Frayed Edges

by Carol Dean Jones

  “So, he’s #4,” Sophie said as she wrote another card and tossed it on the pile. “What else do we have?”

  The group was silent.

  “Is that it?” Sophie asked.

  “I think so,” Sarah responded.

  “Well, we can’t solve the crime with this little bit of information. What do we do?” she asked, looking toward Charles. “You’re the expert here. What do we do?”

  “We locate at least one more quilt, and that will give us our first clue as to what happened.”

  “Let’s get on our computers and search until we find one quilt,” Andy responded.

  “And I’m going to call Hamilton PD,” Charles said, “and see if they have a lead on the guy that sold Tessa the seven quilts. If he didn’t steal them himself, he got them from the people who did. That’s another lead.”

  “And I suspect the disappearing quilt framer guy. I wonder if we could get a picture of him and show it to Tessa,” Andy speculated.

  “I took pictures while they were hanging the quilts,” Sarah said. “Let’s take a look.”

  All four friends hurried back to the Parkers’ house and went through the photos. “I think we have pictures of four different guys,” Charles said. “Was that the whole team?”

  “Yes, four,” Sarah confirmed.

  “Okay. We need to show these pictures to Tessa.”

  “Should we drive to Hamilton now?” Sarah asked. “Oh, wait. The shop is closed.”

  “No, my dear. We don’t need to do anything so archaic. I’ll text them to her right now. Do you have her cell phone number?”

  Within moments, the phone rang, and they had their answer back from Tessa. “No, it wasn’t any of these men,” Tessa said. “I would have recognized him immediately if it had been one of them. I was there while they were assembling the frames.”

  The group sighed in unison, and Charles opened a beer while Sophie poured wine for the women. “Here, Andy. I bought you a six-pack of sodas. Help yourself.”

  “Could we make that coffee?” Andy asked. “My meetings have me hooked on drinking coffee at night. Those guys can really put away the coffee!”

  Charles turned the television on, and Sarah brought in a bowl of chips and a hot salsa-cheese dip. The four sat without speaking for a few minutes as they enjoyed the refreshments.

  “You don’t suppose Tessa is involved, do you?” Sophie said, breaking the silence.

  “Tessa?” Charles repeated, surprised that Sophie would consider her.

  “Who’s Tessa?” Andy asked.

  Sarah reminded him about the shop in Hamilton with the seven quilts that had been recovered but were being held by the Hamilton police.

  “Charles? What do you think?” Sarah asked.

  “I was going on your endorsement of her. You both seemed to think she was a victim in the scenario at her shop.”

  “Well, I think I still do. But …”

  “I’m putting her on the list,” Sophie announced as she reached for the file box and added a fifth card.

  “So, what does that mean?” Andy asked.

  “I guess it means that I’ll talk to Hal and see what he can find out from Hamilton PD. I’ll have him ask if they think she’s involved.”

  Another sigh.

  “This dip has put me in the mood for Mexican,” Charles suddenly announced as he popped out of his chair. “Let’s head over to that new Mexican restaurant, and Sophie, you leave those cards here. We aren’t talking about this case for the next two hours.”

  Chapter 25

  “I don’t like it that we’re even thinking about Tessa,” Sophie said as they were working on their wall hangings. “It’s hard to picture her, or any quilter for that matter, doing something like this.”

  “Me too, Sophie, but it was pretty convenient that she ended up with so many of the quilts.”

  “But, Sarah, she didn’t act guilty. Remember how she was when she thought she was in possession of stolen merchandise?”

  “How do you think she would act if she had been caught with merchandise she knew was stolen? Probably about the same way is my guess.”

  “Oh, Sarah, you’re beginning to suspect her, aren’t you?”

  “Sophie, I don’t know any more than you do. Surely the police will sort this all out long before we can. Charles took our list of suspects to Hal this morning, and we’ll see what he has to say.”

  “Is Hal even interested anymore? Don’t they stop looking once they arrest someone?”

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you. They didn’t arrest him. The DA said they didn’t have enough evidence.”

  “Well, sure,” Sophie said, confirming the DA’s opinion. “It’s all circumstantial.”

  “Watching Law & Order again, are you?”

  “No, reading Michael Connelly.”

  “Well, either way, you are right, and so was Charles, but that doesn’t mean Lonnie is innocent,” Sarah responded.

  “You don’t like him much, do you?” Sophie asked.

  “It’s not that, Sophie. But remember when Charles was being held for the murder of the foreman? Lonnie’s brother just kept right on working on our house and was all sympathetic toward me when I would go talk to him, and all the time he knew he did it. I don’t know how Charles was able to forgive him.”

  “But that wasn’t Lonnie.”

  “I know. I’m being irrational,” Sarah responded. “I’ll try to be more open-minded about Lonnie, but if it turns out that he did it, I won’t be one bit surprised.”

  “Is that your phone ringing?”

  “Oh, you’re right. It’s hard to hear the landline when we’re back here. I’ll try to catch it before the machine picks up,” she called over her shoulder as she hurried up the hall.

  “Hello, Ms. Parker. This is Josie Braxton calling from Amarillo, Texas. You don’t know me, but I just got this month’s issue of my quilting magazine and was looking at your article about the quilts stolen from your quilt show. What a dreadful thing to happen!”

  “Yes, it was heartbreaking for everyone involved,” Sarah responded with an inaudible sigh of disappointment. She had received numerous condolence calls over the past weeks from quilters all over the country. She appreciated their concern but had been hoping that the article would create at least one lead.

  “I hate to waste your time since I’m not sure about this, but I think I saw some of these quilts at the antique show over at the fairgrounds last week.”

  Sarah immediately perked up. “Tell me about it.”

  “Now, I’m not sure they were yours, but when I saw the pictures today, I said to myself, ‘Josie, you should call this lady and …’ ”

  “Please, Ms. Braxton, tell me about the quilts,” Sarah interrupted, trying to keep the impatience out of her voice.

  “Well, I was thumbing through the quilts and even talked briefly to the man who was selling them. I appreciated being able to handle the quilts, but I told him he shouldn’t be allowing people to just rummage through them. I started to explain the reason, and he cut me off. He obviously didn’t care about the quilts one iota. Anyway, I’m getting off on a tangent. Fred tells me I’m always doing that. I just wanted to let you know that I think at least a few might be with this guy.”

  “You can’t imagine how wonderful this is to hear, Ms. Braxton. …”

  “Call me Josie. Folks down here in Amarillo aren’t that formal.”

  “And I’m Sarah. This is the first promising lead we’ve had. Can you tell me more about this man?”

  “Not much, but I did get his card. I was looking at this Asian hand-carved wood table lamp that would be perfect for my living room. We have this … oh, and there I go again. All I meant to say is that he gave me his card since I was interested, but I told him I’d have to talk to my husband. It was way too expensive, but …”

  “Could you please read the card to me so I can write down his contact information?” Sarah said, sorry to again be interrupting, but eager to follow this p
ossible lead.

  “Just a minute. I’ll get it,” the woman responded.

  A few moments later, she returned to the phone, and with a deep sigh, she said, “Oh, it only has a website. Do you want that?”

  “Definitely.” Anything would be more than what we have now, Sarah thought.

  Josie Braxton read off the website address one letter at a time and then said, “I hope you can get your quilts back, Sarah. Take down my number in case you think of anything I can do to help.”

  “I appreciate this, Josie,” Sarah said as she wrote the number down. “By the way, is the antique show still at the fairgrounds?”

  “No, but I think they’ll be back next year. I think I’ll stick this business card in the mail to you. There’s a logo and a few words that might mean something.”

  “Excellent idea, Josie, and we thank you very much.” She gave the woman her address and promised to let her know if the information led them to any of their quilts.

  Too late, Sarah said, but only to herself. She thanked the woman profusely and again promised to let her know if they found the quilts.

  “I doubt that this will be of much help,” Sarah said as she told Charles about the call and handed him the website address.

  “Oh, on the contrary,” he responded. “There’s much I can do with a URL. Let’s go to the computer and see what he wants us to see, and then I’ll put on my cop hat and look for what he doesn’t want us to see.”

  It was a simple website advertising antiques and collectibles of all types. There were pictures of figurines, furniture, glassware, jewelry, and even clothing that appeared to be from the nineteenth century. Nothing had an exact age, only approximations. There were no quilts, although there was a note that antique embroidery work and quilts were available and would be on display at his next show. The vendor listed his upcoming appearances, which were mostly in the Lower Midwest. The next show was scheduled for mid-December in Phoenix. The exact date and location were not included on the website.

  Sarah groaned with disappointment.

  “Now, don’t get discouraged. There are things I can do to get more information on the owner of this website. Just hang on for an hour or two before you get discouraged.”

  Two hours passed before Charles appeared in the kitchen where Sarah was turning the roast that she was in the process of browning. “You can get somewhat discouraged now,” he announced, looking defeated.

  “What happened?”

  “He must have been able to track my activities on his website. He shut it down.”

  “Oh no,” Sarah responded, distressed. “What does that mean?”

  “Well, there are still things I can do, but they will take longer. If we don’t get anywhere with this, you and I might be visiting Phoenix.”

  “That’s not so bad,” Sarah responded, looking encouraged. “It’s a relatively short flight, I’m sure. When is the next show?”

  “Mid-December, I think,” Charles replied. “I’m not sure how I’ll find out now that the website is gone.”

  “You can contact Phoenix PD. They’ll know.”

  “Of course,” Charles responded, shaking his head. “I can get so one-tracked,” he admonished himself as he headed back to his computer room, but he stopped abruptly and returned to the kitchen.

  “That’s practically Christmas, Sarah. You don’t want to be away for Christmas, do you?”

  “Find out exactly when it is before we panic, Charles. If it’s mid-December, that’s not bad. It would be a great Christmas present for our friends if we found the quilts that quickly.”

  “Don’t you have Christmas gifts to complete?”

  “Sophie and I are almost finished. Jason and Jenny have invited the whole family to their house for Christmas dinner, so we’ll just celebrate Christmas then. We can make this work, Charles. Just find out when it is.”

  Chapter 26

  “I’m going, too,” Sophie announced, holding her chin high with a look of absolute determination. “You need me to help identify the quilts, and besides, I’ve never been to Phoenix. I understand they have year-round sunshine and excellent desert resorts.”

  “We won’t be there long enough to enjoy a resort, Sophie. It’s too close to Christmas, but Charles will find us a nice hotel.”

  “Sure,” Charles agreed as he walked into the room, catching the end of the conversation. “Do you think Norman will want to go?”

  “I’ll ask him,” Sophie responded.

  “Bad news,” Sophie reported a few minutes later after a quick call to Norman. “He’s already committed to Christmas at the cabin with the kids, and they plan to go to the cabin ahead of time. He said it’s too much of a crunch for him, so count me out too.”

  “You’re going to the cabin for Christmas?” Sarah asked, looking surprised. “I thought you were going to be with us at Jason’s. Otherwise, you’ll miss being with your son and granddaughter.”

  “No, I’m not going to the cabin. He invited me, but I don’t want to be with his family and miss being with my own. So I could go to Phoenix, but I don’t want to intrude on you and Charles.”

  “Rubbish!” Charles called out from the den.

  “Excuse me?” Sophie replied, indignantly. “Was that meant for me?”

  “Yes, it was. You are welcome to come with us. Besides, I need you and your card file. There’s no telling what we’ll find there!”

  Sophie turned to her friend and whispered, “I just love that man!”

  Two weeks later, Norman drove the Parkers and Sophie to the airport. “I’ll miss you, sweetie,” he whispered in Sophie’s ear as they parted just before reaching the security gates.

  “You can’t go any farther without a ticket, sir,” a man in uniform announced. Norman quickly kissed Sophie on the cheek. They were both beginning to tear up but laughed at themselves.

  “I’ll only be gone a few days,” Sophie assured him.

  “I know, sweetie, but I’ll be leaving the day after you return. I’m going to miss you,” he added as he backed away, still waving.

  As the three approached the security booth, Sophie saw people removing their shoes and putting them into a tray. “Why are they doing that?” she asked.

  “Security measures,” Charles replied offhandedly.

  “And you don’t mind?”

  “I don’t mind. I’m trusting these folks to keep us safe,” Charles responded.

  “Well, you aren’t as old as I am, and you don’t realize how hard it is to reach down and untie shoes. Then I have to get them off without sitting down and without toppling over on my head!”

  Sophie’s voice was escalating, and the other passengers were beginning to crowd around to see what the commotion was about. Fortunately, Charles was able to use his past law-enforcement experience to move them away gently.

  As Sophie approached the guard, she announced her objections in a loud and demanding voice.

  “We’re going to get thrown off the plane,” Charles whispered to Sarah. Then he attempted to calm Sophie down, but she was on a roll and dismissed him.

  “But miss,” the man kept saying in an attempt to respond to her complaints.

  “Sophie,” Charles finally said in a compelling voice that finally got her attention. “Listen to the man. He’s trying to tell you something.”

  “What?” she demanded sharply.

  “Elderly people don’t have to remove their shoes. Walk on through.”

  “What?” she responded in dismay. “You discriminate against elderly people? I’ll certainly take my shoes off if I want to.” Moments later, both of Sophie’s shoes were in the basket and rolling toward the x-ray machine. “I guess I told them,” she muttered.

  “It’s going to be a long trip,” Charles whispered to his wife as they were heading for the gate.

  * * * * *

  “This isn’t what I expected at all,” Sophie exclaimed, looking around at the palm trees that lined the drive up to the hotel entrance. “Oh, is that th
e hotel? It looks like a mansion, and I sure didn’t expect all those palm trees.”

  “What did you expect, Sophie?” Sarah asked as they pulled up to the front entrance of the hotel. Two men hurried to their rental car and unloaded their luggage. The porter accompanied them to the clerk’s desk, and the valet whisked the car away.

  “Well, I guess I pictured miles of sand and maybe a mirage or two. Maybe cactus and lizards, but I was hoping I wouldn’t have to go near them.”

  “And what did you picture yourself doing out in that godforsaken desert?”

  “Hmm. I guess I didn’t get that far in my thinking. But this is incredible. Oh, Charles,” she said as they stepped into the lobby. She covered her mouth with her one free hand and muttered, “What have I gotten myself into? This looks very expensive.”

  Charles laughed and reached for the bag she was pushing. “I have this covered, and I got a great deal, so don’t give it another thought.”

  “Oh, but I want to pay for my own room.”

  “Actually, I got us a suite, and the couch opens into a king-size bed. I’m going to sleep there, and you girls will get the bedroom.”

  “Oh, I can’t impose like that. …”

  “Not another word,” Sarah interrupted her friend. “It’s settled. Besides, we’re going to be out most of the time.”

  “What will we be doing?” Sophie asked as they followed the porter to their room.

  “Tomorrow morning, we’re signed up for a bus tour of the sights. I like to do that just to get oriented whenever I’m traveling,” Sarah said. “We’ll ride through the city and stop at a few shops and galleries. We’ll see Camelback Mountain from a distance, and later we’ll drive outside the city, where you’ll be able to see the desert you were expecting to see.”

  By this time, they had arrived at their room. Sophie noted that the bedroom had two king-size beds. “Charles, I don’t see why you want to sleep in the living room. Why can’t we all sleep here?”

  “I thought you girls would want your privacy,” Charles responded.

  “Poppycock!” Sophie exclaimed. “When we went on the cruise, we hung out together in our pajamas all the time. You and Sarah take that bed. I want the one by the bathroom.”