A Quilt in Time (A Harriet Turman/Loose Threads Mystery) (18 page)

“Once we get the groups going, we may not want to have all the Threads there every time. It might overwhelm them. They would like to expand the group to include some of the early dementia residents, too.”

“Good idea. Do you need me to bring anything?”

“Do you have any of those little cameras people use to spy on their nannies?”

“Bugging the place is not only illegal but I have a strong suspicion it falls into the ‘don’t do anything else but listen’ category Detective Morse was talking about.”

“I wasn’t thinking about leaving them there. Do they make wireless versions? I was thinking we could have them on one of our sewing machines. Or even on our person. Is that possible?”

Lauren sighed. “Anything is possible, but I will
not
agree to leave anything on their premises, not even if it’s on a sewing machine we leave behind. One of my clients has used a wireless micro-camera that’s mounted in a pendant necklace. It produces surprisingly clear pictures.”

“That would be a good start.”

“I can imagine a few things you might be looking for, but what are you hoping to get a picture of?” Lauren picked up her cup and took a long swallow.

“I’ve been thinking about this since we found Sarah. We know she didn’t kill Seth, so we have to consider who else might want him dead. Since he was the team pharmacist, and there has been some suspicion raised about the sources of the drugs being used there, it’s possible someone blames him for the death of their loved one and decided to seek revenge.”

“You think Connie killed him?”

Harriet laughed out loud and then looked around to be sure she hadn’t attracted attention.

“Of course not. I don’t think Rod did it, either. But if Connie and Rod suspect the senior center killed his aunt, maybe someone else has had a similar experience.”

“Except Seth’s dead.”

“Yeah, but his drugs are still there. They aren’t going to throw away his drugs, at least, not until they can bring in replacements. If Seth was running the cut-rate drug business by himself, the others might not even know about it yet.”

“That’s whole bunch of ifs and buts.”

“It can’t hurt to snap a few pictures of the drug dispensing operation at the place. We should be there enough hours on any given day to see someone get their meds.”

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”

Harriet swished the last of her cocoa in the bottom of her cup.

“Have you heard anything about Sarah from anyone?”

“No, but then, I didn’t expect to. Have you deployed the curtain-hanging team yet?”

“No, I thought it might be a little too obvious right after Sarah moved in, but maybe by the end of the week, we could approach them about it.”

“It would be worth it to see if she has anything else to say.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think we should badger her while she’s so injured and probably drugged to boot.”

“Whatever.”

“Should we bring the tables and chairs in right away?” Carla asked when Harriet had parked in front of the senior center.

“Let’s wait and see what the activities coordinator came up with. She had several possible spaces we could use, but it was going to depend on how many residents signed up. They have a small dining room in the middle of the building that has its own tables and chairs, and then there’s a living room-type area off the hall where the independent living people have their rooms. If we use that space, we’ll need our tables and chairs.”

The two women were met in the lobby by a heavyset woman with brown hair who looked to be in her thirties.

“Hi, Harriet,” she said and shook Harriet’s hand. She turned to Carla. “I’m Sabrina Winthrop, the activities coordinator.” She stretched her hand toward Carla, and after a brief hesitation, Carla shook it.

“It turns out your idea is a very popular one,” Sabrina continued. “Before we look at the spaces, tell me this. What would you think of doing two groups, one in each space? It seems like you have enough people in your group to do that. We could put the people who are fully functional in the common area of that wing, and the dementia people in the small memory-care dining room.” She stopped to take a breath. “I’m sorry, I’m getting carried away. I haven’t given you a chance to say you can do both groups.”

Harriet smiled. “I think that would work fine. What if we staggered the time so we’d be sure we could cover things when we get busy with other projects?”

“That’s a great idea,” Sabrina said. “I apologize for being so enthusiastic, but it’s a rare day when someone volunteers to do an activity of this magnitude with our residents. Usually, we’re scrambling to get people who are willing to come in and work with our folks.”

Harriet and Carla followed Sabrina as she led the way down the independent living hallway and into the common space.

“We’re happy to come quilt with your people,” Harriet told her. “They’ll probably teach us some new tricks.”

“I gathered a few extension cords and power strips, and I’m hoping you were serious about bringing a few folding tables.” Sabrina pointed to a pile of wires and electrical equipment sitting on a coffee table that had been pushed against the wall in the large rectangular room. “I moved the upholstered chairs to the other end of the room, as you can see, and I’m hoping you can put your folding tables in this area.” She spread her arms to indicate the empty end of the space. “If this takes off, I can order folding tables that can stay up permanently.”

“This looks great,” Harriet said.

“Oh, good. While you’re getting set up, I’ll go talk to the supervisor in the memory care unit and tell her we’ll put her people in the dining room a little later. I asked our receptionist, Hannah, to come help you.” She looked toward the interior hallway. “And here she is now. Hannah, this is…”

“Hi, Harriet,” Hannah said, interrupting Sabrina. “This is so nice of you. Can I help you carry anything?”

“Thank you, but I think we can get it. We’re used to lugging our quilting supplies around. Besides, we didn’t bring too much today. We mostly wanted to meet everyone and see what they’re interested in doing.”

Sabrina looked down the hallway behind Hannah.

“Maybe you can spend an hour with each group today, since you weren’t expecting to have two. Then we can plan a longer time for your next visit.”

“That will work fine. As I was saying, we need to assess things and see what materials they have and what they need,” Harriet said. “We can do that today and then get serious about sewing next time.”

“Just let me know if you need anything else from us,” Sabrina said. Then to Hannah: “If anyone is looking for me, I’ll be going between here and the memory unit for the next hour or so while we get these two sessions going.”

“I’ll make a note,” Hannah said then followed her out of the independent living wing.

Lauren was waiting by the car when Carla and Harriet returned to the parking lot.

“What’s the plan?” she asked.

Carla quickly explained while Harriet opened the hatch and began pulling folding tables and chairs out.

“Even though we aren’t going to be sewing today, I’m going to go ahead and set up a couple of tables and chairs. I’ll leave them here until they get their own. I have a loaner sewing machine Marjory donated to the cause. We can leave that set up so the people can sew when we aren’t here if they want to.”

“Good idea,” Lauren said. “On the spy front, I rigged two supply bags up with lipstick cameras that look out from the end of each one. If we set them at either end of the room, we should be able to catch all of the action.” She handed Harriet a necklace. “This has an embedded microphone. If you want to record someone, just fiddle with the pendant. It has a small contact switch on the back. It looks flat, but if you squeeze it, it will engage.”

Harriet took the gold, rhinestone-encrusted heart.

“Kind of gaudy, isn’t it?”

“But totally you,” Lauren shot back with an evil grin. “I wanted something big enough that you would naturally need to fiddle with it.”

Carla started loading tables onto the fold-up flatbed hand truck Harriet had pulled out after the tables were unloaded.

“Let’s give a warm senior center welcome to the Loose Threads quilting group,” Sabrina said when the room was set up and all the participants in place. One small white-haired woman clapped vigorously, but the rest of the group either patted their hands together politely or ignored Sabrina completely.

“That’s not necessary,” Aunt Beth said. “I think I can speak for our whole group in saying we’re happy to come spend some time with you all.”

“Not likely,” a skinny bald man said in a stage whisper everyone could hear.

“We really are,” Harriet said. “I’m guessing you all have plenty of quilting experience to share with us. We may be good with the new techniques and machines, but I, for one, could use help with the basics. I’m an absolute disaster at hand quilting.”

“And I’m just learning to quilt on a sewing machine,” Mavis said. “I’ve always hand-pieced, so I need help with how to do more efficient machine work.”

“I won the blue ribbon in the hand quilting division of the Jefferson County fair a few years ago,” a plump woman in a flowered cotton dress volunteered. She had on a name tag that said
Violet
.

Harriet pulled out a fabric sandwich made of two layers of plain muslin with a piece of wool batting in between that she’d prepared for hand quilting practice. She crossed the room and sat beside the blue ribbon winner. Carla picked up her bag and moved to the seat on the opposite side of the woman. She pulled a similar blank quilt piece from her bag.

“I’m Harriet, and this is Carla.” She held her hand out.

“We all know who you are,” the woman whispered.

Sabrina surveyed the room.