Disappearing Nine Patch (A Harriet Truman/Loose Threads Mystery Book 9) (17 page)

The workers in the office were all wearing their own personal version of mourning. A girl who looked like she was still in her teens had on an orange tunic with black trim over black-and-white striped leggings. An older woman wore a plain white sari over salwar kameez, the pants and shirt often seen under a sari, although her skin was so pale it was hard to imagine her as East Indian.

A blonde in a gray linen suit came out to greet them.

“How may I help you?” she said automatically and then recognized Harriet. “I’m sorry, you’re Molly’s friend. She showed us your picture on the Internet from when you helped with a local murder.”

“Which one?” Connie muttered so only Harriet could hear. Harriet elbowed her.

Since Harriet didn’t respond immediately, the woman continued.

“We’re all so sorry about Molly’s death. Her organization has helped us so much. We were just a small local effort until Molly asked us to join her group. She connected us to national databases we didn’t even know existed. And she held meetings with other groups like us so we could pool our resources when an event happened. We’ve recovered four girls since we came under her parent organization.” She looked at the woman in the sari. “I hope someone continues her work.”

She paused a moment. It seemed like it was the first time she’d thought about the broader implications of Molly’s passing.

“She told us you were helping her find out what happened to her when she was young,” the woman finished, “and also helping to figure out what happened to little Amber Price.”

Harriet took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“I’m afraid Molly greatly exaggerated our crime-solving abilities. Our quilt group has been involved in a few local crimes, but only when it impacted us somehow. We’re not detectives, we’re quilters.”

“So, if you’re not here to investigate what happened to Molly, how can I help you?”

Harriet looked at Connie for help.

“We came to see if you know how to get in touch with Josh Phillips. As you know, we’re making quilts for the three major donors at your fundraiser. We planned the quilts when it was just the two that were going to women. We were thinking we maybe should check with Josh to see if our color selections were going to be okay for him. If he’s keeping it, he might want a more masculine choice.”

Harriet kept her face carefully neutral and watched the blonde. She knew there wasn’t a chance on earth they would start over on Josh’s quilt. He was getting lavender and green whether he liked it or not.

“I don’t know if he’s still in town, but as of Monday he was. He came by in the morning to talk about the arrangements for wiring his donation to our account.”

“Do you know how to get in touch with him?” Harriet asked.

“He’s staying at the motel downtown. At least that’s what he said.”

Carla came in from an interior hallway. She looked at the girl in the orange tunic.

“Thanks, Sadie,” she said and paused only briefly to say bye to Connie and Harriet before hustling out the door.

“We’d better get going, too,” Harriet said and followed Carla before the blond woman could ask the questions that were clearly occurring to her, judging by the look on her face.

“Thanks,” Connie said over her shoulder as they exited.

Carla was standing beside Connie’s car when they were all clear of the building.

“Nice save,” Harriet told Connie as they walked up to the car. She filled Carla in on the deception.

“I was worried when I saw you in the reception area,” Carla said. “Sadie told her boss that I wanted to consult the psychic Molly had gone to, and that she’d let me check her calendar.”

Harriet smiled.

“Good going. Will your friend be in trouble for helping you?”

Carla’s mouth curled up on one side.

“No, the office manager is her aunt. She gets away with murder.” She paused, and her face turned pink. “I didn’t mean…”

Connie patted her arm.

“We know what you mean. Now, did you find a name?”

“I did.” She held out a piece of paper with a name and number on it. Harriet looked at the paper then folded it and put it in her purse.

“If it’s okay with you, I’ll give her a call and see if she can meet with us tomorrow. Did you see anything else while you were in Molly’s office?”

“I wasn’t sure what might be important.” Carla pulled her smartphone from her pocket and tapped several buttons on its screen.

“I took pictures of her calendar on the computer and the paper appointment book on her desk.”

Harriet patted her on the back.

“Good going. You may have a future as a real detective.”

Connie looked back toward the office building.

“We should go. I don’t want that woman seeing we’re still here and coming out here to ask more questions.”

Harriet checked her phone as Scooter sniffed at every blade of grass along the side of her driveway. She realized she’d silenced it before she and Connie went into Molly’s office and had forgotten to wake it up when they left. Jorge had left a voice message. She pressed the speaker button then activated the message.

“I’m making tacos al pastor for your aunt tonight. There will be plenty for you to join us, and bring Blondie, if you want.” said the disembodied voice. “No need to call, just come around six.”

Harriet looked at the time. She could stitch for thirty minutes or so and still make it in plenty of time.

“Want to go see your friend Brownie?” she asked her dog. He looked up at her briefly and went back to sniffing.

She called Lauren, and they arranged to meet at her aunt’s house in an hour.

They arrived at Beth’s house at the same time.

“Are you sure your aunt is up for this party?” Lauren asked as they started for the front door.

“I called her before I left home, and she specifically said to bring our dogs. She said Brownie is going stir crazy having to stay home and wanted company of the canine variety.”

“I think we know who’s the one going stir crazy,” Lauren said and tapped on the door before opening it.

“How are you feeling,” Harriet asked when she’d unleashed her dog and put her purse in the front closet.

Beth was sitting in her leather recliner, her foot elevated.

Harriet removed her shoes without thinking. The chair sat on a large hand-braided wool rug her aunt had spent years making. Beth didn’t care if shoes touched her rug, but Harriet knew how much work had gone into the gathering, cutting and dying of all the wool coats that went into the rug and didn’t want to chance soiling it.

“I’m fine. I’ve been trying to tell everyone I’m fine. You don’t have to keep treating me like an invalid.”

“Until your doctor decides you’re good enough to start physical therapy, we’re going to make sure you follow his orders and keep your foot elevated and rest,” Harriet told her.

Aunt Beth pressed her lips together but didn’t say anything. Harriet guessed she’d lost this argument more than once in the last two days.

Jorge carried in a tray with an artfully arranged plate of meat, tortillas and vegetables and set it across Beth’s lap.

“I’m going to weigh a thousand pounds if you keep feeding me like this.” She smiled up at him.

“I trust you ladies can help yourselves in the kitchen,” he said without looking at them.

In the kitchen, Lauren handed Harriet an empty plate from a stack Jorge had set up on the counter and took one for herself.

“That Jorge’s a clever one.”

Harriet scooped meat onto her plate and picked two soft corn tortillas from a Styrofoam holder.

“You mean the way he lured us over here to entertain my aunt? I’m willing to do his bidding as long as he throws in a meal like this.”

They carried their loaded plates back to the living room and sat on the sofa.

“Eat your dinner, and then you can fill me in on what I’ve missed,” Beth instructed them.

“We haven’t learned much since we last saw you,” Harriet said when her plate was empty.

“Actually, we’ve learned a lot. It just isn’t very useful,” Lauren corrected.

“We met Sandra Price,” Harriet began. “Two things came of that. First, she was getting tired of Molly constantly reminding her of her loss. Second, there was a serial killer who was active in the area and specialized in small children. He was captured and subsequently died in jail. The police at the time told her that, while they had no physical evidence in Amber’s case, she fit the profile of the three other victims.”

Beth straightened in her chair.

“That’s interesting. It doesn’t tell us anything about Molly’s death, but it’s curious she didn’t tell us about it. And she must have known, as often as she says she checked in with the police.”

“If we assume the police were right, that gets us back to Josh Phillips as our prime suspect. We haven’t confirmed his whereabouts, but it’s looking possible he’s still in town,” Harriet said.

Lauren set her plate on the coffee table.

“Not so fast there, pardner. There’s another suspect. That guy Molly helped put in jail when she first got out of college. He was tried as an adult in an underage prostitution operation run by his older brother. He was let out of jail two months ago.”

“Where does he live?” Harriet asked.

“Near Seattle.”

Beth looked at Lauren, then Harriet.

“I think you need to go check him out. I mean, you don’t need to meet him in a dark alley—after all, he might be dangerous; but maybe you could go see where he works and find out if anyone saw him on Monday evening. Or can you find that out on the computer? And also, can you find out if he’s on some sort of post-jail supervision?”

“I think when his conviction was overturned, he was set free. This wasn’t one of those ‘we reserve the right to retry him’ situations. If I understand what I read, he shouldn’t have been put in an adult jail, but he was while awaiting trial and, while there, was assaulted by adult inmates. After several years of litigation, they concluded he shouldn’t have been tried at all. He was a victim of his brother, not an accomplice.”

“That’s terrible,” Beth said. “That’s all the more reason for him to be angry with Molly, if she was instrumental in putting him in prison in the first place.”

“I read the court findings, and I think Molly might have been the one who testified that he was a pimp. However, it turned out his brother used him as bait against his will. The brother had assumed custody of him when his mom went to jail on drug charges,” Lauren said. “And I know already he works for the Archdiocese of Seattle—their main office is the employer listed. That means he could actually be anywhere in the western part of the state. And we don’t know what his role is. He could be a janitor or a gardener or anything else. I’m guessing they have some sort of jobs program for people who need a little help rejoining the work force.”

“All the more reason to go look,” Beth said. “And I mean
look
. Not speak to, not meet with, just ask for him at headquarters and see what you can find out and see if you can lay eyes on him. We can decide what to do from there, depending on what you find out.”

“Couldn’t they do that by phone?” Jorge asked. “You know if these two go to Seattle, they aren’t going to just look.”

Harriet and Lauren stared at each other. He was right. If they went that far, they weren’t coming home until they’d spoken to DeShaun Smith. Harriet wasn’t going to say that in front of her aunt, though, and she was pretty sure Lauren wouldn’t, either.

Aunt Beth ignored his warning, and Harriet wondered why her aunt was mixing her message. She had to know they were going to interview the guy.

“They could, but I’m thinking Molly wasn’t a petite girl. If this Mr. Smith is a smaller man, he would drop down the suspect list.”

“I’ve got to finish the second quilt before I go anywhere,” Harriet said.

Aunt Beth leaned back in her chair as Jorge took her tray back to the kitchen.

“What else?”

Harriet took Lauren’s plate and stacked it with hers.

“Carla is working on the psychic angle. Molly seems to have gone to more than one. The first was a bust, but she’s got another name, and I was going to go with her to that one.”

“Are you taking over a task you gave to Carla?” Beth asked.

Harriet blushed at the rebuke.

“I am, but hear me out. The first one she went to was clearly a fake. Carla could see that, but if the next fake is a little more subtle, she might fool her. I was thinking if two of us went, we might be able to get a better idea if we’re dealing with the real deal.”

“If there is such a thing,” Lauren muttered.

Harriet turned to her.

“Let’s not forget that someone Molly talked to caused her to at least think she’d remembered what happened.”

“How about the new boyfriend?” Beth interrupted.

“Jenny is checking on him,” Harriet looked at Lauren. “Have you heard anything?”

Lauren shook her head.

“Since I’m still grounded for another couple of days, why don’t you let me sew the binding on the first quilt? I know the group was going to work on it tomorrow, but you all have a lot of other things you could be doing. The group can work on the second one. Didn’t you say you’re almost done with it?”