"Frankly, if she stays asleep, I don't care,” DeAnn admitted. “Joseph suggested the crib, since that's what they had at the orphanage. I guess they don't move to beds until they literally can't fit in the crib."
"She's worn out,” Mavis said. “Poor little thing."
"Speaking of worn out,” Aunt Beth said, “we'll get out of your hair so you can get some rest, too."
"I'm going to go back up and sit in that big rocker you have in Iloai's room,” Mavis said. “I brought my dog appliqué with me, and there's light enough in her room I can work on it while she sleeps. That way you can get a real nap."
"Speaking of the dog blocks, we better go call everyone and figure out when we can meet. We need to see where we are,” Aunt Beth said when they'd talked through their block options one more time without coming to any new conclusions.
"Let us know if we can do anything,” Harriet added and stood up. She gathered the used cups from the table and took them to the sink.
"She's going to have a tough few weeks ahead,” Aunt Beth said when they were back in Harriet's car.
"I hope it's only a few weeks,” Harriet said. “Do you have time to preview my dog block before you go home?"
"Oh, honey, I always have time for you."
"Nothing else going on, huh?"
Beth laughed.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 18
They continued the discussion about dog quilt possibilities as Harriet drove into her neighborhood. A maroon sedan was sitting at the top of her drive, adjacent to the front door. Harriet parked her car, and as she and Aunt Beth got out, two people, a man and a woman, left the sedan and walked toward them.
The woman opened a leather badge case, displaying both a gold shield and an identification card.
"I'm Detective Morse, and this is Detective Sanders. Are you Harriet Truman?” Detective Morse looked like she was in her mid-to-late forties. She wore navy blue slacks with a blue print cowl-necked blouse. She had pulled on a matching navy blazer as she approached. Detective Sanders wore gray slacks with a white shirt and maroon tie. His sleeves were rolled up to just below his elbows.
"I'm Harriet, and this is my aunt, Beth Carlson. What's this about?"
"We'd like to ask you some questions, if you have a few minutes. Could we go inside?"
Harriet looked at her aunt. Beth nodded, and Harriet led the pair to the studio entrance.
"What's this about?” she asked.
The two detectives looked at each other.
"Did you know a woman named Neelie Obote?” Morse asked.
"I'm not sure I'd say I knew Neelie Obote. I spoke to her, and I visited the house she was staying at a few times."
"And why was that?” Sanders asked. “Can we sit down?” He gestured toward the two wingback chairs in the receiving area for her quilting clients.
"Is there somewhere private we could go?” Detective Morse asked Aunt Beth.
Harriet looked helplessly at Aunt Beth. She wasn't anxious for them to be separated, but that was clearly the intent.
"It's okay, honey,” Aunt Beth said. “We haven't done anything wrong.” She led the detective to Harriet's kitchen.
"Now,” Sanders said when he was seated. “Why was it you were at the house where Miss Obote was staying?"
"My...friend,” Harriet said, stumbling over the word boyfriend, “Aiden Jalbert lives there. It's his house. And my friend Carla lives there, too."
"So, this is some sort of boarding house?” the detective asked. “Or commune?"
"No!” she said a little too loud. “No. Nothing like that. Aiden inherited a very large home, and he hired Carla to be his housekeeper. Neelie came looking for Aiden—he was a friend of her sister when he was in Africa. She didn't have a place to stay, and didn't know anyone else in Foggy Point, so Carla let her stay until Aiden came home.” She purposely avoided mentioning Kissa.
"And where was Mr. Jalbert?"
"It's Dr. Jalbert. He's a veterinarian. He had to go to eastern Washington to work on an animal hoarding case. He was gone for a few days."
"Did Miss Obote say why she was looking for Dr. Jalbert?"
"She said her sister had just passed away and had asked her to bring something back to America for Aiden."
"Do you know what that something is?"
"Yes.” Harriet gulped.
"You could save us both a lot of time by just telling me what Neelie brought from Africa. You're a horrible liar, and I will find out in the end, and then you'll be on my short list of suspects."
"A baby,” Harriet said with a sigh. “She brought a baby. She claimed it's Aiden's—Dr. Jalbert's. But it's not."
"And you know this how?"
"He told me,” she blurted before she could stop herself, realizing too late she'd just put Aiden on the suspect list.
"So, he came back from eastern Washington, and Miss Obote confronted him with a baby?"
"No,” she said and paused to craft her next answer.
The detective let the silence grow.
"To my knowledge, Dr. Jalbert did not meet Neelie. He came back to Foggy Point, but he brought a lot of sick and injured dogs with him, and he's been taking care of them night and day since then."
"Does Dr. Jalbert have the baby now?"
"No, as I said, to my knowledge, he never met Neelie."
"Did he tell you that?” Detective Sanders was holding a small notebook in one hand and a mechanical pencil in the other, but he wasn't writing anything.
"Yes, he told me he'd never met her, and I believe him."
"When you spoke to Miss Obote, what did you talk about?"
"She asked several of us if we knew Aiden. She grabbed my phone from me when she overheard me talking to him. Another time, she looked ill, so I asked her if she was diabetic, and she didn't answer, but she did drink the juice I gave her, and it did seem to perk her up. Stop me if you already know any of this."
"Whoa, slow down. Back up to the part where Dr. Jalbert talked to Miss Obote on your cell phone."
"He didn't talk to her. She grabbed my phone and babbled into it, but in the process, she dropped it and it was broken."
"So, you two struggled over possession of your phone?"
"I wouldn't call it a struggle. I was talking on my phone, and someone grabbed it from me from behind. Of course I made a grab to get it back. It fell and broke."
"So, you were angry at Miss Obote?” Sanders persisted.
"No, I wasn't angry. I was confused. I didn't know why this virtual stranger would grab and break my phone."
"Let's go back to Miss Obote's diabetes. You say you talked to her about it?"
"I asked her if she was diabetic. She seemed a little shaky when she came to Dr. Jalbert's house. I asked her, and she didn't answer, so I got her a glass of orange juice and she drank it."
"Then you concluded Miss Obote was diabetic."
"You could say that. She drank the juice, and after a little while she seemed better, so, yes, I concluded she was a diabetic."
Detective Sanders continued in this manner for another thirty minutes, asking a few new questions but always circling back to whether Aiden knew Neelie and knew about baby Kissa. He finally seemed satisfied and suggested they join his partner and Aunt Beth in the kitchen.
Harriet led the way, and when they entered the kitchen, Aunt Beth and Detective Morse were drinking tea and laughing like old friends.
"Oh, honey, I was just telling Jane here about that nine-patch quilt you made. The one with the panel pieces you cut apart. Is that somewhere handy?"
"Sure,” she said. “It's upstairs. Shall I go get it?” she asked and looked at Detective Morse.
"If it isn't too much trouble, I'd love to see it."
Detective Sanders rolled his eyes at the ceiling but didn't say anything.
Harriet went upstairs and came back with a green quilt draped over her arm. She unfolded the large wall hanging and held it up. She had taken a fabric panel with
a variety of wildlife images printed on it and cut it apart, rearranging the images and then surrounding them with nine-patch blocks in coordinating and contrasting colors.
"You're right,” Detective Morse said, “that would be the perfect thing to do with my fairy panel. Thanks for showing it to me,” she added.
Harriet wondered if this was some quilting variation of good cop/bad cop. It was clear which one she'd just met.
"We generally meet on Tuesdays,” Aunt Beth said. “Think about coming if you get a chance."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 19
"You invited her to the Loose Threads meeting?” Harriet asked when the detectives were back in their sedan and preparing to leave. “What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking here is a lady who likes to quilt and doesn't belong to a group. Besides, it can't hurt to have a detective where we can keep an eye on her."
"It could backfire big time."
"She seems like a good person."
"Yeah, well, he seemed like a total jerk bent on connecting Aiden to Neelie and her death."
"Honey, you know he's just doing his job. Someone has to ask the hard questions, and you know better than anyone they have to question everyone."
"So, what did she ask you?"
"Probably the same thing he asked you. She wanted to know if I knew anything about Neelie, and if I knew anything about her health. Of course I told her no."
"You didn't mention our suspicions about her being diabetic?"
Aunt Beth picked up the detective's used cup and carried it to the sink.
"I didn't mention it because it was your theory, based on your observations. Besides, I didn't want to give them anything to work with."
"Well, that ship has sailed,” Harriet said. “I spilled all about Neelie appearing diabetic, and I tried not to tell him about the baby, but I wasn't prepared to lie about it, and he pushed."
Aunt Beth was silent for a moment. “I better warn Connie,” she said and picked up the kitchen phone. She spoke quietly for a few minutes then hung up. “We're going to keep the baby moving while the detectives are doing their interviews. She's too little to speak, and we don't want them thinking about calling Children's Services."
"We should at least try to find out whose baby she is,” Harriet pointed out. “I need to call Aiden. He needs to know what to expect from the detectives."
She made the phone call, apologizing for waking him up, and gave him the short version of her interview. He reported he'd put in a call to Africa but reiterated he didn't expect a reply anytime soon.
"Aiden's calming down,” Harriet reported to her aunt. “Having the rest of the clinic help with the rescue dogs is reducing his stress level. I can hear it in his voice."
"Speaking of stressful things, what are we going to do about our auction quilts?” Aunt Beth asked.
"To tell the truth, I haven't given a thought to any of the quilts but my own, and I've barely thought about it."
"Have you had any breakthroughs with yours?"
"It's showing promise, I think my idea is going to work, but I need to find the right fabric combos. I think with tumbling blocks, the texture needs to match. Of course you have to have three intensities of color, but I think the prints need to be the same scale or feel or something. That's the part I'm struggling with right now."
"I'm afraid to say what I'm doing out loud, for fear it'll show up on the Small Stitches design wall before I even show it to anyone."
"Do you really think they're stealing our ideas?"
Aunt Beth looked over the top of her reading glasses.
"Of course they're copying our work. I talked to Glynnis at church. She didn't admit it, but she said Frieda was determined the raffle quilt was going to come from the Small Stitches this year."
She went to her canvas bag and pulled out a quilt block. She held it up for Harriet's approval.
"Very clever,” Harriet said.
Before she could continue, Beth cut her off.
"Don't say its name,” she cautioned. “Your studio may be bugged."
Harriet laughed. “I know we ate lunch at Tico's yesterday, but do you feel like going back today?"
"You know I'm always up for a meal there, but what are you up to?"
"I was thinking about what Jorge told us yesterday. He said Neelie was talking to a black man he didn't recognize. We don't get that many new people in Foggy Point, especially this time of year. Don't you think it's a bit of a coincidence that he showed up at the same time Neelie did? I'm wondering if they're partners in the baby scam. Maybe it's his baby. I want to ask Jorge a few more questions."
"When this business is settled, and we finish our raffle quilts, we're going to take a week and just eat salad and fruit."
"Really?” Harriet asked.
"Bet on it."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 20
"Two days in a row,” marveled Jorge. “Don't get me wrong, I'm always happy to see you two, but this is not like Se—ora Beth."
"She's making us eat salad all next week to make up for it,” Harriet said with smile. She ducked to avoid Aunt Beth's purse, which had been swung with mock fury.
"Come in,” Jorge said and put his arm around Harriet's shoulders. “You want a table or a booth?"
"A booth is fine,” she said and followed him as he led them to an unoccupied booth then went to the kitchen to fix their guacamole. He returned a few minutes later with the creamy green dip and a basket of warm tortilla chips.
"Do you remember the man you told us about, the one who was talking to Neelie? Have you seen him since?"
"Oh, sure.” He turned his head slightly to the right. “As a matter of fact, he's here now."
Harriet looked. She spotted the man, sitting by himself in the last booth in the row on the opposite side of the seating area.
"He's been sitting there for a couple of hours, drinking coffee and calling people on his phone. Judging by the look on his face, things aren't going well."
"I'll be right back,” Harriet said, and was up and out before Aunt Beth could protest.
She walked to the booth at the back where the man sat, cell phone pressed firmly to his ear. A dark-brown leather jacket covered the opposite seat. She waited at the end of the table until he realized she was there and abruptly punched the end button on his phone and laid it on the table. She waited, and when he didn't say anything, she did.
"May I speak to you for a moment?” she asked.
"It's a free country,” he mumbled.
Harriet looked pointedly at the jacket-covered banquette. The man sighed, straightened in his seat then used his foot to pull his jacket from the bench and into his hands. She slid into the seat.
"Did you know Neelie Obote?” she asked without preamble.
The man's jaw tightened. “What's it to you?"
"I know you spoke to her a few days ago, so don't even go there. The police questioned me earlier about her death. “
The man lowered his head into his hands and began to weep.
"She was my wife,” he said without looking up.
"What?” Harriet said it a little too loudly, and before she could stop herself.
"We hadn't been together lately, mind you, but she was my wife,” he repeated, and raised his head, looking like he'd aged ten years since she'd sat down.
"Maybe you better start at the beginning. Who are you, what was Neelie doing here and why did you follow her?"
The man sighed deeply, and Harriet wasn't sure he was going to answer.
"I'm Rodney. Rodney Miller.” He offered his hand across the table, and she took it.
"I'm Harriet Truman,” she said and waited.
He raised his eyebrows. “Like in Harry Truman?"
"Like in I have weird parents. We're distantly related to the Harry Truman but not in any way that matters."
"That's cold,” he said.
"Yeah, tell me about it."
R
odney leaned back in his seat.
"I don't know what Neelie was doing here. We'd been having troubles, and she'd been staying with her girlfriend Jasmine in East Bay."
As a former California resident, Harriet knew the place Rodney referred to was in San Francisco, and the east side could mean Oakland, Berkeley or one of several other communities.
"She's kind of a free spirit, you know what I'm saying? She was young to be married, and I'm older than her, but I thought if we were married, I could settle her down some. I was talking to her every day on her cell, trying to get her to come home so we could work on things.
"Then she just up and disappeared. She was gone for a month or better, took all my cash, too. Then she calls Jasmine and says she's in Foggy Point, Washington, and she needs money. Jasmine called me, and here I am."
"What about the baby?” Harriet asked.
"What about it?” Rodney said, a sly note creeping into his voice.
"Whose baby is it?"
"What business is it of yours?” he asked and leaned back. Clearly, he sensed he was in the driver's seat.
Harriet sighed deeply. She'd met people like him in boarding school. Not physically like him, of course, but with the same “what's in it for me” attitude.
"How much?” she asked.
"I'm offended,” he said in a mocking tone.
"How much is it going to cost me to cut to the chase?” She gave him a hard look she hoped conveyed that this was a one-time offer.
"A hundred,” he said and waited to see how his opening bid had been received.
"We're done,” Harriet said and started to rise.
"Look, I'm stuck here. I was going to get my money back from Neelie, and now she's gone. What am I supposed to do?"
"Fifty dollars, take it or leave it."
"Lessee it,” he said in an injured tone.
Harriet pulled three bills from her wallet but held them in her hand.
"She brought a baby here and said her sister in Uganda asked her to bring her daughter here to the baby's father,” she said. “Who does the baby really belong to? Is it yours?"
"No, it's not mine. Neelie can't take care of herself—I wouldn't give her a baby on top of everything else. And a sister?” Rodney leaned toward her. “I never met no sister. And that's the truth."
Quilt by Association Page 10
