Isabelle offered a royal wave and disappeared through the gate. Disaster averted momentarily. Gracie looked at her watch. It was almost time to leave for their counseling session, and she needed to change.
CHAPTER 3
Theresa carried a plastic container full of nicely cut quilt blocks to the overstuffed garage. Lulu had given permission to move a few things to make it easier to move from room to room in the house. She had tried to throw out a couple of dingy and threadbare pillows, but Lulu had refused. Her anxious friend watched the crew of women like a Doberman guarding her property. At least, they’d made it a little safer. Lulu was deep in grief, feeling abandoned by her late husband and her distant family. Ed, God rest his soul, had plunged over the bank of a remote road in the Adirondacks on an early spring fishing trip. The car had burned up. The intense fire had incinerated all of poor Ed, except for a dental bridge that had been discovered a few feet away from the vehicle. That had been the only bit of Ed that could be identified. To make it worse, the accident hadn’t been found for several days. A horrible thing!
Theresa sighed and plopped the container on top of three other bins filled with what looked like finished quilts. Maybe, if they were in good condition, Lulu could be talked into donating them to the shelter in Batavia or to the Red Cross. Just getting rid of one container would feel like success today. Lulu had always been a generous person, happily making quilts or cute baby hats. Thank God she didn’t knit too!
Theresa brushed a strand of gray hair from her eyes, bending to make a quick count of the handmade quilts. She’d have to wash them though. Who knew the last time Lulu had washed anything? There were four beautiful patchwork quilts encased safely in the tub. The smell of lavender rushed to greet her nose as she opened the lid. The quilts were in perfect condition—clean and smelling wonderful. Now to see if Lulu would part with any of them.
“These are so nice, Lulu. Wouldn’t you like to donate them to the bazaar or Red Cross?”
Lulu studied the patchwork color explosions Theresa laid out in front of her. She stood on the side steps of the house, pulling her robe tightly around her body.
“Those are some of my best work. I plan to enter one or two of them in a quilt competition.”
“Are you sure? The bazaar needs really good items if we’re going to make this year’s goal,” Theresa wheedled.
The look of doubt in Lulu’s eyes didn’t bode well for a donation.
“I don’t think so. Just put them back in the garage,” Lulu said firmly and trudged up the steps, disappearing inside.
Gloria appeared immediately with a worried look.
“I think we’d better call it a day,” she said. “Lulu is pretty agitated. I’m afraid she’ll just pile things up again and trap herself in the living room.”
“You’re probably right. Did Margaret or Suzie talk her into getting dressed and going out to eat?”
“They’re working on it now,” Gloria answered. “I don’t think she will though. It’s going to have to be baby steps with her.”
“Bob said we’d end up calling Social Services, but I hate to have them involved after only one try.”
“I agree. There’s food in the fridge, and the bathroom is okay. Her bedroom is a sight; she can only get in the bed from one side. But I was expecting worse. Here, let me help you put that tub back in the garage.”
Gloria lifted one end, while Theresa grasped the other handle. They shoved the containers back a few more inches to gain clearance to shut the door the entire way. Theresa pulled the rope to close the door, both women watching it squeak past the plastic towers.
“Aha! Made it!” Gloria said, smiling.
Theresa breathed a sigh of relief. That was quite enough lifting, pushing, and pulling for one day. She was sure to feel it tomorrow morning.
“Look! Here comes Franny Walczak,” Theresa said, spotting a rather fast-moving white-haired woman coming across the street.
Gloria brushed dust, lint, and fabric bits from her Deer Creek Community Church long-sleeved T-shirt and glanced up.
“She doesn’t look happy,” she said.
Franny wasn’t happy in the least. Her cheeks were red, and her mouth was determined.
“I’m glad I caught you,” she said breathlessly. “You need to know what’s really going on here. I’m ready to call the police.”
“What do you mean?” Theresa asked.
“It’s Lulu. She’s stolen my heirloom quilt.” The dumpling-shaped Franny pointed to the garage. “I’m pretty sure she put it in there.”
“Really?” Gloria asked. “I can’t believe she’d do anything like that.”
“Believe it, Gloria. She’s been skulking around my yard for months. When I asked her what in the H-E-double hockey sticks she was doing about a month ago, she just ran home without a word.”
“Ran? Lulu ran? You must be joking!” Theresa shot back, incredulity overwhelming her manners.
She found this beyond hard to believe. In the fifty years she’d known Lulu Cook, running anywhere, even if there was a tornado bearing down on her, wasn’t ever a thought in the woman’s head.
“Well, it’s true. My quilt is gone, and I’ll bet you my Social Security check that she’s got it hidden in this mess.”
“That’s a serious accusation,” Gloria said. “When did you notice it was missing?”
“After I went to Geneseo today. I keep it in the cedar chest at the foot of the bed. I was putting away the sheets in the chest after I got back, and the quilt was gone.” Franny glared at the two women, daring them to challenge her further.
In for a penny, in for a pound, Theresa decided. “Was the house locked?”
“Yes. I always lock it when I go to Geneseo. I don’t think the neighborhood’s what it used to be.”
“Is the extra key still under that rock by the front steps?”
“Well, yes. And Lulu knows where it is. I just want to look in that garage.”
Gloria shrugged, and Theresa nodded.
“Sure,” she said, yanking the handle to pull the door up.
“Good night nurse!” Franny squeaked, taking in the stacks that filled the space. “She’s a loon! I didn’t realize it was this bad. It’ll take weeks to see if my quilt’s here.”
“She has tons of stuff crammed in here. There’s lots of fabric,” Theresa said. “I don’t know about what’s in the back, but she’d never be able to get to those tubs anyway. I did find one full of quilts though.”
With a grunt of effort, she eased the tub once again from the stack. Gloria unsnapped the lid for Franny’s inspection. The pudgy woman eagerly sorted through the quilts.
“No. It’s not here. This is an old quilt that she stole. It’s signed by my great-great-great-great-great-grandmother. She made it in 1803. That’s the year Deer Creek was incorporated, you know. It’s worth a lot of money, plus the sentimental value.”
“What are you doing here?” a voice demanded angrily from the side steps.
Lulu stood with hands on hips, Margaret and Suzie behind her.
“I came for my quilt, you thief!” Franny snarled, stalking toward the house. “I want it back.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lulu declared.
Shoving Suzie and Margaret away from the door, she slammed it shut behind them and vanished inside her chaotic lair.
Margaret and Suzie looked quizzically at the trio below.
“I guess I’ll have to call the police,” Franny muttered, smoothing the sleeves of her pumpkin-colored sweatshirt.
“Give us a chance to look inside,” Gloria pleaded. “She’s really not herself, and it may be that it’s in plain sight.”
“Huh? Are you kidding? She’s a schemer if I ever saw one. She has it hidden somewhere. If she doesn’t fork it over, I can’t be held responsible for my actions,” Franny declared, looking alternately angry and hurt. “You think you know a person after thirty years of being neighbors.”
“But …” G
loria trotted after Franny, who was making short work of the distance between the houses.
“Never mind,” Franny muttered, crossing the street. “I’ll take care of it.”
Her front door slammed. Gloria stood on the sidewalk, looking between the two houses.
Suzie and Margaret joined Theresa, walking side-by-side across the shaggy lawn to meet Gloria on the sidewalk.
“That went well,” Margaret muttered, rolling her eyes.
“No kidding,” Suzie retorted. “And Lulu locked her doors. I heard her throw the deadbolt when she went in.”
“Fabulous,” Theresa said, suddenly feeling quite weary. She looked at her watch. They’d already been there more than two hours. “Want to call it a day? We can try again tomorrow. Gracie and Marc are coming over for supper. I should already be cooking.”
“I second that motion,” Margaret said, looking back at the garage. “Oh rats! That door is still open.”
“I’ll get it,” Suzie piped up. She scurried to the garage, pulling the door down to meet the ground.
The convoy of sedans moved out, leaving Lulu Cook peering from her front window, while Franny Walczak observed the activity from across the street.
CHAPTER 4
Gracie and Marc stepped into the sunshine of the church’s parking lot after an hour of premarital counseling with Reverend Minders. It was helpful, Gracie admitted, but they weren’t teenagers or twenty-somethings. Her longtime pastor tended to think of her as one of his own kids who were in the same age bracket. It was their last session though and one more thing to check off the list.
“That wasn’t too bad,” Marc said, opening the door of his pickup for her.
“You’ve taken his admonition of ‘manners still matter’ to heart, I see,” Gracie said as she climbed in.
“I wouldn’t want to lose the parson’s support, milady,” he said with a sweeping bow.
He popped into the driver’s seat. “Now where to?”
“The Glen Iris. We need to pay the balance on the reception.”
“Your wish is my command.”
“Oh boy. You may be overdoing it.”
“You’re so hard to please,” he teased. “I’m in a quandary about what behavior is just right.”
“Sheesh, Marc.” Gracie feigned exasperation. “I’ll have to sic my dog on you.”
“My dog can take yours any day.”
That was probably true. Haley was a lover, but she’d come to Gracie’s rescue in a rather dangerous situation a while back and won the day. She didn’t know what she’d do without the goofy Lab.
“All right, but you said before we left that you’d had an interesting phone call. That was the one that provided your nicely-timed escape during Isabelle’s visit—right?”
“The timing was perfect. It was Investigator Hotchkiss with some sheriff’s office news.”
“What kind of news?”
“The union found out about the sheriff’s decision to eliminate positions because the dispatcher and another deputy filed a complaint. The cutbacks are now under some sort of review.”
Marc slowed the vehicle as they drove through Castile and turned onto Park Road East to Glen Iris Road.
“Interesting. Does that mean you’ll get a call back then?”
“She wasn’t sure right now. But like I said before, the work environment hasn’t been the best for a while. We’re staying in touch.” He slowed again as a tractor chugged up a hill and turned into a barn driveway. “And you’ll like this, she’s thinking about running for sheriff herself.”
“Hey, that is interesting.”
In Gracie’s head, the wheels were spinning out-of-control about the employment possibilities. Even though the investigator and Gracie weren’t always on the best of terms, the no-nonsense policewoman thought highly of Marc and had kept in touch with him over the last two months.
“Does that mean you’re interested in going back, if they offer you a position?”
“I’m really nervous about not hearing about the clearance from DACO. I know it takes time, but if Jeremy screws it up for me, I don’t have any other offers right now.”
Gracie nodded. Marc’s half-brother, Jeremy, wasn’t ever supposed to see the light of day for his part in blowing up a church and a section of a courthouse in Missouri. She had no idea what impact that would have on a government security clearance for Marc and what Defense Advantage would think of this evil man. She shivered, hoping they’d never know him.
After paying the park fee at the Castile entrance, they were caught in the predictable stream of leaf peepers, most of them driving in no particular hurry. With the leaves almost at peak, the park would be even more jammed by the weekend when the annual October Arts and Crafts show began its three-day run. Gracie glanced at her watch. She hoped the manager was available so they could go over the guest list one more time. Finally, they wound their way down the steep hill to the Inn’s parking area. The pool with its fountain spouted prettily as groups stood around, taking shots with their cameras and phones.
The manager was on site, which made Gracie’s errand easier. She pulled the credit card from her wallet and handed it to the black-haired woman, whose reading glasses rested on the tip of her nose. Marc paced the small room, looking out the windows.
“No other changes then?” the manager asked.
“None, Connie. Everyone has responded. There’ll be sixteen prime rib dinners and ten Chicken Florentines.”
“That’s excellent.”
“And my special request? Is that taken care of?” Marc interjected.
The manager looked up and smiled. “Yes. As a matter of fact. You are one very lucky man, in more ways than one,” she said, laughing. “Shall I or would you …?”
“I’ll tell her,” Marc said, sitting in the chair next to Gracie.
“Tell me what?”
“I know that we agreed to honeymoon at the house, because of everything going on, but Connie just gave me good news. The Cherry Suite with the Jacuzzi and falls view is available for our wedding night. We’ve been trying to work out an arrangement with the couple who reserved it earlier. I guess the negotiation was successful.”
“Oh, Marc! That’s wonderful!” Gracie leaned over to meet his lips. “I’ve always wanted to stay here, but we lived just down the road.” She stopped, remembering her late husband, Michael nixing a weekend at the inn.
“It’s only the one night,” Connie confirmed. “The cancellation for the Beech suite sealed the deal this afternoon. I’m so glad it all worked out, Mr. Stevens.”
“Me too. I was sweating bullets on it. There wasn’t a plan B. So we’re good to go, then.”
“We are,” the manager said, rising. “I’ll see you on your wedding day—just ten days away.”
Gracie grabbed Marc’s hand. “It’s really happening. It’s almost like a dream.”
“Hopefully not a nightmare,” Marc said, leading her toward the door.
***
“You’re sure that everything is all set?” Theresa asked her daughter with a soul-piercing look that made grown men cringe.
“Absolutely, Mom. The Glen Iris is taken care of, with a bonus, courtesy of my beloved,” Gracie said, giving Marc a meaningful smile.
“You know your mother,” Bob Clark chimed in. “She’s really unhappy you’ve handled all of the details yourself. She’s not feeling needed at the moment.”
“Bob! That’s not true. A wedding day should be perfect, and that means details. It’s easy to overlook something crucial.” Theresa shot her husband a reproving look.
“I get it. Even Isabelle can’t handle that she’s not involved,” Gracie started.
“Poor Isabelle. She really does mean well. If you can, you should let her help with something.”
“Really, Mom? Like carry around a guestbook, make some favors? No. We want simple. It is simple. No one is stressed. I myself am quite relaxed.” She brushed back a strand of hair nonchalantly to make her point.
> “Speaking of stressed, I had an awful afternoon trying to help Lulu Cook with her hoarding problem.” Theresa plunked herself on a dining room chair and began dishing out Dutch apple pie.
“Lulu? What’s she hoarding?” Gracie asked, eagerly putting a fork in the pie.
“You know she’s been a quilter and seamstress for years, but since Ed was killed, she’s gone over the edge. She’s collecting fabric and quilts, sewing machines, thread, patterns. Good grief! The girls and I were on overload just looking at the stuff stacked in the house and garage.”
“Sounds like you need the family involved,” Marc said, appreciatively eyeing the large slice of pie Theresa handed him.
“She only has one brother and a sister-in-law, who has a bunch of health issues. They can’t help,” Bob said. “I say Lulu has a serious mental problem that needs professional help, but your mother is trying to solve everything via the Holy Meddlers Squad.”
“Oh,” groaned Gracie. “So Margaret, Suzie, and Gloria are in the posse?”
“We’re not a squad or a posse, thank you very much. We’re her friends and we care about her,” Theresa insisted. “But she might be a thief too. Franny Walczak accused her of stealing an heirloom quilt from her today.”
“Drama on Oak Street, huh? I’d call Social Services if there’s no one to help her,” Gracie said. “She might have some serious issues—beyond your capabilities.” Gracie lifted the crusty brown sugar topping with her fork, ready to enjoy the treat.
“You never know what will put someone over the edge. I’d recommend getting them involved,” Marc added.
“I know,” Theresa conceded. “But we decided to give it another go tomorrow. If we don’t make progress, we’ll have to call somebody.”
CHAPTER 5
Oak Street was quiet when Theresa pulled her car to the curb. She stepped to the sidewalk, inhaling the crisp air, which smelled of drying leaves. The sun was shining brightly in a cornflower-blue sky. That early taste of Indian summer made her wonder when snow would make its first appearance. She unzipped the garter stitch cardigan, steeling herself for another round with the stubborn Lulu. She saw Gloria’s silver Honda Accent around the corner. At least she wouldn’t go it alone. Suzie and Margaret should arrive at any time too.
Pins & Needles (A Gracie Andersen Mystery Book 5) Page 2
