Stitched Together

by Carol Dean Jones

  “That will look beautiful with your bed quilt,” Sophie responded, gently running her hand over the delicate quilting. She was speaking softly, and Sarah realized she wasn’t quite herself.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, sitting down on the futon with her friend.

  Sophie sighed. “I’m okay, but I’m confused. I’m just not sure what to do …”

  “What is it, Sophie?”

  When Sophie didn’t respond, Sarah suggested they move into the kitchen. She knew it was always easier to get Sophie to talk when they were in the kitchen enjoying a cup of coffee and a snack. She reached for the coffeepot and poured them each a cup. She chose a variety of cookies from the cookie jar and sat down with Sophie. “Tell me, Sophie. What’s going on?”

  After a long pause, Sophie sighed deeply. “You’ve met Cornelius,” she began. Sarah was surprised to hear her use his actual name. She waited for Sophie to continue. “Well, you know I’ve only known him for a few months, and you know he doesn’t have much of a career as a ‘verse-ologist,’ which, by the way, is what he’s been calling himself lately,” she added with a slight chuckle.

  “Anyway, he took really good care of me while I was recovering.” Sarah wasn’t sure where Sophie was going with this, so she simply nodded, not wanting to interrupt.

  “So, anyway …” Sophie seemed to be having trouble getting to the point.

  “Just tell me, Sophie. What is it?”

  “He wants me to marry him.”

  “What?” Sarah was immediately sorry she had responded so incredulously because she could see Sophie shutting down. “I’m sorry, Sophie. You just surprised me. Please go on and tell me about it.”

  Sophie took a few cookies off the plate and laid them on her napkin. She got up and poured herself another cup of coffee without responding. “Do you want more?” she asked Sarah.

  “Not right now, thanks.” Sophie sat back down and fiddled with the cookies and finally took a bite out of one. After a long pause, she sighed again and said, “I don’t know what to say about it. He asked me, that’s all.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I told him I’d think about it.”

  “And have you thought about it?” Sarah asked, surprised that Sophie was even considering it. She had known him for such a short time.

  “I don’t know what to think about it. I was hoping you would help me …” Sophie responded hesitantly.

  “Well, I don’t know much about Cornelius,” Sarah said. “Tell me about him.”

  “Well,” Sophie began. “He lives here in Middletown. Always has. He worked as a bookkeeper for the hosiery factory for thirty-some years.” She took a deep breath and continued. “He never married. He took care of his folks until they died a few years ago. They left him their house. That’s where he lives now.”

  “Have you seen his home?” Sarah asked.

  “Yes. We went over there last week. It’s a typical home of older folks—older than us, I mean,” she added with a chuckle. “Heavy drapes, doilies on the chair arms, you know the look …”

  “Ah, yes. It’s probably decorated just as his mother left it.”

  “You’re right! Anyway, it was neat and clean.”

  “But tell me more about him. What is he like?”

  Sophie took a long sip of her coffee and looked contemplative before she answered. Slowly she began, “He’s kind. He’s considerate. He’s … what would you say … maybe a little too passive. A little meek. He would let me walk all over him, you know?” she added, looking at Sarah with a very serious look. “But it’s funny … I don’t want to. There’s something sort of fragile about him …”

  “You care about him,” Sarah said gently.

  “Yes, I do. And another thing. Despite those terrible verses of his, he has a sense of humor. Not the sidesplitting kind, but he can appreciate the funny side of life,” Sophie said with a very gentle yet thoughtful look.

  Sarah was trying to comprehend a side of Sophie she had never seen. Could this be the look of Sophie in love? she wondered.

  “You told me he asked you to marry him. What do you think about that?”

  “I can’t seem to think about it. It seems too soon, and it’s something I never gave any thought to in the past. It’s not that I planned to not get married. It’s just something that never crossed my mind one way or the other.”

  “So, now that you’re thinking about it …?”

  “I could see where it might be something to consider …”

  “Something to consider?”

  “Maybe,” she responded reluctantly. “One thing I do know for sure. It’s much too soon. I hardly know the man … but then,” she added with the slightest moisture in her eyes, “on the other hand, I know him very well.”

  “And you like what you know …” Sarah said.

  “Yes. I like what I know.”

  The two women sat quietly, sipping their coffee. Barney, who had been sleeping on his blanket in the corner, got up, stretched, and lumbered over to Sophie. He laid his head on her knee and yawned.

  “Well that about says it all, you scruffy excuse for a pet,” Sophie said, scratching his head and slipping the rest of her cookie into his eager mouth.

  * * * * *

  When the guard led Charles into the interview room, Sarah was pleased to see he looked more like his old self. He greeted her with a broad smile and a gentle kiss. She was sure the time he was spending with John was responsible for this change. Also, she knew he was enjoying being able to contribute to the investigation.

  “So I have some news, and Sophie said it was okay to tell you.”

  “What?” he asked eagerly.

  “Cornelius Higginbottom has asked her to marry him.”

  “What?”

  “That was exactly my response, but as we talked, I’m beginning to think she just might accept.”

  “He seemed like sort of a buffoon to me. Was I wrong?”

  “I don’t really know the man, but I can tell you that Sophie seems to care very deeply for him.”

  “Well, when I get out of here, I’ll see what I can find out about him.”

  “I think we should stay out of it,” Sarah said tenderly. She realized it was the first time he had sounded certain that he would, in fact, be getting out.

  Charles reached across the table and squeezed her hand. For one second, she saw a glimmer of the old twinkle in his eye.

  Chapter 34

  There was a tap on the door, and a distinguished-looking police officer in full uniform entered the interview room. Charles eagerly stood and extended his hand in greeting. “Matt! I was hoping you’d stop by.” Turning to his attorney, he said, “Graham, this is Matthew Stokely, my lieutenant when I was with the department. Matt, this is my attorney and friend, Graham Holtz.”

  Lt. Stokely extended his hand and said, “Glad to finally meet you, Holtz. I’ve been hearing about your conquests for years now.”

  “Glad to meet you, too, Lieutenant. I guess we’ve been on opposite teams most of the time.”

  “Yeah. We take them off the street; you put them back. It’s just the way it works. At least this time we’re on the same team. We both want this guy out of here.”

  The three men sat and went through the verbal exchanges that men seem to need before they get down to business. Once the pecking order had been clearly established, Matt spoke, looking directly at Graham. “I came down to talk to Charlie, but I’m glad you’re here, Holtz. You’re the one that can run with this information.” Turning to Charles, he asked, “Are you aware of what’s been going on in the Forensic Lab?”

  “No, Matt. I’ve been out of the loop for some time now. What’s the story?”

  “We’ve lost a few cases over the past year due to incompetence in the lab. Inaccurate reports have been coming out of there. There was a major investigation, and they let two of their techs go.”

  “No kidding,” Charles responded, looking interested, but it hadn’t occurred to him
yet why this was significant. Graham began writing ferociously on his yellow pad. The significance was already evident to him.

  Stokely continued. “I checked on the computer and discovered that one of the guys that was let go did the analysis of the bloody towel in your case.”

  “Did you talk to anyone about this?” Charles asked, suddenly very interested.

  “No. It’s not my place to get involved in your defense, but here I am getting involved—just not in a way the brass can see.” Turning again to Graham, he added, “This is your baby, Holtz. Demand that the evidence be reanalyzed by a competent technician. Let them know you’re aware of the discrepancies in the lab and that you’re ready to go public with it.”

  Charles was stunned. “We figured someone planted the towel to incriminate me. Are you suggesting it was all a big mistake?”

  “That’s what I’m suggesting, but don’t get your hopes up. Maybe they didn’t foul up on this one.”

  “And maybe they did,” Graham added, looking encouraged. “I’ll get right on it.”

  “Matt,” Charles said, standing to shake his lieutenant’s hand. “Thanks for this. You’re taking a big chance with your career by coming to us with this. I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate it.”

  “Nonsense,” Stokely replied. “What are friends for? Tell that pretty wife of yours hello,” and with that, he turned and left.

  Charles and Graham sat mute for a few moments, both shaking their heads in disbelief. “Could it possibly be this easy?” Graham finally said.

  “Remember, Matt said not to get our hopes up. But I can’t help but reach for that elusive life raft.”

  “I can’t blame you.” Standing, Graham added, “I’m out of here. I’ve got work to do!” Their closing handshake turned into a brief and uncomfortable hug. “Hang in there, friend.”

  * * * * *

  “I’m taking a trip,” Sophie announced when Sarah answered the phone.

  “A trip?”

  “Yes, a trip. Higgy wants to meet Tim, and I thought this would be a great way to get to know Higgy better and find out what my son thinks of him at the same time.” Sophie’s son, Tim, lived in Alaska, where he had worked on the pipeline since he graduated from high school. The previous year, he had visited his mother and met all her friends. In particular, he met Sarah’s daughter, Martha, and they became good friends.

  “Martha was hoping to get up there this summer, too.”

  “Would she want to go with us? We might need a chaperone,” she added with a giggle. Another giggle, Sarah thought with a smile.

  “She’ll probably want her own trip, but why don’t you give her a call tonight and ask? She just might enjoy that.”

  “But the reason I’m calling,” Sophie continued, “is to ask you if it’s okay for me to be away. You know, the investigation and all. Do you think you’ll need me? I don’t want to …”

  “Sophie! Of course you should go. This investigation isn’t totally on our shoulders anymore now that John’s here. And I don’t think I told you, but he has an FBI agent, Seymour Jackson, working on aspects of the case as well.”

  “The FBI is involved?” Sophie gasped.

  “No. This man is an old friend of John’s. He’s just checking out B&H and their involvement with the inspector’s office. He just happens to be FBI, but that could actually work in our favor. You never know.”

  “Okay. Sounds good.” Sophie sounded somewhat relieved, not wanting to leave Sarah in the lurch.

  Picking up on her friend’s concerns, Sarah added, “And then there’s Graham’s investigator. We’ve got this thing covered, and I’m feeling more positive every day. And so is Charles, I might add.”

  Sarah smiled to herself as she thought about Charles and her last visit. The old Charles was fighting his way to the surface.

  Chapter 35

  “What’s going on, Graham?” John had just joined Sarah and Charles’ lawyer in the kitchen. His hair was wet from the shower, and he was dressed casually in jeans and a tee-shirt. Sarah looked at him, again marveling at how much he looked like his father.

  “Coffee’s on. Help yourself,” she said. There was no longer any pretense of formality between them. They were family.

  John poured himself a cup and sat down, grabbing a pastry and devouring half of it before Graham responded. “Well, folks, I wanted to catch you both up on what’s been happening. I’ve managed to get some inside information about the shake-up in the Crime Lab. I’m meeting with the head honcho this afternoon to see if there’s any way their problems could be used in Charles’ defense.”

  “Are you hopeful?” Sarah asked.

  “Always hopeful, Sarah, but mainly I’m chasing every possible avenue. I was disappointed, however, with Seymour’s report.”

  “Seymour?” Sarah asked, forgetting who he was.

  “Jackson,” John responded. “My FBI buddy.”

  “Yes!” she responded. “He was looking into possible foul play between the inspector’s office and the builder, right?”

  “Right,” Graham responded. “And Jackson couldn’t find any evidence. He said there had been some complaints regarding substandard materials being used by B&H, but there just wasn’t anything linking that to the inspector’s office.”

  “The inspector signed off on those buildings?”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t prove collusion—just incompetence or simply carelessness. It’s not enough to go to court with, but I might be able to slip in references to it. Anything that causes the jury to think about other scenarios is good, even if we can’t come forward with the real killer. I’m still hoping we can.”

  “Yes,” Sarah replied. “Where are we on that?”

  John spoke up, reiterating where they stood. “Pumpkin’s husband is in jail, so he didn’t do it. Kimberly and her husband have disappeared and can’t be located; Graham’s PI is looking for them. As I said the other day, they could have a perfectly good reason for disappearing, or one of them might have killed Max. We may never know. Sam will keep searching.”

  “Sam?”

  “Yes, he’s my PI,” Graham clarified. “He’s been digging up dirt on Max, none of which is helping other than to prove the guy was worthy of killing. I plan to disparage Max’s character during the trial just to prove there were many folks out there who might have killed him, even though I can’t prove that one did. I just want to plant doubt in the minds of the jury.”

  “How about Larry’s assistant, Donald? Did you find out anything about him?” Sarah asked.

  “I did, Sarah, and I wanted to talk with you two about that. It turns out that this Donald guy got the job with B&H in order to spend some time around Braxton. He got assigned to work with Larry, so he didn’t have much exposure to Braxton. That’s why he quit.”

  “What was that all about?” Sarah asked with a frown. “I don’t understand.”

  “Braxton has been married several times. This kid, Donald, was the son of one of Braxton’s ex-wives.”

  “Braxton is Donald’s father?”

  “No, his stepfather. Donald’s pretty angry about the way Braxton left his mother. She’s struggling to get by with two kids still at home, and here Braxton owns a construction company. Donald was hoping to get Braxton to help his mother or at least catch up on his support payments.”

  “Did Donald talk to Braxton about it?”

  “Yeah, and he’s pretty angry. Braxton said his mother could go find herself another meal ticket. The kid’s disappointed and very angry. If it had been Braxton that was killed, I’d be looking at this guy. But Donald didn’t seem to have anything against Max. At least no more than anyone else. He did say the man was too mean to live.”

  “Braxton isn’t his father, right?”

  “No, but he’s the father of the other two kids that are still at home.”

  John had been quietly listening to the story with a contemplative frown. “Sounds like a dead end.”

  “Yeah.”

&
nbsp; “Could Braxton have killed Max?” John asked rhetorically. They’d visited that possibility in the past.

  “Sure,” Graham responded. “But where’s the proof? And the only possible motive would be if Max found out about collusion between the inspector’s office and B&H. But at this point, I doubt that he would have even cared. He might have even been in on it. It’s a conundrum,” he added, shaking his head.

  Sarah smiled, remembering that Charles had told her that conundrum had always been his friend’s favorite response when puzzled.

  * * * * *

  That afternoon, Sarah and Sophie drove to the other end of the Village to see the new house. “Look,” Sarah announced with pleasure. “We have a street sign! Sycamore Court. I love it!” Several years ago, Sarah remembered, her dear friend and neighbor, Andy, told her to always keep a positive image in her mind of what she wanted. Charles and I are going to make our home right here on Sycamore Court, she told herself now. I’m going to live in that lovely house over there with my husband for the rest of my days. Sophie noticed a dreamy smile on her friend’s face but decided not to ask.

  “Look at your house!” Sophie squealed. “It was nothing but a frame the last time I was here.”

  “Do you feel like going inside?” Sarah asked.

  “Absolutely! I brought my auxiliary cane,” she added, holding up her old metal drugstore cane.

  “Where’s your rhinestone one?” Sarah inquired, looking surprised.

  “Too nice to use in the mud,” Sophie responded, despite the fact that it hadn’t rained for weeks.

  Sarah helped her out of the car and insisted that she hold onto Sarah as they walked across the hard, lumpy soil where abandoned building materials were still scattered. The floor of the garage had been poured, and there was a finished step at the kitchen door.

  Once inside, Sarah gasped. “The walls! We have walls!”

  “You do have walls,” Sophie responded sarcastically. “They hold up the roof. Now show me around.”