The Lover's Knot: A Someday Quilts Mystery

by Clare O'Donohue

  I stood for a second in the dark and then followed Jesse out.

  CHAPTER 42

  Jesse dropped me off in front of Someday Quilts just as Tom and his helper were coming back from lunch.

  It was clear that a lot of work had been done in just a few hours, but the place looked a mess.

  "We framed the entryway between the two spaces," Tom pointed out with a shy pride that I found endearing. "We have to do some patchwork, of course, and clean up, but we should be ready to paint Wednesday."

  "That fast?"

  "We're in a race, aren't we?" He smiled. "I'm determined to be done with the remodel before your grandmother is finished with the quilt."

  The quilt. I'd completely forgotten to cut out the little flowers Nancy had given me, and I knew that I could not go home without them.

  "I'm going to be downstairs if you need me," I said as I grabbed the bits of fabric from my purse.

  Downstairs Nancy had done a good job of cleaning out the office. All the boxes that had cluttered it were gone and it was a perfect empty space for my assigned task. I sat on the floor and set out my tools in a row: the template, the fabric, a pencil and scissors. Nancy had told me to draw the flowers on the wrong side of the fabric and cut them out on the line. Easy. So I laid the fabric down on the floor and drew around the plastic template of a flower. Then I cut exactly along the pencil marks. It was simple, and by the sixth flower it was really boring as well.

  I lay on the floor with the pile of fabric under my head and listened to the work upstairs. I could hear a power saw cutting wood for something, then lots of clanging and moving about. Jesse had been right to recommend his former brother-in-law for the job. He was serious and committed and really knew what he was doing.

  It made me wonder what noises Marc would have been making had he been up there doing the work. It was obvious to me now that he was all enthusiasm and ambition but he probably didn't have the skills to do a good job. I thought about what Jesse had said, that Eleanor had given him the chance because she liked the idea of someone rising to the meet the challenge, as she had done. She must have wanted Marc to feel pride in having accomplished a difficult task. Maybe then he would have moved beyond his reputation as town womanizer.

  But someone else didn't see such possibilities in Marc. To that person he was dangerous and expendable. I stared at the ceiling and listened to the noise so I didn't have to think about who that person might be. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw something. I turned my head toward the doorway of the office and realized what it was.

  I reached out and grabbed the piece of green paper. It was a twenty dollar bill. It seemed careless of Eleanor and Nancy to have money lying on the floor near the back wall, but with the chaos that once ruled this room, I guess it was possible.

  I sat up and started on my fabric flowers again. However these turned out, at least I wouldn't get in trouble for not having held up my end of the bargain.

  I had to admit that the flowers were quite pretty, even if my edges weren't cut as precisely as Nancy or Eleanor would have done them. I laid each one out to make a kind of bouquet. Natalie was right. The entire time I was working on my flowers I hadn't thought about my on-again, off-again fiance, the murder of the town gigolo or any of the dozen or so secret spats and sad stories I'd encountered in Archers Rest. I just thought about the flowers. Eleanor and the other quilters in her group were constantly praised for industriousness. But all the time they were secretly using quilting to take a break from life. Well, I wasn't going to tell anyone.

  I was on my last flower when I heard Tom closing up the shop, so I headed upstairs and home to Eleanor. I dropped my finished flowers on the kitchen table where she was sitting having tea and going over the day's receipts. I sat at the table while she looked through my work.

  "These aren't half bad," she said. "Though I think the shape may be a tad traditional for the kind of quilt we're making."

  "These are the shapes Nancy told me to cut," I protested. "I just spent the better part of the day cutting those."

  "Well, that's the artistic process isn't it?" She smiled. "We started off with a traditional look, but it's moving in a different direction." When she saw my disappointed face, she added, "I'm sure we'll find a use for them."

  "If you don't, I'll make my own quilt with them." The words came out of my mouth quickly, and to my surprise I even meant them. I liked my flowers too much to let them end up on a scrap heap.

  I could see Eleanor smiling, but she only said, "How were things at the shop?"

  "Good. But I found this," I said as I held up the twenty dollar bill. "It was on the floor in the office."

  "Well, it didn't come from the shop's deposits." She pushed the large binder containing the shop's balances toward the middle of the table. "Every penny accounted for since we opened the shop."

  It was a neatly organized system, with debts in red ink and income in black, both printed in the neatest of handwriting. "This is kind of old-fashioned. You should do this on a computer. It would be so much easier."

  Eleanor leaned over the notebook. "It's worked for me for years." She looked up at me and smiled. "But I suppose we could use some updating. We'll have more inventory now."

  It was an unexpected concession, but it also felt like she was beginning to see me as more than a granddaughter. Maybe I was becoming an ally, a partner. Eleanor peered into her empty cup.

  "More tea?" I asked. She nodded. Okay, maybe she didn't see me as a partner, maybe she saw me as the help, but at least she saw me as capable of something. That had to be an improvement. I got up and put her kettle on.

  "I ran into Bernie," I said tentatively, figuring she'd find out anyway. "I wanted to take a peek into Marc's apartment."

  I waited for a scolding, but none came. Instead she sat up and gave me a curious stare. "Find anything?"

  "A note asking to see Marc. Jesse said it didn't mean anything."

  "You were there with Jesse?" The curious stare had turned into astonishment.

  "More like he found me there," I admitted. "He thinks I'm interfering with his investigation."

  "You are."

  I waved my hand dismissively, filled my grandmother's teacup and sat down again. "I also went over to Natalie's place to talk to her."

  Eleanor's mouth dropped open. "About what?"

  "Marc. What else?" I told her what I'd realized about Natalie's baby. Eleanor shook her head and listened. "So, what's the Jesse-Natalie story? Another love triangle?"

  "Heavens, no," Eleanor said. "When Jesse moved back to town, his wife had just gotten diagnosed with cancer. She was new to the area, didn't know anyone. Natalie was about her age and they became friends. Good friends, I understand. But Natalie was young and I think she got a bit spooked by the enormity of the illness. I believe she just backed off, stopped returning calls, that sort of thing. It really hurt Jesse's wife. And anything that hurt her hurt Jesse."

  "Still, that's hardly a reason to be so hard on her about Marc."

  Eleanor shook her head. "You weren't here to see how he loved her. Even in her situation, it was impossible not to envy what they felt for each other." She smiled a half smile at me.

  And even though I knew almost nothing about Jesse and his wife, I did feel a shudder of envy. "I suppose tragic circumstances make people closer," I said.

  "I don't know. I think they just bring out what you really feel for each other. If you are close, you'll become closer. If you're not, then a difficult time may well pull you apart." She sipped her tea. "Did you talk with Ryan this afternoon?"

  I shook my head. Eleanor nodded at me, picked up my flowers and examined them again. "You did a lovely job with these. Did you enjoy making them?"

  "Yes. But don't get any ideas."

  "I think quilting is a lot safer than being an amateur detective, Nell," she said, with a worried tone in her voice that made me feel a bit guilty for running around. "As much as you want to clear Ryan, you shouldn't interfere anymore
. Promise me."

  I nodded. I didn't want to tell her that there was now another reason why I was looking for Marc's killer--a reason I'd only just realized. It was fun. And now that I knew that, I wasn't sure I could stop.

  CHAPTER 43

  I knew it was better if I appeared to stay out of the investigation for a while, just in case Jesse made good on his threat to arrest me, so for the next week I immersed myself in the renovations at the shop and helping my grandmother. I drove to the mall a few the shop and helping my grandmother. I drove to the mall a few towns over and bought a computer program for finances. By Friday morning I had a newly purchased laptop on the dining room table. Though I wasn't much of a computer wiz and Eleanor was sitting beside me the entire time asking questions about how to copy or delete things, I still managed to put her store's books and inventory onto the program.

  "It's a pity they didn't have these years ago," she said.

  "They did have these years ago, Grandma. And now that you have this one, you should update the cash register at the store to one that's computerized. That way you will always be able to keep track of the money and the inventory."

  She eyed me with a flicker of suspicion that quickly disappeared. "I never lost a penny or so much as a spool of thread. But if you are so convinced this is the right thing, you have a new project to research, " she said. "Leave me alone with this thing while I play with it. You can't understand things unless you fiddle around yourself. You learned that with the muffins."

  So I left her in the dining room and headed out for a walk. Nancy was running the shop that had now spilled out from the dining room to the front hallway. Tom was working hard at the store. I knew that Eleanor, Nancy, Maggie and Susanne had finished their parts of the quilt, and only Carrie and Natalie had outstanding blocks. Everything seemed to be moving along quickly. All except for Marc's murder.

  I wandered around town for about twenty minutes, passing the police station three times. I hoped to run into Jesse, but I wasn't having any luck, so I headed inside. The young uniformed officer from the day of the accidental break-in was sitting at a desk. He smiled as I walked in.

  "How's it going?" he asked. "The renovation going okay? I hear Tom might be finished before your grandmother and the other ladies are done with the quilt."

  "Maybe." Everyone in town knew everything and felt everything was their business. I was still getting used to it, but for once maybe it would work to my advantage. "How's the investigation going?"

  "Not good. We're stuck. I'll tell you, absolutely stuck." He shook his head to emphasize his point.

  "There was a note on pink paper. Did you find anything on that?"

  He shook his head again. "It had only smudged fingerprints on it. It's a dead end so far."

  I knew I would be pushing my luck if I kept asking questions, but I had one more. "Is Jesse, Chief Dewalt around?"

  "No. He went out to get some lunch at Marabelle's over by the highway. Want me to give him a message?"

  "No. In fact, don't bother telling him I was here."

  Marabelle's was a sandwich shop I'd been to several times in the years I'd been coming to visit my grandmother. When I arrived, I saw Jesse's car parked on the street in front and I pulled in right behind it.

  I had rushed over so that I wouldn't miss Jesse, but now I had to make it look casual, so I strolled into the shop and tried not to look around. The place was small, with a few tables near the window, but I kept my eyes on the counter.

  "Chicken salad on wheat," I said to the woman behind the counter. I spoke a little loudly with the hope that Jesse might look up. It worked.

  "Nell," I heard Jesse call out.

  I turned and tried to look surprised. "What are you doing here?"

  Jesse pointed to his half-finished sandwich. "Same thing as you, I guess."

  I picked up my sandwich and joined Jesse without his asking. "How are things?"

  "Good. And you?"

  "Good."

  "The fiance?"

  "Good, I suppose."

  "Things not going well?"

  I sighed. "So much has happened."

  Jesse leaned back in his seat and nodded. "It's got to be hard, not being sure."

  I looked into his eyes and for a moment saw a sweetness in them. "I still love him; I just don't know if I want what he wants anymore, " I admitted.

  "People think that the moment a relationship is over you need to have one good cry and move on," Jesse said. "It's not that simple. Sometimes those old feelings linger, even when you start to have new feelings."

  I looked up at him, but he suddenly looked down at his plate. "I don't know that it's over," I said. "I just don't know if I'm ready."

  "You think he might have killed a guy. How do you get past that?" I looked at Jesse a long time without any idea how to answer him. Finally he said, "So are you going to ask me?"

  "About what?"

  He shook his head. "Okay, I'll go back to small talk," he said. "This weather is sure turning cold."

  "Okay. How is the investigation going? If you don't mind sharing details of an open investigation with me."

  "I do mind sharing details, but I will tell you that I'm a bit stuck. I've checked with girlfriends, gambling buddies, anyone I can think of. It's gone nowhere."

  "So where does that leave you?" Jesse took a sip of his Coke. I waited for an answer, then realized none was coming. "It leads you back to the quilt shop," I said.

  "So what have you come up with?" he asked. I was surprised by the question, and it must have shown. "You're telling me you haven't been looking for, what did you call them, clues?"

  "I haven't, actually. You told me to stay out of it."

  "And that worked?"

  "Yes," I said a little indignant. Then I leaned in. "But that doesn't mean it has to do with the quilt shop. You're leaving out the possibility that it could have been a robbery or something. Some stranger came into the shop and killed Marc."

  "Yes, I am. I'm leaving out the possibility that a robber came into an empty quilt shop and Marc let him in. And then, with nothing to gain, the guy stabbed him with a pair of scissors he found at the shop."

  "Marc had fifteen thousand dollars. Maybe the robber killed him for that."

  "How would a robber know that? And that's assuming that Marc still had the cash on Friday. For all we know he went back to the OTB and lost it the next day." Jesse stopped talking and finished his sandwich, but I'd lost my appetite.

  "If your suspects are now my grandmother and her friends, you're crazy. It can't be anyone connected to the quilt shop," I said.

  "It doesn't have to be."

  "It can't be Ryan either."

  We sat at the table quietly staring out the window.

  "How's the quilt coming?" Jesse finally broke the silence.

  Glad of the change in subject, I said proudly, "I cut out a bunch of flowers."

  Jesse smiled. "Well, that calls for a celebration. They have a really good chocolate cake here."

  "You don't have to ask me twice."

  Jesse jumped up, a wide grin across his face, and brought over chocolate cake and coffee. For the next half hour we sat and talked about quilting, his daughter, Allison, and the way the last of the autumn leaves were already falling.