Maggie Sefton - Needled to Death

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Table of Contents

Praise for Knit One, Kill Two

Maggie Sefton has knit together a mystery with more twists and turns than the scrumptious yarns in the fictional shop of Lambspun. This is a clever, fast-paced plot, with a spunky sleuth and cast of fun, engaging characters. Knit One, Kill Two delivers the goods.

Margaret Coel

Cozy up with a great new author. Knit One, Kill Two has well-drawn characters and a wickedly clever plotyoull love unraveling this mystery.

Laura Childs

Acknowledgments

My thanks to all the helpful alpaca breeders and ranchers in the Northern Colorado area who were kind enough to allow me a peek into their fascinating business. Most especially, I want to thank Marjean Bender of Kitchell Kriations Alpacas in Fort Collins, CO, who welcomed me to several alpaca shearingsas well as into her home. Over many cups of coffee and tea, she never ran out of patience with my endless questions about the alpaca ranching and the beautiful animals with the to-die-for soft wool.

One

Kelly Flynn grabbed her empty coffee mug as she opened the glass patio door leading to her cottages small backyard. Go for it, Carl. Another sunny day. Squirrels are waiting. She gave her rottweiler a parting pat as he raced outside, clearly eager to face the furry tormentors that kept him running.

Spying the deep rose circlet of yarn that rested on the dining room table, Kelly snatched her knitting bag with her latest project. The silk-and-cotton, raspberry sherbet yarn had tempted her for months in the knitting shop across from her home.

Kelly paused near her desk, nestled in a sunny corner of the cozy white stucco and red-tiled roof cottage. It was her cottage now. When Aunt Helen was killed, Kelly inherited everything, and her life turned upside down.

Glancing at her corporate clients folder beside the computer keyboard, she checked the clock. The analysis of the clients financial statements was going smoother than shed anticipated. Some accounting issues were easier to solve than others. There was ample time for a knitting break.

The caffeine lobe deep in her brain sent out another insistent signalcoffee, now. Kelly headed for the front door. She could almost taste Eduardos potent brew. The knitting shop had an attached caf with the best regular coffee Kelly had ever tasted. Eduardo, the genial cook, always laughed when she asked about his secret for the coffee that kept her coming back for more.

Julys intense heat radiated in the Colorado air even though it was only mid-morning. Afternoon would be brutal and in the high nineties, Kelly decided as she glanced at the shimmer coming off the adjacent golfing greens. That reminder caused her to turn and check on her dogs whereabouts.

Carl had developed an unfortunate habit these last three months shed stayed in Fort Connor. Golf balls. They were an irresistible temptation to which Carl frequently succumbed. Kelly had tried several tactics to discourage him from climbing the fence and racing onto the greens to steal balls. Memories of angry golfer encounters were still fresh in Kellys mind.

She spotted Carl standing, paws up on the chain-link fence. Dont even think about it, Carl, she warned in her best attempt-to-control-dog voice. Carl looked over his shoulder in pleading mode. Nope. Youve gotten us in enough trouble already. Go play with your legal stash over there. Kelly pointed to a cluster of golf balls near several decorative pots filled with colorful shade plants.

Carl rolled his soft brown eyes in an obvious last effort to convince, then lay down in the grass and stared longingly at the greens.

I know its more fun to chase down stray balls, but you just cant. I dont want to have to bail you out of doggie jail, Kelly warned as she headed across the driveway toward Aunt Helens former farmhouse, now turned knitting shop.

Passing by the oaken front door with its carved sign that read HOUSE OF LAMBSPUN, Kelly followed the flower-bordered pathway around the sprawling stucco and red-tile roof building to the caf entrance. The enticing aroma of coffee greeted her as soon as she opened the door. She glanced around at the tables filled with customers lingering over late breakfast and brunch until she spotted a familiar face. One of her knitting friends, Jennifer, worked mornings at the caf and afternoons as a real estate agent.

Kelly aimed straight for her. Cof-fee, cof-fee, she demanded in a deep, raspy voice, mug in outstretched hand.

Look, its the return of the Coffee Zombie, Jennifer joked to the caf owner. Hide, Pete. She hasnt had her caffeine yet.

Petes round face spread with a wide grin as he poured orange juice into a glass pitcher. Itll only be a minute, Kelly. Eduardos got some brewing. We had a business breakfast group in here this morning, and they drained the last drop.

Kellys heart almost stopped. Pete, dont even joke about something like that, she warned.

Itll only be a moment. You can make it, Jennifer teased. Cmon, have a doughnut. She gestured to the tempting pastries displayed in a nearby glass case.

Kelly tried to ignore them, but one lemon-glazed creation called her name. Okay, but sugars not gonna do it. I need coffee. I can only last so long on that supermarket brand I have at home. Ive already spent most of the morning combing through one corporate account, and Ive got several more waiting.

Boy, youre surlier than usual this morning, Jennifer observed, handing her the napkin-covered doughnut. Numbers not adding up? Clients getting unruly? I can help with that. She winked.

Actually, everythings going smoothly. I just want to work ahead so I can take the whole day off tomorrow, Kelly said before she sank her teeth into the sugar.

You guys have a game tomorrow?

Games all day. Its the Fantastic Fourth at the Fort tournament. Teams are coming from all over the state.

Id better tell Eduardo to put some more shoelaces in the coffee, then. Youll need it, Jennifer said with a laugh as she took Kellys mug and headed for the kitchen.

Kelly brushed sugar flakes from her T-shirt and checked the barrette holding back her chin-length, dark brown hair. One of the best things about telecommuting to her office in Washington, D.C., was she could dress the way she liked. And in Colorado in the summertime, that meant a T-shirt and shorts.

Tomorrow would bring back a ton of memories, she was certain. She remembered playing in that same softball tournament years ago when she grew up here in Fort Connor. Lots of memories. In fact, thats all she had left from the past. The people were all goneher dad, her aunt Helen, everyone.

Youre saved, Jennifer announced, coming toward her, mug in hand. Coffees ready, and youre all set. Go forth and knit. She handed the mug to Kelly. Ill be over on break.

Thanks, Kelly said and headed for the doorway that led into the knitting shop.

As always, her senses went on overload the moment she entered the shop. Room after room of the renovated farmhouse was filled with yarns of every hue and texturefrothy mohairs in ice cream colors, nubbly wools and luscious alpacas, seductively soft silk spun with cotton or wool or all alone. Kelly couldnt get through a room without stroking a fat skein or squeezing some enticing fiber. Shed become a fiber fondler, as the shops knitting regulars called themselves.

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