Yarn Over Murder (A Knitting Mystery) by Maggie Sefton Page B

Lizzie?”
    “Oh, my, yes,” Lizzie said, settling into the chair Kelly held out. Rearranging her ruffles, Lizzie gave her silver hair a pat in its tidy twist at the back of her head.
    An old familiar gesture Kelly hadn’t seen in a while.
    Feeling a pang of nostalgia, she said, “I have really missed you two. It seems every time you made it over here, I was down in Denver with one of my clients.”
    “As well you should be,” Hilda intoned, setting her tapestry knitting bag upon the table. “We’ve kept track of your career progression, my dear. Thanks to Mimi and Burt, of course. I take it Burt is out on one of your many errands, Mimi. I’m sorry to miss him.”
    “Well, I’m going to call him and tell him to make sure he stops by to say hello. He’s over in Landport now, volunteering to drive supplies back and forth to the various shelters and such.”
    “Oh, my, that awful, awful fire!” Lizzie’s hand fluttered up in a trademark wave that Kelly loved. “That is simply dreadful, isn’t it? I’m so glad Burt is helping.” She opened her multicolored embroidered knitting bag.
    “He’s a good man,” Hilda said, withdrawing the light blue silky yarn from her knitting bag. It looked to Kelly like a half-finished baby sweater.
    Glancing to the side, Kelly noticed Cassie standing back, watching the two elderly ladies at the table. As if she read her mind, Mimi quickly walked over to Cassie’s side and placed her arm around Cassie’s shoulders.
    “And I’d like both of you to meet the newest addition to the Lambspun family. This is Cassie Wainwright. She’s Pete’s niece who has lived in Denver most of her life. But now that her grandfather’s health has deteriorated, Cassie’s moved up here to live with Pete and Jennifer.” Mimi gave Cassie a big smile.
    “Ah, yes, I remember your telling us about this young lady,” Hilda said, gazing at Cassie over the top her spectacles. “I’m pleased to meet you, Cassie.”
    “I’m . . . pleased to meet you, too . . . ma’am,” Cassie said softly.
    “Oh, and so am I, my, dear!” Lizzie gushed, her hand fluttering to her lacy bodice. “And what beautiful blue eyes you have!”
    Cassie ducked her head, murmuring a soft thank-you as a flush spread across her cheeks.
    Kelly shoved her laptop aside, leaned back into her chair, and watched as two lifelong schoolteachers began to draw a bashful Cassie into conversation.

Seven
    Wednesday, June 13
    Kelly leaned against her kitchen counter and sipped her early morning coffee, all the while listening to her real estate investor client Arthur Housemann on the other end of the phone.
    “I tell you, Kelly, it’s hell, not knowing what’s happened in Poudre Canyon. I’ve gone to every single briefing the fire commandant has held. I’ve met with the police department. And no one, not one of them, will let us know the extent of the damage up there. They won’t even give us a hint. I mean, it is frustrating beyond belief!”
    Kelly could recognize the sound of carefully controlled anger in her client’s voice. She’d only heard it once or twice since they’d started working together. The first time was a year ago when Arthur had been involved in a real estate transaction with a landowner who had a rather shady reputation.
    Usually Arthur Housemann was the model of experienced restraint. Measured. But his property in the Poudre Canyon, right on the river, was dear to Arthur’s heart. He’d built his dreamhouse there. Consequently, anything that might threaten it was met with fierce resistance. However, none of the canyon residents had any defenses against wildfire. It was the most powerful of all adversaries.
    “I hear you, Arthur. My friend Jayleen Swinson told me the same thing. None of the Bellevue Canyon residents have heard anything about their homes, either. Of course, firefighters are still putting out fires up there.”
    “That’s understandable, up in Bellevue Canyon. They’ve had fires