"That don't mean nothing. That's just cloth."
"Magda, I believe you have something in that bag. Can I see it?" When she handed him the bag, he put it on the picnic table and pulled out the quilt. "Grab the other end here, let's open it up," he said to the other deputy.
Lena's body hunched. She opened, then shut her mouth.
The sheriff pointed to a piece in the crazy quilt design, a pale yellow, flowered piece. "Do you recognize this fabric, Ms. Veil?"
She leaned close to look, twisting her mouth. "Uh, yeah. We all made stuff out of it."
He laid the plastic bag on the quilt, beside the fabric she'd admitted she knew. Though its contents were brown and dirty, there was enough design left to see that they were the same.
"I understand, Ms. Veil, that you obtained some of this cloth from Mrs. Buler. Correct?"
She glared at Magda, shrugged, and then nodded. Yes.
"And that you made a dress from it? A dress with a breast pocket?"
Lena leaned to look close at both pieces. "Yes."
"This other cloth matches, does it not?" Before she could answer he said, "Is it from the same piece?"
Lena was sniffling, "It could be. But it's a mess. Where did you get it?"
"From Tom Buler's hand. His dead hand. He took it to his grave with him. I guess you didn't notice when you buried him." Her face went blank, until he leaned back against the table, against the quilt.
"Don't lean on the quilt!" Lena snapped.
If it hadn't been out of place I'd have laughed.
"That piece of fabric was from your dress, wasn't it? Will you tell us how it got into a dead man's hand? Now! Stop fooling around."
That was all it took for her to crumple, literally. Her knees bent and she wobbled.
Magda caught her on one side and Sam hauled her upright on the other. Deputy Bybee took over, moving the quilt to one side and helping Lena sit on the picnic bench.
Lena's mouth was crimped tight against her teeth, and her hands were on her face. Finally she took one big breath and started talking.
Chapter 29
The Truth, Confession
"It's not like you think. Magda, I never meant this to happen. I'm still not sure what did happen." Lena reached out and latched onto the nearest end of the quilt, pulling it to her lap. Part of it fell to the ground. She didn't notice. Her hand worried the piece she'd clutched, like a child worries a blankie. She directed her words to Magda, as if they were having a heart-to-heart, but with all of us watching, and listening.
"You remember, Magda, when you went with the gals on the last Quilt Shop Run, in June, and I didn't go 'cause I was working to finish that commissioned piece from the woman in The Dalles?"
The sheriff straightened his back like he was going to tell her again to get on with it, but Deputy Bybee lifted her hand ever so slightly, and he relaxed.
Magda said, "Yes, I was gone longer than usual as we were making a long sweep to take in a couple shops over in Boise. Gone four or five days."
"Barely long enough," Lena muttered. Louder she said, "That first night I went to a pie social at the church and wore my yellow dress, the one I made from the fabric you gave me. The new pastor is single. With nothing to do afterwards I came here to finish the quilt. I was in the living room watching one of the BBC shows I'd taped, steeping myself in the accents. I felt good about being almost done with the quilt. Just sitting there, turning down the binding, drinking my tea... I like being alone here sometimes.
"I heard a noise at the back door. Scared the crud outa me, coming so sudden. A key turning in the lock. I yelled, 'Who's there?' and then wished I'd kept quiet."
She gave Magda a quick glance. "We keep an extra key in a fake rock by the door. Who'd know it was there but you and me? You know how the key sticks in the lock just that little bit, and then the door makes that scraping noise when it does open?"
Magda nodded.
"It did that and then I heard someone step on the kitchen floor. Somebody yelled, 'Damn, Magda! Ain't ya got this door fixed yet?' and I relaxed. It was Tom! Never thought I'd be happy to see him. You know, he and I never got on, but at least it wasn't some crazed killer looking to chop me up and spread me around the woods."
Lena stopped talking. Deputy Bybee handed her a water bottle and she screwed off the lid and took a big gulp. "Thanks."
She handed it back and gripped her blankie again. "I put the quilt to the side and went in to the kitchen. What a sight! He was drunk. Ugly.
"Oh, he seemed happy enough to see me 'Lena! You old thing! What'cha doing here? Where's Magda?'
"While I was answering his questions I started making coffee because he needed to sober up. When I asked him how he got here and what he was doing here, he got rude. 'I live here, you stupid woman!'
"Except he didn't call me 'woman', he called me the c-word. I'm not going to repeat it. He was foul.
"'You don't live here! This is our studio. You live on your boat.'
"Then I realized what his being here meant. 'Where have you been? Magda's been trying to get in touch with you for a long time. We figured you were dead.'
"'None of your damn business. Maybe I've found a good woman who knows what a man needs.'
"I guess I sneered at him then because he swung at me, throwing himself off balance. I stepped out of the way and he stumbled against the counter. 'Where's Magda?' he said.
"When I get scared I do get defensive. I guess I did that then. 'As if you care.'
"He shouted, 'Listen, bitch, tell me where my wife is!' and doubled up his fist.
"I was close by the magnetic knife rack by the sink. Without thinking I grabbed the fillet knife.
"He reached around the island to take it. I slashed out and cut the fat part of his thumb. He leaped back, roaring filth at me. I pulled open that door and, funny, it didn't stick.
"I ran outside. He was right behind me. I have never been so terrified in my life. I just ran, blind, into the back yard. He grabbed my shoulder, spinning me around. I slashed again, not aiming. He dodged back, but on the downstroke the knife cut into the top of his leg.
"He screamed and snatched at my head, had my hair in his hand. His hands were everywhere. He snagged my pocket I guess.
"He fell and grabbed his thigh, screaming, 'Bitch! You cut me! You've hurt me!'
"I couldn't see much in the dark. The leg of his jeans did have a big slice in it, and it looked wet.
"I ran back into the house and watched him through the window in the door. I was so scared. He was crying and screaming, and then he just went quiet and fell over.
"When he hadn't moved for a while I went back out, scared he'd jump up and grab me. But he was still. So still. His eyes were open, staring at me. Accusing. I think I lost my mind for a while 'cause if I'd thought it through, as I've done a thousand times since, I'd have called for help. I never meant to kill him. Didn't even mean to hurt him, but he scared me."
Lena stared at Magda. "He scared me!"
"Yes." Magda didn't move from where she was standing, but she leaned forward to touch Lena on her shoulder. "Yes. I know. When he was drunk he was very scary. And dangerous."
Lena turned to look at the sheriff. "All I could think of was hiding what happened, wiping it out. Cleaning up. Making it disappear, like it never happened.
"I went to the garden shed, found the shovel. I picked a place as close as I could get to him and dug in. The ground was soft because we'd had a lot of rain. I kept going until I had a hole deep enough and long enough to put him in. It wasn't as much as I wanted it but I just had to get him covered, to get those eyes away from my sight.
"It took a while to get him rolled in. I had to push and pull at his legs and then his body. He didn't move easily. No help from him. When I got him in I saw the knife on the ground, and threw it in the grave. I didn't like seeing him and that knife just laying there on the dirt. In the garage I'd seen a raggy quilt so I got that and threw it over the mess. Then I shoveled all that di
rt back over him.
"It was dark but I could see that the grave was obvious, so I moved the picnic table over it. Hard to do on the soft ground. Pushing and pulling, lifting it to sit over Tom's grave. Do you remember, Magda, when you noticed the table was moved and you remarked on it and I said I'd done that because I'd been doing my e-mail on my laptop and the sun was in my eyes, so I moved the table. And you never questioned me." She leaned forward to Magda, her arms out in a plea.
Magda moved over beside her. Lena fell into her arms, letting loose, finally, with an anguished howl.
Sheriff Kelly watched, saying nothing.
I stood by Sam, wanting to leave, to go in and sit at the kitchen table. I'd watched the whole drama with a feeling of detachment. A criminal client had told me that sometime people, "Confess to impress." The phrase kept repeating in my mind as I listened to her. I wanted to believe her and I could see that Magda did believe her, or at least understood how Lena could have killed Tom.
I could believe that Tom caused his own death by his threatening behavior, that she killed him in self-defense. Still, it was ugly.
The sheriff motioned for Lena to stand up.
Magda stood with her.
"Lena Veil, You are under arrest for the murder of Thomas Buler. You have the right to remain silent..." He continued with the Miranda statement while Lena and Magda stood together, holding hands. When he'd finished, he said, "We'll take Ms. Veil to jail now, where she can call a lawyer. Magda, you must let go of her."
"But Wish, this is unfair. Can't I take her home with me, and bring her in tomorrow? She won't run away. She'll be with us." She included Sam in this plan.
Sam shook his head at her naÏveté, while Sheriff Kelly rolled his eyes.
"I would if I could, Magda, but you know we can't do that. There's a way these things have to go and she's got to go through with it. You can best help by getting in touch with her people. She is going to need help. She'll probably be out tomorrow on bail."
Sam held out his handkerchief to Lena. She wiped tears from her face, and when she was done, I was amazed to see her face smooth, calm, and smiling, peaceful. A wobbly smile, but a smile.
When she went to hand the cloth back, he said, "Keep it. You might need it again."
Lena, the sheriff, and his officers left.
Sam, Magda, and I went in to the kitchen and sat down at the table, but in a minute she was up to put the kettle on. She reached into the cupboard for cups, and then looked at the empty spot on the knife holder beside the sink. "Funny, I never noticed the knife was gone."
"We'll get a new one," said Sam.
"The sheriff didn't mention it either." I said.
Magda sat down, took a sip of her tea. "Ow, hot."
Considering that the murdered man was her husband, she seemed quite calm. I was reminded of the peaceful expression on Lena's face. She explained to us, and to herself, "They already have it in evidence. They had an idea of what happened before Lena spilled it all. They did an autopsy so they knew how he died. Just needed the details."
I try not to be a counselor to my friends, but she needed to talk, and here we were. I took a drink of my tea, put the mug down. "So, Magda, how are you feeling now?"
"What do you mean, how am I feeling? Am I supposed to be feeling any certain way?"
"Well, then, let's start with what you think about how Lena feels. Did you notice how peaceful she was after she'd dumped all that?"
Sam said, "Yeah, that was odd. She's been an absolute pill the whole time I've known her, and suddenly, she's peace and light. After she'd just confessed to killing a man."
I gave him a look to let Magda talk.
He nodded and sat back in his chair, taking up his cup.
At that Magda put her hand out to him and laid it on his. She then told him the full horror of her marriage, his drinking, his craziness. "Lena knew more about his behavior than others because she was here and had seen him. But it had been so long, I'd begun to hope he would never return. Funny, I remember Lena saying, when I talked to her about it, that maybe I was lucky, maybe he was gone for good.
"I told her I'd like to know that for sure. Have some paperwork, some proof." She took a deep breath. "But I've got to help her. Tomorrow, we'll go get her out of the lockup and make sure she has a decent lawyer." She eyeballed me as she rinsed her cup and left it in the sink. "And then you and I, we have a quilt to finish!"
Sam was looking at her in a funny way, almost flirty. "Mayhaps you will need to finish up some things with your husband, too, Maggie. Then you and I can get to our business."
"And what would that be?" She took our cups, put them beside hers in the sink.
"Simple. Getting to know each other. It's about time, and I don't have a lot of it, or at least not as much as I usta."
"Okay, you guys," I said, as we locked up the studio and got into my car. "I have to get back home to my cat, get a sitter for him, take care of a couple of things. You two have plenty to do tomorrow, and that doesn't include working on that dang quilt. I'll be back day after tomorrow. You can expect me before noon. Anything I need to know before then, you have my number."
I let them out at Magda's house, Sam helping her out of the car and she opening the front door to let him into the house. It pleased me to see them helping each other. I felt a tiny shiver of envy, but shook it off. So be it.
The drive home was lonely. The stark truth of how Tom had died was painful to think about. But I could see the justice in it.
It was a sober ride, full of reflection as to how some alcoholics luck out, and some don't. I was a lucky one. Someday, when the time is right, I'll have a talk with Magda about this. But not now.
Now is her time for healing. Sam will help.
Chapter 30
By the River
I woke with the dawn, a feeling of purpose and expectation, like on Christmas morning, energizing me. Through the open window above my bed I listened to the chattiness of the Clackamas River. It has a very distinct voice that depends on the depth of the water, high and strident in winter, tumbling rocks, or the slow drawl of summer, moving smooth and low to the Willamette.
Now it was the change of seasons, leaves swirling in small eddies, with the occasional splash of a salmon making its way upstream to spawn. The river melody soothed me to lie like a salmon resting in the shoals of the edge of the river. The day could wait.
The change of seasons, Fall to Autumn, Spring to Summer brings chemical changes that are felt by us, an energizing need to move towards the coming change. In Spring we build, dig and plant, reveling in the smell of opening up to the outdoors to nest. Now, with the nip of autumn I welcome another blanket on my bed, gather and store the harvest, stack wood against the winter. Sam had helped with the winter wood, so I was good there.
Purpose and expectation. Eventually these two feelings took me from my bed. I stretched and thought of doing a few minutes of yoga before coffee, but Prince Charming was twining around my legs and I gave over to him. I swept him into my arms where he tried to nuzzle underneath my chin, which made me giggle. I was on the move so he squiggled to get down, hitting the wooden floor with a thump. I followed him to his feeding place, found the water low and bits of dry cat food scattered around the dish. I replenished the dishes while he pranced around, mewing.
He happily tucked into his breakfast while I attended to my coffee and Sam's Cheerios, with a side of raisin toast with cream cheese. I sat at the kitchen window, looking over the lawn to the trees and the river. While I munched I listened to my phone messages. Four of them.
Len: "Annie, are you there? I'd hate to think you are listening to this while in the arms of the fire chief. Oh, I forgot, you weren't flirting with him. Just kidding. If you find time in your busy schedule call me. I know you have my number."
Fire Chief: "Mrs. Straw, I'm chagrinned to admit that I have your garage door opener. Forgot to hand it back to you the other evening after your flue fire. Please call and tell me when it is
convenient for me to drop it by, or you can pick it up at the station." He left his cell number.
"Chagrinned?" Sounded like a voice from an old English novel. Intriguing, a man of language.
Len again: "Annie, I have news. Call me."
The fourth was from the Gladstone library. A book on tape was overdue. I'd finished it on the way home last night, so I'd take it in today. Go to the fire station while I'm in town? Or call the cell number? Hmm, a small flutter?
I was going to have to call Len, but decided I needed to walk down to the picnic table before I did anything else.
I refilled my coffee cup, with Prince Charming following every move I made. We had walked only a few steps out of doors before I felt the chill. "Go chase a leaf or something. I'll be right back." I fetched my beloved sweater, the wool one with sheep on the pockets. Warmer, I walked the brick path to the table above the river. Prince rushed across the lawn to scare a couple robins into the trees.
The crispness of the air sent a tiny shiver through me. Prince played with a leaf picked up by the light wind. There were more leaves on the lawn than just a couple days ago. I sat on the bench and leaned back against the table, watching the river.
I recalled the last time Roger and I had sat here, him tired and weak, me aching with his pain, unable to do much beyond be there. I switched off the melancholy that threatened to overwhelm me, because it felt more like something I should feel than what I was really feeling. I wanted to live in today, not the past.
Vitalized, I made the first call of the day. It was early but I wanted to reach Len before he went out.
He answered, his voice thick with sleep, "Whoa, Annie. Do you realize it's only a little after seven o'clock? A.M.?"
"It's daylight. I thought you'd be catching shots of the sunrise."
"Funny." He made a quick recovery. "Want breakfast? My place? I have eggs and bacon, can do something fancy if you want."
"Oh, gosh, Len, thanks, but no thanks. I've already eaten. Out here on the river it's late, nearly midmorning. The birds have already forgotten first light. I'm just getting back to you, and wondering what news you have. I have some for you, too. You'll never believe what went down last night."
Scandal Page 13
