A Quilt in Time (A Harriet Turman/Loose Threads Mystery) (32 page)

“I could go talk to Sarah’s mother,” Beth offered. “Maybe I can get her to go out to tea. I may have to offer more bibs or lap quilts or something, but I think she’ll go for it. Connie, maybe you can go with me, since you’ve had interactions with her, too. She probably won’t confess if she killed him herself, but maybe she can tell us if Seth had conflicts with anyone else.”

“Good idea,” Mavis said. “My son went to school with the medical examiner’s little brother. I could go see what she can tell me about Howard’s first and second wives’ deaths. I know that doesn’t tell us anything about motives for killing Seth, but it could help us sort out who is lying to us and who isn’t.”

Robin wrote a note about the medical examiner at the bottom of the flip chart page.

“I think anything we can learn can’t hurt,” she said as she wrote.

Lauren pulled a stylus from the back of her smartphone case and tapped the face of her phone.

“I’m going to get some of my geek buddies working on Joshua and his criminal troubles. There’s something fishy going on there.”

Jorge had been making trips between the kitchen and the private dining room, carrying a big bowl of salad one time and a dish of grated Parmesan the next. He finally brought a large platter of spaghetti and meatballs and set it on the table.

“Has everyone got what they want to drink?” He looked around the table. The women nodded in assent. “I’d like to say one thing, and then I’ll keep my mouth shut.” He paused to see if anyone objected then continued. “You need to talk to Detective Morse about your suspicions and let her handle it. It’s her job. She’s probably already interviewed the mother. Now, please enjoy your dinner.”

Beth smiled at him.

“Can you sit and eat with us?”

“I think I can join you for a few minutes, if the rest of the group agrees.”

“Of course we want you,” Robin said. “We need someone to help keep us grounded—and if I keep eating here, I’ll be grounded in more ways than one.”

Jorge smiled as he pulled out a chair and sat down beside Aunt Beth.

“Let’s eat,” he said

“Words can’t express how happy I am to have a car again,” Aunt Beth told Harriet and Mavis as she slid into a chair at Harriet’s kitchen table. “Would you like to come out and look at it?”

Lauren came in from Harriet’s studio.

“I’m sure it’s the most wonderful car ever made, but can we have some coffee first?”

“Of course. Have a seat—she doesn’t really expect anyone here is going to pass up our coffee and muffins to look at her new car. I brewed yours when I heard you drive up.”

Beth poured a dollop of half-and-half into her cup and stirred it.

“I still can’t get used to the fact that my current car costs more than my first house, and I don’t even have a luxury car.”

Mavis took a muffin from a platter in the middle of the table and peeled the paper off before setting in on the small plate in front of her and then passed the plate to Lauren.

“I try not to think about it.”

Lauren took a muffin and removed its paper. She blew across the top of her coffee mug and finally took a sip.

“This is surprisingly good,” she said and set her cup down. “I wouldn’t have guessed your new pod machine would be as good as your old Mr. Coffee.”

She took another sip.

“It’s taken a few days, but one of my guys has finally taken a peek at Joshua’s criminal record. Or, I should say, lack of record.”

“What are you talking about?” Harriet asked.

“The guys had to do some digging, but the only thing on Joshua Pratt’s record is a footnote that he participated in a scared-straight program at the Foggy Point Police Department. It was a really special program.”

“Let me guess,” Harriet interrupted. “There was only one participant.”

“Give the girl a Kewpie doll. There is no record of anyone else ever taking part in any program like that. For that matter, Foggy Point PD has never done anything of the sort before or since.”

Aunt Beth broke off a bite of muffin and popped it in her mouth.

“So, the rumors about Howard Pratt having half the town in his back pocket are no exaggeration.”

“That’s so evil,” Harriet said in amazement. “He’s had Joshua wearing an ankle bracelet tracking his every move for years.”

Lauren took a muffin from the platter.

“I’m not saying I believe this, but just to play devils’ advocate, maybe it’s like that serial killer show on TV. If Joshua is a psychopath, maybe Howard is doing him a favor. By making him think his every move is being watched, Joshua won’t kill animals, much less move on to people.”

Harriet sipped her coffee and studied Lauren.

“You’re serious? You think Howard is the good guy here?”

“I didn’t say that. I’m just saying maybe he’s the lesser of two evils.”

“None of this helps us narrow down our suspect list,” Mavis observed. “I’ve got an appointment with the medical examiner tomorrow, so I can’t add anything at this point.”

Beth took another bite of her muffin and chewed.

“I have nothing new yet, either. I’m taking some bibs to Sarah’s mother this afternoon, so hopefully, I can learn something.”

Harriet tapped her spoon on the table beside her cup.

“I still say we’re missing something.” A knock on the studio door interrupted her. “I’ll be right back.”

Detective Morse stood on the porch, a folded quilt top clutched to her chest.

“I’m sorry if I’m interrupting. Do you have a minute, or should I come back later?”

“No, come in. My aunt and Mavis and Lauren are just here having coffee. Do you have time to join us?”

“That sounds great. Can I show you my project first?

“I’ve been working on this quilt for my niece’s wedding this summer, and then they decided to save some money and elope. They get back from their honeymoon next week, and my stepsister is throwing together a reception.”

She set her quilt top on Harriet’s large cutting table and turned back the corner. She had made a traditional double-wedding-ring pattern in pastel colors.

“I was hoping you might be able to quilt it for me. I realize this is short notice, and I completely understand if you can’t do it.” She stopped talking and looked hopefully at Harriet.

“What were you thinking for a stitch pattern?”

“I was thinking whatever you can do in time for the reception.”

Harriet spread the top flatter on the table, unfolding more of the fabric as she did.

“If you had a choice, what would you want?”

“Something simple—I’d like them to actually be able to use it. I don’t want it so dense it won’t drape.”

“This is your lucky day. I finally finished the show quilt I’ve been working on for what seems like forever. I’ve had that thing on and off my machine at least four times. The woman kept changing her mind and adding more stitching, and the sad thing is, it still probably doesn’t have enough stitch density to win in a major show. So, yes, as long as we can keep it simple, I can do your quilt.”

“Oh, thank you. Do you still have that wide muslin available?” Morse meant the extra-wide fabric that was sold in off-white cotton and other basic finishes for the purpose of providing a seam-free back for large quilts.

“I do, indeed. I have wool or cotton batting on the roll, and if you want, Carla has a friend in her young mothers’ quilting group who does binding for hire. Fifteen cents an inch, and she does really nice work.”

“Perfect. Sign me up.” She rubbed her hands together. “This might just work after all.”

“Was there ever a doubt? And we aren’t even going to have to tap into the Loose Threads. Now, how about some coffee and a cranberry-orange muffin?”

Harriet turned to lead the way back to the kitchen. Detective Morse put a hand on her arm, stopping her.

“Wait. Before we go in, I want to apologize for my behavior the other day when the cars were bombed. I know you all aren’t trying to cause trouble. I hope you can believe this, but I really do worry about your safety. You’ve been lucky so far. In the year or so since you’ve been back in Foggy Point, you’ve gone up against some nasty people and for the most part come out unscathed. I worry that your luck is going to run out. If I came on too strong, I’m sorry.”

“I understand. It’s just hard to stand around and do nothing when our friends are in trouble.”

“Try to restrain yourselves. And it wouldn’t hurt if you all didn’t go places alone until we catch our perp.”

“I promise,” Harriet said and held up her two fingers in a Girl Scout salute. Even as she did it, she knew it wasn’t true. She was sure Morse knew the same thing.

“Good morning, Detective,” Mavis said as Harriet and Jane Morse entered the kitchen. “Here, sit.” She pulled out a chair.

Harriet refilled the water chamber, snapped another coffee pod into her machine and pushed the go button. Aunt Beth looked over at her.

“That thing is slick.”

Mavis pushed the plate of muffins closer to Morse.

“Here, help yourself.”

Beth handed her a napkin.

Jane selected a muffin and began peeling off the paper.

“I’m sure you are all anxious for an update on the bombing. Unfortunately, I don’t have much for you. The bombs were made from a mix of fertilizer and motor oil with simple detonators activated remotely, probably by a cell phone. They didn’t contain shrapnel of any sort.”

“What do you mean?” Mavis asked.

“Often, in this type of bomb, you’ll find that, besides the explosive materials, there will be nails or tacks or other small metal objects designed to cause as much damage as possible. There is no sign of that in your bombs.

“There were no large charges of material in the bombs, either. We think this person was trying to create a distraction—they were trying to damage the cars and nothing else, and they were successful.”

Beth leaned forward.

“Were there any fingerprints?”

Detective Morse finished chewing her bite of muffin then brushed the crumbs from her mouth with her napkin.

“No, whoever made these was careful. They probably wore gloves.”

“Do you have any suspects at this point?” Harriet asked.