Tree of Life and Death (25 page)

Once the oohing and ahing over the tree had subsided, Gil called out for everyone's attention. "I promise not to keep you away from the refreshments much longer, but I have to thank everyone who worked on the ornaments for the tree."

There was a round of polite applause for the volunteers, and then Gil continued. "I also have a surprise announcement. You all know about the tragedy that occurred here a few weeks ago. It was a sad day for the town, the museum, and the quilting community. We can't undo what happened, and there's nothing that will take away the pain of that day for anyone who was involved. Still, I'm honored to announce that the Tree of Life quilt, made by Meg McLaughlin's mother, Sally McLaughlin, and subsequently preserved by Georgia Miller, has been donated to the museum."

A collective appreciative gasp filled the room.

"I know it will be difficult to look at the quilt without thinking of the tragedy surrounding it. But tragedy is part of life, part of art, and part of the discussion that a museum should enable. I, for one, am looking forward to that discussion and encourage you all to watch for an announcement that the quilt has been released by the police to our custody. Jayne Conners has offered to do the necessary restoration work on the quilt, and we all know how amazing her craftsmanship is. When she's done, we'll have a special exhibit inspired by the people who made and cherished the quilt."

Excited but solemn chatter erupted until Gil continued. "I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that you can be among the first to know of the exhibit if you find us on Facebook or follow us on Twitter."

Gil ended her announcements with a reminder that there were refreshments set up along the back wall of the lobby, and there was a rush for the buffet table, where I suspected Officer Fred Fields would be first in line. He was here today unofficially and not in uniform, although there was something about his personality that made his civilian clothes—dark-blue trousers with a pale-blue button-down shirt and a navy bomber jacket—look like a uniform.

Gil danced over to me in time with the background music. "I hope you don't mind that I didn't mention your involvement in solving Alan Miller's murder. You already know how grateful I am, and I didn't think it was the kind of publicity you wanted for your appraisal business."

"I don't know," I said in a teasing tone. "My schedule has been surprisingly full the last couple of weeks. Perhaps I should start advertising that I include a free murder investigation with every appraisal."

"It wouldn't be that much of a stretch, linking quilts with death," Gil said, surprisingly serious. "I don't know as much about textile history as you do, but I've read enough to know that many quilts were associated with death. They were made by or for people who were fighting a terminal illness or made to commemorate a death. I even read about one famous quilt where the center of it depicted a graveyard, complete with coffins labeled with deceased family members."

"I've seen pictures of that quilt," I said. "And it's not like the coffins were a way for a serial killer to keep track of her victims."

Gil laughed. "Are you sure? Perhaps the police missed it, just like they would have missed Meg's connection to Alan Miller if you hadn't gotten involved."

"Maybe after the holidays I'll look into it," I said. "The coffin quilt was from the early eighteen hundreds, so I don't have to worry about being threatened by the killer, if there was one."

Stefan, with Sunny beside him, interrupted to tell Gil that a potential new donor wanted to talk to her. Gil headed off to introduce herself to a white-haired man in black jeans with an expensive-looking jacket and tie.

"Thank you for…" Stefan glanced at Sunny. "For doing what you promised to do. I knew I could count on you."

Sunny gave Stefan a playful punch in the arm. "You don't have to be all mysterious about it. I know you were worried about me and asked Keely to watch out for me. You've got to stop being so protective of me."

"No, I don't," Stefan said with a big grin. He reached out and grabbed Sunny's left hand to display the antique diamond engagement ring on her finger. "This says I'm entitled to protect you just as much as you're entitled to protect me."

"Congratulations," I said.

"We're not actually getting married until next year," Sunny said. "It will take that long to get everything just right."

If anyone could arrange a perfect wedding, Sunny and Stefan could do it.

"We're keeping the celebration small, but you'll be on the guest list," Stefan said. "It's the least we can do after you helped keep Sunny out of jail."

Sunny reclaimed her hand. "You might not want to mention my going to jail too often or too loudly. People might get the wrong idea, and I am trying to run a small business here."

"No one would ever think you belonged in jail," Stefan said, completely ignoring the fact that he'd been afraid of just that when he'd begged me for help.

"Enough talk about jail," Sunny said. "Before Stef distracted me, I wanted to talk to you about participating in a new project at the quilt shop. We're working with the museum and the guild to make a reproduction of the Tree of Life quilt. We'll be raffling it off to raise funds for the museum. Don't worry—it will be clearly marked as a reproduction, right on the backing where it can't be removed by someone trying to pass it off as an antique. We thought you might want to help make it."

"I'm not much of a quilter," I said.

"You only need basic sewing skills," Sunny said. "Trudy has already volunteered to do all the really fussy work."

"Even so, I've been told I don't even know how to iron properly." I was tempted to ask if Jayne had agreed to help too, in which case I would prefer to stay far away. It was kind of her to offer to do the conservation work on the original Tree of Life, especially in light of her mentor's downfall. Someone else might have been a bit humbled by the experience—I'd heard that Jayne had quickly found someone else to serve as the source of the one true way to quilt and was still the same shrill, judgmental, and hypercritical person she'd been before. I definitely didn't need to be around that kind of stress.

The reproduction project was for a good cause though, and I doubted I'd ever get over my need to help people, even if I couldn't do it in a courtroom any longer. "How about if I help with choosing appropriate fabrics for the era, and I'll donate my time for an appraisal at the end to document it?"

Sunny turned to Stefan. "I told you she'd want to help."

"I know," he said. "I should have listened to you. You're always right. I'll try to remember that from now on."

"You can start by coming with me over to the buffet line." Sunny smiled and hooked her arm in his. "I told you the line would get too long if we came over to talk to Keely first, and look, it's longer than the tree is tall."

Stefan mumbled an apology as he let Sunny drag him toward the refreshments.

I was going to join them, except Matt appeared and offered me a mug of mulled cider. For once, he was wearing regular black wool pants and a button-down white shirt instead of his usual cargo pants paired with an oddly colored sport shirt.

Stefan had a valid point about Matt not living up to his potential most of the time, at least when it came to his appearance. He did clean up nicely. I had to wonder why he'd bothered though. Even if I was right that he was the new major donor for the museum, the one who had financed the local quilt registry for quilts with ties to Danger Cove, he wasn't the sort to brag about it. No, more likely Gil had probably convinced him to be here, looking like the online celebrity he was, knowing his presence would distract people from the recent tragic events.

"So," he said, "about that bank vault."

"What about it?" I still wasn't convinced he meant anything by his flirting. Sure, he'd been out of the country for the last twelve weeks, but with modern technology, that was no excuse for not contacting me. At a minimum, he could have sent a brief text from even the most remote areas of the world.

"So I'm still in the doghouse." He sipped his own mug of cider. "Maybe I can buy my way out with a tidbit of information you might find interesting about one of the people suspected of Alan's murder."

"And how would an arts reporter know anything about that?"

"A reporter never reveals his sources," Matt said. "It's about Jayne Conners. I bet you thought she was the killer. I certainly did."

"Just wishful thinking," I said. Jayne wasn't a bad person, so I was glad I'd never had a chance to confide my suspicions about her to Matt or anyone else. I'd told him about overhearing her give the police a false name, but not until after Meg was arrested, when we all knew Jayne hadn't killed anyone.

"Okay, tell me what you know about Jayne, and if it's good enough, we can talk about my bank vault."

"I know why she gave the cops a false name," he said. "She had an outstanding warrant, mostly for being stubborn, as only she can be. She'd ended up in a confrontation with a cop, claiming he was harassing her, because of course she never does anything wrong. She wasn't worried about her fingerprints leading to the warrant, because she figured that would take some time, and she could be taking care of the problem. She just wanted to buy herself some time for the police to find the killer before her name popped up in an outstanding warrant search."

"Okay, that's pretty good information," I conceded. "There's one more thing I need to know before I decide whether it's safe to let you into my vault."

"Sure, anything," Matt said. "If I don't have the answer, I'm sure I can get one. I am a reporter, after all."

"This won't require any investigation. I just want to know where you disappeared to after the quilt show."

"I didn't disappear. In fact, almost the exact opposite. Back before we met, I'd been negotiating with my old client, the travel website, to do a publicity tour that they could live stream." He gestured toward the case where the registry of Danger Cove quilts was stored. "One of the terms was that my fee had to be given to the museum, and for some reason that made it complicated. I got the call during the quilt show that they'd finally agreed to all my terms and wanted me on a plane that afternoon. Three months on the road, starting the next day. The events were live streamed, and snippets of them went viral. I figured you'd see me online and know where I was."

He couldn't have known that I avoided the internet as much as possible, since it was a known stress inducer. I tried to limit its use to reading my email and doing focused searches for information related to my appraisals, while carefully avoiding the chaos of advertising and newsfeeds and assorted internet kerfuffles.

It struck me that Matt had a lot in common with the quilts I appraised. In both cases, the first impression was based entirely on a pleasing appearance, but a closer examination revealed so much more—both good and bad. In a quilt, the imperfections were actually part of what made it so appealing, and I thought the same might be true of Matt.

He might not be perfect, but neither was I—no matter how much I tried. He deserved another chance to show that he meant it when he said he'd call me.

"Are you negotiating any other deals that would prevent you from visiting the bank vault in the near future?"

"Not a one," he said with a smile that could definitely launch a thousand trips.

* * * * *

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Secret of the Painted Lady

Murder and Mai Tais

Death by Scones

Four-Patch of Trouble

Deadly Dye and a Soy Chai

Killer Closet Case

Tree of Life and Death

A Killing in the Market (short story in the
Killer Beach Reads
collection)

Killer Colada (coming in 2016!)

* * * * *

Gin Jones is a lawyer who specializes in ghost-writing for other lawyers. She prefers to write fiction, though, since she doesn't have to worry that her sense of humor might get her thrown into jail for contempt of court. In her spare time, Gin makes quilts, grows garlic, and serves on the board of directors for the XLH Network.

To learn more about Gin Jones, visit her online at:
http://www.ginjones.com

Elizabeth Ashby was born and raised in Danger Cove and now uses her literary talent to tell stories about the town she knows and loves. Ms. Ashby has penned several Danger Cove Mysteries, which are published by Gemma Halliday Publishing. While she does admit to taking some poetic license in her storytelling, she loves to incorporate the real people and places of her hometown into her stories. She says anyone who visits Danger Cove is fair game for her poisoned pen, so tourists beware! When she's not writing, Ms. Ashby enjoys gardening, taking long walks along the Pacific coastline, and curling up with a hot cup of tea, her cat, Sherlock, and a thrilling novel.

* * * * *

Danger Cove Quilting Mysteries

Four-Patch of Trouble

Tree of Life and Death

Danger Cove Farmers' Market Mysteries

A Killing in the Market

(short story in the
Killer Beach Reads
collection.)

Helen Binney Mysteries
:

A Dose of Death

A Denial of Death