Dyer Consequences

by Maggie Sefton

  “I hope you’re right, Kelly. They’re looking everywhere,” Burt said as he rose from his chair. “By the way, they also heard something on your case. The deputy sheriff for Larimer County who patrols the mountain areas called in. He helped the department last December, remember? He was the one who reported the parked car that was seen in the canyon at the time of Derek Cooper’s murder.”

  “You bet I remember,” Kelly said. “He provided the crucial piece of evidence.”

  Burt nodded. “Yeah, Don’s a good cop, and he’s still doing his job. He heard that the department was looking for anything out of the ordinary or any suspicious people wandering around your property, so he started asking questions of everyone who lives in the vicinity around your ranch.”

  Kelly’s head popped up. “Did they see anyone lurking about?”

  “Nope, nobody. But your nearest neighbor on the south told Don that he’d seen a small black car frequently parked off the road that runs between your property and his. He said the car has been parked there off and on ever since last fall. The deputy said that section of road is surrounded by trees, and your land isn’t even fenced there. Apparently the car was off the road and parked in the trees.”

  Kelly frowned. “The car was parked on my property?”

  “Apparently so. But not all the time, the guy said. It shows up every now and then. Of course, he never thought to take down the license number. But he did give a good description. It’s an old-model black Toyota.”

  “That really narrows it down. The roads are full of them.”

  “Well, Don’s going to keep his eyes open in case he spots it in the area. This one is kind of distinctive. Apparently there’s a dent in the trunk, a broken rear taillight, and a Broncos sticker on the back.”

  “I don’t know, Burt, it could just be someone who parties late then finds a place to sleep it off. That canyon road is bad enough in the winter when you’re sober. I can attest to that.”

  “We’ll see. Don’s a good cop. If he’s curious about that car, then so am I. Particularly since it’s been parked on the edge of your land in the trees. You could never see it from the ranch.”

  Kelly’s skin prickled at that. “Do you think that car has something to do with the psycho who’s after the ranch?”

  Burt slipped on his winter jacket and zipped it to his chin. Wind still whipped the evergreen branches beside the shop window. “I don’t know, Kelly. But if there’s a connection, Deputy Don will find it. You can bet on it.”

  Fifteen

  Kelly carefully placed her crutches into the muddy gravel that lined the path from her cottage to the driveway. Grateful that it was merely messy, not slippery, Kelly slowly made her way across the driveway—a mixture of mud, gravel, and sand. Once she reached the sidewalk, she’d be okay. Ever since her accident, Burt had regularly spread crutch-grabbing sand along all the walkways leading to the shop’s front door.

  “Kelly, what on earth are you doing out here?” Megan’s voice called from the parked cars. “You’ll slip and fall and break something else.”

  “It’s okay, I won’t slip,” Kelly said when Megan hurried to meet her as she clumped along the walkway. “Burt has so much sand here, we could play volleyball.”

  Megan reached out to help Kelly anyway. “How come you didn’t wait for me to take you over like I’ve been doing? You shouldn’t be out here all by yourself,” Megan scolded as she held the door open.

  “I wanted to see if I could do it,” Kelly said as she balanced and wiped mud from her “walking” foot. “My right ankle is much better. I won’t be needing you to hurry over here every morning, Megan. You’ve got your own work to do. I can manage, see?”

  Megan followed Kelly to the knitting table. “I swear, Kelly, you’re always pushing the limits. It’s only been a week and a half since your accident, and you’re going outside in the snow and mud.”

  “Actually, it’s mostly mud. Ever since that last storm, the temps have started rising. Everything’s melting.”

  Megan pointed to the still snowy golf course reflecting the morning sunshine. “That’s not snow?”

  “Well, I don’t plan to hike across the golf course,” Kelly teased. “Don’t worry, Megan. I know my limits.”

  Megan gave her an incredulous stare. “You have to be kidding, Kelly. You’re always pushing the edges. You know you do.”

  Kelly slipped off her coat and settled awkwardly into a chair, then gave Megan a smile. “I can’t help it, Megan. I’m disobedient by nature, I guess.”

  Megan sniffed. “I’ll say. Where’s Carl?”

  “Rosa already took him for his training walk this morning. We thought we’d let him sleep at home today and keep those big muddy feet over there and not tracking about the shop. Rosa’s going to work him again at lunch.”

  “Well, at least I can bring your briefcase over,” Megan said as she dropped her knitting bag. “Oh, and your knitting. Aren’t you finished with that scarf yet?”

  “Yep, and I’m ready to begin that hat. But I’m going to need help.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll get you started,” Megan said as she left.

  It was midmorning and customers milled around the shop, browsing in yarn bins, fondling fibers. Without her laptop or her knitting to distract her, Kelly watched the browsers.

  Thanks to the “Lambspun Elves,” springtime colors had chased the Valentine reds away overnight. Now, lavender, pink, yellow, and robin’s egg blue spilled from the yarn bins and scattered across tables. Jellybean colors.

  “Good morning, Kelly,” Mimi greeted in a voice that sounded more and more like it used to. “Would it be okay if you put your computer at the end of the table today? I’m teaching a class on dyeing, and we’ll be setting up several small tubs.” Mimi gathered items from the center of the library table.

  Surprised that Mimi could teach a dye class without using the large laundry tubs, Kelly readily agreed. “Sure, Mimi, no problem. I didn’t know you could teach dyeing in a small tub. I thought you needed those big ones downstairs.”

  Mimi’s bright smile disappeared. “We’ll only do a small batch of fiber. But they’ll learn how to mix the dyes—that’s the important part. In fact, if you’re trying to create a new color, you should work in smaller batches anyway.” She scooped up more table items. “If you’re not too busy working, you’ll probably enjoy this, Kelly. Feel free to ask questions.”

  “Oh, you know me, Mimi. I’m always full of questions.” Kelly wondered if the real reason Mimi was demonstrating dye techniques in small batches was because she still didn’t want to venture into the basement.

  Memories of Tracy hanging over the laundry tub surged from the back of Kelly’s mind—vivid and horrifying. Blonde hair tinted Aztec Blue, floating on the water. Kelly shook them away, but they left a chill behind.

  Mimi headed toward the doorway, then paused and turned toward Kelly again. Kelly recognized Mimi’s worried look. “You haven’t had anything else happen around the cottage or at the ranch, have you? Burt doesn’t tell me anything anymore.”

  Kelly shook her head and gave Mimi a reassuring smile. “Nope. As soon as I put the ranch on the market, all the problems stopped.”

  Mimi chewed her lip. “I hope and pray that it’s over, Kelly. What with poor Tracy’s murder and your nearly being killed in that car crash, I’m petrified that some other horrible thing will happen.”

  “Don’t worry, Mimi. It’s over.”

  “I hope you’re right, Kelly,” she said softly before she hurried through the doorway.

  Connie entered the room, carrying several pink plastic tubs stacked together, and began setting up places around the table while Kelly shifted to another chair.

  Megan returned then and plopped Kelly’s knitting bag and her briefcase on the table. “Is Mimi having a class or something?”

  “Yeah, Mimi canceled the other scheduled dye classes after Tracy died,” Connie said in a lowered voice. “She’s still afraid to go downstairs.
Problem is we’ve run out of some of our custom-dyed fibers, and customers are being told to wait.” Connie shook her head. “We’re going to have to start dyeing downstairs again, even if Mimi doesn’t do it.”

  “I can’t blame her,” Megan said. “I had to go downstairs last week to fetch the last bag of Sandstone Red for Rosa. She was swamped at the register. And I swear, it gave me the creeps just being down there. Knowing what happened to Tracy, I couldn’t get back upstairs fast enough.” She gave an exaggerated shiver.

  “You know, maybe Rosa and I should go down there and clean the whole place out,” Connie said, hands on hips. “It’s so full of stuff stored here and there in every crack and cranny, it takes forever to find anything. I’m going to suggest it to Burt. Maybe he can get Mimi to agree. The basement needs a thorough cleaning. That might do the trick. We’ll fix it up so Mimi won’t even recognize it downstairs.”

  “You’d have to get Pete’s cooperation, though. He uses the other half of the basement for café storage,” Megan pointed out.

  Noticing Mimi in the doorway talking to a customer, Kelly added, “I think that’s a great idea, Connie. And I’ll bet Burt will pay you and Rosa handsomely to do it, too.”

  “Kelly, why don’t you relax and watch Mimi’s class while I search through the hat patterns? I want to find just the right one for you.”

  “Make sure you pick one that’s nice and easy, okay?” Kelly said. “You know me.”

  “Ohhhh, yeah,” Megan said as she headed into the next room.

  “All right, everyone, find a tub and settle in,” Mimi announced as she led several women into the room. “Here are some handouts so you can follow along while I demonstrate.”

  Kelly was anxious to settle in herself and watch the custom dye class, but her cell phone rang. Anxiously digging it out of her briefcase, Kelly apologized to the class as she turned away. Jennifer’s voice came on the line.

  “Just thought you’d like to know. J. D. Franklin faxed through an offer on the ranch this morning.”

  “Below market like you expected?” Kelly asked quietly.

  “Oh, yeah. Way below. Fifty thousand below.”

  Kelly flinched. Ouch! She couldn’t absorb a loss that large. “Ooooh, that’s ugly. What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to let it sit for now, then we’ll talk. I want to see if anything else comes across my desk. But so far, no one seems interested. Meanwhile, I’ve got the buyer’s name and address. Now I can do some digging.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Uh, it looks like one person. Carolyn Becker.”

  “Just a minute,” Kelly said as she pulled her daytimer from her briefcase and grabbed a pen. Keeping her voice down so as not to disturb the students, she said, “Let me write that down.”

  “Carolyn Becker, 15432 County Road 11, Colorado Springs. Sounds like Mimi is teaching in the background. You go back to listening while I see what I can find on this Carolyn Becker. Talk to you later.”

  Kelly slipped her little phone into her briefcase as she returned her concentration to the dye class about to begin.

  “Okay, now cast on sixty-six stitches just like you would normally,” Megan said.

  Kelly stared at the pattern’s brief instructions, then at the small circular needles in her hands. Only sixteen inches from wooden tip to wooden tip. They looked tiny compared to the circular needles she’d used for her sweater-in-the-round.

  “Are you sure I won’t need longer needles? Won’t I need more room?”

  Megan chuckled. “Oh, no. These are exactly right. If you used longer needles, that hat would grow huge. Trust me, these are perfect.”

  “Okaaaay,” Kelly acquiesced as she began measuring the soft red yarn, preparing to cast on. Bright red to match her scarf. She’d learned to trust her friends’ knitting advice. They were always—infuriatingly—right.

  “I need some coffee. Do you want some?” Megan asked as she left the table.

  Kelly checked her mug. “No, I’m good.”

  Winding the red yarn around her fingers, Kelly began the intriguing method she’d adopted. It wasn’t the easiest way to cast on stitches, but it worked for her. For some reason, she could remember these intricate movements.

  She glanced to the other end of the table where Mimi held a hair dryer on the robin’s egg blue fibers spread out on paper.

  “That’s a luscious shade of blue, Mimi,” Kelly said.

  Mimi didn’t answer, clearly unable to hear over the dryer’s noise.

  Drying the class’s custom-dyed fibers by hand was not Mimi’s normal procedure. Kelly already knew that. Mimi had told them the fibers were dried overnight while they lay stretched out next to big fans. Downstairs in the basement.

  Connie was right. The basement needed to be totally cleared out and cleaned so Mimi could go downstairs again. Otherwise, loyal customers might look elsewhere for their custom-dyed fibers. Mimi had to get back into the game, so the shop could return to normal.

  From the corner of her eye, Kelly caught a sudden movement and saw her cell phone blinking. She dropped her knitting and grabbed the phone.

  “Kelly, this is—hey, what’s that noise?” Burt asked.

  “Mimi’s drying fibers from her dye class.”

  “Boy, it’s a good thing Connie and Rosa are going to clean that basement. I’m hoping Mimi will be able to go downstairs again. If not, the rest of us will have to start dyeing fibers. Customers are calling in every day.”

  The noise from the other end of the table stopped. “Oh, Kelly, I’m sorry. You should have waved at me,” Mimi said.

  “Don’t worry, Mimi. Burt understands,” Kelly said with a grin.

  Mimi’s face lit up. “It’s Burt? Then tell him I’ve got his favorite pot roast simmering right now. Dinner at six thirty.” She fluffed out the robin’s egg blue before leaving the room.

  “Did you get that?” Kelly heard Burt chuckle.

  “Oh, yeah. My stomach’s growling now. But before I head over there, I wanted to tell you the reason I called. I just heard from Don. You know, the deputy sheriff who works the canyons?”

  “Oh, yeah. Deputy Don,” Kelly said as she reached for her coffee mug.

  “Remember a few days ago, when I told you he’d learned about a black Toyota parked near your ranch and he was going to keep an eye out?”

  “Yeah, did he spot it?”

  “He sure did. It was parked on some vacant land next to an auto repair shop. Dent in the trunk, broken right taillight, and a Broncos sticker. Don ran a check on the license number, and you’ll never guess who’s the registered owner of the black Toyota.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite. Who?”

  “Geri Norbert.”

  Kelly paused for a second. “What? How can that be? She’s in that treatment facility waiting to go to prison. What would her car be doing in the canyon?”

  “That’s what I’m wondering, and so is Don. He called me as soon as her name came up. Believe me, Deputy Don knows where Geri Norbert is, and what she did to get there.”

  “You know, Burt, I never saw Geri in a black Toyota. She always drove that old beat-up pickup. Maybe it’s another Geri Norbert.”

  “Don already checked that. Car registration shows the same address in Colorado Springs that Geri Norbert gave police for her former residence. Apparently she lived with her sister in the Springs area before she moved to Fort Connor.”

  The little buzzer inside Kelly’s head went off. “What’s that address, Burt?”

  “It’s 15432 County Road 11, Colorado Springs.”

  Kelly sat still for a second, recognizing the address. She reached for her daytimer and reread the address Jennifer had given her earlier. The address of the woman who wanted to buy her ranch. Geri Norbert’s former ranch. It was a match. Kelly’s pulse speeded up.

  “Kelly? Are you there?”

  “Yeah, Burt, I’m here. I was just checking the address that I’d written down in my daytimer earlier today. Jennifer to
ld me we received an offer from a buyer in Colorado Springs. One Carolyn Becker, who lives, interestingly enough, at 15432 County Road 11, Colorado Springs.”

  This time, Burt went quiet. “Now, that is interesting,” he said when he spoke.

  “Isn’t it, now? There’s no way that could be a coincidence, Burt. The woman has got to be Geri Norbert’s sister.”

  “It would seem so. Listen, let me give Jennifer a call and have her fax a copy of the cover page of that purchase offer to the detectives. They can check the names on it with Geri Norbert’s records, and see if this Carolyn Becker is listed as a relative. Meanwhile, I’ll let Don know about this, so he can start snooping around some more.”

  “Do you think Geri Norbert’s family is buying the ranch for her?” Kelly asked, feeling slightly unsettled.

  “I don’t know, Kelly. But I don’t believe in coincidences like this, either.”

  “That doesn’t make sense, though. She’d be in prison a long time, right?”

  “Not necessarily. It all depends on the judge’s sentencing. He may be lenient, and she could be out in a few years and on probation. Who knows?”

  The unsettled feeling in Kelly’s stomach switched to uneasy. “But even if Geri’s family is simply trying to regain her ranch, that wouldn’t explain the car, would it?”

  “No, it wouldn’t. In fact, I think the detectives will want to ask Geri Norbert a few questions. Maybe she sold the car to someone in the canyon. That would explain it. If so, Deputy Don could check them out.”

  Somewhat reassured, Kelly nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Listen, Kelly, let me make some of these phone calls before it gets too late. I’ll let you know when I hear anything, okay?”

  Kelly listened to Burt click off, then flipped her own phone closed. Still unsettled, Kelly returned to casting on stitches. Realizing she’d lost count, Kelly carefully counted the neat stitches she had so far. Twenty-six. Forty more to go. She wound the yarn around her fingers and began casting on once more.

  Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight. The rhythmic movements were calming, settling. Kelly’s thoughts slowed down, too, becoming more orderly. One by one, her earlier concerns claimed her attention.