Needled to Death

by Sefton, Maggie

  She could tell both Curt and Ruth thought of Steve and her as a couple. It was understandable, she supposed. After all, Steve had been with her the first time they met, when Kelly was trying to unravel the cause of her aunt Helen’s death three months ago. It was understandable, but it was wrong. Steve was just a friend. A softball friend. A provider of a steady supply of used golf balls for Carl. A good friend. But, still, just a friend. This “couple” thing was a place Kelly couldn’t go. She’d been part of a couple once, years ago, and it ended painfully. Old memories still hurt. But she’d learned an important lesson: relationships were risky. And they often ended in loss.

  After that, Kelly threw herself into her budding corporate career, taking time only for her dad and an occasional softball game—until her dad was diagnosed with cancer. Then, everything changed. Kelly’s life narrowed its focus even more and revolved exclusively around her job, her dad, and hospitals. No time for softball, and certainly no social life. She even stopped seeing the few friends she’d made. After her dad died three years ago, Kelly felt numb for months—until her uncle Jim’s heart attack. And the whole heartbreaking cycle of loss started all over again. By now, Kelly was an expert on loss.

  Finishing the last spoonful of pie, Kelly closed her eyes in enjoyment. “Mmmm, Ruth, this is delicious,” she said after swallowing the morsel.

  “Why, thank you, Kelly,” Ruth said, her lined face crinkling into a broad smile. “I love to cook for folks who enjoy eating.”

  “Well, you cooked for the right people, ma’am,” Steve said. “That was a delicious dinner. And dessert. I hate to be disloyal to my own mom, but that’s gotta be the best pie I’ve ever tasted, Ruth.”

  “Oh, go on,” she shooed at him, a blush coloring her cheek.

  “No exaggeration, Ruth,” Kelly agreed. “I thought my aunt Helen’s blueberry pie was the best, but yours beats all.”

  “See, I told you, Ruthie,” Curt said, wagging his head. “You should enter your recipe in the county fair.”

  “Now, don’t you start about that fair again.” Ruth patted Curt on the arm as she rose from the table. “You know I don’t like crowds.” Grabbing the coffeepot, she offered it around. “Who’d like more coffee?”

  Steve was right there, cup extended, and Kelly was next in line. She’d already downed the contents of her first cup and was ready for more.

  “There’s plenty more pie, Kelly,” Curt teased. “I’ve been watching you keep an eye on it.”

  Kelly laughed as she settled back into the upholstered chair and relaxed. “I may need it, Curt. Especially after the news I’ve had today.”

  “Does your boss want you back in Washington?” Steve asked, his smile disappearing.

  “No no, not that. I had a call from Lawrence Chambers. He’s the lawyer who’s trying to straighten out all this inheritance stuff. You know . . . Helen’s estate and then Martha’s. It seems I’m the only remaining heir to both.” She shook her head. “Today he told me I’ve got sheep. Last time we talked, he told me I had cows. I swear, I’m afraid to talk to the man.”

  “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Steve said, holding up a hand. “That little place in Landport isn’t big enough for livestock, is it?”

  Kelly stared at Steve blankly.

  “You told me you were inheriting Martha’s property, right? Didn’t she live in Landport?”

  “No no,” Kelly said, realizing the mix-up. She had deliberately left out some significant details when she’d told her friends about Cousin Martha’s property. “She was renting that place. But she and her husband owned land up in Wyoming. That’s where the sheep are. And the cows.” She took another sip of Ruth’s rich coffee and brushed invisible pie flakes off the tablecloth.

  Steve leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, a hint of a smile showing. “Okaaaay, so how many sheep do you have?”

  Kelly swished the coffee in her cup, acutely aware that the others were focused on her intently. Both Curt and Ruth were leaning forward on the table, watching.

  “About a hundred,” she said, straightening her napkin.

  Steve grinned. “And the cattle?”

  Kelly glanced out into the kitchen, trying her best to look nonchalant. “Ohhhh, about five hundred. I think that’s what Chambers said.”

  Steve turned to Curt, and they both started to laugh. Kelly heaved a dramatic sigh and tried to ignore them.

  “Goodness, Kelly, that’s a lot of livestock to take care of,” Ruth commented.

  “Oh, Mr. Chambers took care of that,” Kelly said with a dismissing wave. “He’s hired a ranch manager to handle everything.”

  “A ranch manager, huh?” Curt observed with a grin. “Tell me, Kelly, how much land are we talking about here?”

  Nonchalant and offhand hadn’t worked. And trying to ignore both Steve and Curt at the same time would take more energy than she had at the moment. So Kelly resorted to complete honesty. She looked Curt straight in the eye. “A little over three hundred acres, I’m told. And damned if I know what I’m going to do with it.”

  Curt just laughed in reply. Steve raised his coffee cup to her, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Congratulations, Kelly. You’re a rancher, and you didn’t even know it.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  “Yeah, it is,” he said, then burst out laughing.

  “Don’t start,” she warned, trying to look severe, but that only made Steve laugh harder. He could be so annoying at times.

  “That’s a nice spread, Kelly. Have you gone to see it yet?” Curt asked.

  She shook her head. “No. Chambers said I need to go take a look, but I don’t really want to.”

  “Why?” Ruth asked.

  Now that she’d gone the honesty route, she might as well go all the way. “Because the manager would probably ask me all sorts of questions, and I wouldn’t know what he was talking about. I know nothing about running a ranch. The mere thought of all that land and livestock belonging to me is, well, it’s scary. What am I supposed to do with it all? Martha mentioned she wanted the ranch to be turned into a nature preserve. How in the world am I supposed to do that? Do I sell all the cows? What about the house? And the equipment?” She gave an exasperated gesture.

  Steve leaned over. “Hey, you’re not alone, Kelly. We can help you. Both Curt and I can check out the land and the livestock. We can help you with all that. You don’t have to do it by yourself.”

  “Damn right, Kelly,” Curt said. “I’ll be happy to help you. I do this all the time. And I know the people and places in Wyoming to contact for whatever we need.”

  Kelly felt the fluttery sensation in her stomach melt away, just like Ruth’s delicious pie. She wouldn’t have to do it alone. She’d have help. Suddenly the image of Martha’s ranch didn’t seem so foreboding.

  “So, when would you like to go?” Steve asked.

  “You mean up there?” Kelly pointed toward the kitchen.

  Steve chuckled. “Yeah, up there, except Wyoming’s north, so it’s thataway.” He pointed over his shoulder. “Where is it, exactly?”

  “Wellll, I don’t know exactly,” Kelly hesitated. “All Martha said was it was west of Cheyenne.”

  To his credit, Steve did not burst out laughing at her comment, but Kelly could tell Curt was trying to hide his amusement and not doing a very good job.

  “That leaves some pretty big territory, Kelly. We’re gonna need some directions,” Steve teased. “Or else we’ll just head north till the wind starts to blow, then turn left.”

  Both Curt and Ruth laughed out loud at that, but Kelly bristled. She’d never liked being teased. What was it about her that made people tease her? Why was she so eminently teaseable? And, of course, whenever Steve succumbed to the urge, it annoyed Kelly all the more.

  “I’m sure Chambers will give us all the directions we need,” she said in her best attempt to appear haughty, which only succeeded in amusing Curt even more.

  “Lord, Kelly, you’ve been out of the Wes
t too long,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s a good thing we’ve got you back. Don’t you worry. We’ll get you acclimated pretty damn quick. First, we’ll get you something to wear that’s better suited to tromping around pastures.”

  “We’ve got several pairs of extra boots you’re welcome to use,” Ruth suggested. “Boots and jeans will do a lot better.”

  Kelly was about to thank her, but Curt was clearly in a planning mode and already on a roll.

  “Okay, then, what’s your schedule like next week, Kelly? I’m booked all this week. Steve, how about you?”

  “I’m afraid it’ll have to be late next week or the week afterward for me, folks,” Steve replied. “I don’t want to leave the new site until the framers are in there. I’ve been putting out fires every day on this one. Can’t risk being that far away yet.”

  “I know what you mean, son,” Curt said, nodding in agreement. “Always a crisis or someone’s screwing up. Well, the week after will work for me, too. How about you, Kelly.”

  Kelly ran through her mental daytimer. Since they were planning almost two weeks out, she’d have plenty of time to work ahead on her accounts. “No problem. I’ll be able to work around it. But if you two are super busy, we can postpone the trip.”

  “Oh, no,” Curt admonished, shaking his head. “You need to go up there and see what you’ll be inheriting. We need to make plans. Besides,” he added, “I’m really anxious to see this spread you’ve been teasing us with. You’ve got my nose for land itching. Now I’ve gotta go out and sniff.” He grinned.

  “Me, too,” Steve agreed. “I’m curious. I want to check out the cattle. See what you’ve got. Who knows? Maybe Martha had some good bloodlines going.”

  Kelly shrugged. “Martha had been away from the ranch for over four years when she was killed. Helen took her in and kept her hidden in Landport after Martha ran away from her abusive husband. When they learned that he died in a car accident last year, Helen asked Lawrence Chambers to take care of Martha’s inheritance.”

  The table fell quiet now, all laughter forgotten. “That’s dreadful,” Ruth said, her pale, thin face pinching with a frown.

  “Was there a divorce? Are there any children?” Curt probed.

  “None living. Their only son died in an auto accident and is buried on the property, Martha said. And her husband never filed for divorce, so they were still married.”

  “Sounds like a pretty complicated inheritance,” Steve said after a moment. “All the more reason for you to go up and take stock of what’s there, Kelly. You’re the heir to all of it.”

  “Don’t remind me,” she said, grimacing. “I’m not sure I’m ready for all that extra responsibility. I mean, I’m still trying to figure out how to keep making those huge mortgage payments on the cottage.”

  Steve reached over and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Let’s see what we can do to help you with that. This ranch could actually help you solve those problems.”

  “You bet, Kelly,” Curt concurred. “Let’s go up there and see if we can get some cash flow started. I imagine you could use that.”

  Cash flow? Now they were talking about something Kelly understood quite well. “Really? You think that’s possible?”

  Curt sent her a savvy smile. “Ohhhh, yeah. Think about it, Kelly-girl. You’ve got five hundred head of cattle. And sheep. You’ll make something off their sale to start. Then, we’ll go from there.”

  “And Kelly, if you’ve got sheep, then there’re bound to be some fleeces to sell,” Ruth added with the enthusiasm of the spinner and miller that she was. “What you and your friends don’t want for yourselves, we can sell online. Spinners and weavers will snap them up if they’re good quality. I’ll be glad to help you with that. And what we don’t sell as fleece, I’ll mill and spin for you, and I guarantee you’ll sell that. Mimi will probably buy them all to custom dye and sell in her shop.”

  Kelly stared at Ruth in surprise. Selling wool fleeces online to spinners and weavers. What a combination of Old World craft and New World high tech. “Wow, Ruth. That sounds great. You’d help me with that?”

  “Of course, dear.” Ruth gave her a motherly pat. “I’ll be more than happy to help. I do this all the time.”

  Kelly felt the fluttery sensation take flight. At last. Muscles that had been tensed without her even knowing relaxed. This ranch business could work out. She didn’t have to understand it all by herself. She had people to help her with each part of it. Like consultants. Now that made sense. And it made her feel a lot better. So much so, Kelly could feel the blueberry pie beckoning to her across the table.

  She eyed the tempting dessert, blueberries and sauce oozing into the plate. The vanilla ice cream had softened during their discussion. Perfect. She could taste it already.

  Curt chuckled. “I see you eyeing that pie again.”

  “You’re right,” Kelly admitted. “Thanks to you folks, I feel a lot better. And I hear that pie calling me.”

  “Ruth, go ahead and carve the girl a slice. And pile on the ice cream, too,” Curt suggested.

  “While you’re at it, Ruth, leave a slice for me,” Steve jumped in, plate in hand. “Can’t let it go to waste.”

  “Don’t mention ‘waist,’ ” Kelly joked. “I may not have one after this slice. I’ll have to run an extra mile tomorrow.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Ruth fussed, placing a huge slice on Kelly’s plate. “You’re slender as can be.” She plopped a large dollop of melted ice cream on top of the pie.

  “Not after tonight,” Kelly laughed and accepted the bowl that was filled to overflowing.

  She’d barely gotten her spoon into the purple nectar when Steve spoke up. “Tell me, Kelly. Has Chambers mentioned anything about oil and gas deposits?”

  “Yes, he said he was going to make some phone calls, but I haven’t heard anything more,” she said, then blissfully closed her eyes and savored the blueberry delight. When she opened her eyes again, she saw Steve and Curt grinning at each other, then her. “What? What’s so funny?”

  “Kelly, girl, if you’re lucky, you may never have cash-flow problems again,” Curt decreed as he leaned back in his chair.

  Kelly pondered that for about two seconds, then succumbed to the sinfully rich summertime dessert.

  “Good boy,” Kelly said, rubbing Carl’s shiny black head as she settled into her favorite patio chair. “Did you behave yourself while I was gone tonight?”

  Carl placed his chin on her bare leg, all brown-eyed doggie innocence. Kelly laughed softly and continued patting her dog, letting the familiar night sounds close in around her. She’d just relaxed completely into the comfortable chair when her cell phone jangled, shattering the night sounds and probably scaring away the soft-voiced evening songbirds.

  “Kelly here,” she said into the phone, unable to disguise her reluctance to talk.

  “Hey, Kelly, Burt here,” a familiar deep voice sounded, catching her by surprise. “I can tell you’re tired. Why don’t I call back tomorrow?”

  “No no, Burt, it’s okay,” Kelly replied, straightening in her chair. Retired police investigator Burt Parker never called unless he had something important to say. His calm advice and presence during Kelly’s investigation into her aunt’s death had been a godsend. “What’s up?”

  “Well, I thought you might be interested in what I’ve learned from my contacts back on the force—about Vickie Claymore’s death, I mean. I know how hard that must have been for you to walk in on something like that, Kelly.”

  “Yeah, it was. How on earth did you handle that stuff, Burt? Did you ever get used to it?”

  “Never.”

  Kelly could picture big old Burt, hovering like a protective bear, standing near the crime scene. “What did you find out? Did you guys find any fingerprints to trace?”

  “Nope. None other than Vickie’s. Everything was wiped clean. Doorknobs, tabletops, the phone, and most importantly, that bronze bust on the floor. I heard you saw it ly
ing not far from the victim.”

  “Well, now, that’s interesting, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Oh, yeah. It definitely looks to be a murder. And the killer had time to clean up afterward, too.”

  “Sounds like he wasn’t afraid of being caught,” Kelly added. “Which means it probably was someone she knew, right?”

  Burt chuckled. “Go on.”

  Emboldened, Kelly pressed further. “Another reason I think it was someone Vickie knew is because she’d never turn her back on some crazed intruder so they could hit her on the head and kill her.”

  “Smart girl,” Burt replied. “And you’re right about her being knocked unconscious. The investigation shows she was hit on the head with that Mozart figure, then her throat was cut so she’d bleed to death before regaining consciousness. The weapon looks to be a small knife, like a pocketknife.”

  “Dammit! Who would be so cruel? The cops better find out who did it.”

  “Well, I’m certain they’re doing their best, Kelly. Now, the other reason I’m calling is so we can have this conversation in private and not in the shop with listening ears. I want to know if there’s anything else you noticed that was amiss? You’ve got a keen eye for detail, Kelly. What did you see?”

  Kelly closed her eyes and pictured herself walking through Vickie Claymore’s living room that awful day. “I saw Vickie lying on her beautiful handwoven rug. I checked her pulse when I saw the deep gash on her neck and all the blood. I also noticed the pool of blood had dried mostly and soaked into the fabric, which I figured meant she’d been killed hours earlier, right?”

  “She was killed between nine p.m. and eleven p.m. the night before,” Burt answered.

  “All the more reason to believe it was someone Vickie knew. Who else would be visiting her that late at night?” Kelly probed. “I mean, we’ve eliminated the crazed intruder.”

  “Well, you’ve eliminated him. The police can’t afford to eliminate anyone. So, tell me, did anything else strike you while you were there?”

  Kelly searched her memory. “Nothing else was out of place other than the Mozart bust. Everything looked to be in the same place that I remembered seeing it two months ago.”