Darcy came in and set her nylon stitching bag on the end of the table. She went to the breakroom and came back a moment later with a cup of coffee and two oatmeal raisin cookies.
"Don't stop talking on my account,” she said as she sat down and pulled a quilted square from her bag.
"What are you making?” Robin asked.
Darcy held the nine-inch square up so the group could see it. It was a simple pinwheel variation in sage green and pink. She was sewing a dark-green binding on the block.
"It's a kitchen quilt,” she said. “My sister is remodeling her kitchen, and I'm making her a set that will match her new colors."
"Kitchen quilt” was the group's euphemism for a potholder.
"It's cute,” Jenny said.
"So, what were you guys talking about in here, looking so serious?"
Mavis spoke first. “We were going over Harriet's problems to see if we could make any sense of them. You probably know all about them anyway."
"I'll tell you what I do know—whoever drugged Harriet didn't leave us much to work with. We found the handkerchief that was used to deliver the ether, but it's absolutely ordinary. You can buy them in any variety store. Otherwise, there wasn't anything to work with. Of course, in a studio where fibers are the stock-in-trade of the business, it wasn't likely we were going to find much hair or fiber evidence. So, did you guys come up with anything?"
"We were just starting to work on that when you came in,” Mavis said.
"Let's start with the first incident—the break-in."
Marjory had been listening to the discussion from the kitting room where she was cutting fabric for patterns that would be packaged with the appropriate materials to make a finished quilt top. She came in carrying an easel and flipchart with a couple of marking pens.
"This might help,” she said and went back into the kitting room.
Robin took the green pen and wrote “Harriet's Break In” at the top. “Okay, what do we know?"
"Some quilts were destroyed and some weren't,” said DeAnn.
"Nothing was stolen,” Jenny offered.
"There was no sign of forced entry,” Darcy said.
"I'm not sure how much that means. There are quite a few keys to Beth's studio floating around in the community. Most of us have them,” Mavis pointed out.
"That's a comfort,” Harriet said, and made a mental note to call a locksmith when she got back to Mavis's house.
"What difference was there between the quilts that were damaged and the ones that were passed over?” Sarah asked, initiating a long silence.
"I don't think we know that, do we,” DeAnn stated finally.
"Make a column on your piece of paper,” Connie said. “Let's go around the table. Everyone can say if your quilt was damaged or not. And maybe even say how badly damaged it was."
Each in turn described the quilt they had at the studio and what, if any, damage it suffered. The results didn't yield a ready answer.
"So, what could be gained by destroying the particular quilts that were ruined?” Harriet wondered.
"I'm not naming names, but maybe someone was trying to guarantee a win,” Sarah suggested.
"That doesn't make sense,” Jenny said. “Why would they destroy DeAnn's and leave Connie's and mine alone?"
"Would they even know it was DeAnn's they were destroying?” Harriet asked.
"All the show quilts are labeled, aren't they?” Robin asked.
"My label didn't show up very well,” DeAnn said. The fabric I used wasn't high enough contrast. It faded into the background. I didn't have time to fix it before the show, though, so I just left it."
"I know at least two of the non-show quilts were ruined, and they didn't have labels because they weren't bound yet,” Harriet added, and tried to remember what other work had been in the studio at the time.
"So, maybe instead of damaging show quilts, they were excluding them.” DeAnn offered. “It's hard to imagine why they would do that."
"Unless it was someone who personally knew how much work had gone into them,” Mavis suggested.
"Then we're back to why,” Harriet said. “There's no reason for someone to damage a random assortment of quilts."
"Let's move on to the next event,” DeAnn said. “Harriet finds Avanell.” She wrote it on the flipchart sheet.
"What can you tell us about that?” Robin asked.
"Not much, I'm afraid. I went to Avanell's to get the entry form for her quilt. The receptionist told me she was in the back, so I went to there and found her. She was dead."
"What can you tell us about finding her?” Robin asked.
"It was really sad,” Harriet said. And something she didn't really want to think about.
To distract herself, she scanned the group, looking for brown-eyed girls. Darcy and Mavis were blue-eyed, and Robin had green eyes. That left Sarah, Jenny, Connie and, if you counted hazel, DeAnn. Harriet should remember the color of Lauren's accusing eyes, but all she recalled was the anger in them.
"How was she killed?” Jenny asked.
"I don't know,” Harriet said. “I saw her on the floor and there was a lot of blood around her head, an amount that it would be hard to do without. I touched her hand, and it was stiff. I called nine-one-one, and that was it. I tried not to look at her face, so I don't know what happened."
"Single gunshot to the head,” Darcy supplied. “I think it's okay to tell you that, but don't ask me anything else, ‘cause I can't tell you."
"What kind of gun?” Sarah asked.
"Sarah,” Robin said, “she just said she can't tell us anything, let her be.” She wrote on the chart “found in the early morning, shot in the head, stiff to touch."
"Was anyone else around?” she asked Harriet.
"Not where I found her, but there was a young woman in the reception area.” Harriet would have to check her eye color, too. At least, if you believed the humming of a disturbed young woman.
"Let's move on,” Mavis said. “It was hard enough on Harriet to find the body. She doesn't need to keep talking about it just to satisfy our morbid curiosity."
"Okay,” Robin said. “What happened next? Harriet took the quilts to Tacoma and then came home. And then what happened?"
Nothing I'm telling this group about, decided Harriet as she mentally reviewed her impromptu dinner with Aiden followed by her proper dinner date with Harold.
"The next big event was getting hit on the head,” she said, and Robin wrote “Harriet attack number one."
"Not much to tell there, either,” Harriet said.
"If you aren't willing to tell us anything we aren't going to be able to help you solve your problems,” Sarah complained.
"Look, if I knew more, you'd be the first to know. I went to find a young woman who hadn't showed up at Marjory's Thursday group. For my effort, I got hit in the head. I woke up in my car. I saw no one, I heard nothing."
"Harriet hit in head down by docks,” Robin wrote. “Related or bad luck?” she added in parenthesis.
"The next thing that happened to me was after I got out of the hospital,” Harriet continued. “As I told you, after the reception, I went to work on Sarah's and then Lauren's quilts. I heard a noise, but I thought it was Sarah. Someone put ether on a handkerchief and drugged me from behind."
"Did you get any sense of how tall the person was?” Jenny asked.
"Not really. I was bent over a table, so I suppose the attacker could have been short."
"Well, this has been a real waste of time,” Sarah said.
"I'm sorry. Next time I'm attacked multiple times within a few days, I'll take notes."
"Clearly, whoever drugged you did it to buy time to destroy Lauren's quilt,” Jenny said, and Robin made a note to that effect. “So the break-in, and the drugging and, for that matter, the attempt to remove Lauren's quilt in Tacoma were all related to the Kitties.” Robin put these notes under a heading labeled “Lauren's Quilt.” She went back to the column marked “Harriet
finds Avanell” and underlined it.
"But what about Avanell?” she said. “There has to be some connection between the attacks on Harriet and Lauren's quilt and Avanell's death."
Harriet looked at the list again. “This would make more sense if it was Avanell's they were going after. If someone were jealous of Avanell's wins at the quilt show then killing her and destroying her quilt would make sense, in a sick sort of way."
"But Lauren was the one with the most to gain if Avanell's quilt weren't in the show, and she wouldn't destroy her Kitties,” Jenny said. “That would defeat the whole purpose."
"What if it wasn't anyone from your group?” Harriet wondered.
"Would anyone really kill over a quilt?” DeAnn asked no one in particular.
"People kill over pocket change,” Darcy answered.
"I still have to wonder if Avanell's family might be involved,” Harriet said.
"On TV they always say you're most likely to be murdered by a loved one,” Connie said as she tied a knot in the thread she'd just stitched and clipped the end close to the fabric surface.
"Unfortunately, that's a fact,” Darcy said. “Being related is the number one risk factor in murder. It's generally either money or an argument over something stupid. And there are a lot of spouses who think murder is easier than divorce, although that doesn't apply here."
"First, it's hard to believe Avanell's family would hurt her,” Jenny said. “And second, how does destroying the quilt fit into that scenario, assuming Avanell's quilt is the real target.” She looked around the room, but no one had any answers.
"I think I can answer one thing for you,” Marjory said as she came in from the kitting room. “They both chose a red batik for their backing. Avanell used it first, and then Lauren chose it, too. I know that for sure, because Lauren's so sensitive about what Avanell is or isn't doing. I did call Avanell and tell her, but she just laughed and said she wasn't going to start over at that point. If someone only looked from the back and not real close at the stitching, they might look alike."
"We're still missing something,” Harriet said. “It doesn't make sense for someone to kill Avanell and then destroy her quilt. Once she was dead, why would they care?"
"So, we are no closer to figuring this out than we were an hour ago,” Sarah said.
"That's not entirely true,” Robin argued. “If we assume Harriet's attack down by the docks was the result of going into a bad neighborhood alone, then the other two problems were probably about destroying the quilt, whether it was Lauren's or Avanell's that was the target."
"If that's right, then Harriet shouldn't be a target anymore if Lauren's quilt was the thief's goal,” DeAnn said.
"That's a big if,” Mavis pointed out. “If Avanell's quilt is the one, then Harriet won't be safe until the police arrest someone."
"I think you're overlooking the obvious here,” Sarah announced.
"Please,” Jenny said. “Enlighten us."
"We go get Avanell's quilt, and leave it in some easily accessible place. When it's gone, we know Harriet's safe."
"Do we worry about catching this person, who is probably Avanell's killer?” Mavis asked.
"Are we supposed to do everything?” Sarah retorted. “Aren't the police supposed to be catching the killer? Besides, we don't know for sure the same person who is destroying quilts is the person who killed Avanell. It could be two separate incidents."
"Sarah has a point,” Darcy conceded. “First, we can't assume the events are related until we have evidence to link them. And second, it isn't the group's responsibility to solve either crime."
"The police don't seem to be getting anywhere,” Jenny said. She got up and took her cup to the kitchen. They could hear the sound of running water as she rinsed it and set it in the drying rack.
"At least Avanell's quilt is safe for a few more days,” Connie said. She folded the pink-and-orange table runner she'd been binding and put it into her bag. “I took my mother-in-law to the show yesterday, and they had hired additional private security guards. It seemed like we saw a guard every time we turned around."
"If it stays safe, that will tell us something,” Darcy said. “If someone in Avanell's family is behind this, all they have to do is wait until the quilt is returned to them on Sunday. If it's not a family member who wants the quilt, they'll have to make a move in the next two days."
"That's assuming Avanell's is the target,” Harriet said. She finished the last stitches on the baby quilt binding and buried the knot in the batting, clipping the thread end close then pulling the cloth to make the thread withdraw below the surface.
Mavis stood up. “We're going in circles here. Everyone keep your eyes and ears open and call if you hear anything. I'm going to take Harriet back to my place."
Harriet folded the quilt into quarters and took it into the kitting room, where Marjory was now cutting and bagging fabric swatches that would be mailed to her block-of-the-month customers. She held it up for approval.
"That looks great,” Marjory said. She took it from her. “Did the group help at all, or are they just adding to your stress?"
"The only real thing the group came up with is that since Avanell's and Lauren's quilts have the same backing, it's possible someone might have confused them. That, and the fact they all think I was asking for trouble going down to the dock area."
"If you ask me, this isn't about quilting. I heard a little of what you all were saying. I don't buy that someone is sabotaging quilts for personal gain. Frankly, I don't think anyone in the Loose Threads cares enough about winning to make it worth their time and trouble. And I can't believe any of them would kill Avanell. Not even Lauren. No, I think in the end it will be something else entirely."
"What do you know about Avanell's family?” Harriet asked.
"After her husband died, she developed the business into a going concern. She and Bertie have been generous to the community. They seemed to get along well. The kids all scattered when they grew up. Marcel couldn't get out of here fast enough, but he came back to visit on a regular basis.
"Michelle was more difficult for Avanell than the boys were. She's a bit of a drama queen, and Avanell didn't have much time for that. Aiden is the sensitive one. I think Avanell was a little more protective of him, since he was younger when George died. He came back to be close to his momma. I suppose that might change now."
Harriet drew in her breath and then coughed to cover it. It hadn't occurred to her that Aiden might leave. She mentally scolded herself for caring.
"You ready to go, Toots?” Mavis asked Harriet.
"I just need to rinse my cup."
"Connie did our dishes, so we're good to go."
She led the way through the shop and out the door. “Do you feel up to a stop at the grocery store? If you're too tired, Connie said she could come over at five and stay with you so I could go. The Foggy Point Market has whole chickens on sale, and I want to get a couple before they're too picked over."
Chapter Twenty-eight
"I'm available."
Harriet hadn't heard Aiden come up behind them.
"I can take Harriet to your house and stay until you get back."
She tried to signal no to Mavis, but Mavis either didn't see her gesture or was ignoring her.
"If Harriet doesn't mind, that would be great,” she said.
"That's not necessary,” Harriet protested. “I can sit in the car while you stop at the store, I really don't mind.” Her head was pounding again, and she knew she probably looked like death warmed over. She attempted a smile.
"You're practically out on your feet,” Aiden said. “Come on.” He put his arm around her shoulders and turned her toward his car. “I'll take you back to the cottage and fix you some of Mavis's herb tea. Then, you can nap, and I'll catch up on my reading.” He held up a thick book. “I have to read up on the latest in canine prescription medications before next week."
Harriet felt like a lamb going to the slaught
er. “Seems like it's decided."
"Good,” he said, and opened the passenger side door on his rental car.
She got in and leaned her head against the back of the seat. She closed her eyes, and Aiden pulled away from the curb. When she opened them, he was pulling into the wooded drive leading to Mavis's cottage.
"Welcome back,” he said.
"I guess I was a little more tired than I thought,” she said and felt herself blushing slightly. She hoped her mouth hadn't gaped open while she slept or, worse, that she'd snored.
"You've been through a lot the last few days. Your body knows you need to rest even if you aren't listening."
"Yeah, well, I've had a few things on my mind lately. You really don't have to stay here, you know. I'll be fine."
"You keep saying that, but so far that hasn't proved true, has it?"
"Lauren's quilt has been destroyed. Whoever hit me has now been through my stuff twice. They've either found what they wanted or they realize I don't have it. I don't think anyone has ever believed this was about me personally. Everyone in town knows I'm staying with Mavis. My aunt's place is fair game if they want to look again, so see, there's no reason for you to be here.” She turned and headed up the stone path to the front door.
"Is it me or have things gotten a little icy around here? Did I do something? Is it that accountant guy? Have we broken up and you didn't tell me?"
She stared at him. “Broken up?” she choked. “We had nothing to break. And leave Harold out of this."
"What am I supposed to think? Saturday night we had a nice dinner, a movie and spent the night together. Now you treat me like I'm the delivery man or some other casual stranger you've encountered."
"You are delusional. Saturday we had take-out, and it took two tries to even have that, then you fell asleep on my couch and I watched a movie by myself. We didn't sleep together—or any other way, for that matter. And I hate to point out the obvious, but I barely know you.” She slipped her key into the door lock.
Aiden grabbed her arm and spun her toward him. He lowered his head and pressed his lips gently to hers. His tongue traced the soft fullness of her lips; her body tingled from the contact. Her arms slipped inside his jacket, hands pressing on the work-hardened muscles of his back, pulling him closer. Disquieting thoughts seeped into her mind as her traitorous body responded to his.
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