Skein of the Crime

by Maggie Sefton

  Kelly drained her cola as the ambulance backed up, yellow lights flashing and the insistent warning sound beeping shrilly before it headed out the driveway. She noticed the two police officers were headed her way. At last. She had a lot of questions. Carl also noticed them and had broken his “down,” standing in front of her, on the defensive.

  “Easy, Carl. It’s okay, it’s okay,” Kelly reassured him, rubbing Carl’s smooth black head as the two officers paused at the end of the sidewalk.

  “He okay?” the young man asked, pointing toward Carl.

  “Yeah, he’ll be okay. Carl, sit,” Kelly commanded. “It’s okay.” Carl needed a slight jerk of the collar to comply, but he sat. “Stay,” Kelly ordered, palm up, adding the visual command. “Good boy.”

  “Nice dog,” the female officer said as she and her colleague slowly approached.

  “Thanks, he’s a sweet boy, but he’s also a good watchdog. Good dog, Carl,” she said again and rubbed Carl’s head.

  “Did you check the yard as soon as you came home, Ms. Flynn?” the guy asked.

  “No, sir. I came inside and did my usual routine. I let Carl in from the backyard. He came in and didn’t let on there was anyone out there, so I was really surprised to see her.”

  “We realize this must have been pretty frightening,” the guy said.

  “Well, it certainly gave me a start, I’ll say that. To turn around and see the girl standing there so close in the dark . . .” Kelly shook her head. “That was definitely spooky.”

  “And you said your dog wasn’t barking or acting unusual.”

  “Nope. He acted normal. I have a feeling Carl had already decided she was stoned out of her head and consequently wasn’t a threat. Because, believe me, Carl goes ballistic if anybody suspicious-looking shows up, any stranger at all. Even golfers who wander too close, looking for stray balls, set him off.”

  “I think you may be right. Carl figured it out first, didn’t you, boy?” the woman said, smiling.

  “Tell me, officers, what do you think she was taking? Any idea? She was totally spaced. I watched you guys try to get something out of her, but nothing. Except the singing.”

  “The paramedics said she’d probably used either Ecstasy or LSD, judging from how fast her heart rate was,” the man replied.

  “Will they keep her overnight at the hospital?”

  “They’ll keep her until she sobers up and comes to her senses. When the drug wears off, they’ll try to find the name and number of someone who could come pick her up. Then they’ll release her.”

  Kelly stared off toward the golf course, shrouded in night. “I wonder where she came from. I know there are parties going on regularly in those houses bordering Old Town. Do you think she wandered from over there? I mean, that’s a ways to walk, and she was barefoot.”

  “We figured she probably took the river trail,” the man said, pointing. “That would bring her beside the golf course where she was bound to see your cottage all lit up. She must have headed straight for it.”

  “Heading toward the lights, that makes sense,” Kelly mused out loud. “Once the university is back in session this fall, there’ll be even more parties going on. I sure hope others don’t start wandering across the golf course.”

  The fire truck’s big engine revved up then, bright lights flashing.

  “I don’t think you have to worry, Ms. Flynn,” the man called over the sound as he turned to leave. “Odds of something like this happening once is pretty low. The chance of it happening again would be almost impossible. Good night.”

  “Good night, officers, and thank you very much,” Kelly called out, returning the policewoman’s wave as she watched the fire engine lumber down the driveway toward the street.

  Kelly had always been suspicious of statistics.

  One

  Early September

  Kelly hastened across the gravel driveway and up to the front door of the knitting shop, House of Lambspun. Bright annuals bloomed in the pots that dotted the sidewalk and steps. Red, white, and purple petunias, yellow marigolds, blue lobelia, scarlet, white, lavender, and peach impatiens. Summer’s temperatures were still holding forth, so flowers were usually safe until later in the month. However, September sometimes brought early snows to Fort Connor and an early end to summer blooms.

  Pushing the heavy wooden door open, Kelly paused in the foyer to let her senses drink in the fall colors that had appeared the first days of the month. Right on schedule, Mimi and her shop elves had removed the brighter and lighter summer yarns and repositioned them to other rooms. The foyer and central yarn room were now adorned with autumn’s palette of lush, rich, earthy colors.

  Browns, the color of rich garden soil and fallen, crushed leaves. Deep forest greens, mushroom grays, gourd yellows, and pumpkin orange. And cranberry, both vibrant and dusky soft.

  Kelly wandered into the room, fingers touching fibers as she passed. Wooden bins and shelves lined the walls, and all were filled with the fall colors. She sank her hand into a pile of tweed alpaca and squeezed. Soft, soft. Next she caressed a bin of sage-colored mohair and silk. Luscious. Then another bin of multicolor bulky wools beckoned and another and another.

  The shop assistant Rosa walked by, two bundles of yarn in her hands. “Hey, Kelly. Thanks for helping out again. I’m taking care of a customer, but Barbara is setting up in the classroom right now.”

  Kelly pulled her empty coffee mug from her shoulder bag and headed for the classroom. She’d need a ration of strong coffee before she could face eager students. She walked through the classroom doorway and spotted the tall, big-boned, middle-aged woman she’d worked with before. “Hey, Barbara. You’ve got me as your helper again. Mimi called this morning and said she was shorthanded. Rosa is busy up front as usual.”

  Barbara’s strong features softened into a smile. “Thanks for coming in again, Kelly. I’ll definitely need some help with these new students. Six have signed up for the class, and appearances to the contrary, there’s only so much of me to go around.” She gave a hearty laugh.

  Kelly joined in. “Glad to help, Barbara. As you know, I’m reasonably knowledgeable if it’s simple knitting. The complicated stuff you’ll have to explain.” She glanced around the table, saw the copies of patterns spread out. “What will they be knitting?”

  “This is supposed to be an advanced beginner class, so I thought I’d teach them how to make a hat. Starting now, they’ll have it finished and ready to wear by winter.”

  “That’s great,” Kelly enthused. “Hats are my specialty. Simple hats, you understand. Not the complicated ones. I’m used to doing mine on the circular needles.”

  Barbara smiled reassuringly. “That’s exactly what they’ll be doing. I wanted them to start simple and gain even more confidence. They’ve been making scarves and a couple said they made a pair of mittens.”

  “That kind of sounds like my path,” Kelly admitted, dropping her shoulder bag onto a nearby chair. “All except the mittens. Those tiny little needles would give me a headache.”

  Barbara smiled broadly, her dark eyes lighting up. “Oh, you should give it a try, Kelly. If you can knit a hat, you can knit mittens.”

  “That’s what everyone says, but I’m not so sure,” Kelly said, grabbing her mug. “Working in such a small space, there’s no telling what kind of mistakes I could make. I have enough trouble with bigger projects.”

  Barbara laughed loudly. “We’ll have to see what we can do about that, Kelly.”

  “Right now I need more caffeine, or I’ll be fading soon. Be back in a minute.” Kelly noticed two women enter the classroom. “Come on in, you’re in the right place,” she said as she headed toward the doorway. “This is Barbara. I’m Kelly, and I’m helping, but I’m seriously caffeine-deprived, so I’ll be back after a fill-up.”

  Rounding the corner into the main knitting room, Kelly spied Mimi Shafer, owner of Lambspun, standing beside the long library table where knitters and fiber artists regularly
gathered.

  Mimi looked up at Kelly’s approach. “Thanks so much for riding to the rescue again, Kelly. I’ve been amazed at the response we’ve had to these new fall classes. I never thought we’d need to teach two levels of beginners.”

  “I’m glad I can help, Mimi.” She noticed several patterns spread out on the table. “Are you picking out a project for this new class?”

  “These patterns are for an advanced class. I’ll start off my beginning students with a simple scarf. That’s how you started, remember?”

  “Wow, that was over three years ago, Mimi. It seems like such a long time.” Kelly glanced into the adjoining yarn room and noticed a familiar young woman examining the yarn bins. “Is Holly taking another one of your classes?” she asked, pointing.

  A warm smile spread across Mimi’s kind face. “Yes, she is. You remember when she started her first class with me last month? Well, she enjoyed it so much she wants to take it again and knit another scarf. She’ll certainly be all set for chilly weather later this fall.”

  Kelly observed the slender blonde dressed in cropped pants and a summery shirt. There was barely any resemblance to the waiflike, drugged-out, barefoot girl who had shown up on Kelly’s patio only a month ago.

  “What a difference a month makes. Maybe that experience of wandering down the river trail and into my yard was Holly’s wake-up call.”

  Mimi nodded. “Holly has really turned herself around. Now she reminds me of the bright-eyed young girl I remember. She was always tagging along after Barbara’s son, Tommy. It broke my heart and Barbara’s to see her slip into that college drug scene a few years ago when they both went to college.”

  “You deserve a lot of the credit for helping Holly make that turnaround, Mimi. You took her under your wing. Brought her here to Lambspun every day after she left the hospital. Watched over her.”

  “Well, Holly’s never really had much mothering since her mom passed away years ago and her dad moved out of town. So I just filled in the gap, I guess.” A cloud passed over Mimi’s face. “I didn’t want to watch another young person be destroyed by drugs.”

  Kelly remembered that Mimi’s only child, her son, had died years ago after taking some unknown drugs at a college party. Now “Mother Mimi,” as Kelly and her friends called her, watched over all of them with a maternal eye. Kelly was about to change the subject when she noticed Holly approaching.

  “Hey, Holly. How’s that class you signed up for at the university going?” Kelly asked.

  “It’s going good, Kelly,” Holly said, a bright smile lighting up her pretty face. She reached over and gave Mimi a big hug. “Hey, Mimi.”

  Mimi returned her hug and added a parting squeeze. “Is that the yarn you picked out for the class? It’s beautiful.”

  Holly fondled the blue-and-green variegated wool. “Can I still use my size eight needles?”

  “Absolutely,” Mimi reassured her, giving Holly a pat on the arm.

  “I hear you’re taking another of Mimi’s classes. You’ll be passing me before you know it,” Kelly teased.

  “Are you kidding?” Holly retorted. “I’m just hoping I don’t screw up as badly as I did on the first scarf.”

  “Don’t worry. It’ll turn out wonderfully,” Mimi said, giving Holly another squeeze. “Come on, let’s head to class.”

  “Oops, thanks for reminding me. I’ve got to get coffee before my class starts. Barbara will think I bailed on her.” Kelly gave a wave, then raced down the hallway to the café at the rear of the shop.

  “Okay, your head measures twenty-one inches,” Kelly said, examining the tape measure. “So look at the pattern and tell me which size hat you’d be knitting. Do you know how to figure out how many stitches to cast on?”

  The young woman stared at the pattern and replied, “That would be medium-sized, so I’d cast on sixty-three stitches. Three times the measurement.”

  “That’s right. Now get your circular needles and settle back and start casting on. There are some stitch markers on the table. I’d advise putting one every twenty stitches as a guide. It’ll help later when you’re finishing the hat.”

  The young woman, who appeared to be in her early thirties, like Kelly, peered at the metal needles attached to each other by a round piece of plastic approximately the same size as the needles. “I’m trying to remember how I cast on for the scarf. That was several weeks ago.”

  Instead of jumping in right away and casting on for the woman, Kelly held back. She remembered how well-meaning friends often “helped” her out when she was starting by casting on stitches for her. But that actually slowed down her learning. Sometimes it was better to struggle along for a bit and see if the stitch “memory” came back. If not, she’d gladly show the woman how to cast on again.

  “Well, take a few minutes and see if it comes back. If not, just give a yell.”

  Kelly glanced over at the other five students seated around the table, all in various early stages. One older woman was slowly casting on with methodical, neat stitches. Another younger woman, college-aged, sat on the other side of Kelly. She’d cast on her first row and was busily knitting away on the next row. There was always a “star” in every class, Kelly noted. The other three were middle-aged and were still casting on their first row of stitches. Barbara was helping the last woman learn how to cast on.

  Kelly noticed that each one used a different method. She’d been told early that there were scores of ways to cast on stitches, and whatever worked for an individual knitter was fine. As long as the stitches got onto the needle and stayed, you were good to go.

  She glanced back to the young woman she’d been helping and saw several stitches appear on her needle. Success. “Hey, you remembered. Good job,” Kelly praised as she pulled up a chair beside the girl.

  “Patty reminded me how to wrap the yarn around my fingers,” she said with a nod to the college-aged girl on the other side of Kelly. “So, I kept fiddling with it until it came back.” Her fingers slowly formed the twisting motion, needle going over and under to form a stitch.

  “Thanks for stepping in, Patty,” Kelly said to the other girl.

  “No problem,” Patty replied, her needles forming more stitches.

  Kelly watched the first girl cast on several more stitches, then leaned back and took a big drink of the dark, rich coffee. Having a café at the rear of the knitting shop was too convenient. Plus the grill cook, Eduardo, made his coffee as black and strong as Kelly liked it. She couldn’t do better herself. Consequently, Kelly had a running tab at Pete’s Porch Café.

  Kelly took another sip, then spoke. “I saw Holly a few minutes ago. She’s taking Mimi’s beginner class again. I’m amazed at the way Holly has turned herself around, Barbara. She’s even taking a class at the university.”

  Barbara looked up with a worried expression. “Frankly, I’m amazed, too. I just hope it lasts. I’ve watched Holly try to change her dangerous habits before. Unfortunately, she always falls back into those old ways after a while.”

  That wasn’t the response Kelly had expected. “Well, let’s hope this last experience scared her enough into changing for good. She’s such a nice kid.”

  Barbara wagged her head. “That’s the problem. She’s still a ‘kid.’ Holly’s never really grown up, despite all our help. She still expects other people to solve her problems.”

  One of the knitters looked up from her needles. “Who’s Holly?”

  “Someone Kelly and I tried to help,” Barbara replied in a clipped tone. “Now, let’s get back to these hats. Who hasn’t finished casting on yet? I can help you if you need it.”

  The older woman held up her hand. “I’ve been going slowly. I didn’t want to make a mistake.”

  “We all make mistakes, so don’t worry about it,” Barbara reassured. “Here, let me see what you’ve got so far.” She picked up the woman’s needles and examined the stitches.

  Patty leaned over to Kelly and whispered, “Barbara has known Holly for
a long time. We all kind of grew up together and went to the same school. Plus, her son has been dating Holly ever since college. Believe me, Barbara isn’t happy that Tommy is still together with Holly.”

  Kelly glanced up at Barbara, who was immersed in instructing the older woman how to cast on in a more efficient manner. Every family had a drama, Kelly thought to herself. If you look beneath the surface, you’ll find it.

  “Oops, something’s wrong,” the girl on the other side of Kelly said, staring balefully at her needles. “There’s a stitch missing. Right there. See, it’s just a loop. How’d I do that?”

  Kelly leaned next to the girl, examining the stitches. “It’s easy. You simply dropped a stitch, that’s all. I can still do it if I’m not careful. Don’t worry.” She repeated Barbara’s advice. “Let me show you how to pick up the stitch.”

  “Hey, I’m glad to see you,” Jennifer said as she walked into the main knitting room. She dropped her large knitting bag onto the table beside Kelly. “How’d the class go this morning?”

  “Very well, actually,” Kelly said, continuing the hat she was knitting. “Barbara has them all knitting hats so I was in my element.”

  “All right,” Jennifer said as she settled into the chair beside Kelly. “Who’s this hat for?”

  “Steve. I thought I’d knit him one to go with that scarf I made for him a couple of years ago.” She fingered the soft gray tweed yarn. “I hope he likes it.”

  “I’m sure he will,” Jennifer said, pulling out a scarlet red sweater. Nearly finished already, Kelly noticed.

  “He’s not out on the building sites anymore, but I figured he could wear it skiing,” Kelly added. “If he can find time to ski this winter.”

  “Oooo, don’t talk about winter when it’s so pretty outside,” Megan scolded as she walked into the room. “I’m hoping for a long fall like last year.”

  “You know Colorado,” Jennifer said, looking up from her sweater. “There’s no guarantee from one year to the next what the weather will be. It’s always a gamble.”