The Quilt Before the Storm (29 page)

“Harriet, can you bring one of your folding tables from the studio and set it up in the dining room?” Aunt Beth asked. “Move the main table toward the window and you’ll have space.”

“Sure, I’d be happy to help.” Lauren raised her eyebrows and grinned. “You know you were going to ask me anyway.”

Ronald and Joyce were sitting in the dining room when Harriet backed in carrying her end of the table.

“What’s this I hear about Duane giving Brandy money?” Ronald asked in a hushed tone.

Harriet cleared her throat loudly. He jumped up,

“Here, let me help you with that.” He took her end of the table. “We really appreciate you inviting us to your home,” he added as he unfolded the table legs and locked them into position.

More people arrived, and Harriet and Aunt Beth directed the setup while Jorge and Mavis cooked.

“I think we’re ready to eat,” Jorge said finally, and Harriet carried the announcement to the living room, studio and front entry, encouraging people to assemble in the dining room.

“Where’s Brandy?” Joyce asked, her brow furrowed.

“Surely, she’s not still in the bathtub,” Connie said.

“I’ll go check,” Harriet said and went to the garage to get Brandy’s clothes from the dryer. She headed upstairs but found the bathroom door open and the light off. The used towels were neatly folded on the edge of the tub.

A quick door-to-door check turned up Brandy—asleep on Harriet’s bed. Her hair was splayed on the pillow, the robe demurely covering all but her hands and feet. She looked so innocent and peaceful, Harriet decided to let her be. She set the clean clothes on the end of the bed.

“Brandy decided to take a nap in lieu of dinner,” she reported when she rejoined the group.

“Is she okay?” Joyce asked.

“She looks fine,” Harriet said. “She’s just sleeping.”

“This is delicious,” Tom said. “My compliments to the chef.”

Everyone raised their glass and clinked it with whomever they could reach. People ate and drank and made idle conversation until the main dinner was through.

“The pies aren’t quite cool enough,” Mavis announced. “Perhaps we can have coffee and tea, and I’ll put them in the garage to cool.”

Harriet lingered in the kitchen, loading the dishwasher and putting food in the refrigerator. Lauren and Tom drifted in to help.

“I’m sorry,” Lauren said as she set Carter on the floor next to the heater vent. “I couldn’t stomach Pat playing the grieving widow any longer.”

“I’m sure she
is
grieving,” Harriet said. “Just because she was awful to her sister doesn’t mean she didn’t love her jerk of a husband.”

“Whoa, when did you decide Richard was a jerk?” Lauren asked. “He
was
a jerk, but you’re usually the last one to call a spade a spade.”

“When Kate and Owen told me they were actually homeless. The truck they’re driving belongs to a relative. They lost everything in a Ponzi scheme, and Richard was the guy who sucked them into it.”

“Don’t you think that’s something I need to know about,” Detective Morse said. No one had heard her come into the kitchen.

“I haven’t had a chance to say anything about it to anyone until now.” Harriet said. “And might I point out that our cell phones still don’t work? In point of fact, I was asked not to share that information, and I told Owen and Kate I couldn’t promise that.”

“Where are they, anyway?” Lauren asked.

“They said they just wanted to get out of town. I suppose they’re parked somewhere near the slide. They swore they had nothing to do with Richard’s death. And they didn’t really want to cross paths with Pat and Lisa.”

“At least they’re telling the same story,” Tom said. “They all agree Richard was a con man.”

“That doesn’t help us figure out if Owen killed Richard,” Detective Morse said. “It just corroborates the fact they had good reason to kill him.”

“You’re welcome to spend the night again, if you want,” Harriet told her.

“I may take you up on that,” Jane said. “Let’s see how long everyone else stays. I better go mingle some more, see what else someone might have forgotten to tell me.”

She turned and left the kitchen.

“Hey,” Lauren said, “I’ve got three bars of power on my phone.”

“I’m going to go check on Brandy,” Harriet said when she had the dishwasher as full as possible.

Brandy was no longer on Harriet’s bed. The robe was puddled on the floor, and her fingerless gloves lay on the rumpled bed. Harriet noticed the list of numbers she’d copied from Duane’s phone sitting on her nightstand. She picked it up along with the phone charger and took them downstairs.

“I guess she got up,” Harriet said. “She must have come down when we were in the dining room.”

“That’s weird,” Lauren said. “How could she have gotten past us?”

“There are fifteen or twenty people here,” Tom said. “And cleaned up she probably doesn’t look the same.”

“Whatever,” Lauren said.

“I’ll go back out and find her in a minute,” Harriet said. “But now that we have phone service again, I want to try some of these numbers I copied off of Duane’s phone. They looked like phone numbers, let’s see if they are.”

She plugged her cell phone into the outlet by the kitchen table then dialed the first set of numbers. An answering machine picked up, but it only identified that she’d reached the number she’d dialed.

“It’s a telephone number, anyway,” she said and began dialing the next one. She pressed the speaker button on her phone.

“You have some nerve calling here,” shouted a man’s voice when the signal connected. “If I find you before the police do, you’re a dead man.”

Harriet tried to interrupt, but the connection went dead.

“You need to tell Detective Morse,” Tom said.

“I gave her the phone almost as soon as I found it. They’ve probably already called all these numbers and his contacts with their sat-phone.”

“Try the next one,” Lauren said. “Someone semi-normal is bound to answer one of these.”

The next number had a “no longer in service” message.

“Okay, one more, and then I’m going to go look for Brandy.”

She dialed, and the sound of the ring was echoed from somewhere in the kitchen. She flipped off the speakerphone, and there was no doubt—a phone was ringing in the kitchen.

Tom and Lauren went for Ronald’s coat at the same time. Lauren got there first, pulling a ringing cell phone from the side pocket. She looked at the screen and confirmed that, indeed, it was Harriet’s phone that was calling Ronald.

“So much for Ronald’s claim that he’d never met Duane before.” Harriet said. “I don’t know what this list is, but Ronald’s on it, which has to mean they knew each other before they started living in the homeless camp.”

“Or maybe they charged their phones when they went to town and exchanged contact information,” Lauren said.

“I’m with Harriet,” Tom said. “Why would they pay a cell phone bill if they couldn’t afford a roof over their head?”

“Yeah, I always thought that whole fancy-tent routine was a little suspicious, too.” Lauren said.

“Let’s go find Ronald and ask him,” Harriet suggested.

She got up and went into the dining room, followed by Tom and Lauren. Ronald was nowhere in evidence. Tom checked the living room while Lauren went to the studio.

“I didn’t see him anywhere,” Lauren said. “And ditto for Brandy.”

Tom approached them and spoke quietly.

“Neither one of them is in the living room, but Connie’s husband said he heard Ronald asking Joyce about Brandy’s insistence that Duane had money hidden in the forest. He said Ronald left the room shortly after that.”

“You don’t suppose Ronald took Brandy to look for the money, do you?” Harriet asked.

“Considering how long a walk it would be, I’d say that’s a no,” Lauren said.

“We need to tell Morse,” Harriet said.

“Tell me what?” Morse said. “Do you have more information you’ve failed to report?”

“No, we just noticed that Brandy and Ronald are both missing,” Harriet told her.

“Yeah, right after someone heard Ronald asking Joyce about the hidden money Brandy keeps saying Duane had,” Lauren added.

“Hidden money? What hidden money?”

“We don’t know if there
is
any hidden money, but Brandy insisted Duane gave her money from a stash he had hidden,” Harriet explained. “And Joyce did say Brandy tends to wander in the woods.”

“They don’t have a car,” Tom said.

“But they are both missing,” Harriet countered.

“I can go check in the park, but it’s a big place,” Morse said and pulled out her phone. “I’ll see if any other officers can help.”

She dialed, spoke briefly then dialed another number, repeating the story.

“The patrol officers are dealing with an injury accident downtown,” she said.

“Do you want us to go with you?” Harriet asked.

“No, you stay here with your guests. If Brandy and Ronald are on foot, I should catch up to them pretty quickly.”

“Okay,” Harriet said. “You have my number, and our cell phones are working again, so let us know when you find out anything.”

Detective Morse put on her all-weather coat, grabbed her purse and went out into the night. She came storming back in, moments later. She was talking on her cell phone as she entered the kitchen.

“They took my car!” she shouted. “My lousy fire station Jeep. Gone.” She threw her purse onto a kitchen chair, punched a button on her phone and shoved it into her pants pocket.

“I could drive you,” Harriet offered.

Morse raked her fingers through her hair as she paced across the kitchen. She stopped and stared at the ceiling, taking a deep breath then letting it out in a rush.

“Okay, but you don’t get out of the car,” she ordered. “This complicates things,” she said, more to herself than to Harriet. “They’ll make it to the park ahead of us. After that, it’s anyone’s guess where they go.”

“I got the impression Brandy usually went farther down the trail from the homeless camp.” Harriet said.

“Do you have any idea how many hundreds of acres of forest that park has?” Morse shot back.

“I guess not.” Harriet got her purse and keys and put on her jacket.

“I call shotgun,” Lauren said.

Morse rolled her eyes.

“I suppose you’re coming along, too,” she said and looked at Tom.

“Only if you want me to,” he replied.

“Good, you’re staying here,” Morse said. “Let’s go.”

Lauren grabbed her jacket and wallet.

“Take care of Carter,” she yelled back to Tom as she went into the garage.

“I might be able to narrow down our search area,” Harriet said as she backed out. She handed her phone to Lauren. “Call Aiden.”

Lauren keyed her way to Harriet’s favorites list and touched Aiden’s name on the screen. She handed the phone back.

“I need your help,” Harriet said when he answered. “You said you ran on every trail in Foggy Point when you were on the cross-country team in high school…Can you think of a particular trail in Fogg Park, near the homeless camp, that would lend itself to hiding cash?…I realize it’s not much to go on…Okay, we’ll see you there.”

“Please tell me he’s not joining us,” Detective Morse said.

“He said there’s a place that isn’t too far beyond the homeless camp. There was a student-run drug operation when he was in high school. They hid their inventory in a small cave off one of the trails. He said the group was broken up and the kids sent off to jail. He said it was easier to show us then to try to describe it.”

“Oh, great.” Morse sank lower into her seat.

“There’s the jeep,” Harriet said as she turned her car into Fogg Park. Aiden guided his vintage Bronco in right behind her.

“That was quick,” Lauren said.

“You two stay here,” Detective Morse said as Harriet and Lauren got out of the car.

“What’s going on?” Aiden said.

“Two of the homeless people disappeared, and we think the guy was forcing the girl to lead him to a stash of money that may or may not exist and was or wasn’t stashed in the woods by the homeless man who was killed during the storm,” Harriet said in a rush.

“What?”

“Let’s just go look for the people,” Detective Morse said.

Aiden started down the trail at a ground-eating pace; Morse struggled to keep up. Harriet and Lauren went to the common area of the camp.

“Do you think Ronald killed Duane?” Lauren asked her.

“I don’t know. It could just be that he wants Duane’s money—if there is money.”

“But they had some sort of connection,” Lauren argued.

“You’d think if they knew each other, Ronald would have known about the money.”

“I suppose Brandy could be messed up enough to have imagined it all,” Lauren mused.

“Let’s go check out Brandy’s space again,” Harriet said and pulled a small flashlight from her purse. “Who knows what else she has hidden in there.”

She led the way down the trail.

“What was that?” Lauren asked as they reached Brandy’s space.

“What was what?” Harriet asked.

“Shhh,” Lauren said.

The two women stopped, and Harriet strained to hear what Lauren was talking about.

“If I had a drink, I know I could find it,” Brandy said in her customary slur.