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

by Arlene Sachitano

  Lanie’s smile faded.

  “She died last year.”

  Harriet didn’t think it was appropriate to tell a ten year-old what she knew about that.

  “That’s very sad, but it’s terrific that she left you so many family albums and diaries.”

  “Have you seen them?” The girl asked.

  “Yes, Aiden showed some of them to me. You’re really lucky that your grandma was such a family historian.”

  “My brother Etienne is up in the attic now with Uncle Aiden. They’re going to bring the one with the family tree in it down here. We’re going to do DNA tests, too. My mother bought them for all of us. They’ll tell us if we have Neanderthal in our background and what percent.”

  Harriet wasn’t sure what to say about that. She hoped the family wasn’t going to have any nasty surprises. With Michelle involved, anything was possible, but surely she wouldn’t suggest it if there were a chance the kids weren’t full siblings or, worse, if her husband wasn’t the father of either.

  Right on cue, a dark-haired boy in navy blue pants and a matching pullover came clattering down the kitchen stairs, followed by Aiden carrying two large bound books.

  “Hi,” Aiden said. “I see you’ve met Lanie.”

  “She was just telling Carla and I about the genealogy project you all are working on.”

  A squawk emanated from the baby monitor receiver on the counter and she turned and went up the stairs to retrieve her toddler Wendy. Aiden crossed the kitchen to the door that led to the dining room.

  “Let’s put the books with the rest and clear a space on the table.”

  Etienne followed him, and Harriet went to the oven where she found three pizza boxes. Carla had laid a stack of paper plates and napkins on the counter. Harriet stacked the paper goods on the pizza boxes and followed the men to the dining room.

  Harriet leaned over the table to get a good look at the family tree Lanie had drawn. They had finished their pizza, and the children had each taken a turn explaining what they’d learned about their French ancestors. Being eight years old and a boy, Etienne’s report was heavy on the military connections. Lanie’s emphasized how many generations back she could go. Apparently, her best friend didn’t have nearly as many branches filled out on her tree.

  “That’s amazing,” Harriet told them each in turn. “I’m sure you’ll both get As.”

  “Of course they will,” said Michelle from the entryway. Everyone was so intent on the presentations no one had heard her come in.

  Carla grabbed Wendy and slipped back into the kitchen.

  Michelle removed her fur coat and put it carefully over the back of a dining room chair.”My children always get As.” She turned to look at Harriet, her expression carefully blank. “Hello, Harriet, I’m glad you’re here.”

  Harriet stared at her but said nothing.

  “I suppose my brother told you I wanted to talk to you.” Michelle pulled out another chair and sat down. “Avalaine, Etienne, go find something for dessert in the kitchen.”

  The children got up silently and left the room.

  “I’ve discovered through my therapy that I may have been misguided in some of my conclusions and, therefore, my actions. I’d like to apologize. I’m sorry for all the problems I’ve caused you and your friends.”

  Harriet remained silent.

  “Aren’t you going to say something?” Michelle asked. “I worked very hard to be able to say those words.”

  “I appreciate how hard it was to say them,” Harriet finally said. “I hope you’ve also learned in therapy that words are cheap and what really matters is actions. I’m willing to wait and see if your actions match your words.”

  Michelle smiled and held her two hands up in front of her.

  “Fair enough, that’s all I can ask. My counselor told me to expect skepticism.”

  Harriet started picking up crumpled napkins and pizza-stained paper plates.

  “I am a good person, you know,” Michelle said. “I sang in the church choir when I lived in Foggy Point.”

  Harriet carried the stack of garbage into the kitchen without looking back.

  “Give her some time,” she heard Aiden say before the door closed behind her.

  Michelle’s children were sitting at the kitchen table. Etienne’s chin rested on his crossed arms on the table. Laine was leaning back, her chair rocking on two legs. She picked at her full lower lip.

  “Did you guys find anything for dessert?” she asked them. They both shook their heads. “Want some ice cream? I happen to know your uncle never has less than three flavors of ice cream in his freezer.”

  Etienne straightened up.

  “I love ice cream.”

  Laine pursed her lips.

  “I guess I could have a little.”

  “Okay, then. Lanie, can you get three bowls, and, Etienne, could you get spoons?” She could hear the murmur of voices from the dining room, but she couldn’t tell what they were talking about. “Let see.” She opened the door to the side-by-side freezer. “We have mint chocolate chip, rocky road and lemon sherbet.”

  “Rocky road,” Etienne said at the same time his sister said, “Mint chocolate chip.”

  Harriet pulled the two cartons out and began scooping ice cream, putting a little of each in her own bowl.

  “Do you think my mother really is better?” Lanie asked in a quiet voice.

  “I hope so,” Harriet told her. “I guess we have to wait and see what happens.”

  Etienne took his bowl and carried it to the table.

  “Do you think my dad will let her move back home?”

  Harriet thought for minute while she let a bite of rocky road melt in her mouth.

  “No one can figure that out but your parents. Whatever happens, your parents both love you, and nothing will ever change that.”

  Your mother just has a very strange way of showing it, she added to herself. Michelle probably loved her children as much as she was capable of, but her love affair with herself didn’t leave much room for others—even her own kids.

  “You know,” she went on, “I took a photography class when I was in school in France, and I have a lot of pictures of Bordeaux. If you want, I can give them to Uncle Aiden, and you can look at them. Then, if you want, we can make copies for your report.”

  Lanie smiled. “That would be really cool.”

  “Hey, did you leave any ice cream for me?” Aiden asked as he came into the kitchen.

  The kids laughed and that made Harriet smile.

  “Well, that was awkward,” Harriet said when Aiden came back into the house after walking the kids to Michelle’s car.

  He pulled her into his arms.

  “I’m with you—talk is cheap. I’m willing to give her a chance, but a cautious chance.” He rested his chin on her head.

  Harriet wrapped her arms around his waist.

  “Are you really going to do the DNA test?”

  “Yeah, why not? All I have to do is spit in a test tube. The kids are really into this school genealogy project. It will be fun for them. Besides, they already bought the kits.”

  Harriet pulled back reluctantly.

  “I better get back home. Detective Morse dropped off a quilt she needs a quick turnaround on.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She sighed. “I told her I’d get it done for her. It’s a peace offering, of sorts. You know how upset she gets with us for poking around in her cases.”

  “Sounds more like a bribe.”

  “It’s not like that. I’d have done it for her in any case.”

  “Okay. Whatever.”

  Carla came down the kitchen stairs, coughing to warn them before she appeared.

  “Is she gone?” She slid Wendy to the floor when she reached the bottom step.

  “Yeah,” Harriet said. “She left a few minutes ago.”

  Carla got ice cream and two bowls and began scooping a snack for her daughter and herself.

  “I though
t I heard a car leave.” She looked at her feet. “I’m not ready to talk to her yet.”

  “You don’t have to,” Harriet told her before Aiden could say anything. “Just because she’s ready to talk doesn’t mean you have to be.”

  Carla looked up at her as if to be sure she wasn’t joking.

  “Are you going to the Threads tomorrow at the quilt store?”

  “I guess so. This last week has gone by fast. I really need to talk to the group, but I promised Detective Morse I’d work on her quilt.” She slid her smartphone from her jeans pocket and glanced at the time. “Still, I can get a few more hours in tonight, so hopefully, I’ll be able to go.”

  Aiden picked up Harriet’s fleece jacket and held it out for her to slip her arms into.

  “Thanks,” she said with a smile. He bent his head and brushed his lips briefly across hers, and she felt her cheeks turn pink. She turned to Carla, who had busied herself with the ice cream. “See you tomorrow.”

  “I’ll walk you to your car,” Aiden said and grabbed his own jacket before opening the back door.

  Harriet turned to him when they reached her car.

  “Did you have a chance to talk to Hannah?”

  “I tried, but she’s all upset because now that Seth is dead, Howard wants her to go to pharmacy school. She has her heart set on becoming a vet tech.”

  “She doesn’t want to be a vet like you?”

  “I think that was her original idea, but Howard wasn’t on board with that even before Seth died.”

  “Thanks for trying.”

  “I guess the office gals have talked to her about whether she was safe at home, given what happened to Sarah. She said she had a hard time believing Seth had done that, and that in any case, Sarah annoyed everyone in the family.”

  “That’s terrible,” Harriet interrupted. “Although, the people at the shelter told us that abused women are often blamed for their own abuse.”

  “Hannah also told them that, in her opinion, it was really Joshua who had been beating Sarah. She said Joshua spent time alone with Sarah at the cabin when Seth wasn’t there.”

  “Wow, your friends are good. I’ll have to bring them doughnuts. Sarah told us she let Joshua sleep there when Seth had overnight duty at the senior center. She didn’t sound afraid of him, but then, she wasn’t afraid of Seth, either.”

  Aiden pulled her into his arms again and this time kissed her thoroughly before he let her go.

  “You’re welcome,” he said.

  Harriet felt a familiar tingle all the way to her toes. She savored the feeling.

  “I really do have to go,” she said and smiled at him.”I told Lanie I’d bring some pictures of Bordeaux to you for her to look at and potentially copy for her report.”

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, then,” he said and gave her the crooked grin that made the butterflies in her stomach take flight.

  She opened her car door with a contented sigh and got in.

  Chapter 24

  Mavis got into Harriet’s car and quickly buckled her seatbelt.

  “If we hurry, we can swing by the Steaming Cup on our way to the hospital. Like I told you last night, Dr. O’Brian only has a few minutes before her first patient at nine. She has to drop her daughter at school at eight-thirty, so it won’t do us any good to arrive early.”

  Harriet glanced at the car clock. The display read seven-forty-five.

  “I think you got us started early enough,” she said and laughed.

  “Make sure you don’t say she’s the medical examiner. Pete says she’s sensitive about it. You don’t get to be a medical examiner unless your county’s population is at least two hundred-fifty thousand. We’re nowhere near that. There’s a big difference in pay, too.”

  “Yeah, but we can’t possibly have as much work as they do in the big counties.”

  “Very true. That’s why we’re meeting at the hospital. Dr. O’Brian fills in at the family practice clinic when things are slow for her. You know they don’t autopsy everyone who dies. They only do it if the person wasn’t under the care of a doctor or died from a weird cause or something like that.”

  Harriet pulled into the coffee shop lot and parked next to a familiar silver Beetle.

  “I take it this isn’t a coincidence.”

  “I figured Lauren would be here, since she always is in the morning, so I invited Beth and Connie along,” Mavis said with a smile.

  “I wonder how Sarah’s mother could marry a man like that,” Connie said when Mavis and Harriet sat down with their drinks at the table she, Beth, and Lauren already occupied. “I mean, he already had two wives dead under suspicious circumstances.”

  Harriet took a sip of her hot cocoa.

  “Even if it turns out that both women legitimately committed suicide, you would think it would cause her to wonder.”

  Aunt Beth ripped open a yellow packet of sweetener, dumped the contents into her coffee cup and stirred.

  “I think men like Howard Pratt target the sort of women who would believe whatever story he told them to justify his dead wives.”

  “Elaine was rather strange, if you ask me,” Harriet said. “She may have her own agenda in marrying Howard.”

  Lauren sipped her coffee and gave Harriet a look.

  “What?” Harriet said.

  Lauren hit a key on her laptop, which was open on the table in front of her.

  “Call me if you hear anything that can’t wait until the Threads meeting this afternoon. I’ll see if I can dig up anything else about Jill Pratt’s death.”

  Harriet picked up her cup again.

  “Will do.”

  “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us, Dr. O’Brian,” Mavis said when the coroner came into the clinic waiting room.

  “Please, call me Makenna. I’m sorry I don’t have more time for you.”

  “We appreciate your seeing us this quickly,” Harriet told her after Mavis had made the introductions.

  Makenna led them to an office in the interior of the clinic and gestured toward two guest chairs as she sat behind the desk.

  “What can I help you with?”

  Harriet related the story Joshua had told her about being “arrested” when he tried to make an appointment to see the coroner and read her report on his mother’s death.

  “He’s right to be suspicious,” Makenna said. “I shouldn’t be talking about this, but no one else seems to care about the case, so why not? I was new to this job when Jill Pratt died. There’s no doubt that she died from a drug overdose. The question as to whether she took the drugs herself or they were administered is undetermined. Police found an empty prescription bottle beside her body and that was it.”

  “Didn’t the police investigate it as a suspicious death?” Harriet asked.

  “They did, but there just wasn’t any hard evidence to be found. Remember, I was new. I honestly couldn’t tell you if it was a homicide or a suicide. My understanding was, in a case like that, you open a coroner’s inquest. I consulted my predecessor and was told that, since Howard Pratt was involved, an inquest wasn’t necessary. If Howard said his wife committed suicide, than it was as good as fact. Inquests are held to establish facts, not fault, he told me. So that was the end of it. Her record says cause of death overdose, manner of death undetermined.”

  “What do you believe happened?” Harriet asked.

  “To be honest, I don’t know. As a matter of procedure, I x-rayed her body. She was either very accident-prone, or she was a victim of domestic violence. She had more healed fractures than I personally have ever seen. I’m guessing her life was miserable enough that she really could have committed suicide, just to escape her abuser.”

  “Do you think Howard did that to her?” Mavis asked.

  “I didn’t say that, and I will deny I even spoke to you if you try to tell anyone otherwise. As I understand it, Howard was her second husband, so the first one could be responsible for some of the damage I saw.”

  “Some
but not all?” Harriet pressed.

  “Don’t quote me. I’m going out on a limb here just talking about this at all.”

  Harriet leaned forward in her chair.

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but if you’re this nervous about it, why are you talking to us?”

  Makenna leaned back. She was silent for a moment.

  “Guilt, I suppose. I’m not sure what else I could have done. I talked to the police and the prosecuting attorney, and when I didn’t get anywhere, I let it go.” She stood up. “If that’s all, I’ve really got to go see my first patient.”

  Mavis and Harriet stood up, too. Harriet extended her hand, and Dr. O’Brian shook it.

  “Thank you for your candor.”

  “I’m not sure it helps. Let me know what happens, will you?”

  Mavis shook hands with the coroner as well.

  “If you weren’t able to get anyone’s attention, I’m not sure what we can do, but we’ll be in touch if anything happens, and by the way, Pete says to tell you hi.”

  Mavis and Mackenna exchanged family news as the three women returned to the waiting room.

  Harriet turned to Mavis when they were both back in her car.

  “I’m not sure how much that helped us. It confirms Howard as an abuser, but we still don’t know if he killed Jill.”

  Mavis sagged in her seat.

  “She stopped short of saying some of the injuries were too fresh to be from her first husband. And Howard still has an alibi.”

  “Let’s go stitch with the rest of the Threads and run it past the group. Maybe they’ll see something we don’t.”

  “I was hoping we could stop by Sleepy Valley Quilt Company while we’re this close,” Mavis suggested.

  Harriet started the car and drove out of the hospital lot.

  “We’ve got plenty of time, and I’ve wanted to look at their wool. I heard they have a good selection.”

  “I’d like to check that out, too.”

  With the exception of Jenny, all the Loose Threads were present and accounted for two hours later in the big classroom at the back of Pins and Needles quilt shop. In addition, Jo and Violet from the senior center were seated at the table between Connie and DeAnn. A platter of lemon bars sat in front of Violet.