"I better go,” Harriet said when she'd hung up. “Can you come to the meeting?"
"I think so,” Carla replied. “I have to see if I can find someone to watch Wendy."
"I don't think anyone would mind if you brought her with you."
She thanked Carla for the lemonade, which really was the best she had ever tasted. They agreed they'd see each other in a few hours.
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Chapter 24
Aunt Beth was still stitching her quilt when Harriet returned to her studio.
"You aren't overdoing it with your shoulder, are you?” Harriet asked.
"No. I've been taking it slow today, taking lots of breaks."
"Did Mavis call you?"
"Yeah, she told me about the meeting. I don't know what you think you're going to accomplish."
"We're right on the brink of knowing what happened to Gerald. I'll bet you anything that whoever killed him will show up at the funeral."
"And just what makes you think that?"
"All those detective shows on TV. They always say the killer comes to the funeral just to feel superior because no one knows who they are."
Aunt Beth shook her head. “Don't you think criminals watch television? If you know to expect him to show up, then he knows not to show up."
"Well, then, we'll pay attention to who isn't there and should be. And I can tell you, unless something happens overnight, Carla's friend Terry is going to be at the top of the absent list."
"Okay, I said I'd be there,” Aunt Beth said. “I'm going to go home and put my feet up for a while before meeting time, and I suggest you do the same. You know your collar bone will heal faster if you rest a little now and then."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah."
"Don't get smart with me,” Beth said, but she was smiling.
"I promise I'll lie down."
With that promise, Beth left.
Harriet did intend to lie down, but not until she had a snack. Her refrigerator was filled with leftovers, and she quickly found the potato salad. The lid was the sort that automatically released air as it sealed making it a sturdier seal than its cheaper competitors. This also made it impossible to open with one hand.
"Here, let me do that,” Harry said. He'd come downstairs as Harriet was trying to use the edge of the counter to pop the lid. “I don't want to see a grown woman cry."
"And you would have, too."
He fetched two bowls and scooped potato salad into them. He handed one to Harriet and took the other one himself, returning the storage bowl to the refrigerator.
"Have you figured out who killed my dad yet?"
"I wish I could say yes,” she said, looking at Harry's serious face. “But so far, I have more questions than answers. Carlton's father is dead. The people who worked with your dad are no longer at the company, and Carlton isn't being very forthcoming with names. But Carlton is generally not a helpful guy, so that in and of itself doesn't mean anything. Carla's friend Terry has been snooping around and spying on the factory, and now he's gone missing."
"Don't forget the magic bullet that wasn't a bullet,” Harry added.
"How could I forget the magic bullet? Like I said—lots of questions, not so many answers."
"I might have one little answer,” Harry said and paused for dramatic effect.
"Come on, my heart can't take the suspense.” She was only half-joking.
"Well, my friend Nick's dad worked with my dad back then. And he's still in town. In fact, he'll be coming to the funeral tomorrow."
"So how long were you going to wait to tell me?"
"Geez, you sound like my mom. I just found out. Nick heard about Dad's funeral and told me he was going to be there with his dad."
"Sorry,” Harriet said. “I've been badgering Carlton Brewster to give me names and he hasn't, so it's been a bit frustrating."
"Nick only called me last night to offer his condolences."
"It's all right, Harry, really.” She finished eating her potato salad. It was true what they said about potato salad benefiting from a day in the refrigerator. It was always better the second day. She rinsed her bowl and put it in the dishwasher while Harry went for seconds.
"I'm going to go lie down and rest my collar bone,” she said and went upstairs.
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Chapter 25
It was déjà vu when Harriet walked into the back room of Tico's Tacos just before four o'clock. Jenny and Lauren were at the picnic table sipping iced tea. A pitcher and more glasses sat on a smaller table off to the side. Jenny had shed the black spy look and was dressed in silver cotton pants and a pale pink shell. Lauren wore denim capri pants and a yellow T-shirt that brought out the highlights in her pale hair.
Connie came in from the kitchen where she explained she had been talking to Jorge about a recipe for barbacoa. She'd come from her volunteer job reading stories to preschool children at the library, and was still wearing a floral shirtwaist dress in her signature sherbet tones. She knew the current crop of pre-school teachers dressed in jeans and sometimes even sweatpants, under the theory that a teacher needed to crawl around on the floor to relate to her students; but she had made it clear to Harriet on more than one occasion she didn't believe rolling around on the floor on the teacher's part was an integral part of learning.
Harriet filled a glass and, after a nod from Connie, one for her friend. She carried them to the table one at a time.
"Has anyone had any insights since we last talked?"
"Aren't you supposed to be the hot-stuff crime solver around here?” Lauren asked.
"Only if the rest of you won't step up to the plate."
The room went silent.
"Look, right now, Mavis is suspect number one as far as the police are concerned. I'm not willing to sit back and watch her get arrested for something she didn't do."
"Are you certain she didn't do it?” Lauren asked. “I mean, she doesn't have an alibi for the time of the crime."
"Well, it's nice to know I have one person on my side,” Mavis said. No one had heard her arrive.
Jenny and Connie started talking at once, assuring her of their belief in her innocence.
Lauren cleared her throat. “I don't think you killed your husband,” she said in a subdued voice."I stayed up until three o'clock this morning doing computer searches.” She pulled her shoulder-length hair into a ponytail and slid the Scrunchi that had been on her wrist onto her hair to hold it in place. “Carla's friend doesn't exist. There are plenty of Terry Jansens but no one that comes close to any of the information he's given us. And believe me, I dug."
"Are you a hacker?” Connie asked.
"I have a master's degree in computer science, I don't hack.” She started to say something else but was interrupted by the arrival of Robin and DeAnn. Robin was wearing flared black Lycra pants and a pale blue baby tee that flashed her well muscled abs when she reach for an iced tea glass. DeAnn had on knee-length khaki shorts and a dark green T-shirt with the Foggy Point Video logo on the chest.
"So, what did we miss?” she asked.
"Lauren did some research about Terry Jansen, and she couldn't find him.” Connie said.
"Is that all?” DeAnn asked.
"No, that's not all,” Lauren said. “I was trying to finish reporting on my findings when you came in and interrupted."
"Well, excuse me,” DeAnn said.
"What else did you find out?” Harriet asked before the conversation could deteriorate any further.
"I was about to say that when I couldn't develop anything about Terry, one of our potential suspects, I decided to see what I could find about Mavis's lack of alibi. I mean, if she hadn't been called away, she would have been in our booth at the critical moment. I started to wonder if she was being set up right from the get-go."
"And?” Mavis said.
"I started looking at funerals that took place in Portland on the days you were gone. Fortunately, there weren't t
hat many. Now, we're assuming people accurately report who the survivors are in the obituary, but if that's true, then the only way Pete's babysitter was at her grandfather's funeral would be if she's really a grandson, a great-granddaughter or under twelve years of age."
"I knew there was something fishy about that girl,” Mavis said.
"Unfortunately, nothing I found tells us who did the set-up,” Lauren said.
"Thank you for looking,” Mavis said.
Aunt Beth arrived carrying a basket of chips and a dish of salsa Jorge had handed her as she passed the kitchen door.
"Jorge said this would help us think,” she said, and set the treats on the table. “Is anyone else coming?” she asked Mavis.
"Sarah couldn't get off work, and Carla was looking for a babysitter. If she's not here by now, she must not have been successful,” Mavis replied.
"So, what are we here for?” Robin asked.
Aunt Beth sat beside Mavis, and Harriet stood up and moved to the end of the table.
"I feel like we're getting close to figuring out what happened, but a few pieces of the puzzle are missing. First, I'd hoped we could list everything we know and see if anyone can see a pattern. Second, I'd like to make sure we get all the information we can at the funeral."
Robin pulled out the yellow tablet she always kept in her shoulder bag. Once again, she listed Gerry's postcard, Mavis's sudden babysitting job in Portland, Gerald's reappearance, Gerald's second family, Terry's appearance in town, his night-time absences, his surveillance of Foggy Point Fire Protection, the night work and now Terry's disappearance. She put them in neat columns—Gerald/Gerard information in one, Terry information in another.
Harriet had her add the information about the layoffs at the time of Gerard's disappearance, the contradiction in Terry's report of his military service, and the magic bullet.
"Ideas anyone?” she asked.
"What they're doing at night at Foggy Point Fire Protection is why Gerald came back,” DeAnn suggested.
"But why did he leave in the first place?” Lauren asked.
"Wait.” Harriet reached into a canvas bag bearing the Quilt As Desired logo and pulled out Gerald's plaid flannel quilt and the black mystery material. “Exhibit one,” she said, and placed the two items on the table. “Mavis found this quilt in her sewing room just before the re-enactment. It appeared out of nowhere after twenty years. It was Gerald's."
"So, obviously Gerald put it there,” Lauren said.
"But why?” Robin wondered.
"Let me see that,” DeAnn said. She bent the square, corner to corner, tugged at the edges and then smelled it. “Does anyone have a scissor?"
Several people rummaged in their purses. Connie won, triumphantly holding a pair of Gingher shears up.
"I was going to drop these off at Pins and Needles to go to the sharpener."
"Is it okay if I cut the mystery square with them?” DeAnn asked.
Connie agreed, and DeAnn began a series of attempts to cut the fabric. She tried snipping with the scissor tips. She pulled the piece deep into the blades. She laid the fabric on the table and stabbed at it with the scissors held in her fist.
"Anyone else want to try?” she asked.
Lauren held her hands out for the piece. DeAnn passed it to her, and Lauren repeated the experiment.
"So, this is some sort of thin, protective material?” she said when she'd run out of methods to try.
"That's weird,” Harriet said. She glanced at Mavis and Aunt Beth.
"We all three saw Mavis's appliqué scissors poke a hole in that square,” Beth said.
"So, how did you do it?” Robin asked.
"I was holding it while Mavis held a match to it,” Harriet explained. “She got the flame close to my hand and I dropped the square, bumped my teacup and knocked the scissors off the table. The tea slopped onto the square and the scissors fell point down into and through the material. The square didn't protect my hand from the heat, by the way."
"Hand me the tea,” Lauren said.
DeAnn was closest to the small table and passed it to her down the table, where Robin handed it to Lauren. Lauren laid down her napkin, put the black square on it and poured iced tea onto its surface. She took Connie's scissors into her fist, raised her arm and stabbed down into the material. The scissors slid sideways and skittered off the black square and into the scarred top of the picnic table.
She looked at Harriet. “So tell us again how you poked a hole in this thing."
"Don't look at me. Feel the center, my hole is still there,” Harriet said.
Lauren tried her experiment again with similar results. “So, what gives?"
"It was hot tea,” said the disembodied voice of Jorge over the intercom speaker. Moments later he appeared in the back room with a steaming water kettle. “Try this.” He laid a thick cotton dishtowel on the table. Lauren reached up for the pot, and he pulled it away. “Hey, it was my idea. At least let me pour."
"Knock yourself out,” Lauren said, and put the square on top of the towel.
Jorge carefully poured steaming water onto the material.
"Okay, hit it,” he said, and Lauren stabbed down with the scissors. This time they went through the black square like it was made from butter, embedding the points of the blades in the towel.
"Remind me what this proves, Sherlock,” she said.
"It doesn't prove anything,” Harriet said. “It gives us more information."
Mavis made a fist and gently pounded it against her forehead.
"I wish I could remember,” she said. “Gerald talked about his work a lot, but I'm afraid I was distracted with the boys and trying to get them all pointed to college. He was just perfecting the fire protection cloth, but beyond that, I'm not sure. They were doing something with shoe tops."
"Maybe they were trying to make safety shoes,” DeAnn said. “You know, like steel-toed boots only lighter weight."
"That could be a real good deal for people who work in kitchens,” Jorge said. The women had forgotten he was still in the room. “You know, in some big kitchens they require steel-toed shoes because of the knives, but those boots were heavy and back then, boots were the only option. A lightweight protective shoe would have been a big deal in the restaurant trades."
"I guess the boiling water thing would be a problem,” Connie mused.
"Too bad there's no evidence,” Robin said. “Without a prototype or a drawing or a formula linking Gerry's chemical to this material, it's only speculation. I'd be willing to bet Gerald and Carlton's dad made dozens of test fabrics back in the early days. They probably had more than a few chemicals in common, too. I'm sorry, but we need hard evidence."
"At the very least, it would be helpful to know why, out of all the test samples the company made, Gerald as Gerard kept this particular one with him for all these years,” Harriet suggested.
Jenny looked at her watch. “I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to leave in a little while. Could we move on to the funeral?"
"Sure,” Harriet said. “I'm thinking we have several people we need to watch tomorrow. Ilsa and the cousins, Carlton and anyone who shows up from Foggy Point Fire Protection and Terry, if he shows up. In addition, I want to talk to the father of Harry's friend, and, Mavis, I know this is hard, but I'd like Connie to take a crack at your son Pete.” She held her hand up to silence the protest Mavis was about to make. “We need to know why Pete called you to Portland during the re-enactment. I think Connie might be able to get it out of him. Aunt Beth, I thought you could help Connie ratchet up the pressure if needed."
"What do you want me to do?” Jenny asked.
"I penciled you in for keeping an eye on the Dutch people. And DeAnn and Robin, I thought you could cover the Foggy Point Fire Protection group. With two of you, if Carlton splits off to talk to non-company people, one can follow him and the other stay with the employees. Keep track of anyone out of the ordinary who speaks to him."
"Who does that leave me?�
� Lauren asked.
"I have two things for you. First, if Terry shows up, stick with him. Second, I'd like you to check at regular intervals with Mavis. Mavis, you can keep your eyes open for anyone who seems out of place. Most people should identify themselves to you if they knew Gerald but not you. If you notice anyone who avoids you or in any other way seems out of place, tell Lauren."
"What about Sarah and Carla?” Lauren asked.
"Since they aren't here, all we can do is tell them to keep their eyes and ears open. I know Carla was planning on attending the funeral, but I'm not sure if Sarah's coming."
"Anyone have any objections?” Aunt Beth asked.
No one did, and they finished their drinks with a discussion of the raffle quilt they were going to be starting for an auction benefiting the Foggy Point No Kill animal shelter. The group was split over the concept, with DeAnn and Connie pushing for dog-theme blocks, while Jenny and Robin wanted something less cutesy. Lauren said she didn't care and frankly, Harriet thought, neither did she.
"There's a family viewing tonight,” Mavis said. “I've been going back and forth about going. But after all this...” She gestured toward the group. “...I'm thinking I should go, just to keep an eye on things. Beth, maybe you and Harriet should come with me."
"I think that's a good idea,” Robin said. “I mean about taking Harriet and Beth, if you're going to go."
"Does anyone here speak Dutch?” Lauren asked. The Threads looked at each other, but no one shook her head in the affirmative.
"I know the basics,” Mavis said. “We visited the cousins, but they speak English, so I never really had to go too far with my Dutch."
"I was hoping you could tell if they were saying anything revealing about Gerald,” Lauren said.
"They're too polite to speak Dutch in a group of English speakers,” Mavis said, “so it won't matter."
"Of course, we'll go,” Beth said. “If you're sure you're up to it."
"I'm fine,” Mavis said. “And no offense, Beth, but I'll drive."
"I'm wounded."
"Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Harriet said. “I think we all know who would have been in the back seat."
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