2 The Patchwork Puzzler (3 page)

Chapter Five

T
hat afternoon, Maddy got a phone call from her son Bill. He and his wife ran a Youth Center in Chicago. They loved kids, but Kathy was barren. That’s why they had founded Kids 4 U, a nonprofit organization that rescued abandoned children and placed them in good homes.

“Hi, honey,” she greeted him. Bill was the eldest son, an idealist through and through. He’d dropped out of college to join the Peace Corps, serving in a small African country called Chad. He’d met Kathy there, another Peace Corps volunteer.

“Hello, mom. How are you and the new mayor doing?”

“Just fine. Your dad loves public service. Y’know, helping people.”

“See, I really am a chip off the old block,” laughed the voice on the telephone.

“I never doubted it.”

“Mom, I’m calling to give you a heads-up. Kathy and I are on our way to Caruthers Corners. Be there tomorrow. Hope you’ve got a spare bedroom.”

“Your old room is waiting for you.”

“You haven’t turned it into a den or rec room?”

“It’s a big old house. We already have a den and rec room as you well remember.”

“Just kidding.”

“We’ve got plenty of room, now that your sister and Mark the Shark have bought a house of their own.”

“Good. We’ll need an extra bedroom.”

“Oh my, you and Kathy aren’t sleeping in separate bedrooms, are you?”

The voice chuckled. “No, nothing like that. It’s just that we’ll need a room for our new son.”

“New son?”

“Kathy and I have adopted an eight-year-old Vietnamese boy.”

“You mean a kid from the Far East?”

“Not exactly. N’yen’s an American, born in Chicago. But he lost his parents.”

“And you’ve adopted him?”

“Yep, figured we oughta practice what we preach. We’ve been placing needy kids in good homes for more than ten years now. So why not place one in ours. We can provide a good home.”

“Bill, that’s wonderful. Who in the family knows?”

“You’re the first. But maybe you can prepare dad and Tillie.”

“Hm, I think I’d better prepare Aggie.”

“Agnes?”

“Yes, she’s used to being an only grandchild. I hope she’ll be willing to share the glory.”

≈≈≈

“Adopted a Vietnamese boy!” said Beau, almost at a lost for words.

“That’s what he said. And he and Kathy will be here tomorrow with little N’yen.”

“N’yen? That’s a strange name?”

“Apparently not in Vietnam.”

“Why couldn’t they adopt an American child?
”

“Beauregard Hollingsworth Madison the Fourth, don’t let me hear you talk that way. You sound prejudiced.”

“No, just a ‘Buy American’ kind of guy.”

“Well, for your information, N’yen was born in Chicago, which makes him just as American as you and me.” She checked the roast into the oven. They were expecting Tillie’s crowd for dinner.

Beau shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around this new information. “But the boy’s Asian,” he said, almost to himself.

“And you’re a mixture of English and Irish.”

“Don’t forget the touch of Czech on my mother’s side.”

“See, you’re a mongrel. More of a mixture than Aggie’s Heinz 57 mutt.”

“Well – ”

“Not another word. Bill and Kathy will be here tomorrow with N’yen. And you’re going to be his grandpa.”

“Have you told Aggie she’s going to have to share us?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Looks like you’re about to cross that bridge sooner than you think. Tillie and Mark just pulled up in the driveway. I can see Aggie and Tige bouncing in the backseat.”

Maddy
glanced out the window. “Oh my, I still have to bake the biscuits.”

“Settle for rolls. You’d better save your energy for telling Aggie she’s going to have an Asian cousin.”

≈≈≈

“Pass the potatoes, please,” said Aggie. Her manners had improved considerabl
e since coming to live in Caruthers Corners.

“Here you go, dear,” said Maddy, handing the bowl across the table. “Help yourself to all you want.”

“Thank you.”

“I have some news for you. We’re getting a little boy in the family.”

“No, Grammy. Mommy’s expecting a girl.”

Maddy glanced at her daughter for help. Tillie’s stomach was the size of a watermelon, her delivery date almost here.

“Aggie, I think your grandmother is talking about your Aunt Kathy, not me.”

The girl looked up from her helping of potatoes. “Aunt Kathy’s expecting a baby too.”

“Not exactly. She and Uncle Bill have adopted a little boy. I understand he’s eight years old.”

“Okay.”

Okay? It was that simple?

“He will be your cousin,” Tillie continued, making sure her daughter understood.

“Cool.”

≈≈≈

“That went well,” said Beau as he prepared for bed.

“Aggie, you mean?”

He nodded. “She took the news without blinking an eye.”

“We’ll see how it goes when Bill and Kathy get here with little N’yen in tow.”

“You worry too much.”

“I’m more worried about
you than Aggie.”

“Over N’yen?”

“Well, you did serve in the Vietnam War. Could it be that you have some animosity against Vietnamese as a result?”

Beau climbed under the covers, waited for his wife to turn out the light. “I’ve got nothing against Vietnamese as long as they’re not pointing Kalashnikov AK-47 rifles at me.”

“Hush now. N’yen’s only eight. It’s more likely he’ll be pointing a water pistol at you.”

“You’re right, as always.”

Maddy snuggled closer. “Truth told, I’m more worried about that darned Sarah Pennington quilt. That theft took some doing. Somebody had to make an exact copy of that quilt, one that would fool experienced quilters.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. One doesn’t stitch up a quilt like that beehive design overnight. This crime took some planning.”

“But the exhibit came about rather quickly. Cookie said we got it because another booking fell through.”

“That means the crook’s nobody local. It has to be someone who was already planning the heist before Caruthers Corners scheduled it for our Watermelon Days festivities.”

“Exactly. But the puzzling thing, not just any thief off the street could walk into the Town Hall and snatch Nan’s keys.”

“Yes, Nan – ”

“Go to sleep, dear. We’ll talk about her tomorrow.”

Chapter Six

T
he Quilter’s Club met for breakfast at the Cozy Café. Known for its cherry pie, the diner was quite popular. What’s more, coffee was only 50¢ a cup and refills were free.

Maddy waited until everyone had placed their orders – an English muffin for Lizzie, poached egg for Cookie, oatmeal for Bootsie, and a bacon-and-tomato omelet for herself – before sharing her suspicions about Nan Beanie.

“I spoke with Dizzy Duncan yesterday about Nan’s alibi.”

“You didn’t mention that,” accused Cookie. She didn’t like being left out of the loop.

“Sorry,” Maddy apologized. “But I had to give what she said a little thought.”

“What
did
she say?” Bootsie wanted to know. She loved gossip.

“Remember, Nan said that Dizzy Duncan invited her to lunch last Monday.”

“So?” Lizzie was eager to get to the punch line.

“Turns out, it was Nan who invited Dizzy,” Maddy informed her friends between nibbles.

“You mean she lied to us?” Bootsie sounded miffed.

“Nan wouldn’t do that,” argued Cookie. The woman was a distant cousin.

“Are you saying she stole the Pennington quilt?” asked Lizzie. Blunt as usual.

“Not all by herself. But she apparently helped someone steal it.”

“How do you know someone else was involved?” asked Bootsie with the suspicion of a policeman’s wife.

Maddy finished
off her omelet and patted her mouth with a paper napkin. “Simple. Someone made that counterfeit quilt – and Nan Beanie can’t sew. Arthritis. She can’t hold a needle.”

≈≈≈

Aggie dropped by later that morning. It was only a few blocks from her home on the square to Melon Pickers Row – a short two-block stroll. Aggie said she had to be home by 2 p.m. to dress up for her Uncle Bill and Aunt Kathy’s visit. Oh yes, and to impress her new cousin N’yen.

“C’mon along, we have time to run a few errands,” announced her grandmother. “Your mom said you could go with me for the ride.”

“Okey-dokey.”

Maddy parked in front of the Town Hall in a space marke
d
FOR OFFICIAL USE ONL
Y
. Being the mayor’s wife had certain privileges.

“Why are we here?” asked Aggie. “To see Grampy?”

“No, dear. I want to talk with your grandfather’s assistant again,” Maddy explained as they walked into the redbrick building. “I want to clear up the difference between her story and Dizzy Duncan’s.”

“One of them is fibbing,” Aggie declared, that clear even to a ten-year-old.

“Yes, but which one?” Maddy was trying to keep an open mind, even though her bet was on Nan as the liar. She’d never had a warm feeling about the woman, but had always attributed it to Nan’s affiliation with the former mayor, a proven scoundrel.

“I think Dizzy’s telling the truth,” replied the girl. “She’s too, uh, dizzy to be part of a big conspiracy.”

“Oh?”

“C’mon, Grammy. Would you trust Dizzy with a secret? She’d spill the beans without even knowing it.”

“And so you think your grandfather’s assistant is part of the plot to steal the quilts?”

“She seems sneaky to me. Didn’t you see that address book on her desk?”

“What of it? Everybody has an address book.”

“But hers was open to the phone number of Henry Caruthers, the old mayor. I’ll bet she’s his spy, telling him everything going on in the mayor’s office.”

“My, you are a clever girl.”

“Thank you, Grammy. I’m going to make a great member of the Quilter’s Club.”

To Maddy’s surprise, Nan Beanie wasn’t at her desk. Odd, since it was only quarter to twelve, too early for lunch. Her husband’s assistant was a punctual woman, some might say a clock-watcher.

Aggie sat in Mrs. Beanie’s empty chair and surveyed her desk, eyes settling on an address book. “Dear, it’s not polite to snoop,” Maddy chided her granddaughter, something of a don’t-do-as-I-do-do-as-I-tell-you statement.

“Yes, Grammy.”

Maddy stuck her head in the door to the mayor’s inner sanctum. “Hi, dear,” she called to her husband who was plowing through a stack of papers on his big desk. “Where’s Mrs. Beanie?”

“Called in sick. Claims to have a migraine.”

“I didn’t know she suffered from headaches.”

“She’s more like a pain in the – ” He halted his words when he saw Aggie standing behind her grandmother. “Well, never mind.”

“A pain in the butt?” said Aggie, a precocious child to say the least.

“Something like that,” he mumbled, embarrassed at his candor.

“I’d like to talk with her,” continued Maddy. “Perhaps I could drop by with some cookies.”

“She might prefer brandy.”

“Brandy? Does Nan have a drinking problem?”

Beau shrugged. “Dunno. I found a bottle in her bottom desk drawer. I was looking for the stapler, but found Johnny Walker instead.”

“You know, I’m not sure where she lives.”

“Here,” he thumbed through his Rolodex. “She lives at 101 Pleasant Avenue.”

“That can’t be right,” said Maddy. “That’s the address of the cemetery.”

“Remember, Jasper Beanie is the caretaker at Pleasant Glade. The town provides them a house on the grounds.”

“That means they can’t have a dog,” said Aggie. “The sign on the cemetery gate say
s
NO DOGS ALLOWE
D
.”

“Have you been walking Tige in the cemetery again?” inquired Aggie’s grandfather, giving her the ol’ Eagle Eye.

“No, Grampy. He might dig up a bone.”

≈≈≈

“This place looks spooky,” said young Agnes Millicent Tidemore as she stared up at the tumbledown two-story house at the edge of the cemetery. A porch fronted the house, held up by chipped round columns. The roof seemed to sag in the middle, as if gravity were winning an unseen battle. The windows were dirty and smudged, making it impossible to see inside.

“Don’t be silly,” replied Maddy. “Jasper and Nan Beanie live here, not the Addams Family.”

“Does Tige have to stay in the car?”

“Yes, dear. Those are the cemetery rules.”

“But before – ”

“The rules,” her grandmother repeated.

“Oh, okay. Tige, you wait right here. I’ll leave the window down so you don’t get hot.”

“Come along before I decide to leave
you
in the car.”

“You’re just teasing me, Grammy. I have to help you interrogate Mrs. Beanie, because I’m a member of the Quilter’s Club.”

“Dear, I keep telling you, the Quilter’s Club makes patchwork quilts – not solve crimes.”

“Have it your way,” said Aggie, giving her grandmother a little we-both-know-the-truth wink.

“Let’s deliver these cookies,” sighed Maddy as she knocked on the big front door. “Remember to stand up straight and mind your manners.”

“Yes, Grammy.” She curtsied, but that was simply being a smart aleck.

Thump, thump!

“Just a minute,” came a voice from inside. A few seconds later, the double wooden doors swung open to reveal a short man with a large wart spotting his chin. “Yeah, whattaya want?”

“Jasper Beanie? I’m Maddy Madison. Your wife works with my husband in the mayor’s office.”

“So?” Not a very polite individual.

“I understand she has a migraine, so I stopped by with these cookies for her.” She held out the box of chocolate chip cookies, left over from yesterday’s baking.

“She has a what – ?”

“A bad headache.”

“Hmph, she seems fine to me.”

“May we come in?” said Aggie.

“If you insist,” the man with the wart grumbled. He stepped aside to allow the visitors to pass.

“Nice place you have,” said Maddy, ignoring the depressing atmosphere of the dark curtain-shrouded rooms. The furniture was worn and shabby. The pictures on the wall depicted Biblical scenes – the Last Supper, Sermon on the Mount, and Garden of Gethsemane.

“House comes with the job. Pay’s lousy, but things are gonna be looking up soon.”

“Looking up?”

“Nan’s coming into some money. An inheritance, she says.”

“You don’t say?”

“I do. As a matter of fact – ”

“Jasper!” Nan Beanie’s shrill voice cut him off. “Don’t bore our guests with family business.”

Maddy smiled at her husband’s administrative assistant. “That’s all right, I’m interested in your good fortune. An inheritance, you say?”

The woman frowned. “Never mind. I try to keep my business life and personal life separate.”

Maddy offered a disarming smile. “That’s probably more difficult, now that there’s been a change of administration.”

“What’s that s’posed to mean?”

“Simply that it’s harder to keep in touch with Mayor Caruthers now that he’s out of office.”

“It’s no problem,” she replied. “He calls me all the time.” Realizing what she’d just said, her mouth snapped shut, like the closing of a steel trap.

“Too bad you missed him when he dropped by to see you on Monday,” Maddy said casually.

Jasper was taking this in. “Nan, you didn’t mention getting together with Henry Caruthers.” Was that a touch of jealousy in his voice? His wife had worked closely with the old mayor for more than twenty years.

“I wasn’t there when Henry came by,” she responded defensively. “I was having lunch with Dizzy Duncan. I got me an alibi.”

“An alibi?” Her husband was confused.

“Dizzy can confirm it. I wasn’t even there when Henry took the keys,” blurted Nan Beanie.

“Aha,” shouted Aggie. She knew a confession when she heard one.

“Nan, I told you to stay away from Henry Caruthers,” growled the woman’s husband. Big hands balled into gnarly fists, you could tell he was a man whose temper simmered close to the surface.

“Henry Caruthers is a very fine man. And this woman’s husband stole his job as mayor!”

“That’s not true,” said Maddy.

Nan Beanie raised her chin defiantly. “Well, I won’t have to work for him no more when I get that money from Henry.”

Maddy said, “Aggie dear, why don’t you go wait in the car with your dog. I have to call Chief Purdue.”

“Oh no, you’re not gonna put me in jail,” screeched the pinch-faced woman. Shoving Maddy aside, she dashed out of the room. Everyone stood there in a state of shock, only snapping out of it when they heard the back door slam.

“Y-you mean there’s no inheritance,” Jasper Beanie stammered. “The money was coming from Henry Caruthers?”

“Looks like it,” said Maddy. However, she was still trying to put the pieces together.

“Grammy, she’s getting away,” shouted Aggie, tugging at her grandmother’s arm. “Hurry up – or we’ll lose her.”

The trio raced to the back door, just off the kitchen, and burst out into the backyard. Well, it was actually a long expanse of greenery punctuated by marble headstones – the Pleasant Glades cemetery.

Nan Beanie was nowhere to be seen.

“We lost her,” muttered Maddy.

“Tige! Here, boy,” called Aggie. The dog hopped out of the open car window and came tearing around the corner of the ramshackle house, yapping like a hound after a hare. “Go get her, boy! Go sic!”

The brownish mutt didn’t slow down, cutting across the cemetery with the speed of a greyhound.
Yip! Yip! Yip!

“C’mon, Grammy. Tige will catch her. He’s a hunting dog.”

The cute little mutt looked more like Benjy than a beagle. But he was fast, that much was obvious as he weaved among the tombstones like a show dog running an obstacle course. Maddy and her granddaughter gave chase too, but Tige was over the ridge of the hill before they had covered half the distance.

“Wait, wait!” shouted Jasper Beanie as he brought up the rear. “That’s my wife you’re after.”

They could hear the dog barking, the sound coming from down the hill near the older section of Pleasant Glades. “This way,” waved Aggie, leading the charge.

Maddy was huffing and puffing, having trouble keeping up with her ten-year-old granddaughter. Jasper was faring even worse, about to blow a blood vessel with his unaccustomed exertion. “Slow down, slow down,” he wheezed. “I’m gonna have a coronary if I keep this up.”

Aggie found herself in front of a large mausoleum with impressive Doric columns and marble steps leading up to a padlocked door. She could hear Tige barking inside. But how could that be? The padlock was in place, as thick and foreboding as an iron fist.

“Tige?”

Yip! Yip!

She pushed on the door and to her surprise it swung open with the ease of a revolving door. The phony padlock was merely a prop, designed to act as a deterrent to nosey intruders.