Harriet rolled her eyes but kept her mouth shut.
"You sit down, and I'll go get my laptop."
"Since when do you have a laptop?"
"Those little netbooks went on sale at the Walmart in Port Angeles week before last, and I got one, and don't you be making fun of me."
"I'm not making fun. I just didn't realize you were so tech-savvy."
"I decided to make an inventory of my stash, and I thought it would be easier if I had a little computer to take to the fabric instead of writing it all down and entering it later."
"Sounds smart."
"It was made for searching the internet, so it should be able to do whatever you want."
"Thanks, and you don't have to wait for Mavis to arrive. I'll be fine."
"You'll be a sitting duck is what you'll be,” Aunt Beth said. “Mavis will be here any minute. Until then, I'll make you some tea. I got a new herbal. It's called rooibos. It's from Africa."
"Bring it on."
Aunt Beth brought the computer to Harriet along with a cup of the rich red tea.
"You behave yourself while I'm gone,” she said. “Don't let her talk you into anything,” she told Mavis, who had just arrived and was settling on the opposite end of the sofa.
"You be careful,” Mavis said. “We'll be just fine."
She dug in her quilting bag and pulled out a needle and a pink silk thread that matched the backing on the snowball quilt. She threaded the needle then pulled out the label she'd made at home and began appliquéing it to the bottom right corner of the back.
"What are you doing?” she asked.
Harriet sat with her aunt's netbook balanced on a pillow across her lap.
"I thought I'd approach Iloai's situation from a different angle. I'm looking around the missing and exploited children bulletin boards to see if anyone has reported a child around her age missing."
"You think she's a kidnap victim?” Mavis sounded shocked.
"We know she's not from Africa like she was supposed to be, and from what the translator is saying, I think there's a good chance she's not the abandoned orphan DeAnn thought they were getting. Joseph is on the run, which tells me he's been doing something he needs to hide from the police. So, I figure we now know the child is Samoan, or at least speaks that language, and she may have a family. It seems logical that, if that's the case, her family might be looking for her."
"How's it going?"
"I just barely started, and I'm not nearly as proficient as Lauren is at this. I'm learning my way around the search terms, but then hopefully, I can do some real digging."
She jumped an hour later when her phone rang. She didn't recognize the phone number, but she knew the area code. The caller was in Oakland, California.
"Hello,” she said. She listened to the response then quickly put the call on speaker phone.
Jasmine, she mouthed to Mavis.
"Yes, I did leave you a message asking you to call me back. I was wondering if you could answer a few questions about Neelie Obote."
"You seen Neelie?” the disembodied voice said.
"When did you last see her?” Harriet countered.
"Maybe three weeks, maybe a little longer,” Jasmine said. “I went to Vegas. I thought she was stayin’ here, but when I got back she was gone. Then Rodney went lookin’ for her, and now I can't get hold of him, neither. You know where Neelie is?"
Harriet looked at Mavis, and the older woman nodded.
"I don't know how to tell you this, but Neelie is dead—Rodney, too. I'm so sorry."
An animal-like moan came from the speaker. They heard a loud thump like something had fallen on the floor.
"What happened,” she wailed. “Did they crash the car? I tol’ Rodney that car was a death trap."
"Jasmine. Can you hear me? I need you to pull it together. I need to know about Neelie's baby."
"Neelie don't have no baby,” she gasped between sobs.
"She did when she came here."
"She...don't...have...no...baby.” Jasmine repeated emphatically.
"Was Rodney her husband?” Harriet asked.
Jasmine made a noise Harriet thought was supposed to be a laugh.
"Honey, he wasn't nobody's husband. Their daddy, is more like it, and I'm not talking parenthood here."
"Rodney was her pimp?"
"Don't you go talkin’ ill of the dead. If it wasn't no crash, did someone kill them? It wasn't one of them murder-suicides, was it? He was sort of sweet on her. More than the other girls, and that girl always did have trouble followin’ the rules."
"The rules?"
"Yeah, you know, the house rules."
Mavis and Beth raised their eyebrows as they looked at each other, but neither woman said anything.
"Did Neelie go to Africa recently?"
"Why would she go and do that?"
"Why wouldn't she? Wasn't she trying to trace her family?” Harriet guessed.
"She didn't have to trace nobody. She know where she come from. Her momma sold her in Africa when she was a little thing. She found her cousins a long time ago."
"How long are we talking?"
"How am I supposed to know?"
"You must have some idea."
They could hear a sigh
"Must of been a year, year and a half. Something like that. Rodney was real mad. She got her a wad of cash, and then she just took off and went to Africa. Then, when she come back, she told her story to anybody who would listen, tryin’ to get sympathy, like. Rodney said she was scarin’ the customers off with all her talk of buyin’ and sellin’ babies."
"So exactly what was her story?"
"Who are you? And what's it to you what her story is?"
"Let's just say I'm someone Neelie came to see in Washington."
"Why would she come see somebody in Washington? An’ how do I know you're tellin’ me the truth? She don't know no one in Washington. No one she wants to see, anyhow."
"What do you mean?” Harriet pressed. “Did she know someone else here? Besides me?” she added, in an attempt to keep her deception going.
"If you know her, than you know who else she knows there. Like I said, she told her story to anybody who'd listen. Who are you, and why are you disrespectin’ the dead?"
"Okay, listen. I met Neelie when she came to Foggy Point with a baby she claimed belonged to a friend of mine."
"I told you, she don't have—"
"I heard you,” Harriet cut her off. “Now, you listen to me. She came here with a baby and said it belonged to her dead sister in Africa. She said the sister asked her to deliver it to my friend."
"She don't have no sister. Not a real one, anyway. She has a couple cousins in Africa. When she would get a few dollars extra, sometimes she sent it to her cousin for some water project or something."
"I'm trying to find out what happened to her and Rodney. I might be the only one. The local police certainly don't care. Anything you can tell me might help. Let's start with who else she knows in Foggy Point."
"She was living in a foster home there, and she aged out. Let's see, I think she said that woman was Mary Ann Martin or Martins or something like that. She used to say how weird it was that a witch like that had the initials MAM. Kinda like mom, only she said the woman was the least motherly person she ever met. The only reason she stayed till she was eighteen was to try to protect the littler foster kids that lived there."
Mavis scribbled the name on a piece of paper she pulled from her quilting bag.
"I don't suppose you have a phone number for Ms. Martin,” Harriet asked.
"No, I don't have no number. Why would I? The girl had a cell phone. She kept her own numbers."
"Do you know what Neelie's name was before she took her African name?” Harriet didn't have positive proof Neelie Obote wasn't her original name, but it seemed like a good possibility.
"Oh, yeah, I do know that. She was Nancy Lou Freeman. We always laughed about it. My birth name was Nellie Jean Smit
h—quite the stage names."
"You're an actress?"
Jasmine snorted. “Yeah, we're actresses, alright. In our dreams. Now we use our actin’ skills to get by."
Harriet paused and looked at Mavis to see if she had any questions. Mavis shrugged.
"I gotta go,” Jasmine said. “Someone's here."
Harriet rang off after promising to call Jasmine if she found out anything about what had happened to Neelie.
She and Mavis sat speechless for a moment.
"Wow,” said Mavis at last.
"Wow is an understatement,” Harriet agreed. “So Nancy Ann-slash-Neelie really was a local girl? And none of the Loose Threads recognized her?"
"Sounds like she left when she was eighteen, and that it was probably eight or ten years ago. She could have been in school with one of my two younger boys, but I didn't really know a lot of the girls’ mothers. I wouldn't have known her unless she'd been in an activity with one of the boys, and she wasn't. I had my hands full with them and work and all."
"I can email the Threads with her real name and see if it rings a bell with anyone, but we need to talk to her last foster mother. She should be able to tell us something about her."
"I know what you're thinking, and your aunt will kill me."
"Will kill you, as in, after we get back?” Harriet said as she set the computer on the sofa and struggled to her feet.
"This is against my better judgment, but I can't see how we could get in trouble if we stick to just talking."
A quick scan of the Foggy Point phone book revealed that Mary Ann and Robert Martin lived in a neighborhood at the base of Miller Hill. The Martin house was a tidy bungalow at the end of a wooded cul-de-sac. The yard to the right side of the house was surrounded by cyclone fencing that enclosed several play structures on a base of cedar bark dust.
Mavis guided her car onto the gravel parking pad in front of the house then helped Harriet get out and on her crutches and organized.
The front walk was lined with purple, yellow and white winter-flowering pansies. A large ceramic pot with ornamental kale sat on the front porch. Harriet balanced on one crutch and rapped on the door with the other one.
"Hello,” the trim forty-year-old woman who answered said. “May I help you?” Her gaze went to Harriet's cast and then back up to her face again.
Harriet introduced herself and Mavis.
"We were hoping you could answer a few questions about a young woman who died recently."
"I'd like to help you, but I don't know anyone who died recently."
"Her name is Neelie Obote,” Mavis said.
"I think I read about that in the paper,” Mary Ann said. “But I still don't understand why you're asking me. I don't, or didn't, know anyone named Neelie."
"We think you knew her by another name,” Harriet said and wobbled a little as she took the weight off her sprained ankle.
Mary Ann looked at her then stepped back and held the door open.
"Would you like to come in?"
Harriet looked at Mavis. Mavis gave a slight nod, and they followed Mary Ann into a comfortable living room. The two women sat on the edge of a blue upholstered sofa, and Mary Ann sat on one of two coordinating side chairs.
When everyone was settled, she said, “Now, who is this Neelie, and how could I possibly help?"
"We think her real name was Nancy Lou Freeman,” Harriet said.
The color drained from Mary Ann's face.
"Nancy is dead?” she said in a whisper. “How? Why?"
"That's what we were hoping you could help us with,” Harriet said.
"We were hoping we could tell you what we know, and then you could maybe fill in some blanks,” Mavis added.
Harriet explained the sequence of events, starting with Neelie/Nancy showing up at the quilt store with a baby and ending with her dead in the bushes outside Aiden's house.
Mary covered her mouth with her hand.
"This is a lot to take in,” she said. “A baby? Nancy had a baby?"
"We're pretty sure it wasn't her baby,” Harriet said.
"We don't know where the baby came from,” Mavis told her. “We verified it wasn't her sister's baby, and that her sister, who in fact was actually her cousin, we think, isn't dead."
"She doesn't have a sister,” Mary said. “At least, she didn't when she lived here."
"We were hoping you could tell us about when she lived here,” Harriet said.
"I don't mean to be rude, but you're not police, right?"
"No, we're not,” Harriet admitted. “It's complicated, but someone attacked me a few nights ago, and we think it's related to what happened to Neelie. Her...friend Rodney was also murdered, and someone attacked me, and well, they threw his body on me, and frankly, that's left me wanting a few answers the police aren't giving me."
"Wow,” Mary said. She sat back in her chair. “I'm not sure what I can tell you that would be helpful. Nancy lived here for two years. She came to us when she was sixteen. She'd been in the foster care system most of her life.
"When a child reaches that age and is still in the foster care system, the chance of them being adopted is pretty slim. We try to help them prepare for life on their own. When we have older teenagers, we help them get signed up for college or trade school programs and teach them how to manage their money and cook and do their own laundry—you know, basic life skills."
"And you did that with Neelie?” Mavis asked.
"I'm not sure you could say that. She was a special case. She already knew how to take care of a household, except for the money management part. She had been involved in a bad situation when she was younger. I don't know the details, because her records from that time have been sealed, and due to a plea bargain arrangement, no one is allowed to talk about it.
"Nancy didn't want to talk about it, so we don't really know the whole story, but we think she was involved in an adoption where the parents’ purpose was to acquire live-in help. She wasn't sent to school or allowed to have contact with the natural children. Her job was to clean, cook, iron—you name it."
"How old was she when that happened?” Harriet asked.
"She would have been in grade school,” Mary replied. “I don't know where she lived or how she lived before that. I know she was with those people until she was around twelve and ran away repeatedly. Eventually, social services caught up with her and took over her care.
"We were her sixth foster family, and she lasted here longer than she had anywhere else, but she was a handful. She'd sneak out at night and meet with kids who were up to no good. When we had younger teens here, she'd help them sneak out.
"She had a special education tutor, so her school hours were different from the other children we had here, and she would get them to skip school to keep her company. She was caught shoplifting, and pretty much, you name it, she did it. I think we were starting to make progress just before she turned eighteen, but...” She spread her hands, palm up.
"She aged out of the system?” Harriet guessed.
"No,” Mary said. “Well, yes, but we told her she could stay here even after she turned eighteen. We told her she didn't have to pay us anything. We just wanted her to complete her education and learn to take care of herself, but she couldn't get out of Foggy Point fast enough."
"Where did she live when she was younger?” Harriet asked. “When she was enslaved?"
"As far as I know, she's lived in Foggy Point her whole life—after Africa, of course."
"That's really sad,” Harriet said.
"It is,” Mary said. “I have to say, though, my husband and I always feared the day someone would give us this news. It was never a question of if, just when and how."
The front door opened, and a small Asian girl with long black braids and thick-lensed glasses came in, followed by a chubby blond-haired boy who looked like he was similar in age to the girl.
"Hi, Trin, Hi, Niko. Put your backpacks in your cubbies. There are cookies on the ki
tchen table, and I'll pour you some milk in just a minute.” She stood up. “I need to get them their snack,” she said. “Let me know if I can help with anything else."
"You've been very helpful,” Harriet said, as she stood and arranged her crutches.
"Do you know if anyone is making funeral arrangements for Nancy?” Mary asked.
"I'm sorry, I don't."
They left, confident Mary would rectify that situation.
"Not quite the snake pit I expected,” Mavis noted.
"Yeah,” Harriet said. “I was expecting a dirty, overcrowded hovel. Mary seems like the mother every child dreams of. Those two kids were well-dressed, clean and seemed sort of well-adjusted."
"They looked well-fed, too."
"The business about Neelie being a slave was sort of interesting,” Harriet said. “Given how normal we just decided Mary is, it makes me think she might be telling us the truth."
"It would go a long way toward explaining why Neelie was so troubled."
"If she lived in Foggy Point most of her life, I wonder if she was adopted here, too."
"Phyllis would know,” Mavis said. “She always held classes for prospective parents that were open to all adoptive parents regardless of who was handling their transaction. That way, she could keep an eye on the competition."
Mavis looked at her watch.
"I don't know how long your aunt plans on quilting before she stops for dinner, but you better hope we get home before she does."
"She'll probably stay at my house as long as she can in hopes she'll be there if Joseph comes calling."
"Let's just hope he comes to his senses and turns himself in before anything else happens."
Harriet's cell phone rang as they pulled into the parking area in front of Aunt Beth's house.
"It's Aunt Beth,” she said to Mavis. She pushed the answer button. “Hi, I'm going to put you on speaker phone so Mavis can hear."
"I was just calling to let you know I'll be working late on Phyl's quilt tonight. Aiden is going to go pick up a pizza and eat here with me to keep up the pretense. You two can go ahead and eat without me. If you're not too hungry, Aiden says he can pick up another pizza and come by with it. He said you can call and let him know what you decide."
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