Crazy as a Quilt (A Harriet Turman/Loose Threads Mystery Book 8)

by Arlene Sachitano

  “Great. There goes that plan.”

  “The jail site says they encourage phone calls between inmates and their family, friends and attorneys. And according to this, all cell blocks have phones.”

  “Give me the number.”

  “Let’s go to that alcove over there. No sense broadcasting we’re calling the jail.”

  Harriet dialed, left a message; and a few minutes later, her phone rang and Aiden was on the line.

  “Are you okay,” she asked. “I mean, of course you’re not okay okay. But can I do anything for you? Do you need anything?”

  “Slow down. I’m fine. I mean, considering everything. My lawyer is working on getting me out of here, and I did emergency surgery on a dog for one of the guards, and he’s grateful and seems to have influence with the rest of them. As long as they’ve got room, I have private accommodations.”

  “Has your lawyer been able to find out what they have that caused them to arrest you?”

  “It doesn’t make sense. They said they searched her cell phone records, and my number shows up a bunch of times. Her calling me. I swear I haven’t talked to her, by phone or otherwise, since she’s been here. They found hair and saliva on her body. They are consistent with mine, but even if they get priority testing, it will still take days to get DNA results. I don’t get it.”

  “I do. Someone is setting you up. And I hope your jailers are listening to this call. You did not kill Marine, and the sooner they realize that, the sooner they can get on with finding whoever is setting you up.”

  “I know I have to trust the police to find out who’s behind this, but it’s really hard to keep thinking positive sitting in here.”

  “Who would want to frame you for this? Assuming someone is trying, that is. Lauren is tracking down Marine’s less savory family members to see if one of them had a reason to want her dead. Connie and Lauren’s roommate are trying to find your homeless guy, or failing that, someone who saw you looking for him.”

  “So, the Loose Threads are on the case? I feel better already.” He tried to laugh, but it came out more like a gasp. “I gotta go.”

  “Call me when you can,” Harriet said and tapped her phone off.

  Lauren had discreetly stepped away while Harriet was talking but returned when she dropped her phone into her purse.

  “I called in an order for us at the Sandwich Board while you were talking to Aiden. I’d like to stop in the quilt store while we’re near by and see if Marjorie has any of those pre-embroidered motifs we’re supposed to use in our embellishments.”

  “They have some for sale at the supply table here.”

  “Have you looked at them? We’re supposed to use at least one owl image, and the ones they have look like cartoons. After I’ve spent all this time doing perfect little herringbone stitches, I’m at least going to try to get a more realistic-looking owl.”

  “I have to admit, I’m not thrilled with my lime-green option. Do you want to drive, or shall I?”

  “I’ll drive, and you can tell me what the jailbird had to say.”

  Lauren slowly turned the wire display rack full of embellishments.

  “Incoming,” she said in a quiet voice.

  Harriet looked up in time to see Michelle come down the aisle.

  “I’m so glad I found you here. The kids are still staying with my brother, and I guess Cookie has a sewing machine she’s willing to let Lainie use. She’s not a quilter, so Lainie gave me a list of things she needs. I have no idea what this stuff is.” She shoved the list at Harriet.

  “Cutting mat and cutter, big ruler, square ruler, ruler handle,” Harriet read out loud. “I can see how this might be a little confusing. Lauren, you want to do cutter and mat or rulers?”

  “I’ll get the rulers.” Lauren turned and headed toward the back of the store where notions were kept.

  “Do you know how much space she’ll have to work in?” Harriet looked at Michelle.

  “Not a clue.”

  “Hmmm. I hesitate to get her one of the smaller ones while she’s still learning.”

  “Don’t look at me,” Michelle said.

  Harriet ignored her and walked over to a rack of cutting mats of various sizes and colors. She leafed through them, finally selecting a green twenty-four by thirty-six inch model.

  “I think this will work. Tell Cookie if it’s too big to fit her space, she can cut it down, but not to make it too small.” She held it out, and when Michelle didn’t immediately take it, Harriet shoved it into her hand.

  Lauren set the rulers up front by the cash register before returning with Harriet to the embellishment rack. Michelle followed them and stood watching.

  “Was there something else?” Harriet asked her without turning around.

  “Lainie has been whining about wanting to come over to your house to have another lesson.”

  Harriet turned around.

  “Of course—”

  Jesssica burst through the front door.

  “I found him,” she said, pausing to catch her breath. “I mean, I saw him. I’m so glad I saw Lauren’s car out front.”

  “Slow down,” Harriet said. “You saw or found who? The homeless guy?”

  Jessica nodded.

  “So, was that a yes to Lainie coming over?” Michelle looked at Jessica. “Sorry to interrupt, but I have to get back to legal aid.”

  “Yes, I need to figure out what we’re doing, and then I’ll call and make the arrangements. It might be tomorrow, but I’ll call today.”

  Michelle carried her cutting mat to the register, paid for her purchases and left.

  “Does that woman ever say thank you?” Lauren asked.

  Harriet ignored her and nodded to Jessica.

  “Continue.”

  “When the guy saw me coming toward him, he took off into the woods,” Jessica explained. “I followed him a little way, but…” She gestured at her outfit. “…in this getup I couldn’t catch him. He went off the trail into the brush, and it was hopeless. I thought we could change clothes and go back.”

  “Slow down, Nancy Drew,” Lauren cautioned her.

  “Lauren’s right. We have to be careful where the police are concerned. I’ll call Detective Morse, and she can tell whoever the right person is. My first inclination is to go look, too, but we can’t do anything that will jeopardize Aiden’s defense,” Harriet told her. “I’ll call Robin and see if she knows Aiden’s attorney. Maybe she can call him, and if they have a private investigator maybe they can go look.”

  Lauren picked a couple of owls from the embellishments rack.

  “Do you want a couple of these?” She held up a package. The owls were stitched from brown and gold thread.

  Harriet took the package and looked.

  “These do look a lot more natural.”

  In the end, all three women bought several of the owls and a couple of spiders.

  “Thanks for spending your lunch looking,” Harriet said to Jessica. “I’ll call everyone while we’re driving back to the church.”

  “No problem. It was nice getting some exercise. I didn’t find anyone who had seen Aiden’s car, but I did collect a few donations for the local women’s shelter.” She smiled. “When you look like a nun and knock on their door, people tend to think you’re asking for a donation. Who am I to deny them the opportunity to salve their guilt by giving me their dollars?”

  She went out the door and to her rental car.

  Harriet paid for their purchases then followed Lauren to her car.

  “I’m beginning to see why being a full-fledged nun wasn’t working out for Jessica.”

  Lauren laughed.

  ‘You think? She does seem to like to color outside the lines a little more than the church probably likes.” She reached for her wallet.

  “The embellishments are on me. You did drive, after all.”

  “Speaking of which, we’re going to be late if we don’t hurry.”

  It was Harriet’s turn to laugh.r />
  “What are they going to do, send us to the principal’s office?”

  Chapter 19

  Harriet hung up her last call but kept her phone in her hand.

  “I left messages with Robin and Detective Morse. Hopefully, someone will respond before the homeless guy is in the next county.”

  “I can’t call the nerd squad. They’re great on technical things, but I can’t picture them tramping through the woods.”

  “I’m having a thought, and you can tell me if I’m being crazy.”

  “I’m afraid, but lay it on me.”

  “I was thinking about calling Tom.”

  “Really? Are things not complicated enough for you already? Your boyfriend is in jail, so you’re going to involve your back-up boyfriend in trying to free him?”

  “I was just thinking. Tom is a frequent visitor to the homeless camp. If he were to find the guy and talk to him, he could report it to the police, and we’d be above suspicion.”

  Lauren glanced at her.

  “All kidding aside, I think you do need to call Tom—and anyone else you can think of.”

  Harriet didn’t say anything.

  “I’m serious. People get falsely accused and falsely convicted every day. The longer they have Aiden in their sights, the more committed they’re going to be to their case against him, even though it’s false.”

  “That’s not very comforting.”

  “Harriet, this is as serious as it gets. For what it’s worth, I think Tom’s the kind of guy who will be mad if you don’t call him.”

  Harriet sighed and tapped the face of her phone.

  “Okay,” Harriet said as Lauren parked in the church lot. “It turns out Tom was on his way to Foggy Point on other business. He said he’ll get here in thirty minutes or so, and he’ll go straight to the homeless camp and start looking.

  “We need to have Jessica call him back and tell him exactly where she was when she saw the guy. She could tell him what he looked like, too, on the off chance there’s more than one of them in the woods today.”

  “I wish we didn’t have the group dinner tonight,” Lauren mused.

  “Geez, I forgot about that. We can’t miss the big banquet. When do we have to be back here? Six-thirty?”

  “Yeah, they figured it gave us just enough time to go home, comb our hair, and come back.”

  “I better call about Lainie’s quilting lesson before we go in.” She tapped on her phone one more time and spoke to Cookie Jalbert. They agreed Lainie could come the following evening.

  “I know you’re all anxious to get home so you can freshen up before the banquet tonight. Our keynote speaker is wonderful, and I’m sure we’ll all learn a lot about crazy quilts.”

  Glynnis Miller from the Small Stitches was standing in front the workshop attendees in the basement meeting room.

  “I’ll make this brief. As you all know, one of our attendees died earlier this week, someone from our own community—Marine Moreau. Beth Carlson and Mavis Willis contacted her family this afternoon but found they have neither the means nor the inclination to put on any sort of service. As you all have generously donated money toward her memorial, we’ve decided to go ahead with it. Beth, would you like to tell us the details?”

  Aunt Beth went to the front of the room, straightening her lavender cardigan with one hand and squeezing a wrinkled piece of paper in the other. She cleared her throat and began speaking in a louder than normal voice.

  “Pastor Hafer has agreed to preside over a small service, to be held here at the Methodist Church on Saturday at one o’clock. I know many of you were already planning on staying through the weekend, and I hope you’ll be able to attend. Jorge Perez, the owner of Tico’s Tacos will be providing light snacks for a reception to follow in the private room at his restaurant. Thank you all for your generous donations.”

  She hesitated a few moments to see if anyone might have questions, but everyone was busy gathering purses, bags and coats so they could go get ready for the banquet.

  When Harriet walked into the basement fellowship hall, it bore no resemblance to the room they’d been in a few hours ago. Quilt racks had been set up along the walls and were draped with a stunning display of crazy quilts. All of the teachers had provided samples of their own work, and the after-dinner speaker had brought examples from his extensive collection—everything from the early dark wool models through brocade silks from Asia and heavily embellished Victorian-influenced designs. The room was buzzing with talk about the quilts.

  Aunt Beth moved her purse from the chair beside her so Harriet could sit down.

  “Jorge is going to go by your house and take Scooter out when he’s on his way to my house and Brownie.”

  “I’m kind of surprised they didn’t ask Jorge to cater this dinner,” Harriet said.

  Connie leaned across Beth to answer.

  “The Small Stitches wanted to share the business around. They have their meetings at Jimmy’s Barbecue, so it was natural they would give him the big dinner. And they were generous with Jorge. He got to do the opening reception and that lunch we went to.”

  Jessica and Lauren arrived, and Lauren set her shoulder bag on the chair next to her roommate before coming over to Harriet.

  “Have you heard from Tom yet?”

  “No. He said he’d call as soon as he knew anything. I also haven’t heard anything from Detective Morse. I’ll ask Robin what the attorney said when she gets here.”

  “She’s here,” Robin said as she sat down on the other side of Connie. “I told Aiden’s attorney about the homeless man. He said he would get a private investigator here and out looking for the guy as quickly as he could. He didn’t have anyone with him or know anyone in town, so it was going to be an hour or two.”

  Harriet clutched the stem of her water glass.

  “I wish someone would find the guy.”

  Aunt Beth pried Harriet’s hand off the glass.

  “Let go, you’re going to break that. You need to prepare yourself. Even if they find this fellow, he’s likely to be a drunk. The police might not place much stock in what he says.”

  “If he has the dog, or can show them the dog’s corpse, it would support what Aiden said. Besides, it would at least create reasonable doubt.” Tears filled Harriet’s eyes.

  Beth handed her a tissue.

  “Oh, honey, I didn’t mean to upset you. Aiden will be set free soon enough. I’m just not sure that homeless man is the one who’s going be the key.”

  “Have any of you seen this?” Sharon held up the program that had been lying on her plate. “Bill Volkening is the keynote speaker. It says here he has an extensive collection of crazy quilts. Has anyone heard him before?”

  Mavis patted Harriet’s hand but looked at Sharon.

  “I’ve heard him speak about his collection of nineteen-seventies polyester quilts. He’s very engaging, and he knows his stuff.”

  Harriet tried to eat what by all accounts was a fabulous barbecue dinner and to listen to what was probably a great talk, but she couldn’t stop thinking about Aiden and the homeless man. She’d put her phone on mute, but that only meant she was looking at the screen every five minutes to be sure she didn’t miss Tom’s call. She was staring at her phone when Aunt Beth poked her in the side. She looked up. Everyone was applauding the conclusion of the keynote speech. Harriet quickly joined in.

  “Wow, he was really good,” Sharon said. “Of course, I know so little about quilting, he could have said anything and I’d believe him.”

  “Don’t worry,” Mavis said. “His talk was based on solid research.”

  Jessica came around the table to where Harriet was standing.

  “That was great. Can we go home?”

  Lauren laughed. “How do you really feel?”

  “I’ve been wearing this wig…” She tugged at her hair. “…and these pumps way too long.” She lifted her right foot and wiggled it. “I’m ready to get out of this getup.”

 
; “Okay,” Lauren said. “We need to get home anyway. My landlady is dog-sitting Carter, and she’s probably giving him all the treats he doesn’t get at home. I need to get him away from her before he decides he doesn’t want to leave.”

  Harriet flicked her phone’s ringer back on and looked at the screen for the hundredth time, but there was still no message from Tom.

  “Come on,” Sharon said. “I’ll sit vigil with you at your house. We can stitch on our crazy blocks while we wait.”

  Robin picked up her coat and purse from the back of her chair.

  “I’ll check in with Aiden’s attorney and see if he was able to get a PI in play this afternoon.”

  “Thanks for your help,” Harriet said. “I don’t know what I’d do without all of you.”

  “We’re going to go home and work on our blocks,” Sharon told Lauren as they walked to their cars with Harriet and Jessica. She pointed at Harriet’s car. “Is that the mysterious Tom?”

  Lauren looked. “That would be him. This may take a while. How about you come with us to the coffee shop for a nightcap? We’ll drop you back by Harriet’s when we’re done.”

  Harriet hurried to her car.

  “Did you find the homeless man?”

  He ran both hands through his hair.

  “Can we sit in your car?”

  Sharon paused for a moment.

  “I’m going to go get a cup of coffee with Lauren and Jessica.” She turned and left, eliminating the need for Harriet to answer.

  “Did you just find him?” Harriet asked as she got into the car. “What took so long? Did he tell you Aiden called him? Did—”

  He reached over and grabbed her hand.

  “Harriet, stop. I found the man’s body. He’s dead. That’s what took so long. I had to hang around and be questioned by the police. Fortunately, I’d stopped for coffee and had a receipt establishing what time I’d arrived in Foggy Point. Joyce can back me up on when I checked with her. I guess they could tell by the guy’s temperature, too. He was too cold for me to have done it.”

  “De–dead?”

  “They won’t know until they do the autopsy, but I heard them say it looks like alcohol poisoning.”