She could tell by the look on his face that at least the last statement was true. He didn't know about the sister.
"How can I get in touch with this Jasmine?"
"I wish I knew. Jasmine's phone don't work, and no one's seen her in a while, but that's Jasmine for you. That's why I didn't like Neelie staying with her."
"So, you were just looking out for Neelie's welfare. Is that your story?"
"That's the truth,” he said and snatched the bills from Harriet's hand.
"If you think of anything else, call me,” she said and pulled a business card for her long-arm studio out of her pocket and handed it to him.
"You got your money's worth. You want to talk more...” He rubbed his thumb across his first two fingers in the universal sign for money.
Harriet turned without another word and returned to the booth, where Aunt Beth had nearly polished off the guacamole. Before she could say anything, Jorge brought a fresh bowl of dip and swept away the spent one.
"You're making your aunt nervous,” he said and laughed, then lowered his voice, a fellow conspirator now. “Did you learn anything good?"
"He fed me a line about being Neelie's husband, and how he was looking for her to keep her out of trouble. I'm not sure I believe anything he said, except that he seemed surprised by the baby and sister. I don't think he knew about either one. That's telling, if he's really her husband."
"Or if he knew her at all,” Aunt Beth added.
"Maybe he's her pimp,” Jorge offered.
"He doesn't seem flashy enough,” Harriet said. “Of course, my knowledge of pimps is limited to Hollywood portrayals."
They all looked at Rodney now.
"He doesn't look like husband material,” Jorge countered.
"Not for a normal person, but when people are running a complicated con they often have at least one partner.” Harriet said.
"That I can believe, but you'd think he'd have cleared out when she died."
"He said he wants to recover the money he claims she took from him,” Harriet said. “If he's smart, he'll use the money I gave him and take the next bus out of Foggy Point."
"He's not that kind of smart,” Jorge said. “You can see it in his eyes. If there's money and any chance he can get it, he's going for it."
"That's another reason we need to keep that baby out of everyone's reach until this sorts itself out,” Beth said. “I don't know how, but she figures into this."
"You ladies want to try my new special tacos?” Jorge asked. “They're marinated pork with a special hot sauce. Just for you, I'll put a green salad on the side instead of beans and rice."
"Perfect,” Aunt Beth said with a smile.
Jorge headed to the kitchen without waiting for Harriet's response. She sighed. Aunt Beth wasn't her mother, but she was more like a mother than her actual parent. She wondered if all mothers attempted to control their daughter's weight as openly as Aunt Beth did hers.
Harriet wasn't what anyone would call thin, but she wasn't exactly fat, either. She'd gotten heavier after Steve died, but that weight had come off since she'd returned to Foggy Point.
"Did your detective say anything about why they were investigating Neelie's death?” Aunt Beth asked, jarring her back to reality.
"No, he didn't, why? Did yours?"
"She gave me a generic line about investigating the death because Neelie wasn't from here, and therefore, they didn't know if she'd been in a doctor's care, and anytime an otherwise healthy person dies, they investigate."
"And you didn't believe her."
"I'm with you. I think that girl was diabetic. She should have had one of those testing gadgets, and she probably had needle marks or, if not that, then medication at least."
"They wouldn't be assigning two detectives for anything less than murder,” Harriet said, ending the discussion.
Jorge brought their meals, and they ate in silence.
"We need to confirm that,” Harriet said after a while. “Doesn't Connie's daughter-in-law work at the hospital?"
"Yes, she does, although I'm not sure how much she'll be able to tell us even if she does know. You know how they regulate everything medical these days. I'll call Connie when we're done eating, and see if the gossip wheel has been turning.” Beth didn't like talking on her cell phone in public places.
"Maybe we should drive by on our way home. We could check her quilt block progress while we're there."
"I doubt she's gotten much done if she still has Carla and the babies there, but we should check on them, in any case."
They finished their taco dinners and placed generous tips under their plates to counter Jorge's ongoing unwillingness to accept money from Harriet and, by association, anyone she was dining with.
"You ladies come back again,” he said from his post by the front door. “And don't forget to tell me what's going on. You never know when an old man can help."
They assured them he would be the first to know any breaking news. Jorge pulled a white paper bag from under the counter that held the cash register.
"Since you look like ladies on a mission, I took the liberty of preparing some flan to go. I put an ice pack in the sack, so it should be good until the end of your adventure.” He winked at Harriet. They both knew Aunt Beth would never have agreed to dessert no matter how long they had stayed at the restaurant.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 21
Connie opened the door to her tan stucco house when she saw Harriet pull into the driveway.
"Would you two like some tea?” she asked once they were inside.
"Sure,” Beth said.
"Things seem calmer than I expected,” Harriet said as Connie led them through the living room and into her spacious kitchen at the back of the house.
"Baby Kissa is a little dreamboat,” Connie said. “And Carla and Wendy went back to Aiden's. They went to feed the dog, and Aiden was just coming home, and they talked, and now she's back there."
"Where is Kissa?” Harriet asked.
"Rodrigo is pushing her around the neighborhood in the stroller,” she said and laughed. “That would be the new stroller he went out and bought this morning. She definitely has Grandpa Rod wrapped around her little finger."
"Makes you feel sorry for DeAnn and her family, doesn't it?” Harriet said.
"Mark my words,” Aunt Beth said sagely. “There's something not right about that situation."
Harriet explained the other reason they'd stopped by unannounced.
"I'll call Zoe right now and see if she knows more, but she already told me the forensic nurse had been called when the body came in."
Forensic training for nurses was a relatively new phenomenon in hospitals, having only been recognized as a specialty in the late 1990s. Their specialized job was to be sure all possible evidence was preserved when a person was brought into the hospital in a condition that suggested a crime had been committed. A major part of their caseload was battered women and children, but most of them were also ER nurses, so they used their skills whenever a suspicious case came through the doors.
Beth took over the tea preparations while Connie called her daughter-in-law.
"Uh-huh,” she said, after the usual greeting and a quick rundown of what they wanted. “Of course we wouldn't tell anyone...You're sure about that?...Okay, thanks, honey.” She hung up and turned to Harriet and Beth. “You have to swear you won't tell anyone else,” she told them, “She said the lab results showed levels of insulin that were way too high to be accidental. And she had needle marks on the back of her shoulder."
"I thought so,” Harriet said. “She was a diabetic."
"I'm not sure we can conclude that, honey.” Aunt Beth said. “Someone could have killed her with insulin even if she wasn't a diabetic."
"Yeah, but how much more convenient if she was and took injectable insulin? How could anyone prove she didn't accidentally overdose?"
"In the back of her shoulder?” Beth asked.
"That only matters if she doesn't have other needle marks on her."
"They'll figure it out,” Connie said.
Beth looked at Harriet.
"What?” Connie asked.
Harriet quickly explained the visit they'd had from the two detectives.
"They're grasping at straws,” Connie said. “Don't you worry—we all hardly knew the woman. And anyone who met that young woman could see she was troubled. They'll dig around in her background and find out what really happened."
"How about we talk quilt blocks for a minute,” Beth suggested, ending their speculation about Neelie.
"Let me show you what Lauren and I have been working on,” Connie said and headed for her sewing room. She was back a moment later with a small stack of blocks she handed to Harriet.
"These are great,” Harriet said and passed them one-by-one to Aunt Beth after she'd looked at them.
The two women had made several variations of doghouse blocks. They had started with a basic schoolhouse-type traditional block and then, in some cases, put miniature pieced blocks on the building side while on others they had fussy-cut dog faces from novelty fabric and stitched them in window frames in the side of the doghouse.
"We're still working on it,” Connie said. “We tried using landscape prints, so the grass was green and the sky had clouds, but they looked too busy. Lauren is working on that idea still, seeing if she can minimize the problem by making the blocks bigger.
"All of these look good,” Harriet said. “Don't show them to anyone."
Beth peered over the top of her reading glasses.
"Until we figure out how the Small Stitches are stealing our ideas, we need to be careful."
"Lauren and I were talking about that,” Connie said. “She thinks we should leave Sarah out of the next meeting."
"What?” Beth said.
"That's not a bad idea,” Harriet said.
"We can't start accusing our own members of being a spy,” Beth protested. “Especially without any evidence."
"Think about it a minute,” Connie said. “The Small Stitches meet where Sarah works. They could be getting into her stitching bag when she leaves the front desk."
"If they're clever, they could create a diversion so she'd have to leave the front,” Harriet added.
"Lauren and I were just thinking if we meet somewhere other than Pins and Needles, and leave Sarah out of the loop, we can find out if our ideas really are being stolen. We can check and see what they do next, and then we'll know. Lauren said she can make up a reason to go check the computers at the senior center when the Stitches have their next meeting."
Connie sat down and picked up the cup of tea Beth had made for her.
"Lauren and I were also talking about DeAnn's little girl,” she said, cutting off any further discussion of Sarah and spying. “I told her about the quilt the baby brought with her. She wants to research it and see where it leads."
"Sounds like a good idea,” Harriet said.
"Maybe you can call and tell her that, chiquita,” Connie said with a hopeful look.
"Fine, I'll call her when I get home."
Talk turned to a wedding quilt Connie was making for her niece and continued until they were interrupted by the arrival of Rodrigo and the now-sleeping Kissa. He wheeled the stroller gently into the kitchen.
"She's out cold,” he said in a stage whisper.
"She's the happiest little baby.” Connie shook her head. “Too bad DeAnn's new little one isn't the same."
"Maybe we should send Rodrigo over to work his magic.” Aunt Beth said.
"Rodrigo is good,” Connie said, and patted her husband's arm, “but Kissa is a goodnatured, happy little one. Unfortunately, the same can't be said for DeAnn's daughter."
Rodrigo wheeled Kissa through the doorway to the living room. He looked back at the women.
"Excuse me, I have a baby to take care of.” He was humming as he disappeared into the next room.
Harriet's brow furrowed, and her gaze became unfocused.
"What are you thinking?” Aunt Beth asked.
"I was wondering if DeAnn's daughter is having a language problem. She's old enough to be talking, but no one here can understand her and vice versa. Kissa doesn't have that problem because she isn't of an age to be speaking, is she?"
"Kissa should have a dozen words or so,” Connie said thoughtfully. “But, you're correct—Iloai should be using simple sentences by now. Maybe she's upset because she can't communicate."
"This must be a fairly common problem in international adoptions,” Harriet said. “I wonder how they handle it."
"We can check with Phyllis tomorrow,” Aunt Beth suggested.
"There might be another way,” Harriet said slowly.
Aunt Beth and Connie stared expectantly at her.
"Iloai is from Uganda, isn't she?"
"I think that's what they said,” Beth said.
"Aiden is fluent in the main language there. Even if Iloai is from a different region, the language would probably be similar enough the sound of it might be calming to her."
"It's worth a try,” Connie said. “At this point, DeAnn is probably willing to try anything."
"I'll give him a call and see if the waters are continuing to thaw,” Harriet said.
"I see,” said Connie. “You have ulterior motives.” She smiled at Harriet.
"I hadn't thought about that,” Harriet objected, but she could see neither her aunt nor Connie believed her.
Beth looked at her watch. “We better get going if you're going to talk to Lauren and Aiden."
"Thanks for the tea,” Harriet said.
"De nada,” Connie replied and ushered them out of the house.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 22
"You call Aiden, and I'll call DeAnn,” Aunt Beth suggested as Harriet drove up the driveway and parked. “I'm guessing Aiden will want to help, so I'll just give her a heads-up."
Harriet unlocked the door to her studio and led the way into the kitchen. Fred jumped off the bar and started weaving through her ankles. She picked up the kitchen phone and dialed Aiden's cell number. She cradled the handset between her left ear and shoulder while she opened the refrigerator and put the flan away then retrieved Fred's can of cat food.
"Hey,” she said tentatively when Aiden finally answered.
"What's up?” he asked, his tone neutral.
She quickly described the problems DeAnn and her husband were having with their new daughter and asked if he'd be willing to try talking to her in Lugandan, to see if she'd respond with anything but tears.
"As it happens, this is your lucky day,” he said with a hint of his previous charm. “The dogs were all stable when I left, and Dr. Johnson has the vet tech spending the night with them. I assume you've got me scheduled to appear already."
"Not yet,” Harriet said and tried not to laugh. “Aunt Beth's working on it, though."
"Give me the address, and I'll meet you there in a half-hour."
"Thank you,” she said, and when he didn't say anymore, she hung up.
We're on, she mouthed to her aunt, who was talking on her cell phone in the hallway that led from the kitchen to the stairs.
"Okay,” Beth said into her phone. “Looks like we're good to go—we'll see you in a few minutes.” She said her goodbyes to DeAnn and hung up. “They're ready to try anything, as we suspected."
"Hopefully, it will help,” Harriet said. “I wonder if we should have Connie bring Kissa over to DeAnn's?"
"What for?"
"I know the two babies are different ages and stages of language, but Kissa should still react to Aiden speaking her native tongue. I was just thinking it would provide a sort of control for our test."
"We don't know where Kissa is from, really, do we?” Beth asked.
"All the more reason to have her there—we can kill two birds with one stone. If Kissa doesn't react at all to Aiden, it would go a long way toward prov
ing she has nothing to do with Africa."
Aunt Beth called Connie, and she quickly agreed to bring Kissa to DeAnn's.
Mavis opened the door when Harriet and Beth arrived at DeAnn's.
"Come on in, the party's just getting started."
She ushered them into a greatroom-style family room. Connie sat on a beige overstuffed sofa with Kissa in her lap. DeAnn's two sons were dangling toys in front of Iloai, and for the moment, it was keeping her distracted.
DeAnn entered the room, combing her wet hair with her fingers. She'd obviously just gotten out of the shower.
"Thanks for coming,” she said to the group in general.
"Aiden should be here any minute,” Harriet said.
"He's here,” Aiden said from the door to the family room. “I knocked, but no one answered, so I let myself in."
"Please, come in,” DeAnn said and ushered him to an overstuffed chair at an angle to the sofa the babies were sitting on. He avoided eye contact with Harriet.
He rattled off a string of words Harriet assumed were Lugandan—she spoke seven languages, but she'd never tackled any of the African tongues. Iloai kept batting at the toy DeAnn's son was holding in front of her, but Kissa turned and looked at Aiden.
"Mata?” he said and looked at Kissa.
"Cupa,” she babbled and reached toward him.
"Does she have a bottle?” he asked Connie.
She handed him a plastic bottle of milk, and he held it in front of first Iloai then Kissa.
"Hina,” said Iloai in a clear little girl voice.
"Cupa, cupa,” Kissa said in an increasingly frantic tone.
Aiden handed her the bottle. He looked at Iloai and pointed at his mouth.
"Mumwa,” he said.
Iloai looked at him and, again in her clear little voice, said, “Ngutu."
Connie pulled a second bottle from Kissa's diaper bag and handed it to Iloai. The little girl took it and started drinking from it.
"I'm sure she drinks from a cup by now, but children often regress when they're stressed, especially in the presence of a smaller child."
Quilt by Association Page 11
