Disappearing Nine Patch (A Harriet Truman/Loose Threads Mystery Book 9) (23 page)

“Do we know the name of the office manager?” Harriet asked Lauren as they pulled in to The Carey Bates Organization. This time there were no other cars in the parking lot.

“No, we don’t, but I’m sure Mr. Google can tell us.”

Harriet pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped the organization name into the search engine.

“The office manager is one Nancy Finley. I think she was the one in the gray linen suit when we were here before. Carla said her young friend’s name is Sadie. The only other name listed as staff is Patrice Orson.”

“I guess she was the one in the sari. I may be wrong, but from what you told me about your last visit, I think she’s the one we want to talk to. We can ask the manager, but she might not be inclined to talk about a situation that could end up in court.”

“I agree. What if you ask her about Molly’s files on Amber Price’s disappearance? Tell her you just want to read them. And it isn’t a lie. I do want to know what Molly had, just in case she made any notes about her psychic visit and what it was that triggered her memory. It’s probably too much to hope that she actually documented her recovered memory.

“Anyway, I’m hoping Nancy’ll take you to her office or to the space Molly was using. I’ll hang around in the waiting area and see if I can get Patrice talking.”

Harriet accepted a cup of coffee from Patrice as she sat in an overstuffed chair that had seen better days in the reception area. She was amazed at how easily Lauren had convinced Nancy of her need to read Molly’s file on Amber.

“Can I get you anything else?” Patrice asked her.

Harriet shook her head.

“I can’t believe Molly’s gone.”

Patrice slid into the mismatched chair opposite her.

“I can’t, either. We’ve been having trouble concentrating on work, knowing her killer is still out there. I mean, what if it was retaliation for one of the cases she worked on? Everyone knew she was helping us, and since we joined her, we not only brought four kids home but we also were instrumental in putting three people in jail. Each of them was a low-level operator in a bigger enterprise.”

“If they were low level, their bosses probably wouldn’t want to draw attention to themselves by seeking revenge. I wonder about her boyfriend. He came by the Methodist Church where we’re quilting. He’s a real piece of work.”

“That cute poet? I thought he seemed nice, in a dark and tortured sort of way.”

“Oh, no. I meant her
ex
-boyfriend. Josh Phillips. He was ranting about not wanting our quilt any more.”

“I’m sorry he pestered you like that. We do appreciate all the hard work you’re doing making those quilts.”

“Do you think he’ll follow through with his threat to withdraw his pledge?” Harriet tried to infuse her comment with concern.

Patrice’s laugh came out more like a bark.

“He can try, but Nancy’s a sharp one. Molly wasn’t here when he came in to donate, so she wrote the paper on his pledge. He signed a contract, and not only that, she made him write a check for half the amount on the spot.”

“That’s a relief. No matter what, you’ll have five thousand dollars.”

“We’ve been burned before. It’s a real problem when people pledge money to us, and we get grants that depend on matching funds, and the pledge falls through, dragging the grant money with it. Nancy consulted a lawyer to figure out how to protect against it. Now, she insists on an upfront partial payment and a binding contract, including a clause agreeing that they will pay the legal fees if we have to collect our money in court.”

“Wow, that sounds thorough.”

“Well, that’s our Nancy. Josh Phillips has no idea.”

“I need to get going. We’re hand-quilting that third quilt. Could you possibly check on my friend?”

“Sure, you finish your coffee, and I’ll see if I can shake her loose.”

She returned followed by Nancy and Lauren.

“I’m sorry we took your time without calling ahead,” Lauren told Nancy.

Nancy’s brows drew together.

“It’s no problem. Until someone figures out what happened to Molly, we find ourselves paralyzed. We don’t know if our efforts contributed to her murder. If so, we don’t know which of our cases were involved. The number of missing children in our area is staggering. On any given day, we’re actively following up on half a dozen local kids who are missing.

“Lately, because of Molly’s organization, we’ve been networking with more than a dozen other missing persons groups. Those groups have asked us to research an increasing number of missing people who were last seen in our general area. It could be any of them.”

Harriet stood up.

“So, how long have you been working with Molly?”

Nancy looked up and put her hand on the side of her face.

“Seems like a long time, but I guess, in reality, it’s only been a few months.” She looked at Patrice. “Do you remember when we started working with her?”

“It was right after Christmas. Remember? We were making our resolutions for the new year, and Molly came in and changed everything.”

“You’re right. It was six months ago.”

Lauren slid her tablet computer from her bag and tapped it awake before typing herself a note and then putting it back to sleep.

“If you’ll email a list of names of the external cases you’ve been working on,” she offered. “I’ll see what I can find out. I may have a few resources that are different from the ones you’ve already pursued.”

Nancy looked at her but didn’t say anything.

“Any help you can give us would be great“ Patrice said. “Even if you can just clear one or two names, that would allow us to return to work. As you might guess, we’ve told the police all this information, and they’ve been less than willing to share anything they know with us.”

“As I said, I’ll see what I can do. We have a little experience with the Foggy Point PD and their level of cooperation with interested lay people.”

Harriet started for the door, and then turned back.

“Speaking of the Foggy Point PD and their communication skills, did Molly have anything in her Amber file about the serial killer theory?”

Nancy gave her a blank look.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“We heard a man was arrested in Longview, Washington, in nineteen ninety-nine and successfully prosecuted for two child murders. One of them took place in ’eighty-five and the second one ten or twelve years later. It was commonly believed he’d killed more—those were just the ones they had enough evidence to prosecute. Amber Price fit his victim profile and the time frame.”

“Did Molly know that?” Nancy asked.

“Maybe, maybe not. You knew Molly. Would she have failed to make a record of information that didn’t fit her theory of what happened to Amber?”

“Never,” Patrice snapped. “Molly always encouraged us to follow the facts wherever they took us. One of our missing-child cases turned out to be a case of filicide. The grieving parents had killed their own child. We were giving the parents a lot of latitude, but Molly said to leave no stone unturned. She would never leave out that sort of information.”

“It’s possible Molly didn’t know,” Harriet said. “Amber was the victim, so it makes sense that her mother was told. The police might not have seen a reason to tell Molly’s family, and the family did leave town for a while. By the time Molly was doing her own investigation, things were tense with Amber’s parents. They felt Molly was harassing them, so they may not have told her anything.”

“We better get going,” Lauren said. “We’re going in circles and we’ve got a quilt waiting to be stitched.

Harriet reached out and shook hands with Nancy and then Patrice and Lauren did the same.

“I’ll let you know if I find anything,” Lauren told Nancy.

She guided her car out of the parking lot and was on the road back to the Methodist church before either of them spoke. Then, Harriet looked out the side window and sighed.

“I guess we’re not getting out of finishing Josh’s quilt.”

“Nancy is nothing, if not thorough,” Lauren agreed.

“If she’s right about Molly not knowing about the serial killer possibility, and if he really did kill Amber, we’re back to Molly being killed because of something she was currently working on.”

“If that’s the case, it’s not something we’re going to be able to figure out. I mean, if she connected our local missing children group with a dozen or so out-of-area cases, and she was working with who knows how many other groups like this one, there could be a lot of people who wanted to put her out of business, especially if she was starting to have some success. I could research on the computer full time and never get through all of them. And we both know I don’t have time to do this full time.”

“Some nebulous child-smuggling ring coming after Molly because she’s had a small amount of success in recovering missing children just doesn’t feel right to me. If it was a professional hit, why do it in Foggy Point? She would have been returning to Seattle in a few weeks, and there would be many more anonymous places to kill her and leave her body.”

“Good point.”

“Besides, I can’t imagine any professional criminal enterprise breaking into my house or messing with Aunt Beth’s car.”

“We still don’t know if those two—or three, really—crimes are connected.”

“Oh, come on, Lauren. You think someone randomly burgled my house and business and some unrelated person messed with my aunt?”

It was Lauren’s turn to sigh.

“You’re right. If I had to bet money, I’d go with they’re connected.”

“So, that leaves us with—what, now?”

“Now, we go stitch and put it in front of the group. Maybe one of the Threads will have an idea.”

Harriet and Lauren returned to their spots around the quilt frame and explained what they’d learned at the Center. Connie stopped stitching and stretched.

“So, what you’re telling us is we don’t have enough information to solve this one.”

Harriet looked at Lauren before answering.

“I got nothing,” Lauren told her.

“All we’ve established about Molly’s death is we have no idea. We’re not even very clear on what the motive is. Could be her work, could be her investigation of Amber’s death, including whatever it is she remembered. It would help if we knew whether she told anyone about remembering something.”

Mavis set her needle down and looked across the quilt at Harriet.

“Yet, here Beth sits with her wrapped-up foot and bum wrist, and you’re camping out at my house. I’d say we’ve whacked a hornet’s nest somewhere. We need to figure out which of the people you’ve talked to and eliminated should be put back on the list.”

Robin sighed.

“Good point. I just can’t see what we’ve missed.”

“Maybe we should give it a rest for a while,” Beth suggested. “We’re chasing our tails.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Detective Morse said as she came into the room. “I came by to let Harriet know she can have her house back, and to see if I could help stitch for an hour or so.”

“We can use any help we can get,” Connie told her.

Robin stood up.

“Here, you can have my spot, I’ve got to go pick kids up.”

Morse came around the frame to Robin’s place.

“Will my stab-stitching mess anyone up?” Most quilters make their quilt stitches by rocking the needle in and out of the fabric at an angle, loading several stitches on the needle before pulling it through the quilt sandwich. Stab stitchers make their stitches one at a time, putting the needle straight down into the fabric and then coming straight up a short distance away.

“As long as your stitches are uniform, we don’t care what technique you use,” Mavis answered her. “I brought several types of needles, if you want to use something different than what Robin left there.”

Morse got up and went to Mavis, selecting a shorter needle before returning to her place and starting to quilt.

“Before anyone asks, I haven’t heard anything about what happened at Harriet’s. The criminalists didn’t find anything immediately remarkable, but they have fingerprints to process and with that other shooting I told you about, it may be a few days.”

Mavis caught Harriet’s attention.

“I think you should continue staying at my house until this is sorted out.”