The Quilt Before the Storm

by Arlene Sachitano

  “What was that?” Lauren asked.

  “I don’t know, but it didn’t sound good. We better go check.”

  Another agonized scream pierced the air, and their whole group ran for the encampment.

  Joyce was wrestling with a highly agitated Brandy when they reached the common area. Tom took over restraining the younger woman, who let loose with another earsplitting shriek.

  “Calm down,” he soothed in a neutral voice.

  She kicked him in the shin. He pulled her backward and sat on the bench, pulling her onto his lap, his arms wrapped around her. He continued speaking in a calm, steady tone.

  “Brandy,” Joyce said in a clear voice. “Stop. Now. This man is not trying to hurt you.” She reached out and took Brandy’s hands and leaned in close to the girl’s face. “Look at me.” When Brandy finally complied, she continued. “What has gotten you into such a twist?”

  “He’s dead,” Brandy said in a voice only slightly slurred by alcohol.

  “Who is dead?” Joyce asked, keeping a firm grip on her hands.

  “The man,” she said, “the man in my bed.”

  Harriet looked at Joyce.

  “She has delusions sometimes—snakes, spiders, that sort of thing.”

  “Not a big stretch, given where we are,” Lauren said in a murmured low enough only Harriet heard her.

  “She’s never mentioned a man before,” Joyce continued, “but she does have these spells.”

  “If she can calm down, I’ll go check her space, if you think that would help,” Tom offered.

  “What are you talking about?” Brandy slurred, her voice rising, a sheen of sweat on her forehead. “There is an awful man with blue lips in my bed.”

  Joyce looked at Tom and then Harriet and Lauren.

  Tom loosened his grip slightly and paused to gauge Brandy’s reaction. When she didn’t move, he released her and stood up, setting her on the bench.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said.

  “Brandy, dear,” Joyce said. “Take a deep breath and try to relax. Good. Now another one.”

  Harriet was surprised to see Brandy follow Joyce’s instruction, taking several deep breaths then letting them out slowly.

  “Now,” Joyce said. “Tell me what happened to frighten you so.”

  “After we ate, I went for a walk,” Brandy said in a voice only slightly clearer.

  “Right,” Lauren whispered to Harriet. “Straight to her stash of alcohol.”

  Harriet poked her with an elbow, silencing her.

  “And then what happened?” Joyce continued in her almost hypnotic tone.

  “I tried to lie down in my bed.” Tears started to dribble from Brandy’s eyes, mixing with the raindrops.

  “You say you tried. What prevented you from lying in your bed? Did a branch fall onto it?” Joyce tightened her grip when Brandy tried to jump up but continued her steady stream of questions.

  “Unfortunately, no, it wasn’t a tree,” Tom said. He came to the center of the common area. His face was pale, without its usual hint of humor.

  “What?” Harriet asked.

  Tom looked at Brandy.

  “There is, in fact, a dead man in her bed,” he said quietly.

  Lauren and Harriet both started to speak, but he held his hand up.

  “It’s Richard.”

  Joyce put her arm around Brandy’s shoulders.

  “What about Ronald?” she asked.

  “He’s in his tent, asleep, but very much alive, earplugs and all—I checked after I saw Richard. I didn’t see any reason to wake him. We don’t need him having a heart attack on top of everything else.”

  “You’re sure Richard is dead?” Harriet asked.

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  A vision of Duane’s strangled body flashed through her mind.

  “I think we need to leave,” Tom said, “and I suggest you…” to Joyce “…do the same.

  Brandy staggered to her feet.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  Joyce looked at the others, but if she hoped someone was going to talk Brandy into going, she was disappointed.

  “I can’t leave her here by herself,” she said. “She’s vulnerable in this condition.”

  “Unless she’s the killer,” Lauren mumbled.

  “Would you hush!” Harriet snapped in a low tone. “What about Ronald?”

  “What about him?” Lauren countered.

  “We need to tell him what’s happened,” Harriet said. “I know he’s not doing well but finding himself alone with a dead body isn’t going to help his heart any.”

  “I’ll go get him,” Jorge volunteered.

  “We could drive all of you to the church shelter,” Connie offered. “You would be safe there.”

  “I’m. Not. Leaving,” Brandy shouted, dragging out each word.

  “Calm down,” Joyce said. “No one is making you do anything you don’t want to do.”

  They stood in silence until Jorge returned, supporting Ronald with an arm under the older man’s elbow.

  “I knew losing my house was going to mean some changes, and I knew there would be some danger in living out-of-doors, but I never imagined this,” Ronald stammered.

  “Relax,” Jorge said. “We’re going to take you to the church shelter. You’ll be safe there, and with any luck, they will have someone who can give you medical attention.”

  Ronald swiped at his forehead with his hand.

  “I think that would be for the best. I thought I was in good condition for a man of my age, but this lifestyle is a little more difficult than I could have guessed.”

  “Don’t worry,” Jorge said. “We’ll get you inside, and when downtown is open again, we’ll get you set up with someone who can find you transitional housing of some sort.”

  “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Brandy insisted when Joyce tried to get her to stand up.

  Joyce turned to Aunt Beth and Connie, who were now sitting on the bench on either side of her.

  “Maybe you should take Ronald to the church without us. Let me take some time to explain things to Brandy without the pressure of all you people standing around watching her.”

  “You mean to let her sober up,” Lauren said to Harriet.

  Harriet ignored her. “That’s a good idea. That will give us a chance to call Detective Morse and also to see if any police officers are sheltering at the church.”

  “Someone needs to tell Marjory’s sister and her daughter, too,” Connie said.

  “Oh, my goodness,” Aunt Beth said. “I’d almost forgotten they were here.”

  “I’m sure that was the plan,” Harriet said. “They retreated to their car as soon as lunch was over.”

  “They may not be the people we would wish Marjory’s sister and niece to be, but they loved Richard and no one deserves this,” Aunt Beth said. “No matter what they did to Marjory, they need our support now. And I know Marjory would expect us to be here for them.”

  Harriet sighed but kept her mouth shut. She looked at Lauren and could tell she was biting back whatever sharp-edged retort had formed in her brain, too.

  Connie’s husband Rod had just gotten out of his car when Harriet and Lauren, followed by Jorge, Aunt Beth, Tom and Connie came out of the woods behind the restroom building.

  “Where’d Kate go?” Harriet asked.

  “Probably back to the truck,” Lauren answered. “She didn’t follow us when we went to see what all the screaming was about.”

  “Leave them be,” Aunt Beth said. “We’ve got enough to worry about here.”

  “So, who’s going to deliver the news,” Lauren asked, nodding toward Richard’s car.

  “Señora Beth and I will tell them,” Jorge volunteered. “We’ll drive them to the church and bring their car. Señora Connie, can you and Rod bring Ronald and get him settled? See if you can locate a doctor or nurse at the shelter to keep an eye on him.”

/>   “I’ll take Harriet and Lauren home,” Tom said. “I can come back and get Joyce and Brandy.”

  “I wouldn’t bother,” Harriet said. “Brandy isn’t going to leave. She knows they won’t let her bring the stash of alcohol she’s got hidden in the woods. We’ll check at home and see if Detective Morse has called again and find out if there is any news on the slide or the river level. Connie, maybe you and Rod can come by my house when you’re done with Ronald and we can figure out what to do next.”

  Connie nodded, and they separated to go to their vehicles.

  Chapter 17

  The sky unleashed a deluge before Harriet, Tom and Lauren reached the borrowed truck, soaking them. Mavis had hot water in the thermal carafe and warm cookies cooling on a wire rack on the kitchen counter when Harriet led the soggy procession through her studio and into the kitchen.

  “How did you pull off baking cookies?” Lauren asked.

  “If Jorge can make toast on the stovetop, I figured I should be able to bake cookies there also.” Mavis tapped on a covered cast iron skillet. “My last batch is cooking now. Anyone care for some tea?”

  “I’m about tea-ed out,” Tom said. “Have you got any coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  She pulled a bag of ground coffee from the freezer compartment and got a single cup and a cone-shaped filter holder from the cabinet under the counter then inserted a white filter paper into the holder.

  “How strong do you like it?” she asked when she had the cone assembly balanced on a coffee mug.

  “After today, I think I need a double,” he said.

  Mavis put three scoops of coffee into the filter then poured hot water over the grounds.

  “Anyone else?”

  She made tea while Lauren took Carter out to do his business and Harriet went upstairs to change clothes. When they’d returned, they all joined her in the living room.

  “Detective Morse called while you were gone,” Mavis reported. “She said she’d call back later. How did it go at the camp?”

  “As bad as it can go,” Lauren said.

  “Is everyone okay?” Mavis asked.

  “All of us are,” Harriet answered. “Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for Marjory’s brother-in-law.”

  Mavis pulled Curly up onto her lap and waited.

  “Richard is dead,” Harriet continued, “It happened while we were all working.”

  “It looked like someone whacked him in the head pretty hard,” Tom explained.

  “That could have been us,” Lauren said, realizing for the first time Richard was last seen doing the job she and Harriet had abandoned. She hugged her little dog to her chest, and he attempted to worm his way under the flannel shirt she’d put on while her sweatshirt was drying on the back of her chair in front of the fire.

  “I’m pretty sure his death had nothing to do with us or our leaf-gathering.”

  “And that would be why?” Lauren asked. “Did some cone of enlightenment come down from above for your ears only? Haven’t you ever learned the rules of group thinking? First you brainstorm, listing all possible ideas. Only when you have all those out do you start eliminating options. And then you need some plausible reason to do so.”

  “Well, excuse me for using common sense,” Harriet shot back.

  “Will you two behave?” Mavis scolded. She turned to Tom. “Perhaps you can fill me in without all the color commentary.”

  “We don’t know what happened. We divided up into work groups and dispersed to do our jobs. Richard was down the trail, scooping up leaves and needles to be used on the trail to sop up mud. We were in the parking lot, cutting up branches for the same purpose, when we heard Brandy scream, and when we investigated, it turned out she’d found Richard—dead.”

  “My goodness,” Mavis murmured. She shivered and tugged her knit shawl closer around her shoulders. “Who would want Richard dead?”

  “Who wouldn’t?” Harriet asked. “If he was as charming to everyone else as he and his family were to Marjory, I imagine he had more than a few enemies.”

  “But which enemies were at the camp with us?” Lauren asked.

  “You’re assuming our group is the only possibility. We don’t know where the trail through the camp goes, or if there’s another approach to the woods from the other side of the park.”

  “Score one for Harriet,” Lauren said.

  “It’s a good point,” Tom agreed. “Someone could have followed Richard and his family to town. Maybe they were just waiting for an opportunity.”

  “In the middle of a storm?” Harriet asked.

  “Why not?” Lauren said. “It would be the perfect cover.”

  “Well, Richard and Pat did seem pretty anxious to get their hands on a bunch of money for reasons unknown. Marjory even said so. They had been riding high—too good for their relative in Foggy Point, until suddenly they weren’t. They were broke and desperate for money any way they could get it, including sending Marjory to lockup.”

  “So now we have two murder victims, both found at the homeless camp,” Mavis said.

  “Makes you wonder what they had in common.” Harriet took a sip from her tea.

  “It does seem like a bit of a coincidence,” Tom said.

  “Duane could be anybody,” she mused. “We know nothing about him, other than that he was homeless and then he was dead.”

  “The same could be said of Richard, it sounds like,” Tom pointed out. “By the way, Owen happens to have a roll of electrical wire that looks a lot like the wire we saw wrapped around Duane’s neck in his toolbox.”

  “That’s interesting,” Harriet said.

  “I guess we’ll just have to tell Detective Morse when she calls back,” Mavis said. “Anyone for more tea or coffee before I go upstairs?”

  “I’d love to, but I better go check on the Renfros. They’re probably doing better than we are, but I don’t like the idea of leaving them with no way to call for help if they need it. Besides, someone has to make a dent in all the brownies they’ve stockpiled.”

  “You have brownies?” Lauren’s voice took on a shrill quality.

  “If you behave yourself, I might be persuaded to bring some by tomorrow.”

  “Are they the cake kind or the chewy kind?”

  “Chewy.”

  “You’re killing me.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Tom said. “I better run. Thank you for the coffee, Mavis.”

  “You come for coffee anytime,” she answered then turned to Harriet. “I might close my eyes for a few minutes. If I’m not back by the time the rest of the group arrives, would you come wake me?”

  “Sure.” Harriet turned to Tom. “I’ll walk you to the door.”

  Lauren wrapped the tails of her shirt around Carter and pulled him close to her body again, her long hair forming a curtain around him.

  “You really know how to show a guy a good time,” Tom said when they had made their way to the studio door.

  “I’m really sorry about all that.”

  “Hey.” He put the tips of his fingers under her chin, turning her face toward him. “This isn’t your fault.”

  “Sometimes I wonder,” she said. “I mean, Foggy Point was a peaceful place before I moved back. Now all of a sudden there’s a crime wave.”

  “But you didn’t kill anyone. As near as I can tell, you didn’t even know these two victims until this week, which is when all the rest of us met them. You can’t possibly believe you have any connection to all of this.”

  “No, I know I don’t. It’s just a weird coincidence, but I find it rather creepy.”

  “I think you’re thinking about it too much,” Tom said and gently pressed his lips to hers. He pulled back and looked in her face. “You’re not alone here. None of this is your responsibility.”

  He pulled her into a gentle embrace, his arms wrapped around her, his chin on the top of her head. She leaned her head on his shoulder. Without conscious thought, her arms went around his waist
.

  He smelled like freshly cut wood. She breathed deeply.

  “You smell good,” she said in a husky voice.

  Tom kissed her again, this time longer, deeper. Then, he pulled away, catching her hand in his and holding it.

  “If I don’t leave now, I can’t be responsible for what might happen,” he said with a rueful grin. He brought her hand to his mouth, kissed it, and let it go. “See you tomorrow.”

  He went out the door.

  The ringing phone saved Harriet from having to explain the high color on her cheeks when she came back into the living room. She was pretty sure Lauren knew the score anyway.

  It’s Detective Morse, Lauren mouthed when she handed her the receiver, as if there were dozens of people calling during the storm.

  “Oh, where to begin,” Harriet replied to Morse’s query how things were going. She decided to start at the action point and gave the detective a concise replay of the afternoon’s events.

  “Where’s the body now?” Detective Morse asked.

  “Still at the homeless camp. He’s in a sleeping bag but otherwise in the open.”

  “You did the right thing, leaving him there,” Morse replied. “I’ll call the fire station and see if they can get paramedics to go pick him up. They’re trained in how to preserve evidence. If I can raise them, I’ll get them to pick Duane up, too.”

  “Is there anything we can do?”

  “No,” the detective said. “Staying safe is the best thing you can do. The Coast Guard thinks there might be a window between storms tomorrow that could let them fly us in by helicopter.”

  “That would be great,” Harriet said.

  They exchanged storm stories then rang off, with Morse promising to call again tomorrow.

  Lauren had left the room while Harriet was talking to Morse. She returned a few moments later with a cookie in each hand.

  “Here,” she said and handed one to Harriet. “Mavis cooked dinner, but I don’t think we get to eat until everyone else returns. Who knows when that will be?”

  “I wish we knew how the other serial killer victims were killed,” Harriet said.

  “I don’t. I don’t want to know anything about the serial killer. It’s none of our business.”