Dropped Dead Stitch

Table of Contents

 

 

KNIT ONE, KILL TWO
NEEDLED TO DEATH
A DEADLY YARN
A KILLER STITCH
DYER CONSEQUENCES
FLEECE NAVIDAD
DROPPED DEAD STITCH

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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.

Copyright © 2009 by Margaret Conlan Aunon.

 

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

 

Sefton, Maggie.

eISBN : 978-1-101-05737-7

1. Flynn, Kelly (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Knitters (Persons)—Fiction. 3. Murder—Colorado—Fiction. 4. Colorado—Fiction. I. Title.

 

PS3619.E37D76 2009
813’.6—dc22

2008054343

 

 

This was a special book to write in that it dealt with a very sensitive subject, and I wanted to make sure I handled it with sensitivity and respect.

Special thanks go to a dear friend of mine who is also a PhD psychologist, author, lecturer, and retired faculty member of Purdue University, Dr. Kathryn N. Black. Dr. Black is one of the most gifted teachers and counselors I’ve ever met. And that’s saying a lot, since I’ve spent nearly thirty years living in academic communities. Dr. Black has counseled many patients over the years and was kind enough to share some of her insights with me.

I also want to thank Ginger Mohs, a former detective with the Fort Collins Police Department. Ginger provided quite an education into criminal behaviors, including crimes committed, patterns of behavior, police procedures, as well as charges and sentencing. Ginger’s a great gal, and our “coffee consults” were as enjoyable as they were educational.

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 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

 

Kelly
Flynn jerked awake. Was that her cell phone ringing? The jangling noise sounded through the darkened cottage bedroom again.

Who the heck would be calling in the middle of the night?
Kelly fumbled beside the bed toward the nightstand, fingers searching for her phone.

“Wha . . . phone . . . ?” her boyfriend, Steve Townsend, mumbled beside her.

“Got it.” Kelly flipped open the little phone as she turned on the lamp. Sleep still clouded her eyes, so she couldn’t make out the name flashing on the phone’s view screen.

“Kelly Flynn here. Who’s calling?” she demanded. Glancing at the bedside clock she saw the time. Two twenty. Not hearing a response, Kelly barked into the phone again. “If this is a crank call, I’m hanging up right—”

A woman’s voice came, breathy. “Kelly, don’t hang up . . .”

Kelly strained to hear, not recognizing the small voice. “Who is this?”

“It’s me . . . Jen.”

“Probably just a crank call. Hang up on ’em,” Steve said, propping himself on his elbow, squinting at the sudden light.

Kelly shook her head and waved him quiet as she strained to hear her friend’s voice. “Jennifer, is that you? Are you all right?”

There was a pause, then Jennifer whispered, “Can you come over, Kelly? Please . . .”

Kelly sat up in bed and threw back the covers. “Sure I can. What’s the matter? Are you sick? That flu is going around.”

“No . . . I’m . . . I’m . . . hurt . . .”

“Jennifer needs to go to the doctor?” Steve said, sitting up now.

Crossing the floor quickly, Kelly grabbed her jeans from the closet and tried wiggling into them while she held the phone to her ear. “You hurt yourself? What happened?”

“Not me . . . he . . . he . . .” Tears flooded Jennifer’s voice.

Kelly held absolutely still in the middle of the bedroom, jeans half zipped, sweatshirt halfway over her head. A shot of cold ran right up her spine. “Someone hurt you, Jen? Who was it?”

“
Son of a bitch
,” Steve swore as he leaped out of bed.

Jennifer’s wet voice came again. “A guy at the bar followed me home.” An anguished choke. “Can you come over please?”

“I’ll be right there,” Kelly said, pushing her arm through the backwards sweatshirt. “Lock your door.”

“We’ll take my truck,” Steve said as he strode nude across the small bedroom.

“Steve’s coming, Jen—”

“
No!
I can’t see anyone else . . . not yet. Just you. Please, Kelly . . .
please
!”

Kelly waved at Steve as he grabbed his discarded jeans from the chair. “Okay, Jen, whatever you say. I’ll come alone.”

“Call when you’re at the door, so I’ll know it’s you.”

“Don’t worry. I will. I’m leaving now, okay? See you in a few minutes,” she said as she flipped off her phone. “Jen says she can’t see anyone else right now. Just me.”

“No way! What if that guy is still around?” Steve protested.

“I’ll park right in front of the condo building. It’ll be okay,” Kelly reassured him. “I’ll call you as soon as I get there, I promise,” Kelly said as she headed toward the front of the cottage, Steve right behind her.

“If I don’t hear from you in twenty minutes, Kelly, I swear to God, I’m driving over there,” Steve warned.

Kelly pulled on her ski jacket and grabbed her bag. “Twenty minutes. Promise.”

Kelly’s Rottweiler, Carl, raised his head from his doggie bed in the corner of the dining room and blinked at the conversation taking place in the middle of the night.

“And find out that bastard’s name so I can beat him up.”

“Go make some coffee and calm down.” She waved at him as she headed out the front door.

“Yeah, right,” Steve called as Kelly carefully made her way down the icy, snow-packed front walk. Normally, the thought of coffee would send the caffeine lobe of her brain into alert. But right now, Kelly couldn’t feel anything except the cold inside her gut.

 

 

Kelly
stared at her best friend’s scratched, swollen face, the dark purplish bruises already forming on Jennifer’s neck. Kelly’s heart wrenched inside her. “Oh, Jen . . . I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Jennifer sat hunched on her living room sofa, wearing a dark sweat suit. She stared at her hands, clenched in her lap.

“You said he followed you home. Did he break in or something?”

Jennifer shook her head. “No . . . he knocked and said someone from the bar left something for me.” She raised her head and closed her eyes. “I should never have believed him. When I opened the door, he pushed inside and grabbed me.”

Kelly placed her hand on Jennifer’s arm and squeezed. “Did you know him from the bar?”

“No, I hadn’t seen him before tonight. I was there with friends, and when they left he came over and sat down beside me.” A pained expression crossed her face. “He was one of those cowboy charmers . . . you know, full of sweet talk and lies. I started flirting with him for a while until I went home. I guess I didn’t notice him following me.”

Kelly noticed the bruising on Jennifer’s wrists, and the anger that was simmering inside heated to a boil. She sprang from the sofa. “We’ve got to get you to the hospital right now, Jen. You need to be treated.” She took out Jennifer’s shamrock green winter coat from the closet. “Here, Jen,” she said as she helped her friend from the sofa, then held the coat open.

Jennifer slipped into the coat and took the purse Kelly offered.