Fit To Be Tied

by Elizabeth Craig

  This seemed really harsh, but Beatrice and Meadow both nodded, careful not to look at each other.

  “Anyway, I’m sure that Joan is feeling guilty,” said Laura with not a small amount of smugness.

  Meadow’s eyes were huge. “Over what?” She seemed to be expecting Laura to say that Joan had murdered her father. Beatrice knew, with Joan being a quilter, that Meadow would fiercely defend her.

  “Over the fact that they had a rousing argument the day before Gerald died,” said Laura. “Joan wanted her father to sell the business, too. Naturally! She wanted a handout and that would have been a great way to get it.” She shrugged again. “I’m not sure what else they squabbled about since I left the room. I was sick and tired of hearing about it, to tell you the truth. Always the same old song and dance.”

  Beatrice said, “I’m so sorry to hear this. I’m sure Joan feels terrible about it.”

  Meadow said, “And she didn’t have a chance to make up with him before he died? How awful!”

  Laura said, “That’s the thing, isn’t it? We always think we have more time to say that we’re sorry later on. Then one day, time runs completely out.”

  Chapter Ten

  AFTER THAT, THE CONVERSATION turned to more pleasant topics. Laura could be a very lively hostess and she seemed to go on automatic pilot and, despite her grief, engage them in conversation. When she asked more questions about the upcoming baby and Meadow showed absolutely no signs of ending the conversation, Beatrice finally pulled her out of there so that Laura could have a few minutes of peace before Wyatt arrived.

  They got into Meadow’s car and Meadow said, “That was quite the visit. Gosh! I never knew that there was so much going on under the surface in that family.”

  Beatrice clutched the door again since Meadow again didn’t seem inclined to be focused on the road. “I guess all families have undercurrents that no one guesses at, but theirs seems to have a lot more going on than most.”

  Meadow said, “I’ve never really understood Laura, I’ll admit. Maybe that’s because she presents a particular image to the world and it’s hard to get past the image. I mean, she always looks so perfect—her clothes are perfect, she’s the perfect hostess. Even her makeup was perfect and she’s been crying.”

  “Has she been crying?” asked Beatrice, a note of surprise in her voice.

  “Well, I suppose she has,” said Meadow, now sounding a lot less-certain. “With a shock like that, you’d think that you’d burst into tears. But maybe it wasn’t that sort of marriage.”

  “The way that Laura put it, they had a very good marriage,” said Beatrice.

  “Yes, but marriages don’t all work the same way. Like Ramsay’s and my marriage—we’ve been married for so long that we complete each other’s sentences or maybe we actually even know what each other is going to say before they say it. We have a lot of jokes that just the two of us understand. But we can exasperate each other like nobody else, too,” said Meadow, speeding off down the mountain road.

  Beatrice said uneasily, “Slow down a bit, Meadow.”

  Meadow did. She continued, “And then there’s you and Wyatt. Y’all haven’t been married very long and you’re just so sweet together.”

  “Are we?” asked Beatrice with a smile. Wyatt, she suspected, was the sweetest part of the equation. He could always make her feel special.

  “You know you’re adorable. So tender with each other! But I get the feeling that Laura and Gerald had a much more complex marriage than either of ours.”

  Beatrice said, “It was a second marriage for both of them, so it almost certainly was more complex. Laura also had to navigate Gerald’s grown children.”

  “It would have been tricky, for sure.” Meadow paused. “This is bad to say, but I’ve often wondered what the attraction was there for Laura. I mean, Gerald wasn’t exactly the most romantic guy in the world. Like Laura said, his whole world was his business. He wasn’t going to be quoting sonnets or writing her love poetry.”

  Beatrice chuckled, “Is that a normal part of twenty-first century courtship?”

  “Well, Ramsay wrote me poetry,” said Meadow.

  “That, I believe,” said Beatrice. Ramsay, if he were in a perfect world, would much prefer to be sitting around reading dusty volumes of fiction and writing poetry and short stories than doing police work and chasing down criminals. “So what do you think the attraction for Laura was?”

  Meadow said, “It’s hard to imagine it was Gerald’s looks. Oh, he was a nice-enough looking man, but he rarely smiled. I hate to say it, but Laura likes her lifestyle. I think it was, in a way, a very businesslike marriage.”

  Beatrice said, “What kind of relationship do Gerald’s kids have with Laura? It sounded like Joan didn’t have a very good one, at any rate.”

  Meadow said, “It sure sounded like Laura wasn’t very impressed with Joan. I can’t understand that. Joan is terrific! I’ve always enjoyed talking with her at quilt shows.”

  That was the thing—Meadow was never going to speak poorly of a quilting sister. Joan could be a total reprobate and Meadow would be completely blind to it.

  “What about Mark?” asked Beatrice.

  Meadow said, “I don’t think Mark and Laura are close, of course. I mean, I didn’t see Laura hanging out in town with either Joan or Mark. But I always had the impression that Laura respected Mark. After all, he was following in Gerald’s footsteps and was quite a good businessman.”

  “Although apparently he wanted his father to sell the business,” said Beatrice thoughtfully.

  Meadow shrugged and looked over at Beatrice, which made Beatrice hold on even tighter to the door. “But what do we know? Maybe Mark was right and it was the perfect time to sell and to the perfect buyer.”

  “Laura indicated that Joan wanted her father to sell the business to help her with her own financial problems,” said Beatrice. “And Colleen mentioned that Joan frequently asked her father for money.”

  Meadow said, “I think that’s completely fabricated on Laura’s part. I’ve never seen any hint at all that Joan is destitute. She’s a nurse and nurses make a nice living. Besides, Joan doesn’t exactly live a glamorous life. I’ve been by her house before and it was quite modest.”

  Beatrice said, “I wonder if Laura really wanted Gerald to hold onto the business.”

  Meadow said, “Well, she said it was his whole life. I guess she wanted to keep him happy. Otherwise, what on earth was he going to do all day but mope around the house and be underfoot? Nobody wants a bored and unhappy retired husband hanging around.”

  Beatrice nodded but thought that it was a more complicated marriage than Meadow thought. Was it possible that Laura knew about Gerald’s affairs? She didn’t seem like a naïve woman. If so, what kept her quiet about them? Was it just that she was devoted to their marriage, no matter what? Could it all be that Laura was used to her comfortable lifestyle and was happy to look the other way?

  Her thoughts were interrupted by Meadow, still chatting blithely away. “So if that works out, I’ll just bring you by my house first.”

  Beatrice blinked at her. “Your house? I thought you were taking me right back home.”

  Meadow hooted a laugh. “You haven’t listened to a word I said, have you?”

  “Guilty,” said Beatrice with a sigh. “Sorry. I’ve just had a lot on my brain lately.”

  “Well, don’t you worry about it. I’ve been just the same way, head in the clouds. All I can think about is that precious grandbaby. Ramsay had to call my name three times the other day before I broke free of my happy little daydream! All I was saying was that I wanted to show you the darling baby blanket that I finished. I started describing it to you, but it really does have to be seen in the flesh. Can you pop by for a few minutes?” asked Meadow.

  Beatrice said, “I think that should be all right. We’re having more work done in the afternoon and I’m going to give Wyatt a break for a bit. But there’s nothing going on right now. I
probably should be finishing up that diaper bag. Maybe looking at your finished project will help to inspire me.”

  Meadow passed by Beatrice’s house on the way and she confirmed that there was no unexpected work truck parked in front of their house. She did spot Noo-noo keeping watch out the front window. The little dog saw her and her ears perked up, and drooped again as she passed by the house. Beatrice decided that she’d have to take her on a little walk when she got back.

  Meadow’s house was an old barn which had been lovingly renovated. It was a beautiful space with soaring ceilings festooned with colorful hanging quilts, hardwood floors that had been scavenged from a local mill when it had closed, and an assortment of quirkily uncoordinated furniture from various family members who had long since passed away. It was a place to feel comfortable, most of all, with the smell of cooking frequently lingering around the house. Although it sounded that, lately, Meadow hadn’t been doing a whole lot of cooking besides the meal for Laura.

  Boris bounded up to meet them and Meadow plopped on the floor to let the huge dog give her kisses. “Boris! I missed you, too. Remember, you can’t jump on company.” The last was said in a warning voice. Somehow, Boris had recently gotten into a jumping habit that he hadn’t yet displayed. Because of his tremendous size, he’d nearly taken Beatrice down the last time he’d enthusiastically greeted her.

  Boris, although Beatrice usually didn’t credit him with nearly the intelligence of her corgi, seemed to understand Meadow and with great restraint, walked meekly over to Beatrice and bumped her hand with his massive head. Beatrice rewarded him by scratching him behind the ears and then rubbing his belly when he ecstatically flopped over.

  Meadow was talking as she walked back to the master bedroom to get the blanket. “It’s the cutest little quilt! I think Posy stocked the fabric just for you and me. Have you noticed that a good portion of the fabrics now have baby themes? Anyway, I thought this one might grow with the baby for a little while.”

  She returned, carrying a plush quilt with plaid squares and dotted squares interspersed with squares of sweet-looking animals—a cute deer, a fetching fox, a little bunny.

  “It’s adorable,” said Beatrice sincerely. “And I think you’re right that the baby will enjoy it for a while.”

  Meadow beamed at her. “Or, when the baby finally outgrows it, maybe it will be time for a new baby.”

  Beatrice said dryly, “One baby at a time, Meadow. I don’t think I can handle the excitement of thinking about two.” She reached out a hand and smoothed it over the little quilt. “It’s so soft. I love this fabric.”

  “It’s organic cotton, believe it or not, but it’s so soft. I wanted to make sure to get something very natural for the baby to let his or her little skin breathe,” said Meadow.

  The door opened and Ramsay came in. He gave them a weary grin. “How are things going on the baby front?”

  Beatrice said, “I think we’re all set for the little one. Now we just have to wait for the birth.”

  Ramsay chuckled and said, “Well, it’s good to hear that at least something is going well.”

  Meadow made a face. “Don’t tell me the investigation isn’t going well. That murderer has got to be tracked down before he strikes again.”

  Ramsay said patiently, “We’re doing everything we can, Meadow. But there’s not a lot of evidence, unfortunately.”

  “Did you find out his cause of death?” asked Beatrice.

  Ramsay nodded. “It was an overdose of sleeping pills, I’m afraid. Someone must have known Gerald’s routine pretty well. Whoever did this slipped into his office and put a slew of sleeping pills into his coffee.”

  Beatrice frowned. “But wouldn’t Gerald have been able to tell by the taste that something was wrong? Shouldn’t it have tasted bad enough for him to simply pour it out?”

  Ramsay said, “You’d think so, but apparently the bitter taste of the coffee was strong enough to mask it. Or maybe Gerald was distracted by his work and didn’t really pay attention to his drink. At any rate, I’ve heard that he liked his coffee very strong and very dark, which probably helped the killer out.”

  Meadow put her hands on her hips. “Are you saying that someone lurked outside Gerald’s office, waiting for him to be distracted so that they could slip sleeping pills into his coffee?”

  “I’m afraid so,” said Ramsay.

  Beatrice said, “Did Gerald take sleeping pills, himself?”

  “From what I’ve been able to find out from his family, he did have a prescription on autofill for a year or more when he was having trouble sleeping after being prescribed some other medication. But he didn’t use them after the first couple of times. From all accounts, Gerald Carpenter was the kind of person who liked to have full control at all times—he didn’t like having a pill knock him out,” said Ramsay.

  Meadow was still dwelling on the killer’s lurking. “I can’t believe that someone just hung around waiting for a chance to doctor his coffee!”

  Ramsay said, “Well, that’s what happened. But anyone who had a good idea of Gerald’s habits could easily have figured out what to do. Gerald went to the office extremely early—he was frequently there at five o’clock in the morning, hours before anyone else. When he arrived, the first thing he did was make himself a pot of coffee.”

  Beatrice asked, “Was this coffeemaker in the company breakroom?”

  “Nope. It was his very own stash in his office. There was a separate coffeemaker in the employee breakroom, but it wasn’t tampered with. At any rate, he had an established routine, according to his current assistant. He went in, he made himself coffee, and then he started looking at work and emails. Then, usually about an hour after he came in, he’d go to a vending machine and get himself a snack. He liked to get a Snickers bar.”

  “Not the healthiest of breakfasts,” said Meadow, making a face.

  “Regardless, it’s what he did,” said Ramsay with a shrug.

  Beatrice asked, “Now the vending machine surely wasn’t in his private office, was it?”

  “No, you’re right, that was in the breakroom for the employees. So he did get up from his office and go to another room,” said Ramsay.

  Beatrice said, “Leaving behind an unmonitored cup of coffee.”

  “Exactly. And it was a regular routine—to the point that it was something of a family joke when I asked Mark about it,” said Ramsay.

  Meadow looked sternly at Ramsay, “Surely you don’t think that his family had something to do with his death.”

  Beatrice could tell that Meadow was still thinking of Joan and the complete impossibility of a quilter being involved in a violent crime.

  Ramsay sighed and said, “Now, Meadow, you know that the police has to look at everyone. Family traditionally are important suspects. After all, they would know Gerald’s routine best. They’d also have access to the sleeping pills.”

  “Wouldn’t other people know his routine, too?” demanded Meadow.

  Ramsay said, “Sure. That’s something we’re working on now. Gerald was close to people outside of the family and they certainly could have found out his routine. They also may have had access to his house from time to time.”

  The doorbell rang and Boris went berserk.

  “Boris!” said Ramsay sternly, but Boris would not be quieted. He bounded over to the front door, barking wildly.

  Meadow said, “I’ll get it.”

  She hurried over there, grabbing Boris’s collar and opening the door. Beatrice waved a hand in greeting at the woman standing there. She couldn’t remember her name, but knew that she went to their church and was friendly with Meadow. Apparently, she’d come by to show Meadow her vacation pictures. With Boris still wildly out of control, Meadow abandoned the house with her friend, choosing to sit out on the patio instead as Boris ran from window to window, trying to get a better glimpse of Meadow.

  Beatrice hesitated. She wanted to help Ramsay to solve the case, but she also wanted to protect any
conversations she’d had that were supposed to be confidential. She decided to try and find out exactly what Ramsay knew, especially now that Meadow was safely out of earshot.

  “Ramsay, thinking back to the matter of the sleeping pills and having access to them, is it possible that Gerald was having affairs? And that those women might have been able to know about his sleeping pills and have taken some of them?”

  Ramsay’s eyebrows shot up so high that they were almost on the top of his head. “You’re more in the know than I thought you’d be.”

  Beatrice said wryly, “I wish I didn’t know. But people have entrusted me with their secrets because I’m sort of a proxy to Wyatt, I guess. I don’t want to divulge what they’ve told me, but I wanted to make sure that you were aware of it.”

  “Thanks for that. I found out by following a few leads in the family. Apparently, family members were not completely unaware of Gerald’s activities,” said Ramsay.

  “Including Laura?” Beatrice asked slowly.

  Ramsay shook his head. “It seems as if Laura knew nothing about his affairs. Maybe it’s more that she was determined not to. But both of his children mentioned that Laura would leave town occasionally to visit family and that their father could have hosted women who might have seen the sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet.”

  Beatrice said, “That definitely makes it a little harder to find out who murdered Gerald.”

  Ramsay said in a tired voice, “Tell me about it. Plus the fact that the sleeping pills were also at the office.”

  “At the office?”

  “That’s right. Gerald had gone to the drugstore one day during working hours to pick up some over the counter medicine for a head cold. While he was there, the pharmacist told him that he had a prescription to pick up. The sleeping pills were on auto-refill, so Gerald paid for them at the same time and took everything back to the office where I suppose he promptly forgot about the medicine,” said Ramsay.