Skein of the Crime (6 page)

“We hope,” Kelly said as she went over to the green-and-black granite counter to retrieve the sausage and cheese pizza.

“Any nibbles on the Baker Street condo?” Megan asked, clearly concerned.

“None yet,” Steve said, then drained his beer. “And I just got an e-mail from one of the retail tenants that they’re going out of business, so they’ll be moving their stuff out this month.”

“Whoa . . .” Greg said softly, balancing his beer bottle on his knee.

Silence settled over the group as Kelly watched each of her friends ponder the implications of what Steve said. Another Baker Street tenant moving out meant less rent received, and that would make it even harder for Steve to keep up with the payments on the new loan he’d negotiated, which covered both the Wellesley and the Baker Street Lofts properties. Kelly chewed her lip, wishing she had something reassuring to say, but she had run out of words. The continuing wave of bad real estate news washed away what feeble encouragement she might offer.

After another quiet moment, Pete leaned forward, hands clasped between his knees. “Hang in there, Steve. You’re doing everything you can to keep it going,” he said in a quiet voice. “Jen said you’ve taken on some extra work in Denver. Are you consulting or what?”

Steve shook his head. “Naw, consulting is too risky right now. All the companies have cut back. So I hired on at night with a Denver builder who needed extra help drawing up plans for a Northglenn shopping center he’s building.”

“Wow, how was he able to get funding?” Marty asked before he grabbed a sausage and cheese slice.

“He had it nailed down before this downturn started.”

“What are you doing exactly, Steve? Making architectural drawings?” Lisa asked.

“Yeah, and checking all the specs. Believe me, it was a challenge. I hadn’t done much commercial work since I was in grad school in architecture. So, it was a struggle at first. But I’ve settled in now, so it’s coming easier. Plus, all the software programs have improved so much.”

“What kind of hours are you working, Steve?” Greg asked, slipping a slice of pizza from the box.

“Hey, save the rest for Steve and Kelly,” Lisa scolded. “You and Marty ate nearly two pizzas yourselves.”

“Ahhh,” Marty said, with a satisfied grin. “And delicious they were, too.”

“I’m working as much as I can, actually,” Steve said, balling up his paper napkin and dropping it onto his plate. “I’ve been going over to Fred’s office straight from the architectural firm around five thirty a couple nights a week. But I’ll have to start working more, now that the other foreclosure has popped up here in Wellesley. And that guy’s moving out of Baker Street.” He sank back into the sofa and toyed with his empty beer bottle.

Kelly settled beside Steve and placed her hand on his shoulder, touch trying to convey what words could not.

“So, we may not be seeing you much, I guess,” Megan offered after a minute of quiet. The ticking of Lisa’s grand-father clock was the only sound.

Steve gave her a wry smile. “I’m afraid not, guys. Marty and Greg can have my share of the pizza.”

“He’s promised he’ll come back on Saturday nights if he can, so we can all get together then . . . maybe,” Kelly offered, not sure if that would happen or not.
Who knows how much time they’d have together?

Marty slapped his hands on his knees. “Well, since we don’t know when we’ll see you next, maybe this is the time to tell you some great news.”

“Yeah, please. We can use it,” Lisa said, tearing off a piece of pizza.

Marty and Megan looked at each other and grinned, then turned to the others. “I asked Megan to marry me, and she said yes,” Marty announced. Megan grinned beside him, her face flushed.

Kelly stared at Megan, then Marty, mouth open. She hadn’t expected this. She glanced around the circle. The rest of her friends looked just as surprised.

“Oh, my God!” Lisa cried, hands to her face. “You’re getting
married
!” She leaped from the sofa and raced over to embrace Megan. “That’s wonderful!”

Kelly and Jennifer immediately joined Lisa, swallowing Megan in hugs and good wishes. Greg, Steve, and Pete clustered around Marty, slapping him on the back amidst heart-felt congratulations.

“I’d say that announcement calls for raspberry pie,” Pete said as he headed for the kitchen.

“I’ll make coffee,” Lisa said, popping off the sofa again. “Ohhhh, this is so exciting. When’s the date, or don’t you know yet?”

Marty sank back into the sofa beside Megan and put his arm around her shoulders. “We haven’t decided for sure yet, but probably fall of next year.”

“You’re waiting a whole year?” Jennifer asked.

“Yeah, there’s a lot to do. Organizing everything, guest lists, catering, scheduling the reception. It takes at least a year,” Megan said, finishing off her beer.

“Reception, that means food,” Greg said, eyes alight.

“Ohhhh, yeah. A lot of it,” Marty added. “Pete, I don’t know whether to ask you to do the reception or not. I’d rather have you be a guest and have a good time.”

Pete looked up from slicing the raspberry pie and smiled. “That’s okay, Marty. I don’t do weddings anymore. I learned long ago that brides and their mothers came drive you certifiably crazy. But I can recommend some caterers who do an outstanding job.”

“Oh, lord, I don’t even want to think about the lists Megan will make,” Kelly said, settling beside Steve. “They’ll be down to the floor.”

Megan grinned. “I’m going to start this week.”

“Why are we not surprised?”

Greg shook his head. “Megan, are you sure you want to attach yourself to this guy? I always thought you were sensible.”

Megan reached over and placed her hand on Marty’s knee. “Yeah, I do. He’s kind of grown on me over these last two years.”

“Sounds like a fungus,” Greg said, accepting a plate of pie from Pete. “You can go to the doctor and get cured.”

Megan and the others laughed out loud while Pete and Lisa distributed the pie. Kelly took a bite and let the delectable taste of berries melt on her tongue. Then looking over at the flushed happy couple on the sofa, Kelly added, “I’m not sure that would work, Greg. I think Marty may be totally incurable.”

Kelly
and Steve slowed to a jog as they reached the golf course. The Sunday-morning sun was creeping over the foothills, sending blinding shafts of early sunshine across the greens. September always brought the scent of fall to the air even though the temperatures were mild, often balmy. Kelly could still smell the difference in the early morning, particularly when she took her run.

“What’s your plan for today? Head over to your Old Town office?”

Steve slowed to a walk and stretched his arms over his head. “Yeah. Go over all the bills that have piled up since last weekend. Figure out how I’ll pay everyone. Rather, how much I’ll pay each one.”

They neared the cottage backyard, and Carl spotted them. He started his welcoming bark. “You want me to bring you something for dinner?”

“Why don’t you pick up some takeout and a DVD and we’ll stay in tonight. I’m hoping I can finish by five or six.” Steve stretched his arms behind his back as they walked around to the front of the cottage.

“You look tired already,” she observed. “I hope you can finish up earlier and come home and crash.”

“So do I. Let’s see what’s waiting for me. What have you got on tap for today?”

“I’ve got some account work to do. But first, I promised Mimi I’d help out with some of her classes. She scheduled a special kids’ knitting class today, and she’s a little shorthanded since Rosa’s had to cut back her hours.”

“What’s up with Rosa?”

“Same thing as with everyone else,” Kelly said, scooping up the rolled newspaper from the sidewalk. “Her husband’s construction job was cut so Rosa’s had to start working another part-time job in addition to working here at Lambspun.”

Steve wagged his head. “Brother . . .”

Kelly unrolled the paper as she followed Steve up the steps to the front door. “You go ahead and jump in the shower while I make coffee . . .
Whoa
!”

“What?”

“Oh, no! A girl was killed on the river trail night before last.”

Steve leaned over Kelly’s shoulder as they stood in the front doorway. “You’re kidding? That’s right in our backyard.”

“Maybe it was that guy who’s been attacking women on the trails. That’s awful! They gotta catch him.”

“It could be more than one guy. Meanwhile, swear to me you’ll stay off the river trail after dark when I’m out of town, okay?”

Kelly looked up to see Steve’s worried face. “Absolutely. No way am I going on that trail alone.”

“Any information about the victim?” Steve asked as he headed toward the bedroom.

Kelly skimmed the article as she walked into the kitchen. “No, they usually don’t give out much when they first report something. They have to contact next of kin.
Damn
. No one’s ever been killed before. Why did that happen?”

No answer from Steve this time, only the sound of the bathroom shower starting to run. She retrieved coffee from the fridge and started the coffeemaker brewing, then leaned back against the counter to finish the article.

Only the barest of details were mentioned.
A young woman was found dead on the river trail early Saturday morning.
Kelly and Steve usually ran along that same stretch of trail every morning but decided to go the opposite direction that day, following the trail into Old Town instead. She hadn’t heard any sirens blaring late Friday night, nor seen any flashing lights sweeping the darkness of the golf course when she and Steve returned from Greg and Lisa’s around midnight. Carl had barked a few times. But then, he usually heard something to bark about in the middle of the night.

Who would be foolish enough to walk at night along the river trail?
The newspapers and media had been reporting every one of the assaults for the past few months. All of the victims were women walking alone at night. Maybe this woman was a new university student from out of town who didn’t know about the attacks.

The ding of the coffeepot sounded, and Kelly sniffed the delectable aroma of fresh-brewed coffee. Checking the clock on the microwave, Kelly dropped the newspaper on the counter and returned to her morning routine. A hungry dog, a hot shower, and a busy schedule were waiting—in that order.

 

 

 

“Okay, now slip the tip of the right needle underneath that last stitch on the left needle,” Kelly instructed the young girl beside her.

The sixth-grader stared at the rows of stitches Kelly had cast onto the circular needles for her. “Like this?” she asked as she shoved the needle beneath the right side of the stitch.

“That’s the right side. Slip it under the
left
side of the stitch.” Kelly refrained from moving the needle herself.

She remembered that she learned faster when she was allowed to fumble through the stitches herself. Learning by doing.

The youngster tried again. This time she slid the needle over the left side of the stitch. “Like this?”

“Almost. Make sure the needle you’re knitting with goes
underneath
the left-hand needle.” She watched the girl slowly move the needle to the correct position. “That’s right. Now, you hold both needles by the tips while you use your other hand to wrap the yarn from the back to the front.”

“How do I do that?” the youngster asked, clearly perplexed.

“Here, let me show you, then you can do it.” Kelly reached over and took both needles from the girl’s hands. Placing the fingertips of her left hand near the tips of the two needles, she held them in place. “You can hold the needles tightly but not in a death grip. Like this. Just tight enough to keep the stitch in place so you can wrap the yarn.” She took the dangling strand of yarn and slowly wound it from the back of the bottom needle, through the middle where the two needles crossed, and to the front. “Now you do it.” She unwrapped the yarn and handed the needles back to the girl.

“I’ll try. They’re kind of wiggly.” She tentatively accepted the needles.

“I remember them feeling like that when I first started. Then before you know it, it starts feeling different. You don’t feel as clumsy as you do at first.”

“Got that right,” another girl down the table said.

Kelly glanced at the eight sixth-grade girls in Mimi’s junior hat class. Each one was in a different stage of progress on the beginnings of their first hat.

“Hey, guys. I still feel clumsy, so don’t worry about it,” Kelly confessed.

“I think I got them,” the youngster said, holding the tips of the two needles with her fingertips.

“Okay, make sure you’re holding them tightly enough so they won’t fall, then start to wrap the yarn.” She watched as the girl tentatively picked up the yarn strand with her right hand and brought it forward. “That’s right. From the back, between the two needles, and to the front.”

“Now what?”

“Now you take the tip of that right needle again and slide the stitch on the left needle, then slide that stitch from the left needle to the right.”

“That sounds confusing.”

“Well, it makes more sense when you see it happening. Go ahead.”

“Okaaaay . . .” the girl said dubiously. She slowly slid the right needle under the stitch and slipped it off the left needle onto the right. She blinked up at Kelly, surprised. “Like that?”

“Exactly like that,” Kelly congratulated. “Good job. Now do the next stitch.”

“Whoa, I think I forgot how to do it all.”

“Just slip that right needle under the stitch on the left needle, and I bet it’ll all come back to you,” Kelly said, hoping to infuse confidence. “You did a great job. You learned faster than I did when I started.”

“No way,” the girl countered.