Read Online Yarn Over Murder (A Knitting Mystery) by Maggie Sefton - Free Book Online
Authors: Maggie Sefton
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to a group at a nearby table. Jennifer glanced up and spied Kelly. Then she put her coffeepot aside and walked over to embrace her friend. Kelly gave her a big hug.
“Thank goodness you guys were there to help,” Jennifer said. “This is bad. I’ve never seen it like this.”
“I know,” Kelly said, drawing back and looking into her friend’s concerned face. “This is the one we’ve always dreaded.”
• • •
Kelly took another deep drink of Eduardo’s black nectar.
Ahh
. Caffeine. Thanks to the rich, strong coffee, Kelly had been able to actually start working on her client’s accounting spreadsheets. She’d switched locations from the knitting table to the café. The added stimulus would help in her efforts to stay awake. Both she and Steve were definitely going to get to sleep early tonight and catch up, if that was possible.
The back door of the café opened and Burt stepped inside. Since Kelly was seated at her favorite small table beside the windows, Burt couldn’t miss her.
“Hey, Kelly. Getting back to work in the real world, right?” he said with a big smile.
“Trying to, Burt. But it’s not coming easily. Pull up a chair and catch me up on what’s happening at the front lines. Mimi said you went over to help the Salvation Army and Red Cross.”
Burt pulled out a chair across from Kelly. She noticed even more worry lines on Burt’s crinkled face than usual. He was a retired Fort Connor police detective, and a lifetime of dealing with serious crimes and criminals had left signs on Burt’s face. But nothing took away his wide smile. Kelly always found that reassuring.
Along with rancher Curt Stackhouse, Burt had become Kelly’s second father figure and advisor ever since she’d arrived in Fort Connor four years ago for her aunt Helen’s funeral. Curt advised Kelly on all things ranching and land-related, including natural gas deposits that were found on Wyoming land she inherited from another distant relative.
Aunt Helen had left Kelly the beige stucco, red-tile-roofed cottage across the driveway from her aunt’s favorite knitting shop, Lambspun. It was a smaller version of the Spanish Colonial–style former farmhouse that now housed the popular knitting shop. Her aunt Helen and uncle Jim had lived there when Kelly was a child. Sheep once grazed on pastures where golfers now chased balls. Located on the edge of Fort Connor’s Old Town, the city-owned golf course was bordered on one side by the Cache La Poudre River and trail. The Cache La Poudre flowed out of the canyon of the same name and ran diagonally across Fort Connor before it joined the South Platte, those waters rushing to meet the great Mississippi.
Mimi’s husband, Burt, advised Kelly on all detective-related matters. Ever since Kelly had joined the warm family atmosphere at Lambspun, she’d found herself involved in helping to solve various murders of local residents. Several of them were friends of the Lambspun family and staff. Her friends called it “sleuthing.” Burt, however, always took Kelly’s efforts seriously. He was quick to point out that her track record of discovering the real guilty party in a murder had been “impressive” over the years.
“It’s crazy over there in Landport,” Burt said, holding out his cup for Jennifer as she approached with the coffeepot. “Kelly, did you know Jennifer and Pete brought a feast over to our house when we arrived home last night?”
Jennifer gave a dismissive wave. “We just packaged up extras from Sunday’s brunch and lunch. We figured you folks were tired of eating corn dogs.” She winked.
Burt closed his eyes. “If I never see another corn dog again, it’ll be too soon.”
“Mimi told me you two would have to run extra miles to compensate.”
“I don’t even want to think about it,” Burt said, blowing on his coffee before he took a sip.
“Oh, pooh. You two deserved a good meal. Cassie must have had two slices of pecan pie. After
“Thank goodness you guys were there to help,” Jennifer said. “This is bad. I’ve never seen it like this.”
“I know,” Kelly said, drawing back and looking into her friend’s concerned face. “This is the one we’ve always dreaded.”
• • •
Kelly took another deep drink of Eduardo’s black nectar.
Ahh
. Caffeine. Thanks to the rich, strong coffee, Kelly had been able to actually start working on her client’s accounting spreadsheets. She’d switched locations from the knitting table to the café. The added stimulus would help in her efforts to stay awake. Both she and Steve were definitely going to get to sleep early tonight and catch up, if that was possible.
The back door of the café opened and Burt stepped inside. Since Kelly was seated at her favorite small table beside the windows, Burt couldn’t miss her.
“Hey, Kelly. Getting back to work in the real world, right?” he said with a big smile.
“Trying to, Burt. But it’s not coming easily. Pull up a chair and catch me up on what’s happening at the front lines. Mimi said you went over to help the Salvation Army and Red Cross.”
Burt pulled out a chair across from Kelly. She noticed even more worry lines on Burt’s crinkled face than usual. He was a retired Fort Connor police detective, and a lifetime of dealing with serious crimes and criminals had left signs on Burt’s face. But nothing took away his wide smile. Kelly always found that reassuring.
Along with rancher Curt Stackhouse, Burt had become Kelly’s second father figure and advisor ever since she’d arrived in Fort Connor four years ago for her aunt Helen’s funeral. Curt advised Kelly on all things ranching and land-related, including natural gas deposits that were found on Wyoming land she inherited from another distant relative.
Aunt Helen had left Kelly the beige stucco, red-tile-roofed cottage across the driveway from her aunt’s favorite knitting shop, Lambspun. It was a smaller version of the Spanish Colonial–style former farmhouse that now housed the popular knitting shop. Her aunt Helen and uncle Jim had lived there when Kelly was a child. Sheep once grazed on pastures where golfers now chased balls. Located on the edge of Fort Connor’s Old Town, the city-owned golf course was bordered on one side by the Cache La Poudre River and trail. The Cache La Poudre flowed out of the canyon of the same name and ran diagonally across Fort Connor before it joined the South Platte, those waters rushing to meet the great Mississippi.
Mimi’s husband, Burt, advised Kelly on all detective-related matters. Ever since Kelly had joined the warm family atmosphere at Lambspun, she’d found herself involved in helping to solve various murders of local residents. Several of them were friends of the Lambspun family and staff. Her friends called it “sleuthing.” Burt, however, always took Kelly’s efforts seriously. He was quick to point out that her track record of discovering the real guilty party in a murder had been “impressive” over the years.
“It’s crazy over there in Landport,” Burt said, holding out his cup for Jennifer as she approached with the coffeepot. “Kelly, did you know Jennifer and Pete brought a feast over to our house when we arrived home last night?”
Jennifer gave a dismissive wave. “We just packaged up extras from Sunday’s brunch and lunch. We figured you folks were tired of eating corn dogs.” She winked.
Burt closed his eyes. “If I never see another corn dog again, it’ll be too soon.”
“Mimi told me you two would have to run extra miles to compensate.”
“I don’t even want to think about it,” Burt said, blowing on his coffee before he took a sip.
“Oh, pooh. You two deserved a good meal. Cassie must have had two slices of pecan pie. After
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