“We’ll be back early next week. Have the Sleuths had a meeting?”
“No, we’re waiting for you.”
“Okay, go ahead and plan it for Wednesday night at my house,” Sophie responded. “I found a bakery down here that sells…well, just wait and see,” she teased.
“It sounds like you’re having a good time,” Sarah chuckled, and her friend was quiet for a moment.
When Sophie finally responded, she spoke in a softened tone. “Sarah, I had no idea that I could ever be this happy again.”
“What’s going on?” Charles asked when he noticed his wife’s satisfied smile.
“My friend is in love…”
Chapter 19
“We haven’t accomplished anything,” Sophie was complaining. The group was meeting at her house and were crowded around the kitchen table. Emma, Sophie’s white mixed-breed rescue, had checked out each guest individually, and apparently they had all passed her test. She was now curled up in the corner of the kitchen on the old blanket Sarah had brought her. Emma loved it because it smelled like Sarah’s Barney.
“What do you mean, Sophie?” Andy responded. “We’ve talked to Courtney’s friends, and we’ve tracked her movements up to the moment she left town, and we confirmed she left with Darius.”
“We even know why she left with him,” Norman added. “She wanted him to take her to Tennessee to see a guy she met on the internet.”
“But we don’t know what happened to her or why,” Sophie continued, “and we haven’t cleared Darius.”
Sarah could tell that Charles wanted to say something, but was holding back. “Go ahead,” she whispered. “Put it out there if it’s the way you feel.”
Charles sighed as the group turned to look at him. “Okay, first of all, I wanted to let everyone know that I’ve been talking with Detective Halifax and offered our help with the case. I told him about what we’ve done here, and he said he’d follow up on our leads, but he also said that the department is convinced Darius is their man.”
Glancing at Bernice to gauge her reaction, he continued. “They’ve got his fingerprints on the car and on the girl. He had opportunity, and he’s gone into hiding. In addition to that, they’re looking at his history and past behavior, his juvie record, his felony arrest, possible credit card fraud, and the Failure to Appear charge.”
Charles turned and looked at Bernice saying, “Bernice, forgive me for what I’m going to say now, but it needs to be said.”
Bernice, her back rigid and her jaw clenched in preparation for bad news, nodded for him to continue.
“I have to ask the question. Do we know for sure that this young man didn’t kill the girl?”
“No, we don’t know that,” Andy responded immediately. “What we do know is that no one is making any effort other than this group to look at alternative theories. We live in a country where a man is innocent until proven guilty, at least that’s what we profess. When they find Darius, and they will, he will be tried, and there will be no one to offer an alternative theory. Darius will be prosecuted, and maybe he did do it, but maybe he didn’t, and who is looking at that possibility? No one but us as far as I can see.”
“Won’t his lawyer do that?” Sophie asked.
“Do you think a court-appointed lawyer will spend the time to track down all these alternative theories?”
“The reality is that we probably won’t solve the girl’s murder, but,” Norman added, “we can provide the lawyer with enough theories to create doubt in the minds of the jurors.”
“Okay, is this what we’re saying then?” Charles clarified. “We don’t need to know whether or not he’s innocent. We want to ensure that he can have a fair trial.”
“Yes,” Norman said. “I think we should stop thinking about whether the police are right or wrong. We need to develop alternative suspects for the murder or Darius will be left holding the bag, even if he’s innocent.”
“I don’t know how to get all this on a 3x5 card,” Sophie announced and everyone laughed. As usual, Sophie broke the tension in the room.
“Just write down on one card that the Undercover Sleuths assume Darius to be innocent because it’s the American way,” Andy said.
Sophie brought the second pot of coffee to the table and asked with a twinkle in her eye if anyone would like a treat with their coffee.
“Stop teasing, Sophie,” Sarah announced. “You told me you were bringing us something special from Kentucky.”
Sophie returned to the counter and uncovered a platter of cream-colored confections which caused exclamations of joy from her guests.
“What is it, Sophie?” Andy asked. “It looks decadent.”
“These are coconut pecan pralines,” Sophie replied proudly, still holding the platter just out of her guest’s reach. “The baker told me it’s a traditional handmade southern candy made with sugar, nuts, and cream. These, of course, have coconut as well, and I can tell you that they are to die for!”
“And she knows what she’s talking about,” Norman teased. “She sampled them several times a day while we were in Kentucky. We had to go back to the bakery to replenish our supply in order to bring some home.”
“You didn’t do so bad yourself,” Sophie replied, tapping the little bulge just above his belt. Setting the platter down in the middle of the table, she said, “Go at it, folks, and let me know how you like them.”
Bernice made a swooning sound with her first bite, the men all reached for seconds within moments of eating their first one, and Sophie sat back and grinned with satisfaction. “I knew you’d like these,” she chuckled.
Sarah gave Charles a look of concern when he started to reach for this third, and he pulled his hand back reluctantly. She smiled her appreciation, and he gave her an understanding wink as he reached for his coffee instead.
Once they were satiated, Sophie asked, “So what do we need to do tonight?”
“We’ve already done one thing,” Norman said, assuming his role as leader of the group. “We’ve clearly defined our role. Has anyone had other thoughts over the past week?”
Charles waited to see if anyone else had anything before he spoke again. He didn’t want to monopolize the meeting, but he wanted to share what he’d learned about Waterford’s background as a prosecutor and the possible implications.
“This is an interesting idea, Charles,” Andy responded. “How could we check this out?”
“I passed this information on to Det. Halifax and I hope he’ll investigate it. He was reluctant at first, but he called a few days ago and said he’d look into it. He’s in a much better position than we are to get that kind of information.”
“Do you think he really will?” Bernice asked.
“I think he wants to get to the truth. He feels a responsibility to clear this case for Matt. He was very close to Lt. Stokely.”
“We’re so sorry about that, Charles. How are you doing?” Norman asked.
“It’s been rough, but I’m okay. I’m just sorry I didn’t go fishing with Matt when he asked me.”
“When was that?” Sarah asked with surprise. She hadn’t heard about the invitation.
“Every spring and summer for the last fifteen or twenty years,” Charles responded regretfully. “And I was always too busy.”
“Let that be a lesson to us all,” Andy responded.
* * *
Everyone had left except Sarah and Charles. The three friends sat around the table looking discouraged. “Sophie’s right you know, Charles. We really haven’t done anything that will help Darius’ case. I feel like we’re letting Bernice down.”
“I guess you’re right,” Charles responded. “It seems like we’ve identified lots of alternative theories about how this girl might have been killed, but we haven’t been able to prove any of them. Of course, we shouldn’t have to if the police would just follow up on our leads. I took our ideas to Matt in the past and now to Halifax, but I don’t have much faith that they’ve look into any of
them very seriously.”
“Before you leave,” Sophie added, standing up and bringing her card file back to the table, “do you think we could take a quick look at my cards and clarify who we think might have been involved? With that little mini-vacation of ours, I’ve lost track of just where we are.”
“Sure,” Charles said, but his voice seemed flat and discouraged. “Actually, I need a refresher myself, and I didn’t even have a vacation.”
“Okay, so here are the theories we’ve considered.” Sophie began jotting down notes on a sheet of paper as she thumbed through her cards and talked. “One, someone on Copley’s campaign, maybe even Copley himself, kidnapped the girl, or had her kidnapped, in hopes of distracting her father who is running against him. Maybe it was just meant to be a kidnapping, and something went wrong,” she added. “Then two, and I’m not sure we talked much about this one, but maybe they picked up a crazy hitchhiker.”
Sarah sighed, and Sophie continued. “A third theory is that the jealous boyfriend caught up with them, and four, those two escaped convicts got to them.” She stopped reading and looked up. “Do I need to say more about the escaped convict theory?”
“No,” Charles responded. “Go on.”
I only have two more cards. Our fifth idea was that it could have been a revenge killing by someone Waterford convicted back when he was a prosecutor, and our sixth idea was that it could have simply been a random killing, and we’ll never know who did it.”
“When you lay it out like this, Sophie, there seem to be lots of possibilities but not much we can do to prove any of them,” Sarah responded, sounding discouraged.
“When I hear them listed out like this,” Charles said, suddenly smiling, “I’m encouraged because I realize that there are already things being done. We’ve identified her friends, including the boyfriend, and the police have all the information we collected, and they said they would follow up. The Department has requested that local jurisdictions all the way from here to Tennessee check out places they may have stopped and get whatever information they can. There’s a manhunt going on for the escaped convicts, and they’re sure to catch them and perhaps learn something from them if they were involved. As for Copley…”
“Yes?” Sarah spoke up raising an eyebrow. “Are you reconsidering about Sophie and me joining the campaign and nosing around?”
“We’ll talk about it,” he responded unenthusiastically.
“What about the revenge killing idea?” Sophie asked.
“Halifax is looking into some of the most controversial cases Waterford prosecuted. He’s looking for any threats that were made and any convicts recently released. He wasn’t impressed with the idea at first, but he’s beginning to sound more interested in that route. He told me yesterday that his new boss is listening to this one as well.”
“Okay, I’m feeling a little better,” Sophie was saying when the phone rang.
“Norman, it’s past midnight. What are you doing up?” She knew he was an early riser, but was usually in bed by ten. She listened for a moment as he apparently told her the reason for his late-night call.
“Sure I have his number, but he and Sarah are right here. Do you want to talk to him?”
Sophie handed the phone to Charles who listened for a moment and then said, “Hold on, Norman. Do you mind if I put you on speaker?”
Charles pushed the speaker button and said, “Okay, go ahead.”
“Well, what I was saying was that I had a thought on the way home – something we haven’t looked at.”
“What’s that?” Sophie called from across the kitchen.
“We haven’t talked about this person the Waterford girl was going down to Tennessee to meet. We only have her friends’ word that he wanted her to come. Maybe they got there and maybe the guy is crazy, or married, or heck, any number of things. She’d never met the man, and we don’t know anything about him. She may have walked into a very bad situation.”
“Norman,” Charles responded enthusiastically. “You may be on to something. I’ll call Hal first thing in the morning and run this past him. And I think they need to see if any of her friends have the guy’s name. In fact, I’ll ask Hal if he wants us to make another visit to the café and ask more questions.”
“Good idea. The kids opened up to Andy and Sarah before. Let’s send them again.”
“Yes,” Charles responded thoughtfully, “and I think I’ll go too, but I won’t let on I’m with them. I might pick up some body language if I can just watch from across the room. Say, while I’ve got you on the phone, Sarah and Sophie are asking again about volunteering for Copley’s campaign. Any new thoughts on that one?”
“I don’t think we can stop them, Charles, but I hope they don’t do it. Tell them I believe that it’s much too dangerous.”
“We can hear you,” Sophie announced. “We’re just thinking about it. Nothing’s decided.”
“Charles, maybe you and I should do it,” Norman suggested.
“Not me, Norman. Even retired, I can’t seem to hide the fact that I’m a cop. I was never able to go undercover when I was on the force – I was always spotted right away. If Copley is actually mob-connected, they’ll pick me out in a minute. Matt was going to put someone in there undercover, but I don’t know if he ever did. I’ll ask Halifax tomorrow.”
“So why are you folks there so late?” Norman asked. Charles told him what they’d been doing.
“We should have done that during our meeting,” Norman responded. “It would help all of us to review where we stand.”
“Sophie’s written it all down. I’ll take it home and make copies for our next get-together,” Charles responded. “We’re heading home now. Here’s your girl,” he added as he handed the phone back to Sophie. She disappeared around the corner to say goodnight privately, and Sarah and Charles began clearing the table and stacking the plates and mugs on the sink.
“Good night, Sophie,” they called to their friend as they were leaving.
Chapter 20
“Do I ever have something to show you folks,” Sophie announced as she breezed into the quilt club meeting just late enough to make a dramatic entrance. She was carrying a black box which she placed on the table. “You’ll never guess what I have!”
“A featherweight?” Kimberly asked, and Sophie’s face fell.
“How did you know?” she asked.
“I’d know that black case anywhere,” Kimberly chuckled. “Now show us what you have.”
Sophie pulled the Featherweight out of the case and set it down on the table proudly. “My first sewing machine,” she announced.
“Where did you get it?” several members of the club asked almost in unison.
Sophie told the story of how she discovered the little machine while everyone in the group crowded around her. “Such excitement,” Sophie commented. “It’s just a little sewing machine.”
“It’s more than that,” Ruth commented. “Quilters love Featherweights, and this is a particularly nice one, Sophie,” she added as she examined the machine. She tilted it over and looked at the serial number. “This was made around 1948?” she asked, but seemed to already know the answer.
“How could you tell?” Sophie asked. “The man at the store told me that, but I couldn’t find the date on the machine anywhere.”
“I could tell by the serial number. Yours begins with AH and those were made in 1947 and 1948.”
“I’m going home to look at my serial numbers,” Kimberly responded.
“‘Numbers’ plural?” Sophie asked. “You have more than one?”
“Sure. We’ve been collecting them for years,” Kimberly responded, looking toward her sister, Christina, for confirmation.
“Our mother left us one of the very first ones that Singer produced,” Christina replied. “They came out in 1933 and Mom bought hers the next year. Then she got another one a few years later for us girls to share, but we kept fighting over it, so she got the third one. I guess that st
arted our collection,” she added, looking at her sister. “We still have those three.”
“That got us started, but we continued on our own,” Kimberly admitted. “I recently found a white one that we both love using.”
“I thought they were only black,” Sarah responded, having looked at some of the ones Charles had found online.
Delores spoke up, “The most common color is shiny black like you have, Sophie, but they made them in a black crinkle during the war which is sometimes called matte. I think they were made for the military, in fact.”
“And they also came in tan and white, but those came along later.”
“When did the white ones come out?” someone asked.
“Around 1964 and the white ones were all made in Scotland. I have one I can bring in next time if you’d like to see it,” Delores offered.
“Why don’t we all bring in our Featherweights next time,” Ruth suggested. “How many of you have them?” Five of the members raised their hands, and Sophie suddenly shot her arm into the air, realizing she was now a Featherweight owner as well.
“Can I ask a question?” Caitlyn asked timidly.
“Sure, Caitlyn,” Ruth responded gently, knowing that the young girl often felt shy in the group.
“Why would anyone want one of these when you already have those fancy machines with all the special stitches?”
Ruth laughed and nodded her understanding of the question. “I know, it’s strange, isn’t it? I guess it’s just a quilter’s desire to be part of the whole history of quilting. When this machine came out in 1933, it was a real breakthrough. Singer had introduced machines made of aluminum instead of cast iron. They only weighed eleven pounds, and suddenly women could take their sewing machines to class or to their friend’s houses.”
“I saw an ad in a vintage sewing book,” Delores added, “that referred to the Featherweight as ‘the Perfect Portable.’”
“Do they still make them?” Caitlyn asked, beginning to show interest in the little machine.
“No, they stopped production in 1968 or 69, I believe,” Ruth responded. “It was about that time that women began to want a zig zag stitch and some of the other features they were coming out with.”
Left Holding the Bag Page 13
