“You don’t know that it means anything,” Jesse cautioned as we drove back to the inn.
“She has a cardiologist,” I said it louder, as if that made it more important.
“So she has high blood pressure or an irregular heartbeat.”
“It means something. I have a feeling.” As I spoke I realized I probably sounded a lot like Bernie, talking about her psychic gifts, and if I did, then Jesse would take me as seriously as I took Bernie.
“Lots of people see cardiologists. I’m going to need one too, if I keep hanging out with you.” He laughed, but he could see that I did not find any humor in the situation. His tone softened. “Nell, not everything means something. You’re going to find, if you keeping sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, that lots of leads go absolutely nowhere. And this is probably one of them.”
“But she lied about it.”
“She didn’t lie about it. She just didn’t tell you where she was going.”
“But why not tell me? Especially when she insisted I drive her to town. Why not just say she had a doctor’s appointment? By going out of her way not to tell me, she made it a bigger deal than a simple check-up. Which means it was a big deal.
“Maybe she’s cautious.”
I sneered at him for effect. It was fun to talk over the clues with Jesse, even if he didn’t think they were actually clues. “She had me drop her off at the police station, and then she walked back. She didn’t even want me to see what building she walked into. That’s not cautious. It’s hiding something.”
“So she’s private.”
“It’s more than that. It is. Trust me.”
He reached his hand across to my leg and gave it a quick squeeze. “I do.”
And just for good measure, I added, “And I’m not sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong. I’m helping a friend.”
He nodded. “She’s lucky to have you.” For a second I felt that I’d won, but he wouldn’t let me. “And you are sticking your very cute nose where it doesn’t really belong.”
“Well, then so are you.”
“I got in with the wrong crowd.” He sighed dramatically. “Quilters.”
CHAPTER 43
When we got back to the inn, we didn’t have time to tell the others about our news. Shouting was coming from inside the classroom and the sound of furniture being moved or, possibly, thrown. Jesse jumped out of the car and ran inside, with me right behind him.
Frank had apparently just punched Pete in the nose, and Eleanor was standing in front of Pete so he didn’t hit back. Helen was crying, Susanne was trying to calm everyone down, and the twins were standing to the side with smug looks on their faces.
“What is going on here?” Jesse shouted as he walked in the classroom.
“We’re just clearing the air,” Pete said.
“Well, clear it with a little less violence.” Jesse grabbed Frank’s arm just as he was about to swing it.
“If McIntyre hasn’t deputized you, then stay out of it,” Frank yelled at him.
“What happened?” I asked, but no one was paying attention to me.
Pete tried to move around Eleanor but couldn’t do it. “Stop it, now,” she said. “You need to let it go.”
“Please!” Susanne’s voice was straining. She looked stricken and hurt. “This is a quilt class.”
“He is not a man of honor,” Frank shouted.
“You’re not even a man,” Pete spit back.
“You killed my dog,” Frank yelled back.
“I did not.”
“Why else would he have been buried on your land?”
“Why would I kill your dog? You’re the one that’s always hunting on my property. You probably shot the dumb thing yourself.”
Frank kicked at Jesse to get away, and nearly did it, but Jesse wrapped his arm around Frank’s neck, pulling him back and subduing him. It would have been an impressive feat, except Jesse was thirty years younger than Frank. Eleanor was more inspiring. Pete was a large man at least ten years younger than she, but she was not about to let him get around her. After a few minutes of standoff, we were all getting a little tired, and I figured it was about to blow over; then Pete made one more attempt to break free.
He darted around Eleanor and made a grab for Frank, who kicked at him. I ran between the two men, which was a little stupid since Jesse stepped on my foot as he tried to move Frank farther back.
I turned to Helen. “Can’t you tell your husband to stop?”
She wiped her tears away. “Stop, Frank. You look foolish,” she said flatly, as if she knew her words would have no impact.
And she was right. Frank pulled and pushed at Jesse, while Pete was barely being held back by my grandmother. Susanne and the twins seemed to have given up and were just watching to see what happened next.
“Someone’s going to end up in the hospital,” I said to them. “And it may well be Jesse and Eleanor.”
At that my grandmother put one hand on Pete’s chest, the other on Frank’s. “That’s enough!” Eleanor shouted in her sternest grandmother voice. “I am ashamed of both of you. I really am.”
Frank took one last kick in Pete’s direction, but Jesse had moved him out of striking distance. Pete grunted for a moment more, but the fight was losing steam. Eleanor looked from one man to the other, with a withering gaze that suggested they were sad excuses for human beings. It had been aimed at me a few times, deservedly so, and I’d promised myself I would learn it. No one was immune to its effects, not even these two. Eventually both men relaxed their stances, and Jesse cautiously let Frank go.
Pete looked to my grandmother and said quietly, “I’m sorry. Got out of hand, that’s all.”
We all looked to Frank and waited. I was sure he would bolt without saying a word, but he nodded. “It’s been a tough few days,” he said. He reached down to the floor and picked up a set of keys that had fallen out of his pocket.
“Then shake hands.” If I knew Eleanor, she would not be satisfied until they’d agreed to play nice and share their toys.
We all watched and waited. I could see Jesse ready to grab Frank again if it became necessary, but amazingly, after a few grumbles and a little hesitation, the men shook hands.
As the ruckus died down, Helen cleared her workspace, put her quilt to the side, and said something about needing to get home. The twins put their found objects in plastic bags, folded up their fabrics, and also started for the exit.
“Remember, tomorrow is our last day,” Susanne said. “We need to finish our squares and sew them together to present to Rita. So, please, let’s try to remember why we’re doing this.”
Pete and Frank stood at the door, but Frank stepped aside and let Pete pass. Helen rolled her eyes at her husband, glanced quickly toward the rest of us, and left. The twins simply left without saying a word. Minutes after the fight, only our group was left, staring at each other, mystified but relieved.
“So who is going to tell us what happened?” Jesse asked.
CHAPTER 44
“It was the craziest thing,” Eleanor started. “We were all making our quilts and chatting.”
“I finally felt like I was teaching this retreat for a reason,” Susanne said. “You know, that it was finally something more than as a ruse to get Bernie up here. I felt like everyone was working together on a common cause.”
“It’s a wonderful class, Susanne,” Eleanor told her. “You can see that everyone is very involved in what they are making. You’ll have to put together something like it at the shop. I think my customers would really enjoy making a journal quilt. They’re all the rage at shows these days.”
“I would love to, Eleanor. Maybe once a week.”
“You would get a lot of interest,” Eleanor said. “It could be an ongoing thing. I know I would take it and I’m sure Carrie and Natalie would too. Wouldn’t it be wonderful for her to make a few journal quilts for a happy occasion, like the new baby?”
Eleanor and Susann
e began to talk excitedly about all the possibilities for journal quilts, and how the class could attract new students who wanted to make an art quilt but were too intimidated to take on a large project. Jesse shot me a look, and I could tell that he was about to burst out laughing. Quilting always came first with this crowd, ahead of fistfights and murder investigations.
“So, if we have the upcoming Someday Quilts class schedule figured out,” I said, fighting back the giggles myself, “maybe you guys can tell us how this bar fight broke out in a quilt class?”
They looked at each other, confused, and then Eleanor stepped forward.
“It was odd. About twenty minutes ago, Rita and Joi popped in with some items that belonged to George. I said something to Helen about how nice it must be for Rita to have her daughter around because she seemed to depend so much on George and might be lost without him.”
“It was an innocent enough thing to say,” Susanne interjected. “But Helen took it as some kind of insult. She said something about George having given his life to that woman . . .”
“Which made Frank snap at her.” Eleanor took back the story. “And then Pete told Frank not to yell at Helen, and Frank said he could talk to his wife any way he liked, which made Helen cry.”
“And that’s what they fought over?” I asked.
“Not exactly,” Eleanor said. “Pete said a real man doesn’t make a public spectacle of his marriage, and Frank said Pete was hardly an expert since his wife was so miserable that she left.”
“He didn’t say exactly that,” Susanne stopped her. “He said, ‘If anyone knows how miserable your wife was, it’s me.’ ”
“Then Pete swung at Frank, Frank swung at Pete,” Eleanor added, “and that’s where you came in.”
“The way you guys held them back was pretty impressive,” I said.
Eleanor shook off the compliment. “Children. That’s what they were. Overgrown children.”
“True,” Jesse said, “it’s not what you expect to see in middle-aged men.”
“From the first day, they made it pretty clear that they didn’t like each other,” I said. “Maybe, after five days in the same room, it had to come to blows.”
“But over Helen?” Susanne shook her head. “How many men does that woman have?”
“More than she needs, apparently,” my grandmother said, and bent down and started picking up the pieces of fabric and embellishments that had fallen on the floor. There were quite a lot, so we all pitched in and tried to straighten the mess out.
“What did Rita bring of George’s?” I asked as we were making piles.
“A pin from a Grateful Dead concert, a few mementos from their trips, a pair of cuff links with stars on them, and some ribbons he’d won in high school track,” Susanne told me.
I found the ribbons, the pin, and several items that seemed to come from exotic locales. But I couldn’t find the cuff links.
“They have to be here,” Eleanor said. “They just got knocked off the table.”
Even though we had already cleaned the room, the four of us searched again. We found dust and spiders but no cuff links.
“We can’t tell Rita we lost something precious of her husband’s!” Susanne sounded alarmed. “We have to find them.”
“A lot of things have gone missing here,” I pointed out. “Have you noticed? The old quilts, the collage . . .”
Susanne nodded. “But some of them came back. Like my postcards.”
“These will too.” Eleanor wrapped her arm around Susanne’s shoulders. “We’ll find them.”
For another hour we searched the classroom and the area around it, with no luck. Since there was nothing we could do, Jesse and I left the others and walked outside to look at the setting sun. The sky was a wonderful soft blue streaked with just a touch of pink, and I thought that I should learn to hand dye my own fabrics so I could recreate the effect for a quilt, maybe one that represented the growing closeness between Jesse and me.
Soon Eleanor and Susanne admitted defeat and headed toward the inn. Jesse and I decided to take a walk. It might have turned into a romantic evening stroll, but moments later Barney came bounding out of the inn, running in circles and dragging his leash behind him.
“He’s been cooped up all day,” Eleanor shouted to us. “Take him for a walk.”
Instead of letting him head toward the woods, Jesse and I, after considerable persuasion and numerous tugs on his leash, got him to walk in the direction of the dirt road that leads from the inn to the larger road into town.
“Plenty of things to sniff here, my friend,” I said to him.
Barney was unconvinced and would only half heartedly direct his nose toward a flower or the base of a tree before walking on, head hung low. It was unlike Barney to complain—he was always happy simply to be included—and I could tell Jesse was softening to the idea of letting Barney have his own way.
“What’s the big deal with the woods?” Jesse asked.
“I don’t want some hunter mistaking him for a deer,” I explained. “And I especially don’t want to risk him digging up another dog.”
I tried to boost Barney’s excitement with a round of “Get Jesse!” but after one attempt, he lost interest. We walked a little farther, but Barney kept veering off the road and into a ditch that ran alongside and led to a small creek. Eventually we gave up trying to pull him back and just followed him. At one point I was explaining to Jesse that I thought Joi’s reunion with her mother had gone a little too smoothly, and he was accusing me of finding suspicious behavior in everyone, when I noticed that he had slipped his hand into mine. It was nice, and I hoped Barney wouldn’t suddenly want to head back to the inn and spoil it.
But only a few steps later, something else did. Jesse saw it first, something stuck in the mud between the grass and the creek. He dug for a moment before uncovering a rifle.
“Do you think it’s the murder weapon?” I asked.
“Probably not. But it might be loaded, and that’s dangerous. Let’s go back to the inn and call McIntyre. He can come and properly catalogue it.”
“Can’t we just check it?”
Jesse turned toward me. “Assuming for a second that our touching this gun wouldn’t contaminate possible evidence of a homicide, if you got a better look would you even recognize it as the gun from above the mantle?”
I had to admit that I wouldn’t. I grabbed Barney by the collar and pulled him back toward the road and the inn. It was further proof, I hoped, that Bernie wasn’t involved, though I wasn’t yet sure how it would prove it. I just felt that since the gun was disposed of on the road that led away from the inn and toward town, it was probably stashed there by one of the students who drove past the spot on their way to and from class, which meant Helen, Frank, or the twins.
I was pretty sure McIntyre was thinking the same thing when he arrived, with Bernie in the passenger seat. That is, until I saw Bernie. She looked exhausted, but more than anything she looked scared.
Whatever happened in that police station, it hadn’t been enough to get Bernie off the hook.
CHAPTER 45
While McIntyre bagged the gun, Jesse, Bernie, and I waited in the kitchen. Eleanor and Susanne had gone out to dinner, leaving us a note promising to bring back food. The house was almost in darkness when we arrived. Though I assumed Joi and Rita were upstairs, I didn’t bother to look. First I wanted to know about the gun.
“I’ll run a check on the gun against the bullet we found in George,” McIntyre said once he had finished collecting the evidence.
“And you have to find out if it’s the gun from above the mantle,” I added.
“No, ma’am, that I don’t have to do. I know it is.”
“Did Rita ID it?” Jesse asked.
McIntyre shook his head. “Didn’t need to. I don’t know the Olnhausens well, but I had a few dealings with Mr. Gervais, the man who used to own this house. This was his gun.”
“You’re sure?” Jesse looked at the
rifle, wrapped carefully in plastic and tagged with an evidence number and McIntyre’s signature.
“A hundred percent. Gervais was a crazy old man. He convinced himself that he had a fortune in the house, and once in a while, when some unlucky soul would wander onto his property, he’d take a shot at him.” McIntyre smiled almost nostalgically, as if he were remembering better days. “He never killed anyone or even got close to hitting them. He was a terrible shot.” He laughed. “But I took this gun away from him about five times. I’d recognize it anywhere.”
“I heard about him,” I said. “His nephew inherited the place and tore it apart looking for the fortune. I hear he didn’t find anything.”
McIntyre rolled his eyes. “My guess is that somewhere in the deep recesses of this house is a photo of his first love or a ticket to the world’s fair or something that meant everything to Gervais but wouldn’t sell on eBay for a nickel.”
I tried to get McIntyre to give me the name of the witness, or at least tell me if he was finished questioning Bernie, but all he did was smile that friendly smile and say things like, “I’m just going where the evidence leads me.” And after McIntyre left, Bernie retreated to her room and was unwilling to answer any more questions, even from Jesse and me.
“It’s just a polite way of saying it’s none of your business,” Jesse said when I complained about McIntyre.
“I get that. But how can it be none of my business? How am I supposed to solve the case if I don’t have all the facts?”
Given the reaction that got from Jesse, I might as well have told the world’s funniest joke. When he saw that he was only infuriating me, he laughed harder, then stopped, leaned forward, and kissed me. “We’ll get to the truth. But tonight it looks like we have the house to ourselves. Any thoughts on what we might do?”
“Yeah. Let’s find Rita and Joi. Her car was in the driveway, so they didn’t go anywhere. They must be upstairs.”
“You sure that’s who you want to spend your evening with?”
The Double Cross Page 20
