“We can bring her back if you want. Connie has to head your direction when she goes home, and if she’s not going straight home, I don’t mind bringing her. She’s really helping us out.”
“That would be great, thank you.”
Cookie left, and Harriet hung Lainie’s coat over the back of a chair before leading her to the sewing station she’d set up.
“Knock-knock,” said Sharon from the connecting door. “Mind if I join you?”
“I thought you might want to work on your patchwork quilt, so I set up a second machine for you.”
The next hour passed in a flurry of cutting, stitching, pressing and stitching some more. Lainie cried the first time she had to rip a block apart, and amazingly, Sharon made the same mistake a few minutes later. They laughed together, and Sharon’s stock went up a little in Harriet’s eyes.
Harriet glanced at the face of her phone.
“The group is about to arrive, so we’d better finish up the pieces we’re working on. One more day of making blocks, and you should be ready to start sewing them into rows.”
Lainie handed her last block to Harriet to press.
“Can I call my brother?”
“Sure, there’s a phone in the kitchen,” Harriet told her.
She pulled a cell phone with a sparkly purple case from her sewing bag.
“Mom let me use one of her phones.”
Sharon looked up from her block.
“How many phones does your mom have?”
“Three. Because of the kind of people she works with at legal aid, she has extra phones so her clients don’t accidentally talk to me or Etienne. She said they also can’t find out where we live. She let my brother and me each take a phone while we’re staying at Aunt Cookie’s and Uncle Marcel’s. We have to give them back when we get back to Uncle Aiden’s house.”
“She must trust you a lot,” Harriet said.
“That’s what she said. She said if she finds out we’re making prank calls or talking to our friends when we’re supposed to be doing homework she’ll take them back.”
“Are you being good?” Sharon teased.
Lainie sighed. “I’m always good.”
Aunt Beth came into the studio without knocking. She held a glass baking dish in one hand and a reusable grocery bag looped over her opposite arm.
Harriet reached for the dish.
“What have we here?”
Aunt Beth swung away from her.
“Go get my stitching bag from the car, and I’ll tell you.”
Mavis drove up while Harriet was leaning into her aunt’s silver Beetle.
“You guys must have talked,” she said when Mavis got out carrying another glass baking dish.
“We knew you were going to be busy sewing, so we put together a plan. I know we had a big lunch, but that was hours ago.”
Harriet took Mavis’s sewing bag as well and followed her into the house. Aunt Beth was setting her dish into the microwave when they came into the kitchen.
“Now will you tell me what you brought?” Harriet asked as Sharon filled the teakettle with water and set it on the stove.
“This is pizza dip,” Beth said and gestured to her dish with a flourish. “It has all the things you’d put on a pizza, only it’s in a dish instead of a crust. When everyone gets here, I’ll warm it a little to melt the cheese.” She pulled a bag and a box from her grocery bag. “We have pita bread cut into little triangles and crackers for people to dip with.”
“And I brought chocolate lasagna,” Mavis said.
“That sounds deadly,” Harriet said. “Tell me more.”
“It’s simple. Crushed-up chocolate sandwich cookies, then a layer of cream cheese mixed with sugar and whipped topping followed by chocolate pudding and more whipped topping and then mini chocolate chips.”
“I’m not even hungry, and it sounds heavenly,” Sharon said.
“Do Wendy and I get some, too,” Lainie asked. She’d been so quiet, Harriet had almost forgotten she was there.
The rest of the Loose Threads arrived over the next fifteen minutes, including Carla, who took Wendy and Lainie up to the TV room. She’d brought a selection of Disney movies for the girls to choose from. Harriet was reasonably sure Lainie had seen them all, but she could hear her discussing the finer points of princesses vs. mermaids with Wendy as they went up the stairs.
It took a few minutes more, but eventually the Loose Threads were seated around the dining room table along with Sharon and Jessica.
“This dip is so good,” Carla said. “Can you teach me to make it?”
“Of course, honey,” Beth told her.
Carla’s ears turned pink, but she maintained eye contact with Beth. She was definitely growing up, Harriet thought.
“Raise your hand if you’re going to finish your crazy quilt,” Lauren said.
Four people raised their hands.
“I’m making my square into a pillow,” Lauren continued.
“I was thinking a wall hanging,” Robin said.
“Did you ever find Marine’s mom or other family members?” Harriet asked Lauren.
“Way to bring the party down,” Lauren said.
“I hope you had better luck than we did,” Mavis said.
Lauren shot a meaningful look to Harriet before speaking.
“As a matter of fact, I did. Some of my associates made contact with her this afternoon; she’ll be at the funeral. I had them give her some money to buy a black dress, but I have no real hope she’ll use the money for that. They did tell her they would give her more money if she showed up in the dress.”
“That was clever,” Beth noted.
“The ‘good’ sibling was easy to find. I’m not sure she’ll show, but she has the information, anyway. The brother will be there, if only to see if there’s anything for him in it.”
Jessica high-fived her roommate.
“Way to go,” she said.
The discussion was interrupted by knocking on the studio door. Carla jumped up.
“I’ll get it.”
She returned with Detective Morse in tow.
“I should give you your own key,” Harriet said.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I was looking for your aunt and I thought I’d check here on my way out to her house. None of you are answering your phones, so I guessed you were meeting.”
“No problem,” Aunt Beth said. “We’ve gotten in the habit of silencing our phones when we meet.”
“I’m not knocking it. It’s a great idea.”
“How can I help you,” Aunt Beth said in her sweetest “I’m just a little old lady” voice.
“I was hoping you got hold of Marine Moreau’s mother, Francine Moreau. We believe she goes by Frankie.”
Mavis scooped a serving of pizza dip onto one of the saucers Harriet had set on the table. Beth added a few pita wedges and handed it to Morse.
“Mavis and I didn’t have any luck, but Lauren managed to run her to ground.”
“Really?” Morse said. “Do I want to know?”
“I’ll tell you later, but I assure you, it was all above board.”
Harriet scooped a bite of dip onto a cracker, popped it into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully.
“She’ll be at the funeral tomorrow, if we’re lucky. Have your people not spoken to her yet? I hope…” She paused. “…Lauren wasn’t the first person to tell her about Marine.”
“She definitely knew about Marine,” Lauren said in a hurry. If Morse noticed, she didn’t say anything.
“We spoke to her other daughter when we couldn’t find her right away, and she assured us she could contact her. No, this is something else.”
“Anything we can help with?” Harriet asked.
Morse sighed and sagged in her chair.
“I suppose you’re going to find out soon enough anyway. Just please promise me you won’t talk to her before I do.”
“That’s not likely,” Robin said dryly.
�
�We identified the body Tom Bainbridge found in the park.” She paused for effect. “It’s Lucien Moreau.”
The group was silent.
“Lucien Moreau,” she repeated. “Marine’s stepdad Luc.”
“Whoa,” said Carla.
Harriet sat erect in her chair.
“Oh, my gosh, That’s crazy. He was the one who distracted Aiden so someone could kill Marine in his house?”
“If that’s, in fact, what happened.” Morse reminded her. “With this new development, we have to consider the possibility someone is out to get the Moreau family. With the other brother being in jail, someone could be killing his family for payback.”
“Wait, Tom said he died from alcohol poisoning,” Harriet said.
It was Morse’s turn to take a bite of dip before answering.
“That was the assumption when the paramedics arrived. He was drunk when he died, but that wasn’t what killed him.”
The Loose Threads stopped chatting and turned toward her as one.
“Wow, do you practice that move?” Morse said and laughed. “I’m sorry. Cops tend to find humor in strange places. This will be out in the media soon enough, anyway. Mr. Moreau was hit from behind with an as-yet unidentified blunt object.”
“From what we know of that family, it’s hard to believe that killing the abusive drunken patriarch, who by all accounts was long estranged from his family, would be much of a payback for anything,” Robin observed. “If I were trying to hurt any of the family, I’d go for the college sister. I’ll bet they were proud of her, in their own way.”
“It does make more sense if he were killed to keep him quiet, if he did help set up Aiden,” Morse said. “I’ll give you that.”
Mavis took a sip of her tea and set her cup down.
“It’s hard to imagine any parent could sink so low as to participate in their own child’s murder.”
“Once people spiral into addiction, drugs or alcohol become more important than family or anything else. Unfortunately, we see it all too often. People will sell their own children if it gets them their next fix.” Morse said.
“That’s just sad,” Beth said.
Harriet stood up
“On that depressing note, I think we need some chocolate.”
She went to the kitchen for the dessert.
“I’ll get plates,” Sharon said and went with her.
Jessica followed them into the kitchen, got dessert for the kids and took it upstairs.
“So, where does this all leave Aiden?” Harriet said as she returned and started cutting the chocolate lasagna into pieces and handing them out.
Mavis and Aunt Beth both took sandwich bags that held precut triangles of fabric and several pre-threaded needles from their purses. They quietly began hand-sewing the pieces together.
Jessica returned to her place at the table.
“They were “letting it go” at the top of their lungs when I got there. I’m surprised we didn’t hear them.
Robin slid her legal tablet and pen from her bag.
“The way I see it, there are two possibilities. One, we figure out who did kill Marine, and/or two, we come up with evidence to show that Aiden didn’t do it.”
“Whatever forensic evidence they have has to be rigged, but without access to the material, we may have a hard time proving it,” Lauren said.
Carla twirled her fork in her dessert.
“Has anyone looked for security camera footage around the vet clinic or around the back of Fogg Park?”
“I went door to door in the neighborhood behind the park,” Jessica told her. “The first row of houses looking into the woods, at least. Not everyone was home, though. I made a list of the addresses when they were. No one fessed up to having a security camera.”
Robin made a note.
“So, we could follow up on that. Has anyone looked for cameras around the clinic?”
Morse took a bite of her chocolate.
“This is really good,” she said when she’d swallowed. “Let me check and see if they’ve pulled the footage around the crime scene. They should have. You need to tread lightly around the detectives assigned to this. They’re aware that Harriet and you all have upstaged the FPPD in the past, but more important, they’re well aware of Harriet’s relationship with Aiden. I think canvassing in the neighborhood is a good idea, though. The officers assigned to the case are spending most of their time trying to prove Aiden did it. I doubt very much they’re spending any time verifying his alibi.”
“So, what about Marine’s family?” Lauren asked. “Is there any chance one of them knows anything?”
“Given tonight’s revelation about her dad, I’d think there’s a good chance they know something,” Harriet said.
“Surely, one of them was close enough to her to know what she’s been up to lately,” Aunt Beth said.
Mavis sipped her tea.
“You know, one of us should probably talk to Michelle. Marine was staying at her house.”
Carla cleared her throat.
“Yes, dear?” Mavis said.
“I noticed Marine used to talk to the kids’ tutor in French. Michelle said Marine’s family lived in the same town in France her mom came from. Marine’s mom is a lot younger than Aiden’s and Michelle’s parents, but I think they knew Marine’s grandparents. That’s why Avanell let Marine stay with her when her own mom wouldn’t let her come home, back when Aiden was in Uganda.”
“You know, honey,” Beth said, “you’re right. I remember Avanell saying something about that at the time.”
Carla looked down at her plate and blushed.
“Marine was born here,” Beth continued, “but her family probably spoke French at home because of the grandparents.”
“Do you know how to get hold of the tutor?” Harriet asked Carla.
“I don’t, but I’m pretty sure she’s still going over to Marcel’s and Cookie’s to give the kids their homework assignments, so they probably have her number.”
Robin wrote “talk to tutor” on her paper.
Connie raised her hand.
“I’m taking Lainie home tonight, I can ask Cookie then. I’ll call the tutor and see what she has to say.”
“We should talk to whichever relatives show up for the memorial service, too,” Robin said and wrote each of the relatives’ names down.
Lauren scraped her nearly empty plate with her fork.
“It’s possible the mom or siblings will know of other friends. We need to be prepared to grill them, too.”
“Too bad you don’t know who her dealer is,” Jessica said with a smirk. “That’s where I’d be looking for leads.”
Harriet picked up her teacup.
“Marine hasn’t been in town long enough to be in the kind of trouble that gets you killed. And she did seem to be either out of money or genuinely trying to kick her habit.”
Lauren looked at her.
“So, you think someone killed Marine to send a message to…who? Her mother? Her brother? If her mother wouldn’t let her live with her, would she be swayed by someone threatening to kill her daughter and then carrying out the threat?”
“No, it doesn’t fit,” Harriet agreed. “Marine’s family isn’t much to work with, but it’s almost all we’ve got.”
Morse had been sitting quietly while the conversation ran on.
“If you talk to her family, and it sounds like you will, be very careful. These are not your average Foggy Point neighbors. If they talk to you, they’ll be trying to figure what’s in it for them. Using people is a way of life for that type of people.
“Don’t talk to them alone, stay in pairs. And don’t let any of them talk you into going anywhere with them away from the church. Not even the college sister. She may be what she appears—the one that got away., but she might still feel allegiance to her family. Just be careful. And if you find out anything at all, call the police. Either me or one of the other detectives.”
“Yes, Mama,” Laure
n said with a salute.
“I’m serious,” Morse said.
“We’ll be careful,” Harriet assured her. “I hope you can understand that we can’t just sit and do nothing.”
Morse sighed. “Unfortunately, I do. I know I sound like a broken record with you ladies, but you’ve been very lucky so far.”
Harriet crumpled her napkin and dropped it on her plate.
“If we don’t do anything, Aiden will go to jail for a crime he didn’t commit. I can’t live with that.”
“I’ll do everything I can to prevent that from happening,” Morse said. “In the meantime, I’ve got to go back to the station to do some research on my cold case.”
Connie stood up, too.
“I’d better get Lainie back to Marcel’s. I’ll get Wendy ready, too.”
Carla picked up her plate and started gathering the others in a stack.
“Wendy isn’t going to be happy when she finds out Lainie isn’t coming to Connie’s with us.”
Aunt Beth packed her stitching back in the small bag and dropped it into her purse. She pushed back from the table.
“Okay, then, I guess I’ll see you all tomorrow at the funeral.”
Chapter 23
Saturday dawned clear and sunny. Harriet walked Scooter to the end of the driveway and back before breakfast. It was a long walk, given his small size, but he was going to be in the house for a longer than normal stretch, given the funeral, the church’s cookie-and-coffee reception and then the gathering at Jorge’s restaurant. She would take him on another long walk before they left for the service.
Sharon was in the kitchen when they got back in the house.
“Who are you going to talk to at the funeral?” she asked.
“I’m going to attempt to talk to all of them. You never know which one of us any one of them will relate to, so several of us will have a go at them.”
“I’ll try to listen to all of them,” Sharon said. “Since I’m not from here, people will likely ignore me. I’ll wear minimal makeup, and I didn’t bring black pants; but I have gray pants and a gray sweater. I’ve had lots of practice from my modeling years. No one ever wants the models to talk. We’re the classic example of ‘be seen but not heard.’”
Crazy as a Quilt (A Harriet Turman/Loose Threads Mystery Book 8) Page 16
