A Quilt in Time (A Harriet Turman/Loose Threads Mystery)

by Arlene Sachitano

  “We can’t be there twenty-four-seven,” Lauren pointed out.

  Harriet leaned forward, her elbows on the table.

  “That doesn’t mean it’s a bad idea. If we set up an irregular schedule, so people are coming and going several times a day and evening, he’ll never know when we’re going to show up.”

  “It would be better if someone could be with her all the time, but I suppose visits would be at least a partial deterrent,” Robin said thoughtfully.

  She pulled a yellow lined tablet and a pen from her purse and drew a grid with Loose Threads names in a vertical column and the hours of the day across the top.

  “I’m putting myself down from one to three.” She looked at her watch. “I’ll be late today, but starting tomorrow I can go there after yoga class and stay until the kids get out of school.”

  “I can go from nine to noon Monday, Wednesday and Friday,” Carla said. “Wendy can go to playgroup at the church.”

  “I’ll go at dinnertime, whatever days you need me to,” Connie said.

  “Put me down for whatever dinnertimes Connie doesn’t do,” Aunt Beth said.

  “Kissa goes to a late-morning playgroup, so fill me in then,” DeAnn said referring to her toddler.

  “Put me wherever you need fill-in,” Harriet said. “I’m working on a big quilt I’ll be stitching on for days; I can pretty much take a break anytime.”

  Robin noted the times and put the pad and pen back into her bag.

  “I’ll e-mail the schedule to everyone when I get home from my visit with her. Connie, if you could go during dinner tonight that will give me time to get the schedule made and emailed to everyone.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Harriet said. “Everyone?”

  She looked around the table. One-by-one, the Threads nodded their agreement.

  Robin stood up.

  “I’m going to head over to the senior center. I’ll be in touch.”

  “I better go get stitching so I’ll be ready when I get my assignment,” Harriet said. “By the time you get back, Mavis should be done with her hair appointment, so you can give her a buzz. I’m sure she’ll want to do a shift, too.”

  With that settled, everyone left for their various assignments and activities.

  “Come on in.” Harriet called as she pressed the red stop button on the hand grip of her long-arm quilting machine. “It’s open.”

  She hadn’t heard the car pull into her driveway over the noise of her machine, but she recognized Mavis’s silhouette through the curtained bow window beside her studio door. If Mavis hadn’t seen Harriet at the machine through the same window, she would have let herself in instead of knocking; but she wouldn’t have wanted to risk startling Harriet and causing a misplaced stitch.

  Scooter jumped from his bed under Harriet’s desk and began barking at her as she came in.

  “Your timing needs a little work,” Mavis said with a smile. She bent and picked the little dog up. Scooter licked frantically at her face, causing her to laugh.

  “Some watchdog, huh?”

  “He’ll get there,” Mavis said. She pulled a small plastic bag from her purse and plucked a strip of dog jerky from it. “Here you go, little one.” She handed Scooter the treat and set him gently on the floor.

  “You want some tea?” Harriet asked. She stood and bent forward, reaching for her toes. “I’ve been stitching on this quilt for hours. I could use a break.” She straightened back up. “Hey, your hair looks great.”

  A redhead in her youth, Mavis’s hair had been a faded rusty gray before today’s makeover. It was now a more distinct auburn with golden highlights.

  “Thanks, and yes, I’d love some. My daughters-in-law got me a gift certificate for a new hairdo for my last birthday.”

  “That was a few months ago, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “Well, it’s never good to rush these things. Anyway, I went to Mr. Max in Angel Harbor, and I have to confess, I like his handiwork.”

  “How are you going to break the news to Miss Shirley?”

  “That’s why the girls got the gift certificate. They knew I wouldn’t waste the money they’d spent buying it for me, and they also knew it would take something like that to get me to break away from Shirley.”

  “It looks good. You look younger.”

  “He cut the sides shorter and added a little color. I swore I’d never color my hair, but he said highlights don’t really count.”

  Harriet circled around her. There were lighter areas, but it was obvious Max had darkened the background color as well.

  “Mr. Max sounds like a smooth talker. Come on, let’s go to the kitchen, and I’ll see if I can scrounge up a snack to go with our tea.”

  Mavis filled the kettle while Harriet dug in her cabinets, coming out with a box of gingersnaps.

  “Will these do?”

  “I love gingersnaps, and they don’t have to be homemade to be good.”

  “Has anyone filled you in on what our lunch was about?”

  “Not yet. I called your aunt when I got done, but she must have the sound turned off on her phone.”

  Harriet poured hot water into their mugs and put the cookies on a plate, then brought it all to the kitchen table.

  “So, we seem to be in the bodyguard business,” she said when she’d finished explaining to Mavis what had been decided at lunch.

  “I’ll call Robin when I get home and get on the schedule.” Mavis picked up her tea and took a long sip. “I wasn’t completely slacking today on that front.”

  “Do tell.” Harriet leaned forward in her chair.

  “Mr. Max and I were making small talk, and I mentioned making the adult bibs for the senior center. As it turns out, he’s familiar with the center. He went to school with Howard Pratt.”

  “That’s interesting.”

  “It gets more so.” Mavis took a bite of her cookie. “Howard’s been quite the marrying man. Sarah’s mother is his third wife, that Max knows of—that was how he put it. And the first one died under mysterious circumstances.”

  “Mysterious how?”

  “Mysterious as in everyone thinks she was murdered, and no one was ever arrested.”

  “That is interesting.”

  “Max says Howard played the hero, adopting the second wife’s son after she killed herself. He says there wasn’t any other family to take the boy, and Max was didn’t doubt sure Howard would have made sure the boy never forgot that. That last part was him speculating—he didn’t have any direct knowledge.”

  “We need to get Lauren to dig deeper into Sarah’s family. According to Georgia at the women’s shelter, domestic violence tends to be generational. I realize that doesn’t excuse Sarah’s abuser, though.”

  “It would be good to know. And Connie and Rod have been suspicious about Rod’s aunt’s death at that center. Maybe Howard is one of those angels of death you hear about.”

  “If that’s true, it’s even more important that we keep an eye on Sarah while she’s there and get her out of there as quickly as we can. If we convince her she’s being battered, that might make her a liability in Howard’s eyes.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that,” Mavis said. “Maybe we should talk to Detective Morse.”

  “I don’t think we’re to that point yet. So far, this is all speculation—except for Sarah being battered, of course. You know, I suppose there’a chance it’s really Howard who’s beating her. Except she did say Seth hit her because she cooked the wrong thing for dinner,.”

  They finished their tea in silence, and Mavis stood up.

  “Have you worked on your pet quilts for Aiden’s shelter room yet?”

  “No, I signed up to do a bed quilt, and I’ve spent all my time the last week on the customer quilt you just saw on the machine. The woman wants to enter it in the Tacoma show, and if it does well, she’s thinking about Houston or Paducah.

  “To be in either of those shows, the quilting has to be really dense. I’m hoping she reali
zes that the top winners at the big shows have what must be hundreds of hours of stitching in them. So far, she’s not asking me to do that much.”

  “Want to get together tomorrow and work on them? I’ve cut out some pieces, but that’s all.”

  “Sure, I’ll dig out my dog prints and see if I have something that coordinates with any of the ones you’re using.”

  “Let’s meet for lunch at the Sandwich Board. Then we can cruise the sale shelf at the quilt store. Marjory might have something we can use for backing.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I think most of the Sarah-schedule openings are before noon, so that should work fine.”

  Chapter 7

  “What are you two up to?” Lauren asked Mavis and Harriet as she pulled a chair up to their table at the Sandwich Board Deli in downtown Foggy Point the following day. “Mind if I join you?”

  “Of course not,” Mavis said. “Since when do you need to ask?”

  “Just checking.” Lauren pulled her laptop from her messenger bag and opened it on the table then spun it around to face her two friends.

  “What’s this?” Mavis asked.

  “My attempt at Sarah’s family tree. As you can see by the dotted lines, I’m not sure of all the connections, but this is what I’ve got so far.”

  Harriet tried to follow the branches of the tree.

  “So there are two girls, Sarah and Hannah, and two boys, Seth and Joshua. Am I reading this right?” She looked over the top of the computer. “Sarah’s not related by blood to any of them?”

  “That’s right. Hannah is a half-sibling to each of the boys, but the boys aren’t blood relatives.”

  Mavis sat back and rubbed her hand across her chin.

  “And Sarah says she’s engaged to Seth?”

  “That’s what she told us,” Harriet said. “At least, it was true when she was in the hospital. I talked to Carla this morning, and she thinks we’ve gotten through to her about going to the shelter, so hopefully that means the engagement is off.”

  “I swear I will kidnap her and take her far, far away if she tries to marry that jerk,” Lauren said. “If you guys won’t help me, I’ll call the geek squad.”

  Lauren had a group of computer programming students she worked with who saw themselves as superheroes of the cyber world.

  “We need to try to talk to her sister and mother when we go to the open house,” Mavis said.

  “Are you going to tell them about the shelter?” Harriet asked.

  “No, I’m not suggesting that,” Mavis said. “It would be useful to get a sense of whether they’re going to help or hinder, though.”

  “I want to talk to Seth and see what he’s all about,” Lauren said.

  “Just be careful,” Harriet cautioned. “We can’t tip our hand.”

  “We can pray she’ll move to the shelter before the open house,” Mavis said. “We’ve only got three days for that to happen, but I think they move quickly once the victim agrees to go.”

  “Did you find out anything about her biological father?” Harriet asked Lauren.

  “His name is Peter Ness. Other than that, nothing. I’ll keep looking, though.”

  “It would help if he were available to Sarah,” Mavis said. “Maybe she could live with him until she gets her feet under her again.”

  “I think we need to find out if he’s alive and make sure he’s not worse than Sarah’s current family,” Harriet cautioned. “I mean, there must be some reason she’s so close with her mom and stepdad, and we’ve never heard of her father.”

  “Numbers twenty-three, twenty-four and twenty-five,” called a small woman with short dark hair and a tattoo sleeve covering her right arm.

  “I’ll get them.”

  Harriet stood and went to the service counter. The woman put three wicker plates loaded with deli-sandwiches and kettle chips onto a tray and slid it toward her.

  Mavis took her turkey sandwich from Harriet.

  “You have to wonder how that blue frog on her arm is going to look when she’s my age.” She tipped her head toward the woman behind the counter.

  “I’d think twice before I put any image on the part of my arm that’s destined to become a flap,” Harriet said.

  Lauren’s Rueben sandwich was halfway to her mouth, but she stopped to laugh before taking a bite.

  “Young folks never think it’s going to happen to them,” Mavis said. “But I can guarantee—no matter how fat or thin you are, when you hit menopause, your arms are going to flap.”

  Lauren set her sandwich down on her plate, still laughing.

  “Thanks for sharing that little pearl of wisdom.”

  “Hey, what sort of friend would I be if I didn’t help you prepare for your future? Who knows, you might have gotten an ill-placed tattoo if I hadn’t warned you.” Mavis smiled at her.

  “Yeah, like that was going to happen.”

  “On a totally other subject,” Harriet interrupted, “do you want to go look at fabric with us when we’re done here?”

  Lauren swallowed her bite.

  “I need to. I’m still struggling with my idea for a bed quilt for the shelter. I know I could just do something pretty, but I’d really like to do something inspiring.”

  “I’ve been grappling with the same thing,” Harriet said. “I assumed there were symbols associated with hope or healing that are universal, but I guess not.”

  “You were worried about that for the pet quilts?” Lauren asked.

  “Hey,” Mavis said. “We get that the pets don’t care, but there’s an owner associated with each of those pets, and she might be inspired by our quilts.”

  “Whatever.”

  “I signed up for a bed quilt,” Harriet said. “If I ever finish the customer quilt I’m working on, I’m going to try to do one or two pet beds, too.”

  “Aren’t you just the overachiever,” Lauren said. “Now I’m going to look like a slacker if I just do my bed quilt.”

  “Stop it, you two,” Mavis scolded.

  Harriet stood when they were finished eating.

  “Everyone done?”

  Mavis and Lauren nodded, and she picked up the baskets and took them to the bussing station, dumping the papers into the garbage and stacking the plates on the table. When everyone was ready, they headed down the block for Pins and Needles.

  “Honey? You ready to go?” Aunt Beth called from the base of the stairs.

  “Just a minute,” Harriet called back.

  Scooter ran down the stairs at the sound of Beth’s voice. Like the other Loose Threads, she carried a small bag of dog treats in her purse to use as part of the ongoing socialization process of the formerly hoarded dogs several of them had adopted. Scooter was learning fast. Any time he heard a Loose Thread voice, he came running in hope of a treat.

  Harriet descended the stairs a moment later, buttoning the three lowest buttons on her cardigan.

  “Since we’re all going to be there today for the open house, Robin went to sit with Sarah this morning,” Aunt Beth reported.

  “I was hoping she’d be in the shelter by now.”

  “I don’t know if you saw her yesterday, but she had to go and have some of that hardware that’s sticking out of her arm adjusted. She was in rough shape. I’d have thought her pain meds would have knocked her out, but they didn’t seem to.”

  “They must have some provision for injured residents at the shelter. I’m guessing it’s not unusual.”

  “Probably, but still, it’s not all bad that she’s in a skilled nursing facility.”

  “Lauren’s meeting us here. We figured parking might be at a premium.” She led the way through her studio to intercept her friend, who had just pulled into the driveway.

  “Okay,” Harriet said when everyone was in the car and had their seatbelts on. “Let’s check in with Sarah and then each take a different family member, see if we can learn anything.”

  “Do we know they’re all going to be there?” Aunt Beth asked.


  “I’m assuming they are,” Harriet answered. “I thought Sarah said they all work there.”

  “We know some of them do, but I’m not sure they all do,” Lauren said. “I’m with Harriet, though. I figure they’ll all be present. Opening a memory care wing is a big deal, at least according to all their advertising.

  “I did some work on their software the other day, and I saw their VIP RSVP list. They’ve got some heavy hitters coming—hospital executives, politicians, and even a couple of B-list actors.”

  “Wow, maybe we should have dressed up,” Harriet said.

  “We’re fine. It’s a senior care center, not a four-star restaurant,” Aunt Beth assured her.

  “Yeah, besides, this is Foggy Point,” Lauren added.

  Carla, DeAnn and Robin were standing beside Robin’s minivan when Harriet pulled into the senior center parking lot.

  “Any sign of Mavis or Connie?” she asked them.

  Robin rose onto her toes to look past her to the street.

  “They’re pulling in now. We were talking in the car on our way over about what our strategy should be.”

  “We were, too,” Harriet told them. “We were thinking we should each try to find and observe different members of Sarah’s family.”

  “Sounds like great minds think alike,” Robin said. “We were thinking the same thing. We figured we could take turns staying with Sarah, too. She seemed sort of restless when I was with her this morning.”

  Carla twirled a strand of hair in her fingers.

  “Has anyone else noticed how uncomfortable Sarah seems to be?” Her face turned red as she spoke.

  “I did think she was in a lot more pain than she should have been when she got back from the hospital the other day,” Aunt Beth reported. “I mean, if her boyfriend is a pharmacist, you’d think he’d be all over it.”

  “I think she’s afraid to take her medicine,” Carla told them. “I’m usually there when they bring her lunch tray, and there’s a cup of pills on it. She takes them and immediately goes to the bathroom—every time. And then she doesn’t get sleepy or anything. Her arm seems to hurt all the time, too.”

  “Very good observation, Grasshopper,” Lauren said. “I also thought she seemed to be in more pain than someone in an institution should be.”