Knitting 06 - Fleece Navidad

by Maggie Sefton

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgements

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  HOLIDAY KNITTING PATTERNS

  HOLIDAY RECIPES

  Berkley Prime Crime titles by Maggie Sefton

  KNIT ONE, KILL TWO

  NEEDLED TO DEATH

  A DEADLY YARN

  A KILLER STITCH

  DYER CONSEQUENCES

  FLEECE NAVIDAD

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada

  (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Group Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.)

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  (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.)

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  (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196,

  South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This book is an original publication of The Berkley Publishing Group.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE: The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reactions to the recipes contained in this book.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  BERKLEY PRIME CRIME and the BERKLEY PRIME CRIME design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  eISBN : 978-1-436-26708-3

  1. Flynn, Kelly (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Knitters (Persons)—Fiction. 3. Colorado—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3619.E37F64 2008

  813’.6—dc22

  2008019345

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  Acknowledgments

  First, I want to thank Jean Utley for suggesting the marvelous title for this holiday mystery. Jean is the manager of the charming bookstore, Book ’Em Mysteries, at 1118 Mission Street in South Pasadena, California. I stopped in the cozy bookshop in May of 2007 to sign books and chat with readers. While I was there, I mentioned to Jean that I was going to write a holiday-themed mystery which would follow Dyer Consequences in the Kelly Flynn mystery series. I confessed I was having a hard time coming up with a “cute” title. Jean immediately started suggesting funny titles. When I heard her say “Fleece Navidad,” I laughed out loud.

  I hope readers will enjoy this holiday visit with Kelly and her friends, because I had a whole lot of fun writing it.

  Next, I want to thank a dear friend, Claudia Edwards, for her friendship and support over the years. She always believed in me as a writer, even when my earlier books weren’t selling. Claudia and I met in West Lafayette, Indiana (home of Purdue University) when we both lived there raising our families. We struggled together through the rigorous accounting regimen at Purdue’s Krannert School of Management and became CPAs. We then “suited up” and joined accounting firms. We may have looked like sober, serious accountants, but our fun-loving natures always gave us away.

  So, imagine my surprise when a new character “walked onstage” in this book and introduced herself as Claudia Miller. I realized she resembled my old friend Claudia in many ways—until she opened her mouth. Oh, my. Character Claudia may share my friend’s vivacious, lively personality and her delightful sense of humor. But—Character Claudia also has some other character traits that are . . . well, less than admirable, shall we say. But I’ll leave it to the readers to discover Claudia Miller themselves and come to their own conclusions.

  I also want to mention that the idea for Annie, the Celebrity Lamb, came after meeting the “real” Annie, an adorable lamb who is owned by sheep breeder Mary Ann Cothren of Gill, Colorado.

  Finally, I want to thank Natasha York of Fort Collins, Colorado. Natasha is a knitter as well as an officer with the Larimer County Police Department, and she was kind enough to advise me as to the correct police procedures and terminology that are involved when crimes are committed and people are arrested. Natasha and I went over the entire manuscript one cold December afternoon. It may have been cold outside, but it was warm inside Jay’s Bistro, where we had a delightful and delicious four-hour “working lunch.”

  I wish all of my readers a wonderful Holiday Season filled with Joy, Peace, and Love. Happy Holidays!

  Cast of Characters

  Kelly Flynn—financial accountant and part-time sleuth, refugee from East Coast corporate CPA firm

  Steve Townsend—architect and builder in Fort Connor, Colorado, and Kelly’s boyfriend

  KELLY’S FRIENDS:

  Jennifer Stroud—real estate agent, part-time waitress

  Lisa Gerrard—physical therapist

  Megan Smith—IT consultant, another corporate refugee

  Marty Harrington—lawyer, Megan’s boyfriend

  Greg Carruthers—university instructor, Lisa’s boyfriend

  Pete Wainwright—owner of Pete’s Porch café in the back of Kelly’s favorite knitting shop, House of Lambspun

  LAMBSPUN FAMILY AND REGULARS:

  Mimi Shafer—Lambspun shop owner and knitting expert, known to Kelly and her friends as “Mother Mimi”

  Burt Parker—retired Fort Connor police detective, Lambspun spinner-in-residence

  Hilda and Lizzie von Steuben—spinster sisters, retired school teachers, and exquisite knitters

  Curt Stackhouse—Colorado rancher, Kelly’s mentor and advisor

  Jayleen Swinson—Alpaca rancher and Colorado Cowgirl

  Connie and Rosa—Lambspun shop personnel

  Fleece Navidad

  One

  “Is Marty going back for seconds already?” Kelly Flynn asked her friend Megan as they stood in the doorway of Curt Stackhouse’s ranch house kitchen.

  “Hey, slow down, there’s plenty of turkey and stuffing left,” Megan called after her boyfriend, who was headed toward the serving dishes that covered the counters.

  “Alr
eady met my turkey quota,” Marty said, balancing two cups of eggnog on an empty plate. “Now I’m after sweet potato casserole and creamed onions and cranberry sauce and . . .”

  Kelly feigned shock. “You have a quota? I thought you were a bottomless pit.”

  “That’s a fact,” Curt Stackhouse said as he stood in the middle of the sunny kitchen. The tall, burly, silver-haired rancher sipped a Colorado microbrew. “I swear, I don’t know where you put it, boy. You’re as skinny as a rail.”

  “Nice of you to have us over for Thanksgiving, Uncle Curt,” Marty said, piling a large helping of creamy sweet potato casserole onto his plate. “We need a big house for all this food.”

  “Got that right. This hungry crew needs a lot of room,” Jayleen Swinson said as she ladled more eggnog into her cup.

  “Didn’t I tell you, Steve?” Greg’s voice sounded in the doorway behind Kelly. “Ol’ Marty is back again. You hold him off at the stuffing while I grab some mashed potatoes.”

  “Too late. They’re gone,” Jayleen said with an engaging grin as she leaned against the wood-grained counter. “I just watched Marty finish them off.”

  “What? I haven’t had seconds yet,” Steve Townsend complained as he stepped beside Kelly and slipped his arm around her waist. “I’m going to save Greg the trouble and pound Marty myself.”

  Kelly leaned against her boyfriend, while she listened to her friends insult the amiable redhead. For his part, Marty simply smiled between mouthfuls of sweet potatoes and creamed onions, uttering loud sounds of enjoyment which only egged on Greg and Steve to further insults.

  “I knew we should have strung him up with the lights last Christmas,” Greg said as he scooped hot gravy over a huge mound of stuffing. “I’ve had to fight with him over desserts ever since he showed up. It’s all I can do to grab seconds.”

  “You mean thirds, don’t you?” Kelly teased.

  “Still, I think I should pound Marty for good measure. For all those missed desserts,” Greg threatened.

  “Like I always say. Ya gotta catch me first,” Marty replied with a grin.

  “I will, after I have more sweet potatoes.”

  Jayleen chuckled deep in her throat as she tossed her graying blonde curls over her shoulder. “You boys couldn’t catch a three-legged billy goat, let alone each other. You’re so full right now, you’d barely make it to the pasture.”

  Nearly sixty, and Jayleen still didn’t show her age, Kelly observed. Colorado Cowgirl, in boots and blue jeans.

  “Damn straight. I’d have to send the dogs out to find ’em,” Curt said.

  “Three-legged billy goat?” Kelly tried to picture the scene. “Have you got one of those, Curt? I’d like to see Greg and Marty have at it. I’ll bet on the goat.”

  “Me, too,” Megan said, laughing.

  “Maybe we should ease up on him, Greg. After all, Marty did help us win the baseball tournament last summer,” Steve said as he surveyed the remains of Thanksgiving dinner.

  “And don’t forget it,” Marty said before wiping the last of the gravy on his plate with the last of Megan’s biscuits.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Greg checked the empty biscuit basket. “Gone. I can’t believe it. You ate all the biscuits.”

  “And you’re surprised at this?”

  “Dude, you’re so dead.”

  “Why don’t we keep him away from the pies?” Steve suggested, serving himself some turkey and stuffing. “That’s fitting punishment.”

  “What about cutting off the eggnog?” Kelly said with a sly smile. “I swear he must have finished a gallon since we got here.”

  “Way more,” Megan said. “You should see our fridge. You can barely find the food for the eggnog.”

  “Hey, it’s a seasonal specialty. And you can’t keep me away from the pies. I know the cook.” He winked at Megan.

  “I assume that’s ‘know’ in the biblical sense?” Jennifer said as she strolled into the kitchen, empty plate in hand.

  Greg snickered, and Kelly tried not to laugh too hard while Megan threw a wadded paper towel Jennifer’s way.

  “Whoa, good thing I need to go on a diet, because you guys have finished everything.” Jennifer scooped a dollop of cranberry sauce onto her plate. “I suggest we all wait a couple of hours before we attack Megan’s pies. Besides, Lisa and Mimi can use help finishing the tree. So we might as well be useful while we’re working up an appetite again.”

  “Did you sort the ornaments?” Kelly asked as she reached for the coffeepot on the counter behind her. A fragrant plume of black nectar wafted toward her nostrils. Her taste buds started to wake up from the carb-induced stupor that was Thanksgiving.

  Jennifer brushed her auburn hair over her shoulder. “Yeah, I figured we didn’t want Megan anywhere near them. Not after last year, when she went ballistic.”

  “Hey, that wasn’t my fault,” Megan protested. “It was Marty’s. He was the one breaking everything.”

  “Good Lord,” Jayleen mused out loud. “It seems like only yesterday when ol’ Marty stumbled into our lives.”

  Greg snorted. “Stumbled is right.”

  “I couldn’t help myself,” Marty declared, hand to heart. “I lost all control after tasting Megan’s blueberry pie.”

  “Hey, you guys!” Lisa’s voice commanded from the doorway. “Enough slacking off. Mimi and Burt and I need help. And no pie until the tree is finished and all the decorations are up. I’ll hide those pies if I have to.” With her long blonde hair twisted into a bun atop her head, Lisa looked like a fussy schoolteacher.

  “Whoa, we’d better get back out there,” Marty said as he rinsed his plate. “She sounds serious.”

  “Sorry, Lisa. Didn’t mean to disappear on you,” Kelly said. “I came in for coffee then got sucked into watching the guys finish off the leftovers.”

  “Well, you heard the trail boss,” Curt ordered. “Go on, everybody, git!” He shooed the unruly group out of the kitchen, Jayleen bringing up the rear.

  “We ought to grab a tree for the cottage on the way home. Small ones go fast,” Kelly said to Steve as they walked back into Curt’s high-ceilinged, expansive family room. Like last year, every nook and cranny, wall and window was filled with colorful Christmas decorations, both homemade and store-bought.

  “You didn’t have a tree last year.”

  “Yeah, I did. On the dining room table.”

  “That little thing?” Steve scoffed. “That wasn’t a tree. It was a plant. Why don’t we get a real tree?”

  “And where would we put it?” Kelly countered as she paused at the edge of the family room, where Mimi and Lisa were hanging ornaments on the branches of a huge Colorado spruce. Retired cop Burt Parker sat on the floor, untangling strings of lights. “There’s not enough room in the cottage. We can’t plop it in the middle of the living room.”

  Steve sipped his coffee and stared at the Christmas tree dominating the room. “Now, there’s a tree.” He lifted his mug in salute.

  That it was. The Stackhouse Spruce was imposing. Fully twelve feet high, it nearly grazed the top of the sloping cathedral ceiling. Every branch was laden and dripping with ornaments. Heirloom and homemade, children’s paper cutouts, glistening glass, hand-stitched bears, painted metal bells, crocheted angels, and carved wooden nutcrackers. Strung with rows of twinkling lights, the tree was aglow.

  “It’s beautiful,” Kelly agreed.

  “We have to find room for a tree. Even if it’s in the middle of the living room.”

  Kelly chuckled. “You say that now. . . .”

  “Hey, Steve. I’ve replaced all the broken bulbs, so you and Greg can put up the outside lights.” Burt held up two large strings of colored lights. “Why don’t you get Marty to help you this year? It’ll take less time.”

  “Yeah, but what if he trips and breaks them all?” Greg said as he headed for the front door.

  “Then we’ll string him up, like you suggested,” Steve said, following after Greg. “Hey, Kelly, w
hen is my alpaca scarf going to be finished? It’s cold out there. Do I really have to wait for Christmas?”

  “Yes, you do. You don’t want to anger the Knitting Sages,” she warned.

  Greg snickered. “Knitting Sages, my ass. Why don’t you take Kelly’s scarf? She owes it to you for being so slow. Lisa’s made me at least a dozen scarves.”

  “Good idea.” Steve snatched Kelly’s tweed alpaca scarf from a nearby peg and wrapped it around his neck. “I thought you said you’d have it finished by winter. It’s almost December.”

  Marty wagged the end of his dangling emerald green scarf, taunting Steve. “I have two. Megan’s working on a third.”

  Steve pulled on his gloves. “Marty is in a law office or the courthouse all day. Greg’s in the computer lab at the university. I’m the only one who works outside in the cold. What’s wrong with this picture?”

  Kelly took a sip of coffee before she took the bait. “I promised it by winter. But it’s not snowing yet, so it’s not officially winter. Besides, I got distracted by autumn froufrou yarns. Couldn’t help myself.”

  “Blame Mimi. It’s all her fault. She’s the one who puts those scrumptious yarns out there. Tempting us,” Jennifer said, sipping her coffee.

  Burt spoke up. “Don’t apologize, Mimi,” he said, still on the floor, untangling decorations now.

  “I don’t intend to,” Mimi said with her musical laugh. “Yarns and fiber are my passion.”

  “I thought Burt was your passion,” Jennifer said with a wicked smile.

  Kelly watched the good-natured owner of their favorite knitting shop, House of Lambspun, blush as she laughed.

  “Mimi’s got a ton of scarves hanging by the doorway in the house, Steve. You can borrow one until Christmas,” Burt offered.

  “I’ll take you up on that, Burt. Meanwhile, don’t start the pie until we’re back,” Steve said as he followed Marty and Greg out the front door.