Needled to Death Read online

  “I’ll bear that in mind, Ms. Flynn. Thank you again,” the detective replied, a twinkle in his eye.

  Kelly watched him cross the driveway and head straight for Jennifer. She knew she should supervise the visitors while Jennifer was being grilled, but Kelly simply didn’t think she could stand by calmly while they bombarded her with questions. Not now.

  The sound of a truck engine approaching caught her attention, and Kelly watched as a mud-splattered navy blue pickup pulled to a jerking halt near one of the police cruisers. A slender woman with sandy blond hair pulled back with a scarf jumped out of the truck and raced over to the closest police officer who was not engaged in interviewing.

  Curious who the woman was, Kelly started walking toward them. As she drew closer, she noticed the woman appeared distraught and grasped at the officer’s arm. Approaching close enough to overhear, Kelly paused.

  “Officer, you’ve got to tell me what happened,” the woman pleaded. “I’m Vickie’s cousin. I’m the closest relative she has here. We work together every day. Please, please, tell me if Vickie’s all right!”

  The younger policeman hesitated for a moment before he answered. “No, ma’am, she isn’t. I’m afraid she’s dead.”

  The woman’s mouth dropped open, and she gasped, “No . . . that can’t be . . . how . . . ?”

  “Let me get the detective in charge, Lieutenant Peterson. He’ll want to speak with you. He’ll explain everything. Stay right here, ma’am, okay?” the officer advised as he left.

  The woman clasped both arms around herself and took a deep breath. Her head bent forward, and her shoulders began to shake. Kelly assumed she was crying and purposely glanced away for a few moments, not wanting to intrude on the woman’s grief.

  Kelly figured she must be Vickie’s cousin who helped out at the ranch. Glancing back, Kelly saw the woman wipe her eyes with the back of her hand as she stared at the house. Kelly slowly approached, wanting to offer her condolences. “Excuse me, I don’t mean to intrude, but I couldn’t help overhearing your saying you were a relative of Vickie’s.”

  The woman looked up, her eyes red, her face mottled from crying. “Yes, yes, I am. I’m her cousin, Jayleen,” she said. “Can you tell me what happened here?”

  Kelly shook her head. “I’m afraid not. We just arrived this afternoon with a group of knitters who’re visiting from out of town.” She gestured, indicating the crowded driveway and yard. “My friend and I offered to show them around a working alpaca ranch. Vickie was kind enough to volunteer.” Kelly’s voice softened. “When we walked in, we found her lying on the floor. I’m afraid she was already dead.”

  “My God . . . ,” Jayleen whispered, closing her eyes.

  “I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am about Vickie.” Kelly extended her hand. “I’m Kelly Flynn, one of Vickie’s friends from the knitting shop. She used to come and visit with us every Tuesday night. She’d weave while we knit.”

  “Jayleen Swinson,” the woman said, giving Kelly a firm handshake. “I remember her talking about that group.”

  “We all grew very fond of Vickie. She was so vibrant and full of life. . . .” Kelly gestured as she lost the words.

  “Excuse me, ladies,” Lieutenant Peterson’s voice interrupted as he strode up. “You said you’re a relative of the deceased, Vickie Claymore?” He directed the question at Jayleen.

  Kelly took that as her hint to leave, and she quickly walked toward the fence. She leaned over and pretended to watch the alpacas while she strained to catch parts of the conversation. Maybe cousin Jayleen had some idea who could kill Vickie. Why she was deliberately eavesdropping, Kelly wasn’t sure. Something inside her was curious.

  Peterson’s questions were often lost, since his back was turned to Kelly, but Jayleen’s responses carried clearly on the slight mountain breeze.

  “I’m here every day, Lieutenant Peterson. I work with Vickie and help with her business. I would know if she had any enemies. We grew up together in Colorado Springs, Lieutenant. We’re very, very close. We do not keep secrets from each other. At least, we didn’t. . . .” Jayleen’s voice faded.

  Kelly heard a low mumble she took to be Peterson’s question, which brought an irate response from Jayleen.

  “Absolutely not! Vickie would never commit suicide. Never. She had too much going for her. Her . . . her business was successful, she had plans, she . . .”

  The rest was lost as the breeze shifted. So far, everything Kelly heard confirmed what she believed. Vickie didn’t have enemies, and she wouldn’t kill herself.

  Another low mumble was followed by an angry explosion from Jayleen. “You bet she was divorcing Bob! Do you know what that—” She went on to describe in detail all of Bob Claymore’s sins and transgressions, punctuated by colorful expletives.

  Kelly smiled and imagined Lieutenant Peterson scribbling furiously in his little notebook. It was certainly an entertaining narrative, she had to admit. Even the alpacas had gathered closer to the fence, as if to listen. She held out her hand, palm up, and one came over to sniff.

  “Sorry, no food,” she apologized to the gentle creature as she reached to pat its graceful, long neck. Newly shorn, the animal felt nubbly and soft at the same time. Kelly noticed the tawny brown and white pattern covered the skin in the same pattern it appeared on the heavy coat when sheared.

  Jayleen’s responses continued to float over to Kelly as she patted the animals adventurous enough to approach. Meanwhile, she heard a litany of divorce demands and counterdemands. Vickie’s business was more successful than Kelly knew, and apparently, her husband, Bob, wanted half of it.

  “Can you imagine?” Jayleen demanded. “Bob Claymore didn’t build that business! Vickie did, and it took her fifteen years. He has no right! That . . .”

  More expletives drifted by, and Kelly noticed the alpacas seemed to pay attention. It made sense, she decided. After all, Jayleen helped Vickie on the ranch every day, so the alpacas knew her, were comfortable with her. If Jayleen was upset, the animals would probably notice. Carl always sensed her moods, Kelly reminded herself and wondered if alpacas did the same thing.

  “Her estate? I don’t know. I’m sure she’d be leaving it all to her daughter in Arizona.”

  This change of subject caught Kelly’s attention. The divorce wasn’t final, so legally, Vickie and Bob Claymore were still married at the time of her death, which meant . . .

  “What!” Jayleen exclaimed. “You can’t be serious. No way he gets half! That can’t be right. They were divorcing!”

  This time the string of curses must have startled not only the alpacas but Lieutenant Peterson as well, because Kelly heard him speak.

  “Calm down, Ms. Swinson. I know you’re upset, but—”

  “Hey, look what I dug up from someone’s backpack,” Jennifer declared as she appeared at the fence beside Kelly. She dangled a can of soda. “It’s not cold, but it’s caffeine.”

  Kelly’s caffeine lobe started vibrating. All attempts to eavesdrop were forgotten. Priorities beckoned, and right now she needed caffeine. Hot, cold, or lukewarm. “Wow, thanks, Jen,” she said as she accepted the soda. Popping the top, Kelly took a huge gulp.

  Jennifer grinned. “Maybe we’d better round up these ladies and head down the canyon. What do you think? It’s nearly five o’clock now.”

  Kelly’s stomach growled, reminding her of the time. She glanced toward the cluster of knitters, who were actually staying in one place this time. Police power, Kelly figured. She also noticed Fussy was among them, having obviously finished relating her story. Or, maybe the officer’s ear had dropped off.

  “Yeah, you’re right. Last thing we want is to be stuck in a car filled with starving women. They could get surly. We’d better feed ’em.”

  “It’s not them I’m worrying about—it’s you,” Jennifer teased. “I’ve seen you hungry, and it’s scary.”

  “I wonder if the detective will let us leave,” Kelly asked aloud. Watching Lieutenant
Peterson close his notepad as he spoke with Jayleen, Kelly took that as a sign and approached them. “Excuse me, detective,” she ventured. “Is it all right if my friend and I gather up these visitors and take them back to Fort Connor? We need to get them fed and to their hotel.”

  “Ah, yes, Ms. Flynn, that’s fine,” Lieutenant Peterson answered, his suntanned face cracking a smile. “They’ve had a busy day. Better take them home. If we need any more information, we’ll be in touch with you.”

  “Thanks, Lieutenant Peterson, and I’ll be glad to help any way I can,” Kelly said.

  “As will I . . . sir . . . uh . . . Lieutenant,” Jayleen spoke up. “Do you want me to call Vickie’s daughter, Debbie, in Arizona?”

  “That’s okay, Ms. Swinson. We’ll be contacting the family. Is the daughter the only living relative other than yourself?” Peterson asked, opening his notebook once more. “Do you know her address and phone number?”

  “Yes, she’s the only other family Vickie has.” Jayleen shoved her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “I don’t know the phone number off the top of my head, but I can get it for you real quick. Everything’s right inside Vickie’s office. I keep her books, so I’m in there every day. It’ll only take me a sec.”

  She pointed toward the log home, which now had yellow police tape wrapped around the entire front porch and doorways. It looked to Kelly like a bizarre present, gift-wrapped in its mountain setting. Completely out of place.

  “I’m sorry, but we can’t allow anyone inside the house now. Our investigators have to complete their work. We’re treating this as a crime scene. Do you have a record of the daughter’s address and phone elsewhere? Does anyone else know her?”

  “I may have her number at home in my office, somewhere. I’d have to look,” Jayleen said. “My desk is a mess, but I should be able to find it—after I put the animals in the barn, that is. We can’t leave them out overnight. I’ll be able to do that, won’t I? I mean, I’m here every morning helping Vickie around the ranch. It’s one of my jobs.”

  Peterson pondered for a second. “I think the barn’s been checked, so that should be all right. But you’ll only have access to the barn and pastures. Don’t touch anything else. The house will be locked up.”

  Jayleen’s eyes got huge. “No sir. I wouldn’t. Honest. Just the animals. That’s all.”

  Kelly spoke up, “You know, if you can’t find that number, Jayleen, I can ask Mimi Shafer, the owner of the knitting shop. Maybe she knows the daughter. Mimi and Vickie are, uh, were friends.”

  Lieutenant Peterson scribbled, then reached into his coat pocket. “Thank you, Ms. Flynn. Here’s my card. Please tell Ms. Shafer to call if she has any information. Oh, and you can take your group and go now.” He gestured toward the flock, clustered by the barn. “Good luck going home.”

  Taking that as her cue to go, Kelly sent him a warm smile. “Thanks, Lieutenant. We may need it.”

  Waving to Jennifer, she beckoned for the group to join her, then headed toward the SUV. With any luck, they could be out of the canyon and in Fort Connor by six o’clock. Kelly sincerely hoped the promise of a quick stop at a fast-food restaurant would be enough to keep the visitors docile on the trip back.

  Carl nosed and sniffed the thick bushes lining the backyard fence, investigating every inch of the perimeter of his small kingdom. Kelly leaned back and sipped her coffee. She loved this time of the evening. The last light of summer sunset illuminated the treetops while the evening breeze seduced the leaves, whispering its night song.

  Kelly relaxed into the shape-hugging chair. No matter how busy and stressful her workday turned out, it all disappeared during these hours. She gazed at the outline of the mountains, shadowed by impending twilight. The mountains nourished her. The breeze nourished her. Being outside nourished her. Heck, just being back in Colorado nourished her.

  She took another sip of coffee, grateful for the umpteenth time that she was out of the close confines of the SUV and away from all those chattering women. The promise of food had worked, and the ladies kept their questions to a minimum, obviously content to entertain themselves on the return drive. Even so, Kelly had the beginnings of a headache, which started when she and Jennifer deposited their charges at the hotel and headed home themselves. Jennifer offered to call Mimi and tell her the sad news, and Kelly gratefully agreed. She didn’t think she could answer another question.

  Now, relaxed outside in the gathering dusk, Kelly felt all the accumulated tension from the disturbing day disappear. Only questions remained, darting in and out of her mind, as she watched night slowly capture the sky.

  Who could have killed Vickie? Her husband, Bob? Remembering the angry accusations Jayleen had hurled this afternoon, Kelly had to admit he might have a motive. Apparently, Vickie wasn’t about to divide up her successful alpaca business with him in a divorce settlement. But if she died before a settlement was reached and the divorce wasn’t final, then Bob Claymore was still legally her husband. As such, he was entitled to a portion of her estate.

  Kelly pondered the thought. Money could definitely be a motive for murder. People had killed each other over money since the beginning of time. But Bob Claymore was also the most obvious suspect. All of their friends knew he and Vickie were involved in a bitter divorce. Bob Claymore had the most to lose from the divorce and the most to gain from Vickie’s death.

  The last time Kelly had gotten close to a murder investigation, the obvious suspect turned out to be innocent. When her aunt Helen was killed, the police quickly arrested a suspect they believed responsible. But Kelly sensed the real killer was still out there and went on to prove it.

  She took a deep, satisfying drink of coffee. A bird hidden in the treetop above warbled an evening song. Kelly listened to the lilting cadence, releasing all thoughts of motives and murder, and simply let herself drink in the delicious summer night.

  Four

  Megan looked up from the other side of the shop’s long library table as Kelly dumped her knitting bag and sat down. “Kelly, how are you? I’m so sorry you were the one to find Vickie. That must have been awful!” she exclaimed, her naturally pale skin almost white with concern.

  “It was,” Kelly admitted as she set a mug of Eduardo’s delectable nectar on the table. “I hope I never have to walk in on something that horrible again.”

  “Jennifer told us all about it this morning. Lisa was here for a while between therapy patients,” Megan went on, picking up her needles again. The scarf of purple eyelash yarn was almost finished. “I had to go back for a conference call with my Boise client, but I promised Mimi I’d return after lunch. I was hoping you’d show up.”

  “How’s Mimi taking it? Vickie seemed to be a very close friend.”

  “Oh, she was. Mimi said they’d known each other for over twenty years. Ever since Vickie moved here with her first husband. In fact, Mimi was the one who taught her how to weave.”

  Kelly sipped the flavorful brew. “They go back a long way, then. This must be hitting Mimi pretty hard.”

  The sound of Mimi’s voice coming around the corner caught their attention. Mimi appeared, arms filled with pattern books, talking to Rosa, one of the shop assistants.

  “I thought that lace pattern was in the latest issue of this knitting magazine. Maybe I’m wrong,” Mimi said as she dumped the books on the far end of the table. Glancing up, she gave Kelly a wan smile before she went back to Rosa. “See if you can find it, would you, please? It’s got the scalloped edges and roses.”

  Mimi walked toward their end of the table, straightening magazines and yarn bins along the way. Finally, she sank into a chair. She looked tired to Kelly. Grief was wearing on her. She’d lost a good friend with Helen’s death a few months ago, and now another dear friend was gone.

  “How’re you doing, Mimi?” Kelly asked.

  “I’m okay,” she said quietly, staring into her lap. No knitting needles, Kelly noticed, to keep Mimi’s restless hands occupied. “Still stunned
, I guess. I mean, it’s all so senseless. Who would kill Vickie Claymore? She was a warm, generous, caring person—a gifted craftsman and a successful businesswoman.” Mimi wrapped her arms around herself and shook her head sadly. “I don’t understand.”

  Kelly debated how to bring up the subject that had been playing through her mind last night, ever since hearing Jayleen’s accusations. She’d have to work up to it. “Mimi, you know Vickie’s cousin, Jayleen, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I’ve met her a few times over the years. I don’t actually know her real well, but Vickie was always saying how much work she did around the ranch.”

  “She arrived at the ranch yesterday while the police were there,” Kelly went on. “She was really upset, understandably.”

  “I imagine so,” Mimi added. “Vickie has been like a big sister to her. Helped Jayleen straighten her life out after her last divorce. I think she even helped Jayleen get a job as a bookkeeper, too, if I recall.”

  Kelly sipped her coffee. “Well, that explains her forceful and rather colorful defense of Vickie’s interests—in the divorce, I mean.”

  Mimi managed a small smile. “Yes, Jayleen can be colorful, all right. She’s got quite a tongue on her.”

  “Ohhhh, yeah. She was describing all of Bob Claymore’s transgressions to the police detective. And she was as furious as Vickie that Bob wanted half of the business. But then she really exploded when the detective told her he’d wind up with half the business now that Vickie’s dead.” Kelly gave a wry smile, remembering Jayleen’s wrath. “The detective had to calm her down.”

  “Well, he’s right. The divorce wasn’t final, so Bob Claymore is still legally her husband,” Mimi observed.

  “That doesn’t seem fair,” Megan said, glancing up from her scarf.

  “What isn’t fair?” Lisa’s voice spoke up as she appeared at the table and settled into a chair.