I walked straight over to the medical center, about a half mile from the center of town. I was reading a year-old Good Housekeeping when I heard a concerned voice say my name.
I looked up to see Jesse standing in front of me.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine. I just have a doctor's appointment."
"When did you make it?" He looked at me suspiciously.
"Recently."
A nurse walked into the waiting room. "Nell Fitzgerald."
"That's me," I said, and got up. Jesse grabbed my arm.
"How recently?"
I took a deep breath. "This morning."
He let go of my arm. "What are you doing?"
The nurse came over. "Are you ready, miss?"
"Yes," I said.
"We're going in together," Jesse said.
"Are you the husband?"
He looked at the nurse. "Let's just say we want to do this together."
Dr. Parnell was a man in his early sixties, with a thick head of snow-white hair and silver-rimmed glasses. His office had a full wall of baby pictures, as well as charts on the female reproductive system.
"What week are you in?" Parnell said to me.
"What week of what?" Jesse interrupted impatiently.
"Pregnancy." Parnell looked at me. "Do I have the wrong chart?"
"No," I said weakly. I moved slightly down my chair in the hopes of disappearing.
Jesse, who was on the verge of saying something the entire walk to the doctor's office, now seemed to be stunned into silence. I thought briefly about keeping up the charade, but I knew it wouldn't last through an examination. And, quite frankly, I wasn't prepared for that level of undercover work.
"I'm not, actually," I stammered. "I just wanted to talk to you about Marc Reed. Do you know who he is?"
"Yes, I know who he is. Or was. The young man who was killed over the weekend." The doctor leaned back in his chair.
"Look, she doesn't belong here." Jesse gave me a long hard look. "But I don't want to waste time arresting her for impeding a police investigation right now. She's here, and I'm here, because Marc Reed had an appointment with you on Thursday."
"I remember. Quite unusual, as you can imagine."
"What did he want?"
The doctor sighed. "Despite the appointment, he wasn't a patient, so I suppose there is no doctor-patient confidentiality." He leaned forward. "I know Marc's father, Dr. Michael Reed. He's a good man who has suffered a terrible loss. I don't want to hurt him by helping you."
"If you help me find Marc's killer, then you're helping his father, " Jesse said.
Dr. Parnell looked at Jesse and sighed. "I agreed to see Marc when he called. I suppose I was curious to find out what he wanted. He was here asking about paternity. He wanted me to check the records of a patient of mine. Obviously, I turned him down."
"He thought he was the father of Natalie's baby," I blurted out. It made sense. He glared at Natalie, had mentioned something about building a business for his son, and Susanne seemed to see Marc as a threat. I looked at the doctor and knew I was right.
"That's not something I can discuss further," the doctor said sternly. "I can tell you what I told Marc. If he had a question about the paternity of a child, then he should approach the mother for a DNA sample. Lacking her permission, he should seek remedy from the courts."
"Did Natalie know he was here?" I asked. Jesse put his hand up to signal me to stop talking, but that wasn't going to happen.
"No. I didn't mention it," Parnell told me, "but I believe my nurse, Angela, mentioned something to Maggie Sweeney. She's Mrs. Sweeney's daughter-in-law. It was inappropriate, I suppose, but it's a small-town and they are related. I didn't make an issue out of it because frankly I was a bit concerned for Natalie."
"Concerned about what? Did Marc make threats?" I asked.
Jesse stared at me. "Excuse me, Doctor. Please don't answer her." He turned back to the doctor. "Did he make threats?"
"Marc was a very smart young man. Such a disappointment to his father when he dropped out of school and . . . drifted. He was unfocused, a little headstrong, and perhaps a bit mean. If he did make threats, and that is possible, he didn't make them in front of me."
"What's your opinion of Natalie's husband?" I asked and met with the same icy stare from Jesse.
"I don't know him. I believe he and Natalie were having some marital difficulties during her pregnancy, so he didn't come to any of the prenatal visits. He was at the birth, but I certainly didn't speak to him enough to form an opinion.
"Thank you for your time," Jesse said as he rose. I got up and was about to follow him out of the office when Dr. Parnell called us back.
"By the way, Marc offered me five thousand dollars for a look at my patient's file. It was a ridiculous offer. If for no other reason than I can't imagine where he would get five thousand dollars. His father was paying his rent half the time."
Jesse nodded and pushed me ahead of him down the hall. I waited by the entrance while Jesse chatted with Dr. Parnell's nurse, confirming, I suppose, that she had talked with Maggie. Then he came walking toward me. Though his face was devoid of emotion, I knew he was just waiting for the moment when it was safe to yell at me.
It came in the parking lot.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"I want to know who killed Marc."
Jesse's head tilted slightly, like a confused puppy. "Why? Did you care about him that much?"
"Do you have to care about someone to want justice for them?"
"That's bull. That's not why you're here." He started pacing. "And just for your information, it's my job to get justice for people."
Instantly I was twelve years old and getting a talking-to from my father for skipping math class. What I had done, as far as he was concerned, was indefensible. And yet I was required to stand there and defend myself.
"If you felt that way, why did you let me go into the doctor's office with you?"
"Because if I hadn't, then you would have gone in alone and told me that you had an appointment. I wouldn't have been able to prove otherwise." Jesse looked at his feet and then at me. "I will arrest you," he said. There was no anger in his voice, but it was serious in tone. I was meant to be scared. But I wasn't.
"No you won't."
"Because you will not do this again. Do you understand?"
Without meaning to, I laughed. This did not go over well.
"Nell," he said as he fingered the handcuffs that were attached at the side of his belt. "If Ryan did it, I will find out."
"He didn't do it," I said.
"If you really believed that one hundred percent, you wouldn't be here."
"I just don't want this hanging over us. He wants . . ." I hesitated. I wasn't sure if I should say it. "He wants to get married."
Jesse's face changed into a sympathetic half smile. "Congratulations, " he said softly. "As of when?"
"Yesterday."
He stood silent for a minute, then lowered his eyes. "Get in the car," he said.
CHAPTER 39
"Where are we going?" I asked for the second time, but Jesse was ignoring me. "Shouldn't you obey the speed limit?" I asked as he flew down Main Street.
"I'm going like twenty-five miles an hour." I looked at the speedometer. He was going closer to forty, but it wasn't as if anyone would pull him over.
"Are you going to tell me or not?"
Jesse glanced over. "Let me ask you something," Jesse said. "When Ryan came to the shop on Friday to see you, did he come inside?"
"I think so," I said, but I was lying.
Jesse looked over at me. "Okay."
"Why?"
"His fingerprints."
"You said they weren't on the scissors."
"They weren't," he said. "But they were on a number of items in the box that contained the scissors. Did he have any reason to touch that box?"
"He helped me move some things . . . in the shop.
" Another lie.
A moment passed, then, "Okay."
Jesse slowed the car down and made a turn, and I instantly knew where he was taking me. In another few seconds we pulled up in front of my grandmother's house.
"Enjoy the rest of your day," Jesse said as he stopped the car.
"Jesse . . . ," I started.
"Nell, I know you mean well. But you can't prove Ryan is innocent and you can get yourself in a lot of trouble. I don't want to see that happen, so this ends here. Okay?"
I gritted my teeth and nodded. "It ends here," I agreed and got out of the car.
Inside, Nancy and Eleanor were busy helping customers. I thought for a second I might be able to slip by without being noticed, but no luck.
"Things okay at the shop?" Eleanor called out.
I walked into the dining room and nearly tripped on one of the bolts of fabric that now had taken over the room. "Everything's great. I'm taking a break. I thought I would call Natalie and see if she wanted to get together for lunch, actually," I said. "Do you have her number?"
"Oh, how lovely." Nancy smiled. "Hold on a second." Nancy went to a pile of papers and began sorting through them, finally stopping on one. She handed it to me. "The quilt club phone list. You should have a copy anyway."
I was about to protest that I wasn't really a part of the quilt club, but I had the list with the names, numbers and addresses of the entire club, so I just smiled. I was almost out of the room when Eleanor spoke again.
"Have you cut the flowers for the quilt?"
I stopped. "Almost done," I said quickly and headed for the kitchen.
In the kitchen I grabbed the car keys and headed back out of the house, in the car and back on the main road.
Natalie lived in a two-bedroom apartment just a few blocks from her mother's house. I expected the place to have the same eccentric flare as her mother's, but the living room was almost completely beige. Not "haven't gotten around to decorating" beige, but beige as a design choice. All shades and all textures of one color scheme in what seemed almost a deliberate break from her mother's view of the world. The only exception was a six-foot square quilt hanging on the wall behind her couch. The quilt was an abstract design of circles and half circles appliqued on squares. It seemed to be made from dozens of fabrics in the deepest shades of red and purple. Against the monochromatic background, it was startling and beautiful.
"We made it together, my mom and I," Natalie said when she caught me studying it. "It was my first quilt."
"If I could make something like that my first time out, I might take up quilting myself," I said. For the first time, I was a little envious of the artistry that each of these woman could access. They seemed to take it for granted that anyone with a few bits of fabric and some time could create an object that would not only keep you warm but also be an object of beauty.
"You should do it," she said. "If you don't want Eleanor to teach you, I can. I think it's really the absolute best way to deal with a problem."
"What do you mean?"
"Nancy says it's a right brain, left brain activity." Natalie settled into a beige leather chair, while I sat at the corner of the couch. "There's a lot of math and figuring out patterns and amounts of fabrics, so that's one side, then the other is taken up with the whole creative process. So when you're quilting, you are completely involved in it. There's no space in your brain left over for worrying about your problems." She pointed to a pile of about ten quilts neatly folded on top of an armoire. "I made most of those when my husband and I were separated. It kept me from going crazy."
"Well, then, I should take it up," I laughed. "And quickly."
"Let me get you some soda," Natalie said. "Diet or regular?"
"Regular," I said. "The more fattening the better."
Natalie left the room and returned with two Cokes and some store-bought cookies. "It's so great to have someone come to hang out," she said. "I'm so glad you dropped by."
I took a deep breath. "I was at Dr. Parnell's office today, asking him some questions about Marc."
Natalie blushed. "Why would Dr. Parnell know anything about Marc?"
"Apparently," I said as gently as I could, "Marc went to see him about you and your son."
"Did Dr. Parnell tell you that?"
"Not exactly, but that was what we figured he meant."
"We?"
"I was with Jesse. I just happened to be there when Jesse was questioning the doctor," I said, lying for the fourth time today. I wasn't fond of my new habit, or the fact that it was getting easier each time.
Natalie blinked at me several times, clearly trying to take it in. I wasn't sure for a moment whether she was going to throw me out, but instead she started to tear up. "So why do you think Marc wanted to see Dr. Parnell?" Natalie stuttered.
"He was trying to find out if he fathered your son," I said matter-of-factly. I took a breath. "Did he?"
Natalie's eyes narrowed, and it was clear she didn't appreciate my directness. "No, he did not." Then her gaze waned. She swallowed and looked away. "I don't think so."
"You're not sure?" I asked.
"Look, things were difficult enough then. Larry and I were on and off the whole time I was pregnant." She sat quietly for a moment, looking small and tired. When she spoke again, the defensive-nesshad left her voice. "Marc and I had a brief affair. You obviously know how charming he can be. How he can make you feel wanted at exactly the time when you feel completely unwanted. It wasn't right, though, so I broke things off and a few weeks later Larry and I started to reconcile. When my son was born, he was early, and Marc was absolutely convinced I'd lied about the date of conception."
"Did Marc threaten you?" I asked quietly.
"Not threaten, exactly. He wanted to see my son. He wanted to visit with him. If Larry found out, that would have ended everything. " Natalie suddenly realized what she had said. "But I didn't kill him, if that's what you think. And that's obviously what you think. I just want to protect my son."
As if on cue, a loud cry came from the baby in another room. Natalie jumped up and went to him.
Natalie came back in the room with baby Jeremy in her arms. She set him down on the floor in front of me and he smiled and handed me a small teddy bear, then gestured to have it back. When I gave it back he giggled with delight and handed it to me again. He was a handsome little boy with a chubby face and sweet soft brown eyes. For the first time I really looked at the little boy, who smiled back at me.
"Marc wasn't the father," I said suddenly.
"Excuse me?" Natalie said.
"He has brown eyes. You have blue eyes. Marc had blue eyes. Two people with blue eyes can only have a child with blue eyes. It's genetics 101."
Natalie grabbed her son and stared at him. Then she started to cry. "I can't believe it's that simple." She smiled. "I knew he wasn't the father. In my heart. But he was so sure."
The Lover's Knot: A Someday Quilts Mystery Page 19
