Quilt As You Go (8 page)

She nodded. “He was in our view, but with all the action, I can't say I was looking at him the whole time. I mainly noticed him because he didn't get up when the other dead soldiers did. I didn't see what happened to him."

"I'm going to talk to the local police as a precaution. They can investigate and see if they can find anyone who saw what happened. I'm declaring him dead and for now writing it up as unknown cause or causes. I'm afraid he's going to need a ride to the ME's office in King County when the forensic people are done taking their pictures."

The paramedic signaled his team members. One was in the back of their truck rustling supplies around, and the other leaned against the back of the vehicle, chewing on a piece of grass. He explained the situation and asked each one to stand guard on either side of Gerald's location until the police arrived.

"What happened?” Carlton asked when Harriet passed the stage on her way to the quilt booth. He and Bebe had hovered there while the police arrived and then the paramedics left.

She quickly explained about finding Gerald's body.

"Oh, my gosh,” Bebe said, covering her mouth with her hand. “How awful for Mavis."

"It's been quite a shock for her,” Harriet agreed.

"I'm glad I wasn't there,” Bebe said. “I've never seen a dead body before, and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Let's hope this is the closest you ever come,” Harriet said.

"What shall we do?” Carlton asked.

"For Mavis?"

Carlton nervously shuffled his feet. “I was thinking about our guests,” he said and nodded toward the tent encampments.

"I don't think we need to do anything with regard to them. As far as activities go, we only have the barbecue tonight and then the goodbye brunch tomorrow, and while it's a sad occasion for us locally, the death of Gerald Willis, even if it turns out it was the result of incidental contact with a participant's mount, really doesn't have anything to do with the re-enactment. We need to quietly help the police talk to the mounted re-enactors who were on the far edge of the field. Other than that, we kiss them goodbye and invite them back next year."

Carlton looked relieved. “Well, if you think that's best, we'll go with it. Since you have police experience, I think it would be best if you let the involved people know who needs to talk to them."

"Sure,” Harriet said, her shoulders sagging slightly. He hadn't done anything useful yet. Why did she expect it to be different now?

"Carlton, baby,” Bebe said. “My feet are just killing me. Can we go home now?"

He looked at Harriet.

"Sure, you kids run on home—you must be beat,” she said.

"See you at the brunch tomorrow,” Carlton said. Harriet's sarcasm was lost on him.

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Harriet waited until
after the barbecue was well under way and the caterer had assured her they wouldn't run out of food before she joined the small group at Aunt Beth's house.

"Hey,” Aunt Beth said as Harriet came in the front door. “We saved you some pizza."

She and Mavis were sitting on one side of the oak-topped kitchen table. Robin and DeAnn sat on the other side with Lauren at the end. Connie was in a wooden rocker by the window, her black-rimmed reading glasses on the end of her nose, her appliqué project lying idle in her lap.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm sure glad that's over with,” Harriet said and collapsed into the chair opposite Lauren, neatly avoiding the topic on everyone's mind.

"They made us wait until you got here,” Lauren said, and she wasn't talking about food.

"We didn't want Mavis to have to tell her story more than once,” Robin said.

"I've tried to tell you all—there's no story to tell. Gerald died almost twenty years ago in Malaysia. I received his ashes, and they're sitting on a shelf in my bedroom. How he came back to life only to die again during a Civil War re-enactment is beyond me."

"You don't need to talk about this right now,” Connie said. “Take some time to catch up with everything that's happened."

"I don't need time, I need answers,” Mavis said, some of her old fire showing at last. “I need to know what happened today, and I need to know what happened twenty years ago. And,” she said and paused, “I need to know who or what is in that urn in my bedroom. I don't
want
to talk about it—I
have
to talk about it."

"Okay,” Robin said. She pulled a yellow legal pad from the quilting bag hanging by the handles from the back of her chair. Aunt Beth got up and rustled the pens and pencils in the cup on her phone table by the back door. She selected two and tossed them onto the table in front of her.

Robin drew a vertical line down the middle of the page.
Now
she wrote on one side and
Then
she wrote on the other half.

"What do we know for sure?” she asked.

"Gerald's dead under now,” Harriet started.

"And Gerald's not dead under then,” Lauren added.

"Good point,” Harriet conceded.

"His disappearance was planned,” DeAnn offered. “We don't know if
he
planned it or someone else did, but the fact he ‘died’ the first time while he was in a foreign country can't be a coincidence."

Robin noted DeAnn's comments on the
Then
side of the page.

"Gerald didn't come forward when he returned to town,” Aunt Beth said from the working area of the kitchen. She pulled a pitcher of iced tea from the refrigerator. “Anyone want tea?"

Several raised their hands, and she began filling glasses.

"What sort of work did he do?” DeAnn asked.

"Yeah, and who did he do it for?” Robin asked.

"Well, he worked for Industrial Fiber Products,” Mavis said slowly. “Now it's called Foggy Point Fire Protection."

"Carlton Brewster's company?” Lauren asked.

"Yes, but Carlton's father was alive back then. He actually knew what he was doing,” she said with a wry smile.

"What was Gerald's position?” DeAnn asked again.

"I don't remember what his official title was, but he was a chemist. He figured out formulas for synthetic fibers that could be used in various types of protective gear,” Mavis said. “Just before he ... died, he developed the formula used for the fireman's turnouts."

"What did they make before that?” Robin asked.

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that. Carlton's daddy Marvin was a salesman at heart. He'd go out and sell a product before they'd even created it. Poor old Gerald would have to go to the lab and make it. Sometimes he could, sometimes he couldn't. More often than not, Gerald could make whatever Marvin thought up, but the company couldn't produce it for the price the customer wanted."

"What kind of things?” Lauren asked.

"Everything,” Mavis said. “You know those suits people wear in fencing competitions? They sense when a blade touches the fencer and record it as well as protect the person from blade strikes? And they made fireproof cocoons for forest fire fighters, and oven gloves for both house and barbecuing needs.” She paused and looked at the ceiling. “They made bulletproof vests, chainsaw chaps—you know, in case you drop the chainsaw, they keep you from cutting your leg off."

"I think they still make those,” DeAnn said.

"Do we know who invents new products now?” Harriet asked.

"I don't know.” Mavis said. “After Gerald died, I had nothing to do with the company."

"But you do get widow's benefits?” Robin asked. In addition to teaching yoga, she was a lawyer. She hadn't kept regular office hours since she'd given birth to her first child, but she kept her license current in case anything came up. It had come in handy recently when Lauren had run into trouble.

Mavis looked uncomfortable. “I do get a pension,” she said. “Do you think they'll want the money back, now that Gerald wasn't dead all that time?"

Robin pulled a small leather-bound notebook from her bag and wrote a few words before shutting it.

"I'll check on that,” she said.

"She didn't know he was alive!” Lauren said. “That's ridiculous."

Mavis glanced at her with a weak smile.

"Let's not get excited until Robin checks it out,” Aunt Beth said. “We don't need to borrow trouble."

Robin turned back to the list on the tablet. “Let's get back to what we know about now and what we know about then. Mavis, can you remember anything unusual about how your husband was acting before he left for Malaysia?"

Mavis sighed. “Harry and Ben were in high school, Pete was in college, James was in graduate school, and Gerry was working with his dad at the factory. I was working as a cook at the senior center to help pay tuition, and when I wasn't there, I was volunteering at the high school so I could keep an eye on Harry. He felt like he had a reputation to uphold. Even when his older brothers tried to explain most of what he was hearing about them was myth, Harry felt like he had to prove he was the worst of the lot."

"So, about Gerald,” Lauren prompted.

Aunt Beth put a quelling hand on her arm. “We don't have to do any more tonight,” she said. “Mavis has had quite a shock today. She needs some time to digest it."

Robin laid her pen down. “Beth is right. We don't need to do this tonight."

"I'm fine,” Mavis said. “That doesn't change the fact I can't remember what was going on with Gerald back then. I should have been more attentive. Don't think I haven't thought about that a thousand times in the last twenty years. I was just wrapped up with the boys and money and Gerald had to deal with his own stuff."

"Hey,” Harriet said. “No one is suggesting you should have done anything different. Even if you'd been hanging on his every word, he still would have gone to Malaysia, right? You weren't driving the car that hit him or whatever happened to him...” She trailed off. Wow, she thought.

She couldn't keep on top of the fact that Gerald hadn't died twenty years ago and she'd found his body today. She could only imagine how hard this was for Mavis.

"Enough,” Aunt Beth said in a firm voice. “I'm taking Mavis home now. You ladies can stay or go, but we're leaving."

She picked up Mavis's purse and held it while her friend stood up then handed it to her. Mavis was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a pink T-shirt Harriet recognized as belonging to her aunt. Mavis looked toward the bedroom where she had changed out of her costume. “We can deal with the costumes tomorrow,” Aunt Beth said.

Harriet's own costume was wadded up in the back seat of her car. She'd changed out of it in the restroom at Fogg Park. She assumed the others had done the same, as they were dressed in an assortment of jeans, capris and, of course, Robin in her yoga pants.

"We don't have much to work with,” Robin said as she studied the list.

"We need to do some digging,” Harriet said. “When Mavis can handle it, we need to see Gerald's death certificate."

"Good point,” Robin said. “Mavis would have been asked to produce it to change their bank accounts, insurance, mortgage and car registrations to her name only."

"And what about his life insurance?” DeAnn asked.

"Let's hope he didn't have any,” Robin said. “If she collected very much, they'll come after her for repayment."

"What a mess,” Harriet said.

"I'm going home,” Lauren announced and stood up. “I'm guessing that if he was smart enough to stay hidden for twenty years he probably was smart enough to change his name, but I'll search it anyway just in case.” She moved to the door.

"Let me know if you find anything,” Robin said, and Lauren waved an acknowledgment as she went out into the night.

"I've got to go, too,” DeAnn said. “I'm serving at the brunch tomorrow, and I need to get my beauty rest."

"Me, too,” Robin said. “I'll call if I hear anything from Lauren. Will you call me if you turn up anything else?” She looked intently at Harriet.

"Sure,” Harriet replied.

Connie got up when Robin was gone and started picking up the napkins and tea glasses and loading Aunt Beth's dishwasher.

"Dios mio,” she said. “What are we going to do?"

"I hate to say it, but I think Lauren had the best idea. We need to see if we can find out where Gerald's been all this time. She's right, he probably changed his name, but maybe he kept his Social Security number. We need to find out from Mavis if they had friends who might have helped him—you know, in other countries or something."

"Friends who would lie to Mavis?” Connie asked. “What kind of friends are those?"

"Kind of like the friends who knew my husband had a terminal genetic disease and didn't think I needed to know."

"Now, mija,” Connie said and put her arm around Harriet's shoulders. “Let's not go there."

"You're right, this isn't about me. But we do need to think about who Gerald would have turned to if he was in trouble. And I hate to even think about it, but someone needs to talk to Carlton."

"Good idea,” Connie said, “at least in theory. We have to hope he paid more attention to his surroundings before Bebe came along, though."

They finished tidying the kitchen and left, locking the door behind them.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Word of Gerald's
death had spread among the re-enactors overnight. At the final brunch, Harriet paced behind the buffet tables while Connie dispensed warm cinnamon rolls from a large metal pan.

Harriet could see the Confederate Quilter's Club working their way through the line.

"Is it true the police think one of the horses pushed that man into a tree stump and killed him?” Inez asked Harriet when she'd reached the cinnamon rolls. Connie selected a large bun and put it on her plate.

"That was a suggestion made by one of the attending paramedics. Someone either overheard, or he repeated it,” Harriet said. “I don't think they have any idea what happened."

"You have my contact information,” Sharon said. “Could you let us know when they determine what happened? If a horse was involved, we'll need to look at what further safety procedures we can implement."

"We'll let you know, but I'll be surprised if it turns out a horse had anything to do with Mr. Willis's death."