Frayed Edges

by Carol Dean Jones

  “But what about the fact that he said I should treat myself to an occasional splurge? It’s good for the soul, he said.”

  “Your doctor said it’s good for the soul?”

  “Well, somebody said it. Maybe the preacher.”

  Sarah laughed. “Well, you got me there. But it still seems strange to drive that far for a sandwich.”

  “It’s not just for a sandwich, hon. I got us tickets to the Broadway Playhouse on Saturday night. It will be a very special weekend.”

  Sarah laughed and hugged Charles. “You did it again,” she said. “I don’t know how you come up with these ideas that always sound crazy but turn out to be a fun adventure. When do we go?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” she exclaimed. “Charles, I can’t be ready by tomorrow. What about this houseful of animals?”

  “Andy is on standby.”

  “And I’ll need to pack.”

  “Your suitcase is open and on your bed. You only need one dressy outfit and several casual ones.”

  “And all our medications,” she objected.

  “Already in our by-the-day containers and ready to drop into the suitcase.”

  “You’ve thought of everything.”

  “I hope so,” he responded. “Are you with me?”

  She hesitated a moment and then smiled. “Of course I’m with you! I’m always with you.”

  Chapter 33

  “Slow down, Charles. What does that sign up there say?”

  “I can’t read it yet. It’s too far away.”

  “Pull over, please, Charles. It’s advertising an antique show just before we reach Chicago. Why don’t we stop and poke around? I really enjoyed doing that in Phoenix, but I was so focused on finding the quilts that I didn’t relax and enjoy the experience. We don’t have any deadline today, do we?”

  “Nope. I’ve confirmed our reservation, and you said you wanted to have our jibarito meal at noon tomorrow instead of tonight.”

  “Yes, it sounds like a heavy meal, and it would probably keep us awake tonight.”

  “I agree. So, do you want to stop at the antique show?”

  “Absolutely!” Sarah responded eagerly. She reached for the GPS and entered the address on the billboard. “It’s about eleven miles from here to the fairground.”

  “And it’s almost lunchtime, so we can have fairground food again. I’ll bet they sell Chicago-style hot dogs this close to Chicago,” Charles speculated.

  Once they were parked and had mapped out their plan for getting the most out of the show, they headed for the first bay. By two in the afternoon, they had visited most of the vendors. They saw an assortment of furniture and household items from the early twentieth century and a few pieces from the 1800s. Charles spent most of his time talking with the vendors and asking questions about how to tell the difference between genuine antiques and the excellent reproductions that flooded the market. He picked up several brochures on markings to watch for.

  “Are you ready for some lunch?” Charles asked. “My feet hurt.”

  “I am, but would you go ahead and order something for both of us? I want to take a look inside that tent. I saw a woman come out carrying a bolt of fabric. I’ll meet you at the food vendor in a few minutes.”

  “Spoken like a woman on a mission. I’ll see you sometime later, but I know what will happen if you find a fabric vendor in there.”

  “Seriously, Charles. I’m just going to take a quick look.”

  Charles headed for the food vendor, and Sarah entered the tent. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the light inside since she had been in bright sunshine for the past three hours.

  Suddenly she thought she saw someone she knew.

  “Jeff? Jeff Holbrooke! What in the world are you doing here?” Sarah said excitedly, not expecting to see anyone she knew.

  She looked around and didn’t see anyone else working at the booth. She only knew Jeff as the administrator of the nursing home and the Community Center. She had no idea he was into quilts and quilting. She hadn’t even seen him at their show.

  “I didn’t know you had an interest in quilts, Jeff. Are you selling …?” but she abruptly stopped talking.

  Quilts were spread out on the table and hanging from the dividers that surrounded the long booth. Beautiful quilts. Old quilts.

  “Our quilts!” she exclaimed.

  She looked around for Jeff, who had slipped out of sight momentarily, but she immediately felt his breath on the back of her neck. And she felt the cold hard barrel of a handgun pressed against her back.

  “Not another word,” he said. “Just start walking.”

  He guided her around the side of the booth and out of the tent through a slit in the canvas. They were facing the back parking lot.

  “So you and that nosy husband of yours finally figured it out,” he said as he used his gun to push her across the

  parking lot toward his RV, which was parked near the

  tree line.

  “We didn’t figure out anything, Jeff. We’re on our way to Chicago and just stopped at the antique show. I just came into the tent to take a look. I didn’t expect to see you, of all people, this far from home. What are you doing here?” she added, trying to sound like she didn’t know what he was up to.

  “Shut up, Sarah. I know better. Your husband has been nosing around the Center for weeks. He’s been pretending to investigate Lonnie Dunkin, but I’ve been onto him for a long time. I saw him looking at the quilt hanging in my office, and I could see the wheels turning. He knew it was me, and he thought he was smart enough to take me down. But he was wrong. He didn’t count on me having a bargaining chip.”

  “What bargaining chip?” Sarah asked, confused.

  “You, of course.”

  He opened the door to the RV and roughly pushed Sarah in, causing her to fall. She struggled to get up, but he pushed her back down with his foot and locked the door. “Stay there. I have business to take care of, and then I’ll decide just how to cash in my chip.” Then he laughed at his shrewdness.

  Sarah tried to get up once he closed the curtain to the back room, but she decided not to anger him. She heard him on the phone but couldn’t make out his words. Perhaps there’s some room for reasoning with the man.

  She slipped her hand into her jacket pocket, but her cell phone wasn’t there. Could it have fallen out? she wondered as she felt around where she was lying. Charles! Will he come looking for me in the tent? Will he recognize the quilts? Will he figure out where I am?

  She remained quiet and tried to hear what the man was saying. Something about money. He owes someone money, but why does he sound so desperate? He has a good job. Surely he can pay his bills.

  Holbrook came storming out of the back room, looking angry. “The idiot. He won’t listen to reason.” He wiped his forehead with his shirtsleeve, and Sarah realized he was dripping with sweat. This man is more frightened than I am, she thought and wondered why. The cool, composed nursing home administrator was gone and had been replaced by a man panicked and unsure.

  Oh, Charles. Please look at the quilts. I know you’ll recognize them. Can you read my mind from that far away? Charles often seemed to know what she was thinking. He sometimes answered her questions before she asked them. Please look at the quilts. Please recognize the quilts. Please find me, she pleaded.

  Jeff Holbrooke saw that Sarah was now in a sitting position but still on the floor. He decided to let that go. Neither spoke.

  He tried to look strong and confident, but he had no idea what to do next. He hadn’t expected to get caught with the quilts.

  Jeffery Holbrook hadn’t planned to take the quilts, but the opportunity was right there, and he knew the cash would buy him some time. He owed the wrong people a great deal of money. He had yanked the quilts off their frames on a whim, and he couldn’t believe how easy it was. Within a few minutes, he had them all in his car, and he was driving away. He sold a few to a guy he knew who dea
lt in stolen merchandise, but decided that was too dangerous. He kept the rest in a storage locker for a couple of months, but as his desperation grew, he knew he had to get his hands on the cash. He found this venue just outside Chicago that was known to be an antique vendors’ paradise. He figured he could unload the batch in one afternoon and walk away with an easy ten grand, maybe more.

  What were the chances this bitch and her husband would show up? he thought. Now what?

  “I have an idea,” Sarah said in a soft and unthreatening tone. “Would you be willing to hear it?”

  “Shut up,” the man responded.

  “I will, but please just listen for a minute. You and I both have a problem, and I think we can help each other.”

  Holbrook didn’t answer, but he flipped his hand upward as if you say, “Go on,” and she did.

  “No one but me knows you are here. My husband is at the food vendor, and he thinks I’m looking at fabric. If you let me go, I can simply sit down with him and eat lunch, and you can proceed with your sale. No one need be the wiser.”

  “How stupid do you think I am, Sarah?”

  “I don’t think you’re stupid, but if we do it this way, you will be safe, and so will I. If I cross you, you know where I live.”

  “If you cross me, I’ll be in prison, and it won’t matter that I know where you live.”

  “If I were stupid enough to have you arrested, they wouldn’t keep you long. This is a pretty minor crime in the scheme of things. And I’d be forever in your sights. My life wouldn’t be worth living.”

  “Oh, not your life, my dear. I’d never hurt a pretty lady like you, but that husband of yours—now that’s a different story.”

  Sarah froze. I’ve made a deal with the devil, she told herself.

  Holbrook looked at the alternatives. His own life was already not worth living. He owed more money than he’d ever see. This piddly ten thousand wouldn’t make a dent in his gambling debt. He had to get out of town. Disappear.

  After a while, Holbrook took a deep breath and said, “Okay, Sarah. I’m going to take a chance on you. But we walk back together, and we go straight to the food court and sit down with your husband, and we chat like old friends. You say one word, and I shoot him. You got that?”

  “I understand.”

  “Then you come up with an excuse for why you want to leave, and the two of you drive right out of my life forever. Got it?”

  “I understand. Are you going back to your job?”

  “Why do you ask that?” he demanded.

  “I just thought that it would be uncomfortable.”

  “You’re damn right it would be uncomfortable, at least for you, because this deal of yours isn’t just for today. It’s forever. One word, and that’s all it’ll take for you to become a widow.”

  Sarah gasped, but said, “I understand.”

  “But I’ll answer your question. No, I’m not going back. We’ll both be walking away. The only difference is that I’ll have the advantage of knowing where you are, so never forget the deal we made today.”

  “I won’t,” Sarah responded, trying not to let her fear show.

  They walked together toward the food court. The gun was in his pocket, but so was his hand. Would he fire in this crowd? she wondered but didn’t want to take the chance.

  “Jeff!” Charles exclaimed, looking up from his lunch. “What are you doing here?”

  “Just on my way to the Windy City,” Holbrook responded nonchalantly.

  “I was beginning to worry about you, sweetie,” Charles said, turning to Sarah. “You look pale. Are you feeling okay?”

  “Just a little tired, I think,” she replied. “Maybe we should head on to the hotel.”

  “We sure can,” Charles replied as he stood and shook Holbrook’s hand. “Good to see you, man.”

  “It’s a small world,” Holbrook responded as he winked at Sarah.

  Chapter 34

  “You’ve been very quiet,” Charles said with concern. “Aren’t you feeling any better?”

  “I’m fine,” she responded. “Let’s see if we can walk off that big lunch.” Charles agreed that he could certainly use the walk, but he wondered why Sarah thought she’d had a big lunch. She had hardly touched anything on her plate.

  Did I do the wrong thing? Should I tell Charles? Sarah was torturing herself with indecision, but she knew if she told him he would call the police and have Holbrook arrested. “… and you will be a widow,” Holbrook had said.

  The play took her mind off Holbrook intermittently that evening, but fear and indecision washed over her like waves during the night. The next morning she looked pale and haggard. “I’m taking you to the doctor as soon as we get home,” Charles announced.

  “I’m fine,” she said weakly, without looking him in the eye.

  After a nearly wordless breakfast, they packed their bags and checked out of the hotel. Charles looked out the hotel windows at the lake, which was as smooth as glass that morning. He started to point it out to Sarah, but she was staring straight ahead, lost in her thoughts and apparently unaware of her surroundings.

  After driving a while in silence, Charles turned the radio on and was searching for a music station, but the reception was very poor. Only one station came in clearly, the local news station, so he left it on.

  “The man murdered at the antique show yesterday has been identified as Jeffery Holbrook from Middletown. Police chief Hanson reported today that the crime appeared to be a targeted, professional killing.

  “Holbrook was the administrator of the Cunningham Nursing Home and Community Center in Middletown and was on the board of the Cunningham Village retirement community. Mr. Holbrook will be missed by the many residents and patients he has served. Our community is appalled that this could happen to a visitor to our town.”

  Charles had pulled over to the curb to listen and exclaimed with disbelief, “But we just saw him!” He turned to Sarah and realized all color had drained from her face. She looked as if she were about to faint. “Hon, are you okay?” He reached for her hand, and she leaned into his arms and began to sob.

  “What is it? I didn’t know you were that close to …” but he realized her entire body was now trembling. He wasn’t sure what was going on with her or what he should do. She continued to sob.

  “Please take me home,” she managed to say, but he thought better of it and drove to the small clinic he had seen a mile or so back. He helped her out of the car; she was still trembling and weak. She leaned against him for support as he helped her walk into the building. He held her in his arms as he asked to see a doctor right away. Her sobs came intermittently.

  Charles told the doctor what little he knew, and the doctor, after a brief examination, said she was in shock. He gave her a shot and had her lie back on an examining table until the drug took effect.

  “Can you tell me what’s going on?” Charles asked gently once she seemed able to focus, and the whole story came pouring out—the fear, the guilt, and the relief.

  “It’s over, baby,” he said, holding her close. “You’ve been holding all that in? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “He said he would kill you if I told,” she whispered.

  Chapter 35

  “We picked up the quilts,” Detective Halifax announced when Charles answered the phone. “The other vendors got together and packed them all up and had them ready for us when we arrived.”

  “And do you agree it was a professional killing?”

  “Absolutely. All the signs were there, and an investigation of Holbrook’s finances showed him deeply in debt. His ex-wife told us he’d been a compulsive gambler for years. It’s what killed their marriage. He probably owed the wrong people.”

  “Where are the quilts now?”

  “I have them, and Hamilton PD brought me the seven they were holding. I’d love to turn them all over to you if that’s possible. Ruth said she’d take care of getting them back to their owners, but she was not comfortabl
e after what they’ve been through. I figured with your background as a cop, you’d be the best person to take charge of them.”

  “Why do you suppose he sold the seven to the Hamilton shop?” Charles asked.

  “Maybe he needed the money right away, and that was all she’d buy. He might have sold them all to her if she’d been willing to buy them.”

  “You’re probably right. He was certainly desperate,” Charles responded. “Do you want me to pick them up today?”

  “Definitely. Ruth wants to return them during the quilt club meeting this week.”

  “That’s tomorrow. I hope Sarah will be ready.”

  “How is she?” the detective asked.

  “She’s been asleep for the past twelve hours, Hal. I think the medication the doctor gave her was meant to help her sleep it off. I spent a whole day with her in Chicago and didn’t know what she was holding in. I thought she was coming down with something, but she was in a state of terror—and not for her own life. For mine! That’s what makes it so bad. She was suffering because she thought she’d put my life in danger.”

  “She’ll be back to her old self,” Hal responded. “She’s a strong lady.”

  “She will,” Charles agreed confidently. “Thanks for taking care of getting the quilts to us, Hal.”

  The phone rang again just as he was hanging up. “Sophie, hi.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Still sleeping, Sophie.”

  “Is she going to be okay?” Sophie asked with a quiver in her voice.

  “Sophie, she’s going to be just fine. It will just take time.”

  “Is there anything I can do?” Sophie asked.

  “Not right now, but I’ll call you when she’s up and ready for company. I know she’ll want to see you.”

  “Company?” a soft voice behind him asked. “Are we having company?”

  Charles was startled and turned to see his wife standing in front of the window with the sun shining across her face. Her eyes were sparkling, and she was smiling. She was wearing jeans and her favorite sweatshirt. She was holding a small furry black and white bundle in her arms.