worry about all the extra expenses. You tell me not to worry about a bunch of gang wannabes who like to break into places around town and who may have targeted me now. I gotta tell you, Burt. Everyone’s asking a helluva lot.”

  Five

  Kelly zipped her running jacket to her chin as she left the cottage and walked over to the square post by the corner of her front yard. It was her favorite place to stretch before setting off on a morning run—when it wasn’t covered with snow.

  Thanks to the warmer temperatures over the last two days, most of the snow had melted into slushy piles. Since the early morning February sun was fairly weak, those slush piles were ice-covered now and would be until noon.

  She stretched one long leg behind her as she leaned against the post. A flash of movement across the driveway caught her attention, and Kelly saw Pete race down the café’s back steps and through the outside patio behind the shop.

  “What’s up, Pete?” she yelled as she stretched her other leg. “I thought I was the only one who went running this early.”

  Pete came to a stop as he rounded the corner of the patio and spotted Kelly. He quickly changed direction and headed her way.

  Kelly wondered why Pete was outside on a busy Saturday morning, until she glanced toward the parking lot. No cars were in sight except Pete’s old beige Volvo and Eduardo’s new green pickup. That’s strange. Saturday is their busiest day of the week.

  “Hey, where are your customers, Pete? I’ve never seen this parking lot empty on a Saturday morning.”

  Pete panted as he came to a stop, his normally smiling face filled with concern. “I . . . I told Eduardo . . . to wave them off. The café and the shop were hit last night by vandals. ” He drew in a breath as he brushed a stray lock of blond hair off his forehead.

  Kelly’s heart sank. The vandals had come back, and this time they’d found bigger targets. “Ohhhh, no! Pete, I’m so sorry.” She reached out and gave his arm a squeeze. He’d run outside without his coat and was standing in his shirt-sleeves, shivering. “Let’s go back inside. Have you called the police yet?” She beckoned Pete toward the café.

  "Y-yeah, I called them first thing. And Mimi. Sh-she’s on her way,” he said through chattering teeth. “R-Rosa should be here, too. She works Saturdays in the shop.”

  Kelly raced through the patio, her feet barely touching the flagstones, and up the back steps, Pete trailing behind. Afraid of what she’d see, Kelly shoved open the glass door and stepped inside. She sucked in her breath.

  Broken glass and bottles
were scattered all over the wooden floor, beer and wine pooling into puddles. Piles of what looked like flour or sugar were dumped everywhere. Napkins, silverware, dishes, candles, and jelly jars were jumbled all together beneath overturned tables and chairs.

  “Oh, no . . . ,” Kelly whispered. “This is awful.”

  “Wait’ll you see the kitchen. It’s worse,” Pete said sadly, walking through the destruction. “They left the refrigerator doors open and pulled everything to the floor. Spaghetti sauce is all over. All the food is ruined.”

  Kelly followed him to the kitchen and flinched when she saw the damage. Pete wasn’t kidding. Spaghetti sauce smeared the counters, dripped down the grill, and splashed onto the walls. The smell of oregano and basil hung in the air. Wilting vegetables were scattered across the floor. Cheese balls lay where they’d rolled into corners, and chef’s knives and cleavers were standing on end, dug into the wooden chopping block as if they’d been thrown there.

  “What a mess,” Kelly said, feeling guilty somehow. The vandals had targeted her, and she’d led them to their new targets. “We’ll help you clean up, Pete. Everyone will pitch in, and the sooner we do it, the sooner you can open the doors again.” She spied Eduardo still standing outside the front door, explaining to customers what had happened as they arrived.

  Pete gazed wistfully out the window at his disappointed and disappearing customers. “I don’t know how soon that will be, Kelly. Wait till you see the shop. That will take quite a while to fix. Mimi and the others will have their hands full.”

  Kelly grimaced. The sight of the trashed café made her momentarily forget the knitting shop. “How bad is it?” she asked, heading down the hallway that led to the interior of the shop.

  “Pretty bad. I didn’t see much stuff broken, but everything’s in huge piles,” he said, following her.

  Kelly turned the corner into one of the yarn rooms and stared. Pete didn’t exaggerate. The shelves that lined the walls and were usually filled with colorful fat cones of novelty yarns sat empty. Everything was on the floor. A huge multicolored pile of yarn. Cones of yarn, skeins of yarn, spools of yarn. All mixed together. Scattered on top were various knitted items—shawls, long fringed scarves, fluffy eyelash scarves, mittens, hats.