Knit to Be Tied (22 page)

“That's it. Priorities.” Jennifer laughed and grabbed her portion.

“Which are?” Mimi teased.

Jennifer paused after swallowing. “Right now, sugar. It's gonna be a busy day.”

Kelly polished off her share and reached for the coffee, which was surprisingly rich and dark. She drank in the blissful enjoyment of the strong brew. “Yum, this is really good for the plain stuff. My compliments.”

“That's Eduardo's doing. He's our cook and insists on making the coffee every morning. I think he throws in espresso or chicory or shoelaces or who knows what. But it'll wake you up, for sure.”

“Bless him, and tell him I'll be back.” The timer went off inside her head, and Kelly drained the cup. “Speaking of that, I have to go. Lawyers get all pinched around the edges if you're late.” She scooted back her chair and brushed telltale sugar flakes off her skirt. “Oh, Mimi, I almost forgot.
Could you fill a bowl with water for Carl, please? I fed him this morning, but I forgot to grab his water dish.”

“No problem. I'll give him some food come dinnertime, too, so don't rush. And make sure you stop in the shop when you return. I can't wait to show you everything we've done. You haven't been in since we opened four years ago.” Mimi exuded pride. “You'll be surprised, I think.”

“I look forward to it. Thanks, Mimi,” Kelly said as she backed away from the table. Glancing at Jennifer as she headed for the pathway, Kelly waved. “Nice meeting you, Jennifer.”

“Oh, you'll see me later at the shop. With the others. Good luck with the lawyer.”

Kelly hastened to her car. She'd dutifully let Mimi show off her shop, for Aunt Helen's sake, if nothing else. Kelly couldn't knit her way out of a paper bag. So all that knitting stuff would be lost on her. Her aunt had tried several times to instruct Kelly when she was growing up and even as an adult, but it never seemed to take. Kelly would fumble the needles and drop the yarn—whatever it took to appear completely incompetent. There were so many more fun things to do outside on the farm, she just couldn't sit still long enough to learn.

Besides, all those different kinds of stitches looked complicated to Kelly. Knitting here, purling there. All that yarn, needles busily working away, stitch after stitch, row after row. Looked like a lot of work to Kelly. She just didn't have that kind of patience. The only patience she'd ever had was for numbers. Numbers stayed put on paper. They didn't fall off the end of the needles.

Oh yes, Kelly thought, as she backed her car out of the parking space, numbers were far less confusing than knitting.

•   •   •

Lawrence
Chambers tapped his gold-rimmed pen against the leather desk pad as he scanned the documents before him. Kelly used the opportunity to study the lawyer, who was the same age as her aunt. His gray hair shone silver as a stray morning sunbeam crossed the desk. Chambers had been Aunt Helen's trusted lawyer and close friend for a lifetime.

“Thanks to Helen's foresight, you should have no problem handling any expense involved with the estate,” he spoke up. “You're cosigner on both bank accounts, checking and savings, as well as the safe-deposit box. It was a smart move, considering you're her only heir.”

“Aunt Helen told me four years ago what her wishes were. I've always tried to oblige her in whatever way I could.”

Chambers glanced up from the papers in his hand and smiled across the large walnut desk. Kelly noticed his faded blue eyes were kind.

“Helen appreciated everything you did for her. She told me so many times.”

Kelly glanced away. “She was like a mom to me, Mr. Chambers. You know that. Besides, when my dad died three years ago, I promised him I'd take care of her. She was his only living relative.” Guilt twinged inside. She'd never broken a promise to her dad in her whole life.

Chambers set down the papers, watching Kelly, then gestured to the wall. “That's hers, you know.”

Kelly studied the framed quilted scene that had caught her eye earlier. Deep, rich browns and greens portrayed a small house nestled in the mountains, surrounded by tall evergreens. “I thought that might be her work. It's so vibrant.”

“Yes, she did that from a photograph of the mountain cabin our family has had for years.” He smiled. “She surprised us with it on our anniversary. That was Helen. Always doing for others. If she wasn't stitching for someone she knew, she'd be knitting for the homeless shelter.”

“Yes, I know. I'm the one who used to buy the yarn online to save her money.” A spark of anger flared suddenly. “It doesn't seem right, does it, Mr. Chambers. My aunt was murdered by some vagrant, exactly the sort of person she tried to help. Where's the justice in that?”

Chambers clasped his hands on top of the documents. “There is none, Kelly. This is one of those horrible, awful acts of random violence.”

Kelly stared at the floor-to-ceiling walnut bookcases that lined one wall. “The officer told me this was a ‘burglary gone bad.' She said this guy came into Helen's house that night, saw her purse and grabbed it. Then, supposedly Helen came out and saw him, screamed, and he strangled her. Then he ran off.”

“Yes, that's exactly what the police told me. Apparently this man was a drunk and a vagrant and was always getting into trouble. He must have come into the house, grabbed
her purse, and when Helen came out,” his voice became strained, “he killed her for it.” He sighed. “Thank goodness he was too drunk to be smart. The police saw him run away from the scene, so they caught him right away.”

Kelly leaned forward in her chair and eyed Chambers. Something he'd said. “That's a little different from what the police told me. They said they'd seen this guy ‘near the house,' not coming from it. Are you sure that's what they told you?”

Chambers pondered. “I'm fairly certain the detective who spoke with me said they captured the suspect fleeing the scene. Yes, that's exactly what he said. ‘Fleeing the scene.' And I took that to mean he was coming from the house.”

“Do you remember who you spoke with, Mr. Chambers? The woman who called me was a community relations officer and wasn't involved with the case.”

“Oh, yes, I spoke with Lieutenant Morrison. He's in charge. A very experienced detective, from what I've heard. Very thorough.”

Kelly opened her portfolio and wrote the name on a legal pad. “I'm sure you're right, Mr. Chambers. I mean, this guy had to be lurking around Aunt Helen's house before he came in. Looking in the windows or something.” She closed the portfolio with a snap. “He must have been drunk. Why else would he have tried to steal from a woman who never carried more than twenty dollars in her purse?” A bitter note crept into her voice. It felt good to release it.

Chambers peered at Kelly over his glasses with a worried frown. “Well, uh, she may have had more in her purse—”

“Oh, no, sir,” Kelly countered. “She never had more than
twenty bucks and change at any one time. She always used her debit card because it kept her on a budget. And I should know, Mr. Chambers, because I drew up her budget and kept her accounts every month. She was still paying off some of Uncle Jim's medical bills, so she was very careful.”

Chambers' lined face creased even more. “Didn't she tell you about the . . . the, uh, money she was borrowing?”

Kelly blinked. Surely she couldn't have heard the lawyer right. “Borrowing? Helen wasn't borrowing any money. Remember, I kept her accounts. I would know.”

“I'm afraid she did. Just before she died.”

Kelly stared back at him, incredulous. “
What?
Where . . . I mean, who . . . how much?”

“Twenty thousand dollars,” Chambers said in a pained voice.

“Twenty thousand dollars!” Kelly sat bolt upright. “But why? And . . . and where would Helen borrow that kind of money, anyway? She was living on Jim's state pension and Social Security.”

“The only place she could, Kelly. She refinanced her house. And went to one of those predatory lenders to do it.” He shook his head sadly. “I advised her against it, but she wouldn't listen. She said she needed it and would talk to me later. I assumed she was giving it to you, that you needed it for something.”

“
Me?
” Kelly shot back. “I'd never ask Aunt Helen for money. I'd starve first.”

Chambers sank back into his leather armchair. “Oh, my . . . oh, my,” he said, clearly troubled. “I thought the money was for you, that's why I didn't worry too much when
she said she needed it. After all, you're her only living relative.”

Kelly stared at the diplomas that lined the wall behind Chambers' desk. This was impossible. It made no sense. Her aunt wouldn't even consider such a risky move without consulting Kelly. “This is crazy, Mr. Chambers. Aunt Helen was a sensible woman, you know that. She'd never do such a thing. Why . . . why, we just refinanced her house three years ago to pay off most of Uncle Jim's medical bills. We got a really low rate. Perfect for her. I was going to help her pay off the mortgage so she'd have it free and clear in ten years.” Her hand shot out in frustration. “She wouldn't . . . she couldn't have done this stupid thing.”

Chambers took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes but said nothing.

Anger flashed through Kelly, right up her spine. “Wait a minute. Do you think some sleazy con artist got his claws in Aunt Helen? Tricked her into some wretched investment scheme? I'd told her not to even talk to those weasels if they called.”

“No, no, Helen was too smart for that.” He dismissed the threat with a wave. “She and I frequently discussed some of the scams out there for the unwary, especially vulnerable seniors.”

“When did she talk to you? When did she tell you what she was going to do?”

“About three weeks ago. She called to tell me she was refinancing the house because she needed money and asked my recommendation for a lender. Apparently she'd already
been turned down by her current mortgage company and two others. There was no more equity left.”

“I know, we used it all three years ago.”

“Well, I asked how much she needed, thinking I'd lend it to her myself. When she told me twenty thousand dollars, I was shocked and told her so. I asked what on earth she could need that much money for, and she refused to answer. Said she'd talk to me later and hung up. I didn't even hear from her again until last Friday, the very day she was killed.”

“And what did she say then?” Kelly probed.

“That's when she told me she'd found some Denver mortgage company that was only too glad to write up an above-value mortgage. She wouldn't tell me the interest rate. It must have been awful. But she did say she got the check for twenty thousand dollars. It never occurred to me she'd cash it.” Chambers leaned over his desk and sank his head in both hands. “Good Lord. That's what got her killed. All that money sitting in her purse. Oh, Helen, why?
Why?
” His voice cracked this time.

Kelly pondered for a moment, giving Chambers time to collect himself. She was still trying to make sense of everything she'd heard. Her logical mind didn't want to accept her aunt's illogical actions. It was totally out of character. Why would she put herself upside down in her mortgage at her age? Especially since she'd had to refinance only three years ago to pay off most of Uncle Jim's medical bills. And why on earth would she take all that cash home with her?

The shock of her aunt's murder had been enough to occupy Kelly's thoughts the entire two-thousand-mile drive
to Colorado. But now that the funeral was over and she had more time to think, Kelly began to notice details. Details that didn't belong. After all, that's what she did for a living. In her consulting role with a large accounting firm, Kelly analyzed a corporation's financial statements looking for anything that jumped out and made her buzzer go off. She'd never imagined that she'd have to turn that same concentration on uglier matters so close to home.

Waiting another moment, Kelly gently asked, “Mr. Chambers, have you spoken to the police? Did you tell them all this, I mean about the money and all?”

He lifted his red-rimmed eyes and cleared his throat. “No. I would never divulge Helen's private business. That's privileged.” He sniffled.

“Then I think they need to know there was a lot more money stolen than they originally thought. I'll call this Lieutenant Morrison as soon as I leave here.” Picking up her portfolio, Kelly stood and deliberately let her voice assume the official business tone she used so often. That would give Chambers something to hang on to. “Thank you, Mr. Chambers, for everything you've done and everything you've tried to do to help my aunt. I'm going over to the bank right now and check the accounts. And I'll look into this new loan as well.”

Chambers straightened and rose. “That's a good idea . . . oh, wait a minute. I think I wrote down the name.” He paged through the daytimer on his desk, scanning the pages. “Yes, here it is. U-Can-Do-It Mortgage in Denver.” He peered at the daytimer while Kelly wrote the information in her notebook. “Ohhh, yes . . . there is something else. Here's the
note. Helen also said she was coming in soon to talk about her property. She wanted to make sure it all went to the city for gardens in case you didn't want to live in Fort Connor. But she didn't want to donate the land. It was to be sold, with you receiving all the proceeds.”

Kelly stared blankly at him. Another surprise. “Gardens? Really? She never mentioned that.”

“Yes, that surprised me, too.” Chambers shook his head. “But, of course, she never got the chance to come in for the appointment. So you're free to sell the property if you choose.”

“But that was her wish, apparently,” Kelly mused out loud.