The Quilt Before the Storm (20 page)

“You really know how to show a guy a good time,” Tom said when they had made their way to the studio door.

“I’m really sorry about all that.”

“Hey.” He put the tips of his fingers under her chin, turning her face toward him. “This isn’t your fault.”

“Sometimes I wonder,” she said. “I mean, Foggy Point was a peaceful place before I moved back. Now all of a sudden there’s a crime wave.”

“But you didn’t kill anyone. As near as I can tell, you didn’t even know these two victims until this week, which is when all the rest of us met them. You can’t possibly believe you have any connection to all of this.”

“No, I know I don’t. It’s just a weird coincidence, but I find it rather creepy.”

“I think you’re thinking about it too much,” Tom said and gently pressed his lips to hers. He pulled back and looked in her face. “You’re not alone here. None of this is your responsibility.”

He pulled her into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapped around her, his chin on the top of her head. She leaned her head on his shoulder. Without conscious thought, her arms went around his waist.

He smelled like freshly cut wood. She breathed deeply.

“You smell good,” she said in a husky voice.

Tom kissed her again, this time longer, deeper. Then, he pulled away, catching her hand in his and holding it.

“If I don’t leave now, I can’t be responsible for what might happen,” he said with a rueful grin. He brought her hand to his mouth, kissed it, and let it go. “See you tomorrow.”

He went out the door.

The ringing phone saved Harriet from having to explain the high color on her cheeks when she came back into the living room. She was pretty sure Lauren knew the score anyway.

It’s Detective Morse
, Lauren mouthed when she handed her the receiver, as if there were dozens of people calling during the storm.

“Oh, where to begin,” Harriet replied to Morse’s query how things were going. She decided to start at the action point and gave the detective a concise replay of the afternoon’s events.

“Where’s the body now?” Detective Morse asked.

“Still at the homeless camp. He’s in a sleeping bag but otherwise in the open.”

“You did the right thing, leaving him there,” Morse replied. “I’ll call the fire station and see if they can get paramedics to go pick him up. They’re trained in how to preserve evidence. If I can raise them, I’ll get them to pick Duane up, too.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

“No,” the detective said. “Staying safe is the best thing you can do. The Coast Guard thinks there might be a window between storms tomorrow that could let them fly us in by helicopter.”

“That would be great,” Harriet said.

They exchanged storm stories then rang off, with Morse promising to call again tomorrow.

Lauren had left the room while Harriet was talking to Morse. She returned a few moments later with a cookie in each hand.

“Here,” she said and handed one to Harriet. “Mavis cooked dinner, but I don’t think we get to eat until everyone else returns. Who knows when that will be?”

“I wish we knew how the other serial killer victims were killed,” Harriet said.

“I don’t. I don’t want to know anything about the serial killer. It’s none of our business.”

“If they were killed with electrical wire wrapped around their throats, it might explain Duane’s murder.”

“And make Owen and Kate killers.” Lauren handed a bite of cookie to Carter.

“Did you catch the bad blood between him and Richard?”

“You mean that stare-down when Jorge was handing out the food? Yeah, I noticed.”

“It doesn’t make sense. If Owen is the serial killer and he killed Richard, why didn’t he strangle him?” Harriet wondered. “And how on earth do they know each other?”

“Maybe he didn’t expect to run into Richard, who recognized him and therefore had to be killed. He saw an opportunity and took it.”

Harriet took a bite of her chocolate chip cookie and chewed thoughtfully.

“Owen’s truck was right there. He and Kate went back to it before Richard went missing. Why wouldn’t he get a length of the wire then?”

“You think the truck driver is the murderer?” Mavis asked

“I thought you were napping,” Lauren said.

“I couldn’t get to sleep. Curly kept squirming around trying to get under the quilt, and as soon as I let her under it, she was circling and digging until she worked her way out again. And then I was thinking about Marjory’s sister-in-law. I know she’s a difficult person, but no one deserves to have her husband killed like that. And then there’s that poor spoiled daughter.”

“I know,” Harriet said. “This is going to devastate both of them. They seemed pretty dependent.”

“Maybe they killed him,” Lauren suggested.

“Lauren,” Mavis scolded.

“What?”

“She has a point,” Harriet said. “Everyone is a suspect until we prove otherwise, and if they were as broke as Marjory thinks, and Richard had life insurance, he might be worth more to them dead.”

“I suppose there’s no doubt it was murder,” Mavis said. “Is there any chance he had an accident? Or even did himself in?”

“Tom said he’d been hit in the head,” Harriet reminded her. “I suppose it’s possible he could have fallen on something, but he was in Brandy’s bed.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Mavis said. “At this point, anything’s possible.”

“I’m going to get my stitching,” Lauren said and stood up. “We might as well do something useful—we’re getting nowhere as crime solvers.”

Harriet followed her to the studio where they’d both stored their projects.

Lauren and Harriet were sitting in front of the fireplace, the candelabrum and two oil lamps arranged around them providing a warm light. Lauren was cutting more leaves for her appliquéd wreathes from a piece of hand-dyed green fabric. Harriet was using scissors to cut small flannel squares from the scraps left over from the rag quilts they’d made. Mavis was rattling pots in the kitchen.

“Okay, I give,” Lauren said after watching Harriet closely for a few minutes. “What on earth are you doing?”

“I’m doing an experiment. One of my customers showed me pictures she’d taken at the Quilt Festival in Houston. They had a category for doll beds with doll quilts.”

Lauren stopped working and stared at her.

“You know, with all that ‘poor me, I went to boarding school’ business you’re always making us listen to, I never pegged you for the doll type.”

“Who said anything about dolls,” Harriet said. “And I’ve hardly mentioned boarding school at all.”

“Yeah, but it’s the excuse your aunt uses every time she’s trying to explain away your bad behavior.”

Harriet took a deep breath. She was determined not to let Lauren bait her into an argument.

“I’m seeing if I can make a miniature rag quilt from the leftover scraps from the homeless quilts. Before his sister came to town, Aiden was going to let me look at the toys in the attic at his place. He said he thought there was some doll furniture his mother had brought with her from France.”

“Good luck with that. That shark that passes for a sister has probably sold off anything of interest or value.”

“I wish Carla would call with an update. I’d like to know what kind of head game Michelle is playing on him.”

“She’ll call. I’m sure she’s waiting for an opportunity when they won’t notice, which means when Michelle is unconscious because that one doesn’t miss much.”

“You’re probably right,” Harriet said.

“Could you say that again?” Lauren prompted. “‘Lauren was right about something.’ Say it.”

“Don’t press your luck,” Harriet said, smiling in spite of herself.

Carter barked and licked Lauren in the face.

“I think that’s his signal for me to carry him into the other room to see who drove into the driveway,” she said and stood up.

Harriet set her flannel and scissors down on the table.

“I’ll come with you. It has to be Jorge and Aunt Beth.”

Instead, Connie and Rod stood on the porch outside the studio when she opened the door.

“Your aunt and Jorge will be along in a few minutes,” Connie said. “They just got Reverend Hafer to take over with Pat and Lisa at the shelter. We found a nurse to take care of Ronald. He had another episode where his face suddenly turned bright red and he started sweating.”

“Did he take his medicine?” Harriet asked.

“He did,” Rod answered. “Little white pill?”

“Yeah, that’s what he took after we found Duane when he almost fainted on us.”

“Don’t just stand there,” Mavis called from the kitchen door she was holding open with one hand while the other held up a ceramic mug. “I’ve got coffee and tea.”

“That sounds good,” Connie said and led the way into the kitchen. Rod came over and petted the still-barking Carter, eventually taking him from Lauren and holding him inside his down vest. Carter quivered with joy as Rod patted his little head and spoke to him in crooning tones.

“He’s a master with puppies and small children,” Connie said with affection.

“Get your drinks,” Mavis said. “We’re starving for information here. And I’ve got beef stew for everyone when Beth and Jorge get back.”

They didn’t have to wait long. Beth came into the kitchen before Connie had taken her place at the table with her coffee mug.

“Jorge is bringing some wood from the stack outside into the garage to dry before he comes in,” she said.

“Does he need help?” Rod asked.

“I don’t think so. He was only bringing in a couple of armloads. We’ve got three cars in the garage, so there’s not room to bring much in at any one time.”

They discussed the rain, the river and the few tidbits of storm-related gossip that had been learned from people at the church shelter until Jorge was inside and holding a hot cup of coffee.

“I’ve got beef stew here,” Mavis announced. “Grab a bowl and help yourself. There’s warm bread wrapped in foil in the pot at the back of the stove.”

“Let’s eat at the dining room table so we have a little room to spread out,” Harriet suggested. The antique dining room set could easily seat ten people and could accommodate twelve without much crowding, so it was definitely more comfortable.

“I’m sure you’re all anxious to hear how it went at the shelter,” Aunt Beth said when the initial feeding frenzy had passed. She proceeded to recite the events from the time she and Jorge told Pat and Lisa the sad news until they left them in Reverend Hafer’s capable hands. There didn’t seem to be any revelations that were useful in solving either of the murders.

“Do they have any idea who could have killed Richard?” Harriet asked.

“If they did, they weren’t telling us,” Aunt Beth said. “And we did ask.”

“More than once,” Jorge added. “According to them, Richard was a hardworking saint with no enemies.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Lauren commented.

“Before we report on Ronald, I’d like to say thank you for the wonderful stew,” Connie said. “It was a pleasant surprise on a cold, powerless day.”

“It’s an interesting combination of ingredients,” Jorge said. “Was that parsnips I tasted?”

“Yes, it was, along with Italian kale, turnips and a green pepper. I brought the fresh veggies from my house when I came over, and Beth did the same, so I used some of everything we had left,” Mavis explained.

“Well, it’s a very pleasing combination.”

“Now, about Ronald,” Connie went on. “We didn’t learn much from him, either. He says he put his earplugs in and crawled into his sleeping bag and didn’t hear a thing until he was awakened by us with the news about Richard.”

“He says he’d never seen the man before coming to Foggy Point,” Rod added.

“That doesn’t help us much,” Lauren said.

“And probably isn’t true, either,” said Harriet.

“What isn’t true?” Lauren shot back.

“I’m not sure, but I can’t believe they’re all that innocent. We all know Richard wasn’t a prince. And if Ronald was such a saint, what’s he doing living in a homeless camp?”

“Now, honey,” Mavis said. “We all know that simply having poor judgment where money is concerned doesn’t make a person a criminal.”

“We were talking earlier, and Harriet and I both noticed an exchange between Richard and Owen, the truck driver. There was definitely bad blood between that pair,” Lauren said.

“Ronald was worried about his safety,” Connie said. “He thinks the killer was targeting middle-aged men at the homeless camp and figured Richard was killed because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“That gets back to our ‘stranger in the woods’ theory,” Harriet said. “If it isn’t the truck driver then the only option left is some unknown person hiding in the woods.”

“That conclusion assumes we’ve eliminated all the women,” Aunt Beth pointed out. “Joyce, Brandy, Kate and, for that matter, Pat and Lisa, were all there at the critical time.”

“Kate was with us,” Harriet reminded her. “We were in the parking lot when Richard was killed.”

“Joyce was cleaning up the common area,” Beth conceded. “Anyway, she’s so small I have a hard time seeing her kill a guy as big as Richard. But she
was
out of our sight, so she has to remain a suspect.”