Needled to Death

by Sefton, Maggie

  She clicked the mouse, and her printer hummed, client account pages obediently drifting into the tray. Kelly leaned back in her desk chair and drained the last of Eduardo’s coffee—early morning version. It was now mid-morning, and she needed a refill.

  Her cell phone jangled, and Kelly flipped it open. Maybe it was the estate lawyer returning her call.

  “Kelly Flynn.”

  “Ms. Flynn, Gerald Huff here. I got your message. Yes, please finish up the financial statements as soon as you can. We’re adrift in the water without them, you know.”

  “Yes, I know, Mr. Huff, and I promise I will get to them the moment police allow me onto the property,” she said.

  He paused. “This is all so unfortunate. I must confess I’ve never had an estate quite like this one.”

  “It’s more than unfortunate. Several of us were friends with both women.” Kelly couldn’t resist adding, “I suppose this makes it much easier for Mr. Claymore, right?”

  “Yes, it does. He’s the sole heir now.” Huff’s sympathetic tone changed back to business. “Please drop the statements by my office when you’re finished, Ms. Flynn. And be sure to include a bill for your services. When the estate is finally settled, you’ll receive payment. I wish I could pay you now, but alas, the only ones with access to Vickie Claymore’s bank accounts are now dead.”

  “That’s all right, Mr. Huff. I don’t mind waiting.” Finishing the call, Kelly tried to shove the phone in her pocket and realized she was still wearing her spandex running shorts from this morning’s workout.

  Rounding the corner into her sunny bedroom, Kelly quickly changed clothes. Carl was barking at the fence guy again.

  Brother, what would she do when the fence was being built? Carl would have to be inside all day, giving him even more reason to be morose. Kelly didn’t think she could stand those guilty stares much longer.

  “Okay, let’s go outside for a pit stop,” she called out to Carl, who was still standing sentry at the patio door. Kelly scooped up her phone and Carl’s leash, hanging beside the kitchen cabinet. At the sound of the magic jingle, Carl raced over to the front door, jumping in place. It took three tries to snap the leash.

  “Calm down, Carl. We’re not going out to bark at the fence guy. He’s scared of you enough as it is,” Kelly explained as she tried to hold back her enthusiastic dog. She knew she should have taken him to obedience classes when he was a puppy. “C’mon, let’s go find a bush or something.”

  Unfortunately, the bushes Carl was attracted to were across the driveway in the knitting shop’s gardens. Kelly jerked Carl away and searched the driveway area for a less offensive place. Spying a telephone pole hiding inside some scraggly pine trees, Kelly made a beeline for it. Carl needed no prodding.

  Her cell phone jangled again, and Kelly flipped it open while Carl proceeded to sniff every neighboring bush. “Kelly Flynn here.”

  “Kelly, this is Jayleen.”

  Kelly felt the uncomfortable thoughts from last evening return. She’d managed to push them away with account files and workload this morning. Now, they were back. “Hey, Jayleen, how’re you doing?”

  “Okay, runnin’ ragged, as usual. I just wanted to let you know that I survived the police questions yesterday.”

  “Oh, good, good. What’d he ask, anyway?”

  “Just what time I came to check on the animals that evening. Then he asked me why I didn’t go in to see Debbie. I didn’t really want to get into all that stuff from the past, so I just told him that I was runnin’ behind. Same thing yesterday morning.”

  “Did he have a problem with that, you think?” Kelly probed.

  Jayleen paused. “He did look at me kinda funny after that.”

  “Well, he probably looks at everybody that way,” Kelly said. “After all, he’s a detective.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Jayleen replied. “You know, he did say something that made me think.”

  “What was that?”

  “He asked me if I saw the police notice on the front door yesterday morning. I told him I didn’t because I was in such a hurry, I didn’t even look. Now, I’m wondering. Why didn’t they put that yellow tape around the place right away, rather than waiting until yesterday afternoon?”

  Good question, Kelly thought. She’d been wondering the same thing. Did the police assume it was an accidental death at first, then find something to change their minds?

  “I don’t know, Jayleen. Maybe because they had a bunch of investigators with them yesterday afternoon. Maybe they’re the ones with the yellow tape,” she joked in a really feeble attempt at humor.

  Jayleen chuckled anyway. “Maybe so. Listen, girl, I’ve gotta run and take care of business. Talk to you later.” She clicked off.

  Kelly stared out at the golfers wandering the greens while she let all of Burt’s suspicions about Jayleen dart about in her head. Burt was a skilled investigator. If he was suspicious about Jayleen, she should be too. Why, then, was it so hard to picture Jayleen as a killer? Was it because she’d gotten to know her and liked her? That had to be it. Even so, wouldn’t Jayleen have said something that tipped her off? Kelly prided herself on her good instincts. Surely she would have picked up some signal, some feeling about Jayleen. If Jayleen was guilty, then she was one heckuva good actress.

  A memory triggered. Something Jayleen had said to her in the casino. Kelly had mentioned that Geri always “acted” in control. Jayleen pointed out the key word was “acted.”

  “We learn to conceal what we’re doing . . . ,” she’d said.

  That made Kelly feel even worse as she pictured Jayleen playacting for everyone’s benefit, pretending to be a helpful friend. If that was true, Kelly had never been so wrong about someone in her entire life.

  She guided Carl back to her cottage doorstep and ushered him into the house before she closed the door. “Stay here for a minute, boy. I’ve got to talk to the fence guy.”

  At the mention of the Intruder Who Dared, Carl’s ears perked up, and he raced to the patio door, on patrol. Kelly rounded the corner to the yard as the fence man approached. She saw him anxiously peer around her, clearly worried that Carl was hiding, ready to jump out.

  “Don’t worry, he’s inside,” she reassured.

  “Good, good,” the man said, visibly relaxing. “Sorry, but big dogs scare me. I’ve been bitten one time too many.”

  “Ohhh, Carl would never bite anyone,” she declared with a wave of her hand. “He’s really a big sweetie.”

  The man stared at her like she was totally crazy, but he was too polite to point it out.

  “He is a good watchdog, though. He keeps prowlers away,” she went on. “He probably thought you were a prowler.”

  “Whatever you say, ma’am,” he replied, scribbling on a clipboard. “I’ve come up with an estimate. We can use the fence you have already and add the extra height we need. And the angle arms, of course.” He handed her a sheet of paper.

  Kelly read the notations. It wasn’t cheap, but she could live with it. “That sounds good. When can you start?”

  “I can have a crew here tomorrow morning. It’ll take no more than one day, if we get an early start.” The man jerked his thumb toward the house. “Can he stay in the house again? My guys can work a lot faster if they’re not looking over their shoulders.” He gave Kelly a small smile.

  “Absolutely. I’ll keep Carl inside with me while I work. No problem.”

  “Okay, ma’am, we’ll be here at seven in the morning,” he said as he strode to his truck. “See you then.”

  Kelly waved good-bye and felt one of the burdens on her shoulders slide off. Now, if she could return to Vickie’s ranch and finish those reports, she’d really feel better.

  Time for a mid-morning coffee fix, she decided, then headed toward Pete’s café. As she walked through the garden patio, she heard a familiar voice call her name.

  “Kelly, I was looking for you inside,” Geri called from the parking lot.

  “He
y, Geri, how’re you doing?” Kelly asked. “I was about to have some coffee. Join me.”

  Geri tossed her long, dark braid over her shoulder as she approached. “Sure. Why don’t we stay outside?” She pulled out a chair at a nearby umbrella table.

  Kelly signaled the waitress as she sat down, then waited for her to scurry away with their orders before she spoke. “How are you doing, Geri? You sounded pretty upset on the phone.”

  Geri stared at her jeans. “Better. It was just too much at one time. Vickie, then Debbie, and then all the extra work with my business. I mean, I’ve had two different females arrive for breeding this week. On top of all this horrible . . .” Her voice drifted off.

  “Your business sounds like it’s doing well,” Kelly said, making room for the huge pottery cup filled with black nectar. She took a deep drink and savored it.

  “It’s getting better,” Geri said, staring off into the backyard of the café as she sipped her coffee. “I mean, there’s always risk in this business. You don’t know if the breeding will take and then what type of babies come out. That’s the crucial part. Reputation can make you or break you as a breeder.”

  Kelly watched Geri worry as she stared, lines creasing her face. She even looked older than she did the last time Kelly saw her. Worrying over a business can do that to a person, Kelly mused. Then another thought intruded. Maybe the worry was caused by something else entirely. Maybe it was the gambling. Maybe Geri has lost more money than she could afford. Kelly remembered Geri’s stormy expression from the day at the casino.

  “Is everything all right, Geri?” she probed gently. “You look really worried.”

  Geri turned to her with a startled expression. “Me? Oh, no, I’m okay. Just super busy, that’s all.” Then, she abruptly drained her cup, pushed back her chair, and stood. “Listen, Kelly, I’ve got to run now. I have a whole list of errands today. But promise me you’ll call if there’s anything you need for Debbie. Do you have someone to handle the funeral arrangements like I did for Vickie?”

  “Mimi’s handling it. She wants to, and it’s helping her, you know, deal with the deaths.”

  “I understand,” Geri said as she turned away. “Let me know if there’s anything else, okay?”

  “I promise,” Kelly said with a good-bye wave and watched Geri climb into her truck and drive off, wondering if those errands included a run to the border casino.

  Kelly finished her coffee alone, then returned to her cottage. Securing Carl on his backyard chain, she ignored the resentful pout as she settled back at her computer. If she worked straight through without stopping for lunch, she could catch up with her clients. Then, maybe, she could escape to the shop for a late-afternoon knitting break. Maybe.

  “Everybody left?” Rosa asked as she hurried through the knitting shop’s main room.

  “Yeah. I’m leaving in a few minutes, too. Practice tonight after dinner,” Kelly said, slipping the needle beneath a silky strand.

  “That scarf’s looking good,” Rosa said.

  Kelly stroked the lusciously soft fiber. “Thanks. I think so, too. It’ll be great for fall.”

  “Well, don’t wait till then to wear it,” Rosa teased as she turned a corner.

  Not a chance, Kelly thought, as she admired the scarf. Halfway done, she couldn’t wait to show it off.

  “All alone, Kelly?” Burt’s voice sounded behind her.

  All warm and fuzzy thoughts fled. She watched him pull up a chair beside her, which was a sure sign he planned to talk. The last time they spoke, she’d asked a lot of questions. Maybe Burt had some answers.

  “Hey, Burt, how are you? Did you have a chance to talk with your contact?”

  Burt leaned one arm on the table and hunched forward. “Yes, I did, and I learned a lot.”

  Kelly couldn’t resist looking up with a grin. “Good.”

  Burt smiled. “I figured you’d like that.”

  “Okay, tell me, was I off base thinking Peterson was sniffing around for more?”

  Burt nodded. “You were right. They first treated Debbie’s death as ‘illness-related’ because of her asthma history—until the medical examiner had a chance to check her. He found bruising on her neck. Not really obvious, unless you looked closely.”

  Kelly stared, wide-eyed. “Was she choked to death?”

  “I’d say it sounds more like someone ‘helped’ an asthma attack kill her. And with someone as frail as Debbie appeared to be, it wouldn’t take much to do that. A steady grip on her throat would keep her from drawing a breath. Then maybe the asthma kicked in and did the rest. Who knows exactly how it happened.”

  The awful suspicion that had lurked in the shadows of Kelly’s mind slid through her now, cold as a snake. “Murder,” she whispered.

  “That’s how they’re handling it and have been since yesterday. You happened to go up to the ranch at the same time Peterson and his boys were searching for evidence.”

  “I knew he was up to something.” Kelly said, nodding. “And that explains the tape.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, Jayleen brought up something this morning that I found odd, too. We had wondered why the police didn’t put any tape around the house until yesterday.”

  Burt nodded. “That’s because it was considered death due to illness until the ME gave his report. Tell me, what else did Jayleen say?”

  “Peterson asked her why she didn’t check on Vickie, and she told me she pleaded too busy, rather than go through all that old baggage.”

  “Old baggage can hide some interesting things.”

  Kelly decided to veer the subject away from Jayleen if she could. “Who found Debbie?”

  Burt glanced over his shoulder, even though they were alone in the room. “Bob Claymore,” he whispered.

  That surprised Kelly. “What? Why would he go up there? Debbie hated the very sight of him.”

  “Well, they were jointly inheriting the property. Maybe he went to the ranch to discuss it with her.”

  Kelly shook her head vehemently. “That wouldn’t happen, Burt. Every time Claymore suggested talking with her, she refused. I know, because I asked her to meet with him, too. He begged me at the funeral to intercede for him. He looked so wretched that I agreed and asked her. Debbie flat out refused. She was convinced he killed Vickie. She didn’t want Claymore near her. You can understand that.”

  “Claymore approached you at the funeral?” Burt asked, peering at her.

  She nodded. “He looked awful. I tell you, Burt, if he was acting then, he should go pro. He was drawn and haggard and kept talking about these accusations Debbie was making to the police and all. And how ashamed he was when the police came to his office at the university.” Kelly stared at the scarf lying quietly in her lap. “I confess, that got to me.”

  Burt took out a small notepad and pen and started making notes. “Why’d he ask you?”

  “He said he’d asked everyone else, and she’d refused to see him. He’d heard I was working with her up at the ranch. I guess he thought he’d give it another try.”

  “So, he knew she was up at the ranch regularly, right?”

  Kelly nodded. She could see those wheels spinning in Burt’s head. “When did Debbie die, Burt?”

  He flipped through his notepad. “Time of death was approximately twelve noon to two o’clock.”

  The same time she and her friends were sitting down to a rowdy and hearty breakfast in Wyoming, courtesy of Megan. Back in the canyon, Debbie was dying.

  “When did he go up there? When did he find her?”

  Burt paged through his pad again. “Not until that evening. The call came in to 911 about seven thirty. Ambulance and cruiser were dispatched. Apparently, the dispatcher said he sounded distraught.”

  “That’s understandable. I can attest to what it feels like to walk in on a dead body,” Kelly said, then grimaced. She watched Burt continue to jot down notes. “Once an investigator, always an investigator, right, Burt?”


  “Yeah, I guess so,” he agreed, then slipped the pad into his shirt pocket.

  “This makes Bob Claymore look even worse, doesn’t it?”

  “It sure doesn’t help. He was pretty high up the list of potential suspects in Vickie’s death, and now he’s the one who finds Debbie dead.” Burt shrugged. “Either he’s incredibly stupid, or incredibly smart.”

  “Smart? How do you figure that?”

  “If he’s really devious, he could be purposely acting the distraught, disorganized professor, stumbling onto a murder scene. After all, there’s no proof to link him to either murder.”

  “Did they find any fingerprints on her neck? Or something like that?” Kelly asked.

  Burt shook his head. “Nope. No prints.”

  Kelly pondered. “I guess the main thing against him is motive. Without a divorce, he inherited half the estate. Now that Debbie’s gone, Bob gets it all.” That thought brought a taste of indignation with it. “Son of a . . . sailor.”

  Burt chuckled. “That’s a new one.”

  “One of my dad’s sanitized navy curses. Burt, do you think Claymore is really that conniving?”

  “Kelly, I’ve seen a lot of criminals over the years, and anything is possible. The human heart is capable of harboring all sorts of emotions, good and bad, no matter what the situation. Mix money into the stew, and it gets more complicated.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to go. I promised Mimi I’d take her spinning class tonight.”

  Kelly carefully folded her silky scarf and placed it in her knitting bag. She’d learned to be more careful with these delicate fibers. Pushing back her chair, she joined Burt as he walked to the door. “You know, Burt, part of me suspected Debbie was murdered, but I didn’t want to see it. I mean, losing Vickie that way was bad enough. Now, this killer has taken both of them.” She shook her head.

  “Well, it might not be the same person, Kelly. We don’t know that,” he said as he pushed the door open. “I’ll talk to my friend tomorrow. Meanwhile, take care of yourself.” He gave a wave as he walked to his car.

  Kelly pondered the possibility of two separate killers as she headed toward her cottage. She did not like the thoughts that invaded her mind. One killer was bad enough, but two?