"The first thing I did was obtain a copy of Dad's death certificate. Or, I should say, I attempted to obtain a copy. Since we now know he wasn't dead, I wondered how thorough the set-up had been. Of course, there is none on file, either in Washington State or in Malaysia."
"You called Malaysia?” Harry said.
James glared at his younger brother then continued. “I got the death certificate Mom received with Dad's...” He made quote-mark motions with the first two fingers of both hands. “...ashes. A simple internet search and comparison quickly demonstrated it was a fake."
"Didn't we already know that, pretty much as soon as Dad turned up dead again?” Ben asked.
"Good question,” James said. He got up and started pacing between the island and the table as if he were pleading a case in court. “We knew his certificate had to be a fake, but what this tells us is that it wasn't a sophisticated fake. A child could have made Dad's death certificate. It would have failed under any scrutiny."
"So, again, what does all that tell us?” Ben asked, his voice rising at the end of the sentence.
"It tells us that Mom's widow's benefits were not through an insurance company. Any insurance company would have recognized the certificate was fraudulent. That means her benefits must be coming from a private annuity or something similar."
"Not to sound like your brother,” Harriet said with a smile at Ben, “but didn't we already know that?"
"We knew her checks came from a numbered account. I submitted a request to the bank for the identity of the originator of the account. It was set up in a way that would insure Mom would always get the money no matter what happened to the original account holder, the original administrator or even the bank itself.
"Annuities are set up for minor heirs all the time, but this had some unusual features. I'm taking the position that Mom is the ultimate owner of the account and therefore has a right to all the account records and history. Banking is not my area of law, so I'm basically blowing smoke and hoping they will go for it."
"You sly dog,” Harry said.
"I'd almost guarantee Dad didn't set up that account. We need to know who did, and I'm hoping the identity of that person will get us a step closer to finding out what the heck is going on,” James said. “My investigator will try to get a name if he can, but he needs time. Look, I know you were all hoping for more, but it's like any case—you have to build it step by step."
"You're right, it's a step—a baby step,” Ben said. “I guess."
"Did you find something?” Harry asked, looking at Harriet.
"Wait,” James said. “I'm not finished."
"Do you actually have some real information?” Ben demanded.
"Not about the banking, but I went to the police station earlier to find out what's happening with Dad. They told Mom and that woman they'd be releasing his body days ago, and then they kept dragging it out. It turns out that, originally, they were leaning toward the idea Dad's death was some kind of accident. Closer examination showed that, in addition to the blunt-force trauma wound to Dad's chest, it's kind of burned, which would indicate a gunshot wound, except there's no bullet and no exit wound."
"So our dad was killed with an invisible bullet?” Harry asked.
"Dad was murdered?” Ben asked at the same time.
"That would be why they haven't released his body,” James said. “They're running out of things to test for. The only thing they'll say is that Dad received a lethal blow to his heart by object or objects unknown, and that it doesn't appear to be self-inflicted."
"Do they have any idea who killed him?” Ben asked.
"Ironically, Mom could be at the top of their list. Dad was killed while she was on her way back from babysitting for our dear brother Pete,” James said. “They have no evidence against her—only her lack of alibi. His other wife is in the same boat—no one saw her at the critical time, but there is no evidence to imply she had anything to do with it."
"If we could figure out why your dad left and then came back, that might help us identify other suspects,” Harriet suggested.
"How are we supposed to do that?” Ben asked. He took an orange from the fruit bowl on the table and started peeling it.
"Follow the money trail,” James said. “Someone set up the account that's paid Mom all this time. Our dad didn't have that kind of money. Or if he did, Mom didn't know about it, so someone else must have been involved."
"Maybe someone he worked with would know something,” Harriet said. “I can talk to Carlton tomorrow. I've already talked to him about trying to find the father of a guy one of our quilters is dating. He supposedly worked there around the same time."
"I'd appreciate that,” Gerry said. “Carlton being my ultimate boss makes it difficult for me to ask too many questions."
"I think Mom and that woman are planning on having a memorial service whether they get Dad's body or not.” Ben said, changing the topic.
"They might as well, since we're all here,” Harry said.
"Mom said the cousins from the Netherlands are coming,” James said.
"Good,” said Harriet. “Maybe they can tell us something useful."
"So, did you say earlier you found out something that can help us?"
"Not directly, and I'm not sure it connects to your dad at all.” She explained her concern about Carla's new boyfriend and the resulting surveillance by the Loose Threads. “We ended up at the park on Miller Hill, looking down on Foggy Point Fire Protection."
"Is this guy some kind of domestic terrorist?” Gerry asked. “Maybe we should be talking to the police."
"I'm not sure what this guy is, but he claimed he was going to talk to someone. He was definitely doing surveillance. He didn't say anything to indicate he wanted to blow the place up or anything.” Harriet sipped her tea. “He was interested in what the night shift was doing."
"We don't have a night shift,” Gerry said.
"Somebody does,” Harriet told him. “There were people driving forklifts in and out of the big doors at the end of the building."
"Oh, that. We rented out warehouse space to another company. Since we're doing zero inventory management, we don't need a lot of storage space anymore. Materials come in daily on trucks and finished products leave at roughly the same pace. Japanese companies call it just-in-time manufacturing."
"What does the other company make?” Harriet asked.
"I have no idea. We advertised we had X number of square feet of storage space available and someone contacted us and rented it. It's not my area, so I don't really know the details."
"Would Carlton know?"
"If you'd asked should he, the answer is yes. Whether he does is anyone's guess."
"You implied there might be a connection between this guy and our dad,” Harry prompted.
"Nothing I can put my finger on,” Harriet said. “The Threads and I were talking, and we think it's a bit of a coincidence that he showed up skulking around town around the time your dad returned and right before Ilsa showed up. We even speculated about whether he was related to Ilsa. But we couldn't come up with a good reason why he would be spying on the factory, if that was the case."
"Oh, that's good,” Harry said, “I hadn't even thought about the possibility that Dad might have had more kids.” He looked serious for once.
"Don't go off the deep end,” Harriet cautioned. “We were just speculating and trying to make connections. We have no reason to believe your dad has other children."
"Yeah, but it would make sense,” Ben said. “Dad obviously loved kids, I mean, he had all of us, didn't he? And Mom said his other wife looks younger than her."
"That's a big leap, from liking kids to having more and younger,” James said. “Dad seemed kind of relieved when we got big enough to drive ourselves."
"Speak for yourself,” Harry said. “He left before I got my license."
How sad, Harriet thought. The boys measured their dad's absence by their milestones he'd missed.
"I'll let you know if I learn anything, but your brother's right. We don't have nearly enough information to jump to any conclusions."
She heard a rhythmic tapping on the outer door to her quilt studio. She went through and let a very tired-looking Aiden in. He was once again dressed in scrubs, and his hair had the flattened ridge that was a result of wearing a scrub cap.
She led him into the kitchen, where he sat beside Gerry at the island.
"Tough night, huh?” Gerry said and clapped him on the back.
"Yeah, something like that."
"I was just leaving.” Gerry got up and put his empty cup in the sink. “Are you ready?” he asked James.
"Where are you guys going?” Ben asked.
"Relax, tag-along, I'm just dropping James at Mom's—he's sleeping on her couch tonight. And then I'm going home."
"We could go have a beer on your way home,” Ben suggested.
"I'm tired,” Gerry said. “When you two get married and have real jobs you'll understand. The only thing I'm doing tonight is sleeping."
"Come on, Ben” Harry said. “Harriet has cable. We can watch old sci-fi movies in her TV room.” He headed for the stairs.
Ben glanced at Aiden and Harriet, and his face turned pink under his freckles.
"Good idea,” he said and followed his brother.
"Rough night?” Harriet asked when she and Aiden were alone.
"Dog fight,” he said. “Multiple victims. I hate seeing young, irresponsible pet owners getting unaltered male pit bulls."
"Were they purposely fighting them?"
"No, it was actually a group of friends meeting on a street corner. The dogs got into it, and the kids couldn't control them. A couple of the kids ended up in the emergency room with bites, too."
"That's too bad,” Harriet said. She massaged his neck with her good hand. “Sorry I can't give you a decent massage."
He turned and pulled her into his arms. She ran her hand through his silky hair, and he tilted his head down and kissed her gently on the lips.
"Can I sleep over?” he asked.
She pulled away.
"No, you can't sleep over,” she said. “We aren't that kind of friends."
"Yet,” he said. “We aren't that kind of friends yet. Say it."
"Even if we were that kind of friends, you can't stay over when there are children in the house."
"Children?” he said loudly, and she hushed him immediately. “They're all older than me,” he finished in a loud whisper.
"I rest my case,” she said.
"You're killing me here,” he said. He pulled her back toward him and wrapped his arms around her again. “They do seem younger, though, don't they."
"I think Harry is in graduate school, and Ben works as a research assistant for a save the some-kind-of-crustacean group. They both spend a lot of time with college students."
"Did you learn anything from the guys?” Aiden smoothed her hair away from her face with both hands.
"Not really. James says he's sure his mom wasn't getting insurance money. And the police are sure Gerard, or Gerald or whatever we're supposed to call him, was murdered, but they're not sure how."
"I guess that's good for Mavis,” he said. “The insurance part, I mean."
"Someone said the cousins from the Netherlands are coming for the funeral, which is apparently going to happen whether the body has been released or not."
"So, what's on tap for the great detective?” he asked.
"Not much. I'm going to ask Carlton about who works at his company at night and also if he knows who is around from twenty years ago who might have known what was going on back then. Other than that, I'm at a loss."
Aiden slid his hands under the back of her shirt and rubbed the knotted muscles of her back as she leaned into him.
"I'm sure you'll think of something,” he said.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 21
"I've been thinking," Aunt Beth said as she poured hot water over her orange spice tea bag. She dunked the bag up and down several times in the blue hand-thrown mug she had selected from the shelf then let it fall back into the liquid.
"This must be serious,” said Harriet.
Aunt Beth had arrived early with a bag of doughnuts clutched in her hand along with her purse. Something big must be on her mind for her to bring something other than fruit to Harriet. She'd bake cookies until the end of time for the Willis boys; Harriet always got the fruit.
She got up from the island, sipping her own tea, and got a plate from the cupboard and a handful of napkins from the drawer next to the dishwasher.
"I'm trying to figure out what the right thing to do is,” Beth said, leaving Harriet to scramble for a topic. “Having two wives makes things complicated."
"Throw me a bone here. What are you talking about?"
"Oh, I'm thinking out loud,” Aunt Beth said and unbagged the pastries. She'd brought a large apple fritter, two raspberry-filled raised doughnuts and a pair of cinnamon twists. Judging by the quantity of sweets, she was very troubled. “Hand me a sharp knife."
Harriet complied, then came back around the bar and sat on her stool. Beth cut the apple fritter into bite-sized pieces.
"You know how we always make blocks for a person when someone dear to them dies? I was thinking we should be making blocks for Mavis."
It all became clear.
"And you don't know what to do about Ilsa."
"That, and the fact I'm not sure how Mavis is feeling about Gerald right now."
Harriet had a thought about that, but didn't want to throw it out there too soon for fear Aunt Beth would pack up her doughnuts and go.
"It seems like Ilsa should be included. I mean, she is a quilter. I realize we aren't her friends, but she's alone here and far from her home. And no matter what the final explanation is for Gerald/Gerard's actions, both women are grieving.” Harriet popped a piece of fritter in her mouth and put a doughnut on her napkin. She took a sip of her tea. “Mavis may be at the anger stage of grief, but she's still grieving."
"I don't want to add to her burden,” Aunt Beth said. “And I don't want Mavis mad if we make something for Ilsa.” She picked up a cinnamon twist, tore the end off and ate it.
Harriet bit her raised doughnut, marking it as her own. “I think we should make blocks for Mavis, but not have a theme related to Gerald/Gerard. You know, maybe make something purely for comfort and as feminine as Mavis could stand."
"That's not a bad idea,” Aunt Beth said and took another bite of her twist.
"As for Ilsa, let's ask Mavis what she thinks. If she absolutely hates the idea, then we'll find something else to do for her.” Harriet took another bite of fritter, and as she put it to her mouth, Aunt Beth slid the plate just out of her reach. “My guess is Mavis will say we should make blocks. You can figure out whether we should let her know we're making blocks for her or not."
"Probably not,” Aunt Beth said. “She's going to be busy today anyway. Gerald's cousins from the Netherlands are arriving."
"Won't they be with Ilsa?"
"I think Mavis and Ilsa are going to pick them up from the airport together."
"Are they coming in to Sea-Tac?” Harriet asked, referring to the Seattle/Tacoma airport..
"Yes. I think Mavis volunteered to drive."
"It must be kinda of weird for her, though."
"Well, the whole thing is weird. In a way, I think Ilsa gives Mavis a way to hang on to Gerald even though she's mad at the same time. And Ilsa is learning about a whole part of Gerald's life she never knew existed."
"I'm not sure I could be so buddy-buddy if I were Mavis.” Harriet rose off her stool to reach the plate with the fritter. Aunt Beth slapped at her hand as she reached for another piece.
"Don't you think you've had enough?” she scolded. “You need to keep your girlish figure if you're going to keep that man of yours."
"Aiden is not ‘my man,’ and furthermore, if he c
ares that much about my weight, he's not going to be ‘my man.’”
"I'll save you,” Harry said and reached for the doughnut plate.
"You help yourself,” Aunt Beth invited warmly.
"Thanks.” He took the plate to the counter and began filling Harriet's coffeemaker.
"I'll start calling the Loose Threads. Shall we see if we can meet at Pins and Needles in an hour?” Harriet asked.
"Thanks, honey, that would be good. We're all caught up in the studio, so I was going to slip one of my own quilts onto the machine and get it started,” Aunt Beth said. “I'll call Connie and Jenny, if you want."
"It's a plan,” Harriet said and went upstairs to get dressed and make her calls.
* * * *
Aunt Beth and Harriet drove down the hill to Pins and Needles an hour later in Aunt Beth's new Volkswagen Beetle. She had ordered it weeks ago and had just picked it up at Fogg Volkswagen and Saab the day before.
"This thing is tiny,” Harriet said as she settled in the passenger seat. “Did you have to special-order this vase?” She referred to a flower vase attached to the dashboard.
Aunt Beth rolled her eyes.
"I don't need to be driving a tank around Foggy Point, getting single-digit gas mileage,” she said. “And I kept the pickup. I'll drive that if I need to go to Seattle.” She parked easily at the curb in front of Pins and Needles. “See? It may be small, but it's much easier to park than my old tank."
"Whatever,” Harriet said as she crawled out and onto the sidewalk. She took her quilting bag from the back seat and Aunt Beth did the same.
"You'll be in the small classroom today, if that's okay,” Marjory informed them.
"That's great,” Harriet said. “Thanks for accommodating us on such short notice."
"Glad I could be of help. Carla is in there right now showing Bebe how to braid grosgrain ribbon to attach to her suitcase so she can identify it easier at baggage claim at the airport, but they should be done in a few minutes."
"No problem,” Aunt Beth said.
"There's coffee and hot water in the kitchen,” Marjory added. “Let me know if you need anything else."
Quilt As You Go Page 17
