Left Holding the Bag

by Carol Dean Jones

  “And people still use them?” Caitlyn asked curiously. She had moved up by Sophie’s machine, gently touching the hand wheel.

  “We use ours,” Christina responded.

  “Me too,” Delores added. “I love using it. I’m usually making a quilt, and the straight stitch is exactly what I need and that little machine of mine just purrs along.”

  “They’re easy to service,” Ruth added. “I can’t do any service on my fancy machine, but it’s simple to keep the Featherweight going. I do it all myself with an oil can and my worn out manual.”

  “And they are extremely reliable,” Delores added. “I think it’s because they were made back in the day when things were made to last.”

  Ruth laughed. “They hadn’t invented the concept of ‘planned obsolescence’ yet. These machines were made to be passed down from one generation to the next.”

  While everyone talked, Sophie sat with her arms cradling her new Featherweight as it sat on the table in front of her. She smiled with pride and excitement.

  “There’s another reason I use mine,” Kimberly spoke up with a melancholy look. “It makes me feel a part of a very special tradition. It’s hard to explain, but it gives me a feeling of connection to all the women that came before me, especially the ones that owned my little Featherweight.”

  As Sarah listened, she began to imagine having one herself. She had purchased her machine with all the bells and whistles and certainly loved it, but it was too heavy to bring to class, so she usually just used one of Ruth’s machines for club projects or did her sewing at home between meetings. I wonder…

  The group continued to chat about their machines until Ruth suggested they get started on their project. The members had been making baby quilts for a local church that provided supplies to young mothers in need. Allison pulled two completed crib quilts out of her tote bag, and everyone complimented her on her work. She had used shades of green and yellow to make pinwheels on a white background. “I made them for a boy or a girl,” she commented.

  “I didn’t get mine finished,” Caitlyn explained as she held up half of a finished quilt top. She had chosen a fabric featuring kittens, and everyone loved the pattern she had chosen which involved fussy-cutting the animals and placing them in the center of large Churn Dash blocks. “Do you think I could put flannel on the back, so it will be nice and soft for the baby?”

  “You sure can,” Ruth responded. “Just wash it like you did your other fabric, so you don’t have to worry about it shrinking once it’s on the quilt.”

  Most of the group spent the rest of the meeting cutting, sewing, and pressing, but Sophie and Delores moved to a side table where Delores taught her the basics of her new machine.

  On their way home, Sarah asked how she was feeling about her new sewing machine, and Sophie responded, “I feel fantastic about it, and I’m ready to start planning a quilt for Norman. Will you help me?” she added almost shyly.

  “You bet I will,” Sarah responded with a wide grin. My friend is officially a quilter -- a quilter in love.

  * * *

  “Charles, I’ve been thinking about my birthday…” Sarah had decided to ask him to find her a Featherweight.

  “Me too,” he responded.

  Oh my, she thought. He’s already made his own plans for my birthday. I guess it’s too late.”

  “And I know what I’m getting for you.”

  “Oh?” she responded, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

  “In fact, I was hoping you’d help me find it since you know more about this sort of thing.”

  “Oh?” Help him find it? Is it possible? She could feel a mounting excitement.

  “I got the idea from Norman,” he added.

  “Oh,” she responded as her tone plummeted with disappointment. Norman would probably suggest a party…

  “Or would you rather I do it alone, so it’ll be a surprise?”

  “I feel like I’m on a roller coaster, Charles.”

  “That’s exactly how you sound,” he responded, looking confused. “Your voice goes up and then it goes down. What’s going on?”

  “Well, I was sort of hoping we could talk about looking for a Featherweight like Sophie has, but when you said…”

  “I said Norman had an idea, and that is exactly what Norman suggested.”

  “No kidding?” she responded excitedly.

  “He could see how excited Sophie was with it, and he thought you just might like to have one too.”

  “He came up with that? I’m amazed.”

  “Well,” Charles added hesitantly, “I think Sophie may have had something to do with it as well.”

  “That makes more sense,” Sarah responded laughing.

  “So let’s talk about it. I found several on the computer being sold on eBay, but that makes me a little nervous. I think you need to be able to try it out.”

  “I agree.”

  “So I was wondering about one of those local online classified advertisement websites. Individuals can advertise to sell things, buy things, provide services, find services, stuff like that. I was wondering if we should start there and restrict the responses to nearby locations so we can go see it.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Sarah responded, “but I think we should talk to Ruth first. I know that some quilt shops sell them. She doesn’t, but she might have an idea for us. I’m worried that we don’t know enough about these machines, and we might end up buying the wrong one.”

  “Okay, but since this is going to be your birthday gift, let me do the legwork. I’ll talk to her and see what I can track down, then the two of us will go look at them. Okay?”

  “Okay. Now, I have a question for you. Have you spoken with Detective Halifax lately? I’ve been wondering if he’s made any progress on any of the ideas you’ve taken to him.”

  “He has, as a matter of fact. I was just waiting for our next meeting to talk about it, but let me fill you in.” As he was talking, he reached into the refrigerator for a bottle of Chardonnay and poured them each a glass. “Let’s move into the living room.”

  Once they were settled, Charles told her about his meeting with the detective. “I was pleased to see that he was moving on some of our ideas. For one thing, he pulled the boyfriend into the station and talked to him. Hal said the young man had been crushed when Courtney suddenly dumped him, but he didn’t get any bad vibes from the guy. The kid’s only nineteen, and he brought his parents with him, but they sat to the side and let Hal do the interview. The kid seemed very open, and Hal trusted his responses. He said Courtney was hell-bent on getting to this guy in Tennessee that she met online, and when he told her he wouldn’t take her there, she dumped him on the spot. Hal said that the guy seemed hurt but not angry.”

  “So that’s a dead end?”

  “Hal thinks so.”

  “How about Copley?” she asked.

  “Now there’s some good news. Well, good news for Norman and me anyway. You and Sophie are off the hook. Matt had put someone undercover in the campaign two days before he died, and his replacement kept him there.”

  “Really? They’re coming around and beginning to think there’s a connection between Copley and the girl’s death?”

  “Not exactly. The agent is in there for another reason having to do with a case out of Major Crimes, but he’s on the lookout for this as well.”

  “Okay, I guess that’s good news.”

  “For me, it is,” Charles said. “I was worried about you being in there.”

  “I know. You almost had me convinced as well,” she responded giving him an appreciative smile. “I’m glad someone is looking at that possibility though.”

  “He liked the idea of you and Andy stopping in the cafe again and talking to her friends. I’ll come along after you get there, but don’t let on you know me.”

  “Of course,” she responded. “I’ll set that up with Andy. Anything, in particular, we’re looking for?”

  “No, just get
them talking about her and anything they might know about the Tennessee guy. If they say anything relevant, you’ll know it.”

  “Did he find out anything about Waterford’s previous convictions?”

  “No,” Charles responded. “He hasn’t had time to look at that, but he did say he’s had reports from three of the jurisdictions along the route to Nashville. None were helpful, but at least the local police are looking, and that’s a good sign. One gas station attendant remembered them, but he wasn’t helpful beyond being able to report that he only remembered there being two people in the car.”

  “Where was that?”

  “Somewhere in Kentucky, I think.”

  “And they don’t have any leads on locating Darius, I assume?” Sarah asked.

  “Nothing yet, but he admitted that is their primary focus.”

  “Poor Bernice. This isn’t going to end well.”

  “Don’t give up, sweetie.”

  * * *

  “When do you want to go?” Sarah asked Andy the next morning after catching him up on what she had learned from Charles.

  “How about this Friday?” Andy responded. “That’s the night her friends hang out there.”

  After they had firmed up their plans, Sarah went into Charles’ computer room and found him up to his eyebrows in Singer Featherweight 221 ads. “There are plenty of them out there, hon, but I’m still not comfortable with the online route even if we find one local that we can go see. Let’s do it your way and check out quilt shops here and over in Hamilton.”

  “I agree,” she responded, “but you don’t want me involved, right?”

  Charles hesitated before responding. “Well,” he finally said, “I’m beginning to think I need you with me for this investigation. This isn’t my kind of detective work.”

  Sarah laughed and agreed. “Thank goodness,” she responded. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Chapter 21

  “Charlie, it’s Hal. Give me a call when you get this. I’ve got some information that I think you’ll like.”

  Charles and Sarah had just returned from Hamilton where they had looked at two Singer Featherweight 221s. One was old, a 1942 vintage machine which had been reconditioned and was in excellent condition, considering its age. The other was much newer, white, and made in Scotland. The shop owner showed them where the motor was marked ‘The Singer Mfg. Co. St. Johns, P.Q, Made in Canada,’ and then showed them on the arm where it said ‘made in Great Britain.’ He explained that because of the voltage discrepancy between the United States and Europe, the machines produced in Great Britain for the American market were often shipped to Canada for the motor assembly.

  “This white machine looks slightly green,” Sarah had said as she examined it. The shop owner had explained that there was no record of green machines being produced, and it was generally accepted that this was just a variation in the dye. Sarah loved the quality of the machine but felt she wanted something more traditional. “Let’s keep looking,” she had whispered to Charles.

  “Do you want to drive up to Chicago this weekend and check out those three shops Ruth told us about?” Charles asked as he headed for the telephone which was flashing, signaling that there was a message waiting. “According to Ruth,” he continued, “The Sewing Place up there specializes in vintage Singers. We could stay over and have a fancy dinner.”

  Sarah, seeing the flashing light as well, said, “Go ahead and check our messages and we can talk about it later.”

  Charles listened to the message and hit the Return Call button. When Detective Halifax answered he said, “Thanks for getting back to me, Charlie.”

  “Sure,” Charles responded and added eagerly, “what have you got?”

  “We had a contact from a jurisdiction just over the Tennessee line. A couple of folks at one of the major truck stops remembers someone matching our guy’s description causing quite a fracas a couple of weeks before the girl’s body was found.”

  “Was the girl with him?”

  “Yep, they were both there,” Halifax responded.

  “They must see hundreds of people every day. How did they happen to remember him in particular?”

  “It’s strange, Charlie. Supposedly the guy was all upset because his car had been stolen. He’d had car trouble – dead battery or something – he’d left the car at the truck stop and walked up to a local service station to get help. When he got back with the mechanic, the car was gone.”

  “What?” Charles responded, perplexed by what he was hearing. Who would steal an old broken-down car?

  “What they found strange,” the detective continued, “and probably the reason they remembered the incident at all, was that the guy refused to report it to the police.”

  “That makes sense – a hot car, an arrest warrant, and an underage girl across state lines. I assume the girl was gone too?”

  “Yep. They said she’d been in the restaurant earlier, but she was gone too. Supposedly the guy was hopping mad.”

  “So, what did he do?”

  “He threw a fit, blamed the manager of the truck stop, but left abruptly when they threatened to call the police. He left on foot, and no one knows what happened to him, but the cops down there checked the bus station.”

  “And?”

  “He bought a ticket back to Illinois. He might be right here in town for that matter.”

  * * *

  “Sarah, are you up for taking a trip?”

  “We’re going to Chicago right now?” she asked.

  “Nope. We’re going in the opposite direction.”

  “Where?”

  “To Tennessee.”

  “Tennessee?” she exclaimed. “That’s hours from here.”

  “Only about five and we’ll stay overnight.”

  “And why are we doing this?”

  “I want to interview the workers at a particular truck stop and Hal can’t get funds released to send a cop down.” He told Sarah what he had learned from Hal, and she listened intently.

  “We just might find out what really happened to the girl,” Sarah said excitedly. “It sounds like Darius was out of the picture at that point. Do you think she took the car while he was gone?”

  “It’s possible I suppose, but apparently the car wasn’t running, and she certainly couldn’t have fixed it herself.”

  “I beg your pardon!” Sarah responded with her fists planted on her hips. “And just why would you assume that?” Sarah asked. “If a man can do it, so can a woman,” she added defiantly.

  “I’ll bet you were quite some woman’s libber back in the 70s,” he responded laughing.

  “Never mind that. Just tell me why you think she couldn’t fix a car?”

  “Well,” he began, searching for the right words. “I just can’t see when a spoiled young girl named Courtney who got everything she wanted all her life from her indulgent parents would have occasion to learn auto mechanics.”

  Sarah relaxed and cocked her head thoughtfully. “Perhaps you’re right.” A few moments later she asked, “Should I tell Bernice?”

  “Not yet. Let’s go down and see what we can find out. If he’s up here, he just might contact her himself.”

  “I hope so,” Sarah responded, but then realized what an awkward position that would put Bernice in.

  They left Middletown early the next morning, both filled with enthusiasm. “I think we may be getting to the bottom of this,” Charles said. “If we can prove that Darius left the scene at this point, that should clear him or at least leave room for reasonable doubt.”

  * * *

  The manager and one waitress were the only people on duty who remembered the incident. Their descriptions exactly matched Hal’s report, so Charles didn’t think they needed to wait around for the next shift. Neither one could give any information on the girl. The manager hadn’t seen her and the waitress only remembered her using the facilities. Charles seemed despondent. “I had hoped for more.”

  “What did you expect
to find out?” Sarah asked.

  “I figured there would be more to the story. The local cops didn’t have a personal interest in solving this, so I was hoping we’d get a much more detailed story.”

  “No such luck,” Sarah responded. “Shall we look for a place to stay and get some dinner?”

  “I guess. Maybe we can stop by here in the morning and talk to the early staff.” As he was starting the car, one of the cooks came up to the car wiping his hands on his apron.

  “You the folks asking about that car that broke down?”

  “Yes,” Charles responded. “Did you see what happened?”

  “I sure did,” but then he added hesitantly, “you a cop?”

  “No,” he responded which was an acceptable version of the truth. After all, I’m retired and not supposed to be here.

  “Yeah, I saw it. I was out back on a cigarette break. I saw it all.”

  “Why didn’t you tell the police when they were asking about it?”

  “Well, it wasn’t no regular cigarette, if you know what I mean. I didn’t want to get into any trouble, so I just laid low while they was here, but I saw it all.”

  “Would you tell us now?” Sarah asked with a friendly smile. “We sure don’t care what you were smoking, but we’d like to find out what happened to our friends.”

  “Well, see the guy tried to get that heap of junk started up, but he couldn’t. He swore a good bit, excuse me ma’am, and then he left the girl in the car and walked up the block, I guess to get help.”

  “What happened next?” Charles asked, attempting to modulate his tone so it didn’t sound like an interrogation, something his wife often accused him of.

  “Okay,” the man continued. “So, in the meantime, old Artie came along. He seemed really interested in the girl. Asked all about where she was going and where she came from. Then he had his head under the hood for a while. He looked real happy to help out, and before you know it, he had that car running.” Charles wanted to ask who Old Artie was, but didn’t want to sidetrack the cook’s account of what happened.