Dropped Dead Stitch

by Maggie Sefton

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jennifer said with a dismissive wave. “I’ve gotta get to the office. I’ll call when I have some info on that guy.”

  “Thanks, Jen,” Kelly called before draining her coffee. Reaching into her briefcase, she pulled out her laptop computer. This morning, Kelly felt like working in the café. The yummy smells of breakfast and cinnamon rolls and fresh coffee helped distract her from the repetitious nature of her work. Updating the accounts of her alpaca rancher clients.

  It had been a year and a half since she’d given notice to the Washington, D.C., corporate CPA firm where she’d been steadily climbing the ladder for seven years. She’d been aiming for an eventual partnership position. Zeroing in on it.

  But all of that changed two years ago when her aunt Helen was found murdered in her little cottage across from Lambspun. The same cottage Kelly inherited. The same cottage where she and Steve lived now. Kelly had taken an extended family leave to return to her childhood home and wound up uncovering the real killer. Someone the police never suspected. Kelly also found new friends in the knitting shop her aunt loved so well. And in the process, those friends became her new family.

  The warmth of those new relationships plus the inheritance of a substantial amount of family property tempted Kelly to leave the big city corporate life behind and create a new life in Fort Connor. She took over her friend Jayleen’s alpaca rancher bookkeeping clients and traded designer suits for jeans, tee shirts, and sneakers. Now she worked in the relaxed setting of her sunny cottage or amidst the sensuous world of color and texture that was Lambspun.

  At first, keeping track of the alpaca rancher accounts had held her interest. The alpaca business was demanding of its owners, who both showed and bred the sweet-faced creatures with the to-die-for-soft wool. Kelly also enjoyed getting to know all of her clients personally and meeting with them face-to-face. She’d become a financial consultant to many of them.

  But now, the daily monotony of the work was beginning to wear on her. It was too easy. There was no challenge. Kelly had been involved in difficult corporate mergers and sorting out challenging financial accounting issues when she was with the D.C. firm. Now, she was dealing with breeding fees and exhibition expenses, shearings and vaccinations. She was bored.

  Two months ago, she had finished a week in Denver at continuing education classes for her CPA license. For five days she was immersed in corporate financial issues once more, challenging herself. Her financial juices were flowing again.

  She had to find a way to continue to work with the more challenging accounting issues. Thanks to Curt, she’d started consulting with a Fort Connor rancher/developer who needed a CPA’s higher level of accounting skills to handle his businesses. Now, those spreadsheets were way more interesting and much more to Kelly’s liking.

  Moving her cursor over the laptop’s icon-filled screen, Kelly was about to click on the folder containing each of her clients’ spreadsheets when she paused. Instead, she clicked on the familiar Internet browser icon which opened the portal to the Web.

  Why not check out this Bill Zarofsky? She hadn’t done it yet. She could find out the name of his commercial development business and the actual address. That would help Jennifer, and it would keep away the monotony of too simple accounts. She could distract herself for a while longer.

  The familiar colorful logo of the powerful search engine website flashed on the screen, and Kelly entered Zarofsky’s name, using William instead of Bill, and adding Fort Connor, Colorado, afterwards. Thanks to Google, no one could hide anymore.

  Within seconds several entries flashed on the screen. Kelly scanned them. Each one related to William Zarofsky, giving his ranch address in Poudre Canyon. One entry was a listing from the alpaca breeders’ association, and another was a listing of his name as an exhibitor in the Alpaca Extravaganza held in northern Colorado every February.

  Kelly scrolled down, checking other entries. They were similar to the previous ones in that they each referenced Zarofsky’s alpaca ranch or his breeding business.

  That’s curious, Kelly thought. Zarofsky said he worked in commercial real estate development, yet there was no mention on any of the listings about real estate. Shouldn’t there be at least one reference?

  Kelly’s buzzer in the back of her head got louder. There’s something wrong with this guy. What is it?

  Signalling Julie for a refill, Kelly leaned back in her chair and stared at the laptop screen still holding Zarofsky’s alpaca ranch listings. She dug out her cell phone and punched in Jayleen’s number. Jayleen knew every alpaca breeder and rancher in northern Colorado. She was bound to know if Zarofsky was developing real estate on the side.

  Nodding her thanks to Julie as she refilled the coffee mug, Kelly listened to the ringing, waiting for voice mail to come on. Instead, Jayleen answered.

  “Hey, Jayleen, I’ve got a question for you.”

  “Well, I hope I have an answer. How’re you doing, Kelly?”

  “I’m doing fine, but I’m a little curious right now. I’m trying to check out a guy who has an alpaca ranch in Poudre Canyon, name of Bill Zarofsky. Have you heard of him?”

  “Sure have. He’s been in the business for about five years or so. His herd isn’t as big as mine, but he seems to be doing okay. I’ve checked out his stock at the shows, and he’s got some good breeders. He hasn’t won any prizes yet, but he’s getting close. Why’re you asking?”

  “He came up to Everett’s ranch during that retreat weekend, and we all witnessed him having a big argument with Cal Everett.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No, I’m not. They were fighting over a loan Zarofsky made to Everett. Everett was behind on his payments, and Zarofsky threatened to put a lien on Everett’s land. They both got pretty hot.”

  “I bet. Threatening a rancher with a lien on his land, well . . . those are fightin’ words.”

  “Well, they were fighting, all right. And the police are investigating Everett’s death again to make sure it was an accident.”

  “Damn . . .” Jayleen breathed. “Does that Lieutenant Peterson know about Jennifer’s connection with that bastard Everett?”

  “Yes, he interviewed her last week. We’re all worried Peterson will suspect Jennifer of helping Everett over the rail, so to speak.”

  Jayleen interjected some choice and colorful invectives describing how she would have helped speed Cal Everett’s demise.

  “Well, we’re all hoping this Zarofsky will be Peterson’s new suspect because his girlfriend admitted she lied for him by saying he was with her that night.”

  “Damn.”

  “Burt says Zarofsky claimed he was scared because he was alone in his office here in town. Claimed he’s working in commercial real estate development. That’s why I’m calling. I wondered if you’d ever heard him talk about working in real estate.”

  “No, matter of fact, I haven’t. I know most all the breeders who’ve gone into real estate, and none of them have ever gone into commercial. They usually concentrate on finding large ranch or farm acreages they can buy or sell.”

  Kelly’s little buzzer rang again. “You know, Jayleen, I just checked out Zarofsky on the Web, and I didn’t find any mention of real estate in any form. Only his alpaca business. So, I’m a little curious why he’d tell Detective Peterson he was working in another business if he wasn’t.”

  Jayleen chuckled low. “You sleuthin’ again, Kelly?”

  “Yeah, maybe. Just a little. Gotta satisfy my curiosity, you know.” She sipped her coffee.

  “You know what curiosity did to that old cat, doncha?”

  “Yeah, yeah, but I’m trying to be good now.”

  Jayleen guffawed. “That’ll be the day.”

  “I know, my reputation precedes me,” Kelly admitted with a laugh. “I can only be so good. Would you do me a favor and check with some of your rancher/developer friends and see if any of them know about Zarofsky going into real estate?”

  �
��Sure, I will, Kelly. Who knows? Maybe he’s starting out. Hey, I’ve got another call coming in. Talk to you later, Kelly girl.”

  The affectionate nickname that Jayleen had picked up from Curt always made Kelly smile. She was about to drop her cell phone onto the café table when it rang again. This time, Megan’s voice came on.

  “Hey, Kelly, don’t forget ball practice tonight. And you need to be on time. We’ve got our first game tomorrow night. Pete and Jennifer don’t need you to babysit them jogging around the golf course anymore.”

  Kelly listened politely to Megan fuss at her, then replied sweetly. “Yes, ma’am, Miss Megan, ma’am. Whatever you say, ma’am.”

  “I’m serious, Kelly. You don’t want me to give away your base, do you?”

  Kelly could tell Megan was bluffing, but played along anyway. “No! Not my base!” she wailed loudly, causing Eduardo and Julie to turn around in the kitchen. “Please, Megan, don’t give away my base! Oh, noooooooo!” She took the wail up the scale in the manner of a former Lambspun knitter who was known for her histrionics.

  “Oh, brother . . .”

  “Oh, noooo,” Kelly let her voice drop from its upper register cry.

  “I can tell you’ve had waaaay too much caffeine already this morning. We’re gonna have to talk with Eduardo.”

  “You leave Eduardo and his coffeepot alone,” Kelly said with a laugh.

  “Okay, just promise you’ll be on time tonight.”

  “I swear, Imperial Commander.” Kelly dutifully saluted a grinning Eduardo. Then an idea popped from the back of her head. “Hey, Commander, can you do me a favor?”

  “Not if it involves running errands. What with trying to organize Mimi and Burt’s reception, I’m too busy.”

  Kelly laughed. “And you’ve got Mimi and Burt going in circles and bumping into each other. You’d better cut them some slack, Megan, or they’ll be exhausted by the wedding. Not a good idea.”

  “Hey, they can relax on the cruise ship,” Megan teased.

  “You are merciless. But really, this won’t take more than a few minutes of your time. I need you to check someone on those special no-access-allowed-except-Megan websites of yours.”

  “Sure. Who’re you checking?”

  “Zarofsky. William Zarofsky. I was hoping you’d check to see if he has had any problems with the law or any legal entanglements of any kind.”

  “You mean the guy who threatened Everett? The one we were talking about yesterday?”

  “Same one. Can you check him out, please? I’ve already Googled him and the only thing that comes up is his alpaca ranch in the canyon. Nothing else.”

  “Okay, will do. I’ll slip it in when I have a moment and see what I find.”

  “Thanks, Imperial Commander. I’ll be ever so grateful.”

  “Save the gratitude. Just be on time tonight.”

  Kelly trailed her hand across the yarn bins on the way to the main room and the knitting table. Client accounts were finally finished, and she deserved some relaxing time. Fiber relaxation. Her vest project was going slowly. It would never be ready for summer at this rate.

  Turning the corner, she saw Lisa sitting alone, knitting quietly. The rose pink cotton vest was nearly finished. Clearly Lisa had more time to knit. How did she do that? Lisa’s schedule was as busy as hers.

  “Did you just come in? I’ve been working on accounts in the café.” She plopped her shoulder bag on the table and pulled out a chair.

  “Yeah, I thought I’d drop by and knit a little.” Lisa didn’t look up, keeping her attention focused on the rose-colored yarn.

  Kelly picked up on her friend’s subdued mood. “Are you okay? You sound kind of down.”

  Lisa knitted for a few seconds without answering. “Yeah, I guess I am. I—I’m trying to figure out some things. You know, ‘knit on it,’ like Mimi says.”

  Kelly pulled out her knitted vest, which still looked halfway finished. It seemed stuck at halfway forever. It didn’t look like she was making any progress at all. Maybe her vest was like Jennifer’s sweater that wouldn’t end. Would she have to hide the vest in the back of her closet for a year? Maybe it would finish itself.

  “What’s up? I can tell something’s bothering you,” Kelly asked her friend.

  Lisa let out a long sigh. “The receptionist in Dr. Norcross’s office went to a dentist’s appointment, so I covered at the front desk. Answered the phones and made appointments. And while I was entering dates on the calendar, I noticed that Greta had scheduled appointments with Dr. Norcross three times this week and three times last week and three times the week before. That completely floored me.”

  “Wow. That does sound like a lot. What’s happening with Greta?”

  “I don’t know. That’s just it. She’s been acting weird lately, preoccupied more than usual. Not her regular self at all. She doesn’t want to talk anymore. I’ve asked her several times if anything’s wrong, but she only shakes her head and says ‘no,’ then rushes off.” Lisa frowned. “That’s so frustrating. We used to be pretty close. Or at least I thought we were.”

  Kelly moved her needles through the familiar movements, knitting another row. “Has anything changed with her job or her classes?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Have you mentioned anything to Dr. Norcross?”

  Lisa focused on her knitting again. “Well, we’re not allowed to discuss anything regarding staff, so I couldn’t ask her straight out.”

  Kelly glanced up. Lisa was still focused on her knitting, adding more pink rows of stitches. There was something Lisa wasn’t saying.

  “What is it, Lisa? There’s something else, I can tell.”

  Lisa gave Kelly a crooked smile. “You’d be good in our business, Kelly. Your antennae are razor sharp.”

  “They don’t call me Sherlock fer nuthin’,” Kelly teased. “You found out something else, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, I did.” Lisa exhaled a sigh. “And I’m feeling guilty about it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I overheard a private conversation between Greta and Dr. Norcross, and I shouldn’t have listened. I should have turned the other corner and left the room. Instead, I stayed.”

  “You didn’t plan on eavesdropping, Lisa, so don’t beat up on yourself.”

  “Yeah, but now . . . now I’m feeling really unsettled.”

  “Exactly what did you overhear?”

  Lisa screwed up her face. “That’s just it, Kelly. If I tell you, then I’m compounding the invasion of privacy.”

  Kelly considered Lisa’s dilemma. Clearly, her friend was conflicted over telling Kelly something she’d overheard. That would only happen if she overheard something disturbing. That made Kelly’s little buzzer go off.

  “Listen, Lisa. You didn’t take an oath of doctor-patient confidentiality or whatever it is. You’re not a doctor, and you’re not a psychologist. So there are no professional or legal restrictions binding you. It’s clear to me you overheard something that bothered you. And I know that you wouldn’t have mentioned it if you didn’t want to tell me, right?”

  Lisa wagged her head, a wry smile curving her mouth. “Man, you’d make a good lawyer, too. You been taking lessons from Marty or something?”

  Kelly smiled. “No, I simply pay attention. If something’s bothering you, there’s always a reason.”

  Lisa knitted several more stitches before answering. “They must have been standing outside Dr. Norcross’s office because I heard their voices in the hallway around the corner. Dr. Norcross was talking to Greta, and she said, ‘I know the retreat brought back lots of disturbing memories from the past. That’s to be expected.’ Then Greta said something I couldn’t hear, and they closed the door.”

  Kelly pondered the scene her friend recounted. “Disturbing memories from the past” that were triggered by the retreat. Many things happened on that retreat in Poudre Canyon. A lot of them disturbing.

  “That could refer to all sorts of thing
s, Lisa. It was an emotional roller coaster of a weekend for a lot of people. And on top of everything, we discovered Everett’s dead body at breakfast. That episode alone would bother most people.”

  “I know what you’re saying, Kelly, but something tells me Dr. Norcross wasn’t talking about Everett’s death. She was talking about all the stories the women were sharing about their experiences.” She knitted another few stitches. “And now I’m wondering if Greta was a victim of sexual assault herself. Maybe she didn’t share it with anyone except Dr. Norcross.”

  Kelly considered what Lisa said. “You know, you may be right, Lisa. Maybe those are the ‘memories’ Dr. Norcross was speaking of. And maybe that’s why Greta went into martial arts. Maybe she didn’t ever want to be a victim again.”

  Lisa stared at the yarn bins for a moment, then nodded. “That’s possible.”

  “Has she ever given you any indication that she was assaulted?”

  “No, she hasn’t. The only thing I’ve ever heard Greta say was that women need to protect themselves. And I’ve seen her get very concerned when college girls come in and talk about some of their experiences at parties.”

  Kelly knitted another row. “I wonder why she didn’t choose to share at the retreat. Do you think she simply wanted to keep a kind of professional distance or something? You know, since she’s trying to become a psychologist herself.”

  “That could be it. Maybe—”

  Lisa was interrupted by a mini-hurricane that resembled Mimi, hurrying through the doorway, fluffy balls of yarn in her arms. “Lisa, Kelly, could you give me a hand, please? Burt and I have got to run off and do errands before dinner, and the delivery truck has dropped off three boxes of new yarns. Connie is too busy with customers at the front to unpack.”

  “New yarns? I’m on it,” Kelly said, dropping her vest onto the table. “I take it you want them in the center room. These bins are already full.”

  “I’ll help, too, Mimi,” Lisa said, shoving her knitting back into her bag.

  Mimi dumped the colorful fluff balls onto the library table, sending them scattering. “You girls are lifesavers. I feel like that proverbial chicken running around with its head cut off. I swear, I’m running so fast I’m meeting myself in the middle.” She pointed to the central yarn room. “All of these yarns go into those bins along the wall, Kelly. I’ll bring some more in a minute. Burt’s already loading the shelves on the other side of the room. Lisa, you can help me unpack and load the shelves in the back room.” Mimi hurried from the room.