Free Dyer Consequences by Maggie Sefton

like a laptop, ma’am,” the young officer said as he turned away. “Have a good evening.”
    “What’s that?” Steve asked as he approached.
    Kelly stared into the plastic bag. Sure enough, there was Mimi’s laptop computer. “I don’t believe it,” she said, pulling off the plastic, checking for signs of damage. “Those guys must have missed this last night. Why else would they leave something they could sell so easily?”
    “I’d say Mimi got lucky,” Steve said before returning to the garage.
    I’d say. Kelly wondered what kind of vandals would steal a few dollars from a cash box and leave a new laptop worth several hundred dollars. Maybe it was in a drawer or hidden under stuff.
    Spotting the young officer back his cruiser away from the shop, she waved at him and hurried over.
    “Yes, ma’am?” He looked up at her politely.
    Why am I always a “ma’am”? Do I look that old?
    “Officer, I’m curious. You and I both know those guys could get a lot of money for this laptop. Was it hidden in the office or buried under yarn so they couldn’t see it?”
    He grinned at her, revealing how young he really was. Probably former military, judging by his look and bearing.
    “No, ma’am. It was sitting right on top of her desk. Plain as day. Take care, now,” he said before nosing his cruiser down the driveway.
    Kelly watched him drive away as the whine of Steve’s drill cut through the fast-disappearing daylight.

Seven
    “I still can’t believe it happened,” Megan said, her fingers anxiously working a shamrock green yarn, stitches gathering quickly on her knitting needles.
    Kelly glanced at her friend across the table in a sunny corner of Mimi’s kitchen. The more Megan worried, the faster she knitted. Kelly had seen Megan worry many times before, and always watched in amazement at the speed with which the knitted garments took shape. From froth to finished right before her eyes. Megan could finish a scarf in hours. Worrying about her friends, worrying about Kelly’s sleuthing, worrying about her computer consulting clients.
    But this was worse. Lambspun was a second home for all of them. Not only had it been vandalized, but someone who wanted to join the “shop family” had died as a result. None of them knew Tracy very well, but they had looked forward to learning more about the shy student. And Mimi had taken a motherly interest in her as well.
    “I know, Megan. It still feels unreal, like a bad dream.” Kelly worked the variegated red and pink yarn piled in her lap. Unlike Megan’s project, Kelly’s new scarf was far from finished. She had at least three feet to go. Her knitting times disappeared when Lambspun was vandalized.
    Mimi leaned back in a rounded maple chair and held her teacup tightly. Sunshine from the window behind brought out the reddish highlights in her hair. “A nightmare, you mean. I barely slept at all last night. These awful dreams kept waking me up.”
    Lisa spoke up from across the table. “What does Burt say? Are the police searching for these guys? There’s got to be someone who knows them.” A turquoise and gray sweater bundled on her swift-moving needles.
    “Yeah, they’re searching, all right. But finding is the problem, according to Burt. These guys scatter when they hear the cops are looking,” Kelly said.
    Kelly watched her needles work the stitches. Slip. Wrap. Slide. Slip the needle under the stitch, wrap the yarn, slide the stitch off the needle. Kelly still remembered the cadence someone around the table had recited once. Remembered how she’d struggled to capture the rhythm when she first learned to knit. Now the movements felt natural, almost automatic. And her stitches looked more even and smooth, row after row. Not as many holes or dropped stitches, either.
    “Have you heard from Burt today?” Megan asked, glancing toward Mimi.
    “I called him this morning and invited him to join us for breakfast. He said he’d come as soon as he had a