Quilt by Association

by Arlene Sachitano

  "I think things are going better for them now,” Aunt Beth said with a glance at Harriet that told her to keep her mouth shut.

  "Why didn't you tell her about DeAnn's daughter not being African?” Harriet asked her aunt when Phyllis was back out in the driveway, getting into her car.

  "If Joseph has been playing fast and loose with Phyl's business, she's going to have a stroke, literally. I don't want to get her all wound up until we have a better understanding of what actually happened.

  "As we've discussed, it could have been a mix-up on the other end, or a simple mistake, or Joseph may be running a scam of some sort. He's been like a son to her, and it's going to kill her if it turns out he's been embezzling or sabotaging the business or I don't know what else."

  "Unfortunately, his disappearing act is making the last choice the more likely one,” Mavis said.

  "I hate this,” sighed Aunt Beth.

  "I do, too,” Mavis agreed.

  "I'm glad Phyllis made her quilt,” Harriet said. “I was starting to feel guilty about tricking the Stitches into using Sarah's design. At least this way they'll have one respectable entry."

  "I guess that's something,” Aunt Beth agreed. She turned to Mavis. “Shall we go see if your car's ready? I need to check out the sale shelf at Pins and Needles for more fabric to use in the functional dog quilts."

  "How many of those quilts have you made?” Harriet asked.

  "I've only done six of them, and they need so many more. We have to go to town to get Mavis's car anyway. She left it at the garage on her way here to have the oil changed. It won't take that long, and Aiden should be coming back shortly, in any case. Do you need anything before we go?"

  "I don't suppose you'd consider letting me come with you."

  "Not a chance."

  "Come on, I'm not an invalid. I have a sprained ankle and a sore back, and it's been almost five days."

  "No way, and don't even think about going out on your own while we're gone."

  "We'll call Aiden,” Mavis added. “We'll tell him you're here waiting for him."

  "You guys are mean."

  "Okay,” Beth said, ignoring her protest. “You've got your book and your water. You better be right where we left you when we get back."

  "I promise, I'll be right here,” Harriet said. “Have fun."

  Aunt Beth followed Mavis out the door, locking it when they were outside. Harriet listened for the crunch of tires, indicating they had driven away. She waited another minute before struggling to her feet—well, foot—and picking up her crutches. She went to the connecting door and backed through it into the kitchen. Fred meowed as she entered.

  "I'll bet Aunt Beth has had you on a diet, too, huh, big boy?” she said.

  She reached into the cupboard below the bar where she kept Fred's kitty treats and, balancing on her good foot, set her crutches aside and extracted a small handful. She'd just bent down to put them in his food dish when she heard a noise that sounded like tapping on glass.

  She turned and looked toward her studio. She heard the noise again. It definitely sounded like it was coming from the studio. Fred's ears were upright, and he stared at the connecting door.

  "Well, cat, let's go see what's going on,” she said as she picked up her crutches and worked her way back into the studio.

  Joseph Marston stood on her porch, tapping on the etched glass of the studio door. She hesitated for a moment then went to open it.

  "Joseph,” she said. “There are a lot of people looking for you."

  "I know, it's why I waited until everyone was gone before I came to your door. We've probably only got a couple of minutes..."

  "Well, come in, then, and let's talk."

  "No, I can't come inside. What if someone comes?"

  "No one's coming. Come on."

  "We're wasting time. We need to talk about what happened."

  "Are we talking about what happened at your house? Are you going to tell me why you attacked me?"

  "No...I mean, yes...I mean, it's complicated, and I need your help."

  "You attacked me, and you want my help? The only help you're getting from me is a nine-one-one call to the police.” She reached for her phone in her pocket then remembered she'd left it on the arm of the gray chair.

  "I think you'd better leave,” she said.

  He held his hand out toward her. “Please, you have to understand,” he said. Tears glistened in his eyes.

  "Is this about the adoptions?” she asked as she looked frantically around for a weapon of any sort.

  "You know about the adoptions?"

  Before she could answer, they heard the sound of tires at the bottom of her driveway. Joseph turned abruptly and jumped off her porch in one leap, then ran down the opposite end of the driveway as Aiden drove up and parked.

  "What are you doing outside?” he called.

  "Joseph Marston,” she yelled back. “He was here—he just ran down the other side of the driveway.” She pointed where Joseph had just gone.

  Aiden dropped his phone and keys and the paper bag he was carrying and ran in the direction Harriet was pointing. He was gone for a couple of long minutes before returning, this time at a slow trot.

  "There's no sign of him,” he said. “He must have gone to the end of the street and into the woods."

  Harriet's street terminated at a wooded greenspace that went all the way down the back side of her hill.

  "I went down the trail a little way, but he could have gone any direction. If he went off the trail, he could be anywhere. What did he want?"

  "I don't know. He said he wanted to talk about what happened at his house, and he said he wanted my help."

  "That takes nerve. Why would he think you'd want to help him?"

  "No idea. I asked him if it had to do with the adoptions, and he seemed surprised I knew anything about them."

  "I'm sure he was. He probably thinks he had a foolproof system going. And for the most part, he did. Whatever scam he's been running has probably been going on for a while—years, maybe.” He picked up the things he'd dropped and came up on the porch. “You're freezing,” he said and rubbed his hands up and down her arms. He picked up the crutches—she had dropped them and not even realized it. She took them and hobbled back into the studio.

  "I brought donuts,” he said. “You want some tea or something?"

  "I can get it.” She started for the kitchen.

  "Whoa, you need to sit down. If your aunt sees you up, she'll kill me."

  "She won't see me. Besides, it's got to be bad for my circulation or muscle tone or something to be sitting so much."

  "It's probably true it won't hurt you to get up a little bit by now. With my patients, if we can keep them down for twenty-four hours, we consider it a success."

  "Glad to know I'd make a good dog."

  He gently pulled her into his arms. “I would never compare you to a dog,” he said, and kissed her softly on her lips. “I've missed you."

  "Me, too,” she said. “As annoying as you can be, I have missed you, and I don't like it that we were fighting."

  "I'm sorry about that,” he said and looked into her eyes. “I really am."

  "You've had a lot going on."

  "Yeah, but that's just an excuse. I had no right to bite your head off. I've had a lot of time to think while I've been taking care of the hoarded dogs."

  "And?” She wrapped her arms around his neck.

  "And...I realized that if I had been you and had seen that woman and that baby, I would've had to at least ask."

  She twined her fingers into his silky black hair and pulled his face down to hers for another kiss.

  "You're forgiven."

  Aiden slid his hands down her back, inadvertently touching the bruised area. She winced.

  "Oh, Harriet, I'm sorry,” he said and stepped back away from her. “I lost track of your boo-boo."

  "It's okay,” she said in a tight voice. “And I think this qualifies as slightly more tha
n a boo-boo."

  "Let me help you to your chair."

  "I'm fine,” she insisted, and took a couple of measured breaths. “Just let me get my tea started."

  She hobbled into the kitchen and got out a cup and teabag and set them on the counter.

  "I guess I could use a little help filling the teakettle,” she admitted.

  "Would you please sit while I finish this? If your aunt comes home and sees you making tea, she'll kill me."

  "Fine,” she said, and crutched back to the studio and her gray chair. She had just gotten her pillows arranged the way she liked them when he brought two mugs of tea and the bag of donuts.

  "Have you had any more thoughts about Joseph?” he asked as he pulled two maple bars from the white bag.

  Harriet groaned as she bit into her bar. The maple was thick and creamy, and the body of the bar was as light as air.

  "I don't know what to think. He said he needed my help. Suppose he killed Rodney in self-defense. Maybe he thinks I saw something that could help him prove it."

  "He can't possibly imagine you would help him after he whacked you in the back and threw a body on you."

  "It makes no sense. He seemed real agitated, so he's probably not thinking clearly."

  They each took another bite of their donut.

  "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I wonder if I should call the detective who's working on all this."

  "I can't believe you're saying it either, but yes. The police are here to protect and serve, and they can't do that very well if you don't tell them when there's been a threat. By the way, I put their numbers in your phone's address book."

  Harriet picked up her phone and dialed the non-emergency number for the Foggy Point police. As soon as she was connected to Detective Morse and had told her Joseph had come calling the detective told her to sit tight and she'd be right there.

  "I'm not sure where she thought I was going to go, but I told her we'd be waiting here,” she said to Aiden when she'd pressed the end-call button.

  He pulled one of the rolling chairs next to her and reached over and took her hand in his.

  "You did the right thing,” he said. He held her hand while they finished their donuts.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 36

  Aunt Beth and Mavis returned just as Harriet was finishing her first run-through of what had transpired while they were in town. Jane Morse listened silently until Harriet had finished her account.

  "Very curious,” she said. “Why do you think he believes you can help him?"

  "I have no idea. I really can't imagine why he would come here."

  "I'm going to increase the patrols on your hill for the time being,” Morse said.

  "I'm going to do better than that,” Aunt Beth interrupted. “I'm taking Harriet and Fred to my house out on the strait."

  "Who's Fred?” Morse asked.

  At the repeated mention of his name, Fred jumped into Harriet's lap, one of his feet landing in her tea cup, splashing tea onto the leg of her jeans. Morse raised her eyebrows in understanding.

  "Do I get a say in this?” Harriet asked, dabbing her leg with a napkin. “I think I should stay here in case he comes back."

  "That's exactly why you shouldn't be here,” Beth countered.

  "We could try planting a decoy here and see if he tries to make contact."

  Harriet looked at Aiden, who was now pacing back and forth across her workroom.

  "I think your aunt's right,” he said. “If you were at full strength, I might think otherwise, but you'd be a sitting duck if he came back."

  "Fine, I'm too tired to argue."

  She went through the sequence of events three more times, but she couldn't add anything to her original account of Joseph's visit, so the detective thanked her for calling and left.

  "I'll go get your overnight bag,” Aunt Beth said.

  "Haven't we already done this once?” Harriet asked. “Remember when I went and stayed with Mavis for safekeeping? That didn't work out so well, did it?"

  "That was different,” Aunt Beth said as she went into the kitchen. Mavis followed her after announcing she would gather Fred's things.

  "How is it different from when I went to stay at Mavis's cottage when Aiden's uncle...” She trailed off, not really sure how to continue, since the cause of her having to leave her house in the spring had been Aiden's murderous Uncle Bertie. “I'm sorry,” she muttered and reached out for his hand. He came back and sat on the arm of her chair.

  "I know your aunt and Mavis are being overprotective,” he said, diverting the discussion away from his family. “But what can it hurt? You can't really work until they take the cast off your foot, so why not let them spoil you a little bit? And you can look out over the strait. You might find it calming."

  "When did you get so Zen?"

  "Maybe when I realized there was no point in fighting my mother, your aunt or Mavis when they had their mind set on something—which, by the way, happened when I was about ten."

  "Fine,” Harriet said. “Like you said, it's not like I'm getting any work done anyway."

  He leaned toward her and put his arm around her shoulders.

  "Things are completely different this time,” Aunt Beth said as she and Harriet picked up their argument again in the car. “I talked to Jane while I was packing your stuff, and she agreed with your idea of having a female officer stay at your house as a decoy to see if Joseph will come back here."

  "Well, at least that's something. I guess that's why you insisted on coming around and picking me up in the garage."

  "Yes, and that's why I need you to lay your seat back far enough your head isn't visible in the window."

  Harriet did as she asked.

  "This seems a little silly,” she said. “Joseph took off down the hill. I'd be surprised if he came back this soon."

  "You're assuming he's working alone. Whatever made him murder Neelie and Rodney could be big. He could have accomplices."

  "I suppose anything is possible."

  "I brought along some handwork for you,” Aunt Beth said, nimbly switching topics. “We need labels sewn on the quilts that are finished. And I have several of the kennel quilts that need their bindings sewn on."

  "Can't you just machine-sew the bindings for those."

  "If I was willing to give away a functional quilt that had a jagged-looking stitching line around the border, yes, I could just machine the stitching on, but I think even a dog deserves a nice-looking quilt."

  "You could use clear nylon thread in the bobbin or do a wide zigzag stitch,” Harriet pressed, describing two of the common remedies for the problem everyone had when applying binding to a quilt by machine. When encasing an edge in fabric, only the side of the casing you're looking at as you stitch can be seen, leaving the condition of the bottom, or blind side, up to chance.

  "I'm well aware of the methods people use, and if you are that opposed to hand-stitching a few little quilts then I'll just do them myself after I finish Phyl's quilt."

  "You aren't going to go to my house and work on Phyllis's quilt, are you? It's not safe."

  "It's not safe for you, but Joseph didn't hit me and he's not looking for me. Besides, there will be an undercover officer dressed like you and using crutches just in case he shows up."

  "I don't understand why Joseph would be after me,” Harriet said. “Why wouldn't he be after you, too? I mean, you know everything I do."

  "Yes, but I wasn't found snooping in his windows. And I haven't uncovered any murderers this year, either."

  "Still, we're missing something. A big something, if you ask me."

  At the bottom of the hill, Aunt Beth went straight through the intersection instead of turning left, which would have been the most direct way to approach her house on the strait.

  "Where are we going?” Harriet asked.

  "Jorge prepared food for your recovery and wanted me to come by and pick it up. I tell you, that man is like a mother h
en trying to protect his chicks. He's called me three times a day since you got hurt."

  "Did you ever think it's just an excuse to get to talk to you?"

  "Not a chance,” she said. “And don't you even be thinking like that."

  She took her eyes off the road to glare at Harriet, but Harriet looked out the window, her slight smile reflecting off the glass.

  "I'm afraid you're going to have to hide again,” Aunt Beth said as they got close to town.

  With only a little more cloak-and-dagger action, Harriet and Beth finally arrived at the little house on the Strait of Juan de Fuca Beth had moved into.

  "I figured you could sleep in the TV room,” Beth said, referring to the downstairs bedroom she used as an office and which was also furnished with a large television and a convertible sofa sleeper. Her own bedroom was upstairs and had French doors that led to a small balcony overlooking the strait.

  "That sounds fine,” Harriet said and started for the front door. Her aunt followed her with two shopping bags full of food from Tico's Tacos.

  Aunt Beth's phone was ringing as they came into the house, and she answered it, talking to her caller for several minutes.

  "That was Detective Morse. She was checking to be sure we arrived without incident. She'll have hourly patrols come by here. She talked to Aiden, and they agreed that when he finishes with his dogs, he'll go to your house,” she said after hanging up. “Jane wants him to stay an hour or so, and if all is quiet, he can sneak out the back and into the woods and on down the hill. Carla will give him a ride over here, and I'll take him home after dinner."

  "Seems like you guys have thought of everything."

  "It's not us guys, it's Jane and her team,” Aunt Beth protested. “I hope it's not all for nothing."

  "Me, too. I want to go home. I appreciate your hospitality, and so does Fred, but we'd rather be in our own home."

  "I know, honey, but Jane is sure Joseph will show up, and sooner rather than later."

  "Do you care if I use your computer?"

  "You know I don't mind,” Beth said. “I have to go back to your house. Jane needs me to spend time there if we're going to pull this off, but I need to get Phyl's quilt on the machine anyway. Don't worry, Mavis is coming to sit with you."