Quilt As Desired (16 page)

They were still arguing when the studio doorbell rang.

"Are you expecting company?” Aiden asked.

"Not that I know of.” She got up and went to the studio, Randy close on her heels. She opened the door. Sarah Ness walked in without waiting to be asked.

"Hi, Harriet. I hope it's okay that I came this early. I knew you'd be up since you're going to Avanell's at nine. I made a quilt for my sister's birthday and need you to stitch it for me by Monday."

"You do know it's Sunday, right? And you know I'm going to be at Avanell's all day."

"It's not that hard.” Sarah said. “My sister's birthday is Wednesday."

"I can have it for you by the end of the day on Monday, but it'll cost you."

"I don't remember asking for a discount."

"Give it to me,” Harriet said.

"It's in the car, I'll go get it."

"Who's here?” Aiden asked as he came into the studio.

"Be careful,” Harriet said. “There are probably still pins on the floor, and believe me, you don't want to step on one in your bare feet."

"Dr. Jalbert,” Sarah said. “What are you doing here? Is there a problem?"

"Miss Ness,” he said with a smile. “We're just fine here, thanks for asking."

Sarah stiffened. She looked from Aiden to Harriet and back again.

"I'll be back Monday at four,” she said and turned on her heel and left.

Aiden grinned.

"You're not helping things, you know,” Harriet said. “She's a customer. According to Aunt Beth, a very good customer."

"She needs to know how things are, and the sooner she does the better for all of us."

"And just exactly how are things? Never mind, forget I asked."

"I know how things aren't, and she's my customer, too. Or at least her cat is, and the sooner she understands what isn't going to happen the better off we'll all be."

Harriet opened her mouth to speak.

"Stop right there. I don't want to hear about how she's my age and all."

"How do you know what I was going to say?"

He raised his eyebrow and stared at her.

"Okay, so maybe I was going to mention age,” she admitted. “She
is
closer to your age, you know."

"Yeah, and she's a self-centered neurotic. Is being my age supposed to make up for that?"

"No, and it's none of my business, anyway. I need to go to your mom's house."

"Want to go with me and Randy?"

"I think not. Besides, I'm picking up Mavis."

They went back into the kitchen. Fred was eating his kibbles and keeping a wary eye on Randy, who sat under the kitchen table watching his every move.

Aiden gathered Randy up and left. Harriet went upstairs, brushed her teeth and then left to pick up Mavis.

"Did you get some rest?” Mavis asked as she got into the car. She was wearing faded pull-on jeans and a purple sweatshirt with three squirrels painted on the front.

"I rented a couple of movies. I discovered DeAnn worked at the video store."

"Welcome to small-town America. I can tell you, I didn't make it very late last night. I ate a frozen dinner, watched one TV program and went to bed."

"The stash dispersal has to be more draining for those of you who knew Avanell well."

"That it is. I can remember when she bought most of those fabrics. I bought many of them myself. Every one of them is a memory of times we've lost.” Mavis looked down at her lap. “I'm sorry,” she said after a few minutes. “I didn't mean to be so maudlin."

"Hey, don't apologize for missing a good friend.” Harriet wondered what it was like to know someone that many years.

They rode in silence for the rest of the trip. Harriet pulled into the driveway, let Mavis out then parked in front of the large detached garage that had probably once been a carriage house. She got out and was about to walk around the house to the front door when the back door opened.

"Hey, toots, want me to show you a shortcut?” Aiden called. Randy ran out between his feet and started dancing around her.

"How can I refuse such an offer?” she said and followed him into the house.

He led her across an enclosed porch and into a butler's pantry. A narrow hallway led to a breakfast room, which in turn led to a large formal dining room.

She was in the room before she realized there were people seated at the table eating breakfast.

"I'm sorry,” she said to Michelle and a man she recognized as Marcel. “I didn't realize anyone was in here."

"It's an easy mistake to make,” Michelle said “Why would you expect there to be people eating in their own dining room in the morning?"

"Ignore her,” Aiden said, and started for the door on the wall opposite the one they had entered through.

"Harriet?” Marcel said. “Is that you? I'd heard you were living in California."

"I was, but I've decided to move back here,” she told him with more conviction than she felt.

"You couldn't pay me enough to come back here to live."

"Doesn't seem like that's going to be a problem,” Michelle said.

"I better go join the other quilters. I can find my way from here,” she said to Aiden. “It's nice to see you again, Marcel. I'm just sorry it has to be under such sad circumstances."

"Yeah, right."

She climbed the stairs to the second floor. Jenny and DeAnn must have arrived while she was in the dining room. They were bent over a box of calico print fabric across the room when she stepped onto the landing.

"I'll go get some boxes while I'm up,” she said.

She climbed the stairs to the third floor. She couldn't resist going into Avanell's tower office. A layer of mist covered both land and water in all directions out the window; the house was above the fog line. Soft lamplight from Foggy Point shops and streetlights glowed yellow through the fluff that covered the downtown.

She dragged herself away from the view. She glanced at Avanell's desk. The stacks of papers were gone. She pulled the drawers open and looked inside, but they were all empty. Someone had cleared the desk out since last night.

She made three trips carrying boxes before she sat down with the other women to sort fabric. Her job was to fold batiks. Avanell didn't always keep her own hand-dyed fabric apart from the rest of her stash, so it was sometimes hard to tell which ones were hand-dyed and which were commercial batiks.

She'd been at it for about an hour when her cell phone rang.

"Hello,” she said. “Yes, I'm Harriet."

"Good morning, ladies,” a voice boomed from the landing. Harriet covered her free ear and stepped into the hallway in order to hear her caller. She saw Avanell's brother Bertrand come into the parlor with a plate of doughnuts.

"I brought you some doughnuts to have with your tea,” he said. “I do appreciate what you're doing here."

Harriet finished her phone call and rejoined the group.

"That was weird,” she said to no one in particular.

"Is there a problem?” Bertrand asked.

"I'm not sure. That was the woman in charge of hanging the quilts at the Puget Sound Quilt Show. She was informed of Avanell's passing, and it raised the question of whether her quilt still qualified to be hung in the group category or not. Technically, the quilt is now being shown by an owner, not a maker, and that's a different category.

"She realizes this is a rather unusual circumstance and said she'll get back to me as soon as she can get the board of governors together to make a decision."

"That's ridiculous,” Bertrand said, a faint hint of his French accent apparent for the first time.

"Well, I'm sure they'll sort it out. According to Aunt Beth, Avanell has won the grand prize for quite a few years running. That has to count for something."

"I'll leave you girls to your work, then,” he said, and turned with a flourish and went down the stairs.

"I'll bet he was a real Cassanova in his day,” DeAnn commented.

"In his own mind, anyway,” Jenny said. “He was in grade school when his parents moved here from France, but he always tried to impress the girls with his European heritage."

"Did it work?"

"Not really. He married a mousy little girl who was two years below him in school. Does anyone have a pile started for metallic overlays?” she said, effectively ending the topic.

Harriet went upstairs for another box; and while she was gone, Connie arrived. The shorter woman pulled her into a hug when she came back downstairs.

"How are you doing today?” she asked.

"I'm good.” Harriet pulled awkwardly away.

Connie set her carafe down on the table.

"Anyone want tea?” she asked. “It's peppermint today."

Harriet held up her empty cup and allowed Connie to fill it with hot liquid.

"So, has anyone heard anything about Avanell's case,” Connie asked after she'd gotten settled in her spot at the table.

"Shh, not so loud,” Jenny said. “The whole family is downstairs."

"I'm sure they want to know as much as we do,” Connie countered.

"Darcy came in for a movie last night, but if she knows anything more she's not saying,” DeAnn offered. “She said the sheriff is still working on the premise it was a robbery gone wrong."

"He knows better than that,” Mavis protested. “When have we ever had a robbery where they killed someone? That may happen in the city, but not in Foggy Point, Washington."

"That's what I say,” Connie agreed.

"If not robbery, then what?” asked Harriet.

"I'm not sure,” Jenny said. “But I for one don't believe that your break-in and Avanell's death happening on the same night was just a coincidence."

"But who would want Avanell dead?” Harriet persisted. She looked into the serious faces of her aunt's friends.

"On TV they usually say it's the person who has the most to gain from the death."

"That's easy,” said Lauren.

"Who?” several others chorused.

"Aiden, of course."

"What does he have to gain from it?” Harriet asked.

"He inherits a big pile of money from his grandmother."

"What does that have to do with Avanell?” Jenny wanted to know.

"Grandma Binoche was a crazy old lady. And she hated Avanell. She had the room next to my grandma Oliver at the Muckleshoot River Assisted Living Center. She would come to my grandma's room when I came to visit. I don't think she had many visitors.

"Anyway, she told me the lengths she'd gone to so she could be sure Avanell would not benefit in any way from her death. She left her estate to Aiden, but it's held in trust until Avanell's death. So he not only inherits whatever Avanell left him, but he also gets whatever Grandma Binoche left, and from the way she talked, it wasn't a small amount, either."

"That's it?” Harriet said. “That's the evidence you have against Aiden? What about Michelle?"

"That, and the fact that he lives by himself and has no alibi,” DeAnn added. “Michelle didn't come to town until Thursday afternoon."

"Darcy did mention that no one related to Avanell had an ironclad alibi. She heard the beat officers complaining because it was more work for them trying to find people who had chanced to see them, since they did pretty much nothing all night."

"That sounds pretty thin,” Mavis scoffed. “And besides, Aiden has a skill that will earn him a good salary once he gets established. He wouldn't kill his momma for money."

"You never know what motivates people, though. Money does funny things to folks,” Jenny said.

No one spoke after that. She was right—money did do funny things to people.

"Does anyone care if I take some of the thirties reproduction prints for one of the girls in Marjorie's Thursday night group?” Harriet asked, referring to a group of pastel fabrics printed with images that had been popular in the 1930s. She looked around the table.

"I think that would be fine,” Jenny said. Connie nodded agreement.

"Let's put these stacks back in the boxes and label them. Harriet and I can take the Goodwill boxes and the ones that go to Foggy Point Assisted Living Center. Connie, could you take the box for the Friends of Seasonal Workers?” Mavis asked.

Connie nodded again.

"I can take the charity boxes that go to Marjorie's. I'll put them in my car and then bring them to Pins and Needles on Tuesday, if that's okay with everyone,” offered DeAnn.

"That sounds great,” Jenny said. “If everyone takes some of the boxes with them, we'll only have the project bags to deal with."

"I vote we take the bags with us, too, and finish deciding about them at Loose Threads or Harriet's or somewhere that isn't here,” suggested Mavis.

"We can take them to my studio,” Harriet said.

With a plan in place, the women said their goodbyes and agreed to meet at Pins and Needles on Tuesday and carpool to Avanell's memorial service.

"I'm glad that's over,” Harriet said when she and Mavis were in the car and headed down the driveway.

"Me, too,” Mavis agreed. “I asked Michelle if she needed help going through Avanell's clothes. She's got the house on the market, so she may have to deal with it sooner than she thinks. She said she'd get back to me."

"It does seem kind of weird that she's got the house for sale before Avanell's even buried."

"Everyone grieves differently, honey. Some hang on to stuff and some can't get rid of it fast enough, almost like death is a disease you can catch."

"I think I'll go to the quilt show tomorrow morning,” Harriet decided. “It sounded like they took Avanell's quilt down. I'm not sure if they'll leave the spot blank while they decide what to do, or if they'll move one of our others. It could cost the group votes in the Most Popular category. I thought I'd rearrange the rest if they're going to keep Avanell's off display for very long. What do you think?"

"I think that's a good idea. You want some company?"

"Sure. I need to leave early, though. I have to stitch something for Sarah Ness tomorrow when I get back."

"I get up with the birds, so you just let me know when you want to leave and I'll be ready."

They agreed to meet at seven the next morning.

Harriet was tired after her poor night's sleep the night before, but she knew she'd rest better if she started Sarah's quilt. It took more than an hour to load. She knew Aunt Beth told quilters to leave a generous fabric border to allow for the natural take-up that occurs when lines of stitching are put into the fabric and batting layers, but Sarah had left a very minimal edge for her to work with. She ended up having to take the top off the machine and start over two times before she got it to line up with the backing. She resolved to charge Sarah for the extra set-up time.