“Let’s go, Mr. Lake.” Gabriel and the officer accompanied Lake to the elevator and down to the first-floor exit. Lake walked off with his head down and his hands deep in his pockets. He turned into the bar two doors down.
“What was that all about?” Gabriel asked Shields when he returned.
“I wanted to check some things out before we did any more questioning of Lake. I didn’t want to have to read the guy his Miranda rights just yet.”
In fact, Shields knew his own temper was escalating, and he was losing his edge in the interrogation. The Department had nothing on Lake other than a possible motive. There was no other evidence.
And Shields needed a drink.
Chapter 19
There was some unexpected excitement at Sarah’s next quilt class. Frank came in waving his arms and anxiously announcing that he had a serious problem. Once the class calmed him down, he sat at the table, and, somewhat less agitated, explained that he had just learned there had been a murder in Cunningham Village. He said they lived very close to the Village and he had a friend who lived there. The friend told him about the murder.
“The dead guy’s name was Andy, and my friend knew him,” he added. “Do you think my grandma and I are safe?” he asked excitedly. “My granddad died, and it’s my job to keep us both safe.”
Ruth immediately consoled him, saying, “Frank, you’re safe, and so is your grandmother. Whoever did this is certainly long gone by now, and if not, the police will catch him. You don’t have a thing to worry about.”
Frank seemed somewhat pacified by her answer and reluctantly turned his attention to his fabrics. The subject was apparently dropped as the group began comparing their fabric choices and admiring the completed table runner Ruth had put on the design wall.
“He even knows who did it,” Frank added so quietly it was little more than a whisper.
Sarah wasn’t sure what she had heard. She moved to the chair next to Frank and said very quietly and calmly, “What did you just say, Frank?”
“My friend knows who did it,” he repeated quietly. “It’s a secret. I wasn’t supposed to tell that part.”
“Have you spoken to the police?” Sarah asked.
It was immediately evident that was the wrong thing to say. Frank had what many young mothers refer to as a meltdown. He began crying and rocking back and forth in his chair. Again, Ruth was able to calm him, and Sarah assured him it was still a secret. “Let’s just work on our quilts and forget all this scary stuff,” Ruth said. “Okay, Frank? Shall we sew a beautiful little quilt for your grandmother?”
“Yes,” he said reluctantly, and within a few minutes, he was eagerly showing off the fabrics he had chosen. He had an old-fashioned rose pattern in pale peach for the border and a companion fabric with the tiniest of rose buds. His other fabrics were perfectly coordinated, reflecting Ruth’s influence.
Sarah followed along with the class and was able to keep up with all the instructions and new skills. But a part of her mind was playing back what Frank had said. She wondered how she could find out more. She wondered how much the grandmother might know and how she could find out without causing Frank more anxiety. She wondered if it was fear he felt or simply that he didn’t want to betray his friend.
When she got home that night, she called Sophie. “May I come over?” she asked. Sophie, as always, was delighted to have company, and when Sarah arrived, there was already a plate of cheese and crackers on the coffee table, two glasses, and a bottle of wine, opened and ready to pour.
“Let’s have a party,” Sophie announced as Sarah came in.
“Well, Sophie, I didn’t come with a party in mind, but now that you mention it, it’s exactly what I need.”
The two women relaxed for a while and enjoyed the refreshments. Sophie had already added a sizzling pan of chicken wings and several sauces, and, of course, a plate of her famous peanut butter cookies.
“I didn’t expect a feast,” Sarah said lightly, “especially since I invited myself.”
“Well, I happen to know you didn’t have dinner before your class, and we can enjoy this little feast and still deal with whatever is on your mind tonight. And don’t try to deny it. I can see it in your eyes. Speak up, friend. What’s going on?”
Sarah told Sophie about the quilt class and what Frank had shared. She admitted she was completely at a loss as to how to deal with this new information. “I hesitate to go to Detective Shields. You know how he is, and he’d send Frank into a coma. And I hesitate to go to the grandmother. I just don’t know what to do ... and do you think if Frank really knows something, he might be in some danger?”
“Hmm. Let me think about this,” Sophie said somewhat unclearly due to the chicken wing she held between her teeth just ready to strip off the meat.
They sat thinking for awhile, and finally Sophie spoke up saying, “I believe that we have to investigate this quietly and on our own. Frank knows you and must have had some level of trust because he did tell you. I think we need to use you to get more information from him, and we need to develop a strategy that will keep Frank from getting upset.”
“We can work on the strategy. It will probably have to have something to do with quilting since that’s about all Frank and I have in common,” Sarah offered.
“How about this,” Sophie proposes. “Let’s sit here and relax, enjoy our snacks, and talk about pleasant subjects. You can tell me what you’re doing in your quilt class, and I’ll tell you about the hilarious Mahjong game at the center this morning. Tomorrow we’ll figure out what to do because, as Scarlett has assured us all, ‘Tomorrow is another day.’” She cackled all the way to the kitchen and returned with another plate of chicken wings.
Chapter 20
Sarah spread out her squares on the kitchen table and admired them as she sipped her coffee. Ruth had told her she had done an excellent job with her star points and that her seam allowances were perfect. She was feeling much more confident about quilting and was thinking that she just might be able to do that tie quilt after all.
But first, she thought, she wanted to make a floral quilt for her couch. Her own garden was growing beautifully, but it didn’t bring her the joy that her secret garden had at home. It surprised her that she still thought of her little cottage in Kings Valley as home. She moved to the back patio and looked at the little garden square that was now filled with a rainbow of color. “Thank you, Andy,” she said to the wind. “Thank you for my garden.”
After breakfast, Sarah dressed for her day out. She was feeling nervous about meeting the retired policeman. She had never done any volunteer work and wasn’t exactly sure what would be expected. Marjory had said, “It’s easy. Just be a friend. Listen. Talk. If Charles wants, you might even take a walk together. I’d love to see him get out of that house once in a while. I’m glad he agreed to come to the center to meet you at the coffee shop. He has really isolated himself.”
* * * * *
A lovely trim woman stepped somewhat timidly into the coffee shop and looked around. She wore a soft pastel dress and carried a shopping bag with a needle and thread logo. Her curly blond hair was cropped just below her ears and was tinged with gray. She was a beautiful woman, he thought, and she still is.
“Are you Charles?” she asked, approaching his table.
“Yes, I am. Charles Parker.” He stood and shook her hand. It felt soft, yet strong.
“My name is Sarah,” she said smiling. “May I sit down?”
It’s her eyes, he thought. There’s something in those eyes that has haunted me for years. I wonder if she’ll remember me.
“Charles Parker,” she repeated his name slowly. “They gave me your name at the center. But now that I see you, I feel we’ve met before.”
He so wished he didn’t have to remind her of that day—that terrible day. He did not respond.
They ordered coffee and sweet rolls and chatted about this and that. They were both a bit uncomfortable, as strangers often are. She
told him about some of her activities that she called her new hobbies—quilting and the computer. They talked about some of the activities available in the Village. He told her about his woodworking and said, “I just make small things: birdhouses, small boxes, things like that.” They came up with a couple of activities they might enjoy doing together.
“So you go by Charles, not Charlie?” She asked.
“I was Charlie on the job, but since I retired, I’ve been introducing myself as Charles. My wife always called me Charles, and I like that best. Some people even shorten it to Chuck, which I don’t like at all,” he responded with a smile.
“Well then, I’ll call you Charles. Tell me about your family. How many children do you have?” She purposely didn’t ask about his wife since she knew that could lead them both down a depressing path.
He told her about his sons who were living in Colorado, but without much detail. She told him about Martha and Jason. As they talked, they became more comfortable with each other and began making plans for future get-togethers.
“There’s no reason our visits have to be confined to the coffee shop,” Sarah suggested. “The day trips on the Village bus have always sounded like they would be fun. Last month they went to a century-old mansion with acres and acres of amazing gardens. They walked through the gardens and had a tour of the house. There was even a tea room where the group had lunch. Is that something you might like to do?”
“I guess so,” he responded. “I’ve never thought about it. I don’t go out much. I don’t know anyone, and everyone seems to have their own friends.”
“Well, since I’ve been here,” Sarah offered, “I’ve learned you just have to talk to whomever is willing to listen. Just last week, I ...”Sarah stopped in the middle of her sentence. Both eyebrows shot up as she looked directly at him.
“Wait,” she exclaimed. “Wait a minute. Charles Parker? Retired policeman? No wonder you look so familiar to me. You’re that kind officer who told me about Jon.”
Charles lowered his head, feeling embarrassed, and said, “That was so many years ago. I’m surprised you remember.”
“Remember? I could never forget your kindness that day. And your phone call when my grandson died. You are a very kind man. I’m so glad we’ve met again.” Sarah felt an unfamiliar excitement as they sat and drank their coffee. “Of course, I’m not sure I should be assigned to you as your friendly visitor since we know each other already. I’ll ask Vicky tomorrow. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friends and take those bus rides. We might even find a class at the center we would both enjoy.”
What’s this excitement I’m feeling? And at my age! Get a grip, Sarah.
* * * * *
The next day, Vicky agreed that it was problematic for Sarah to be the official friendly visitor for someone she knew prior to coming to the Village. Vicky had been uncomfortable about assigning her to a man in the first place. That was rarely done, but having far more women than men who were interested in volunteering, it was sometimes necessary.
After Vicky learned that they had discussed doing some activities together, she wondered if he would even need an official visitor. Perhaps Sarah, as a friend, could get him involved in the community. That was Vicky’s goal in the first place. She felt Charles Parker was depressed and could benefit from some human contact.
She discussed it with both of them separately by phone, and both agreed. In fact, they had already arranged to meet at the center the next day to go over the class schedules and look in on some of the ongoing activities.
Chapter 21
Sarah arrived at her quilting class right on time. She only had two more classes and wondered how she would get the table runner finished in such a short time. At this point, she had her eight squares completed and eight strips of fabric cut for the inner and outer borders, but she could see there was a lot left to do before it would be a completed table runner.
She was surprised to find that, after just a half hour at the sewing machine, she had all the blocks sewn together and was beginning to attach the inner border. By the end of the class, she had her borders on and Ruth was lining up all the completed tops on the design board. It amazed everyone how different each table runner looked.
Sarah’s appeared soft with its pretty pale pastels, and Frank’s was very old-fashioned looking, almost as if it were an antique already. The two young mothers had used very modern fabrics: one was done in black and white with just a touch of red, and the other one was done in batiks. Ruth carried an incredible line of batiks in dazzling colors and patterns. Sarah was tempted to buy a few pieces but was trying to hold off until she knew how she would use them. Ladies in the Quilt Club had talked about their stash and how they were sorry they had bought fabric simply because they liked it. Now they had bins and closets and drawers full of fabric, and still, when they did a project, they turned to Stitches and not to their stash. “Buying the fabric is the best part,” one quilter had said with a chuckle.
Sarah started thinking about where she would keep her stash if, in fact, she started accumulating fabric. She thought about the guest room that was decorated with furniture left over from the kids. Nothing really matched, and no one ever visited anyway. Maybe, just maybe, that could be a quilting room.
After class, Sarah walked quickly up the street to catch up with Frank. “Hi, Frank,” she said a bit out of breath. “I love your grandmother’s table runner.”
“My little quilt? Yes, I like it, too. But I wonder if I should have made it with the fabrics like the one in the window. That’s the one she liked.”
“Oh, Frank, she’ll love the one you’re making. Grandmothers love anything made by the kids, and actually, I think yours is very similar to that one.” They had reached the corner and were directly across from Dave’s Diner. “Hey, you know, I’m starving,” Sarah exclaimed. “How about you? Do you want to grab some lunch at the diner?”
Frank hesitated and looked around sheepishly. “I don’t know, Miss Miller ... I don’t usually eat out ...”
Thinking that perhaps he didn’t have the money, Sarah added, “Oh please. I want to treat you to lunch. I really hate to eat alone, and I’m very hungry.” She hoped to spend some time with him and begin to gain his trust. Maybe he would share more information with her—if not today, then soon. She knew that whatever information he had should go to the police, but she was reluctant to turn the belligerent Detective Shields loose on the young man.
“Well, okay. I could do that. I’m very hungry, too,” Frank confessed. And hungry he was. He devoured a triple burger and a huge order of fries, washing it all down with a chocolate shake. As they ate, they talked about quilting, his time at the workshop, and his job at Keller’s Market. She asked if he had lots of friends and he said he did, but then he started talking about his quilt again.
After their lunch, as they were leaving the diner, Sarah said, “You mentioned living near Cunningham Village. Did you walk here?”
“Yes, it’s not far. I take the bus most places, though.”
“Would you like a ride home? I brought my car today.” Actually, Sarah brought her car specifically so she could offer Frank a ride home. She didn’t want to involve the grandmother if it could be avoided. But she thought it might be helpful, at least, to know where he lived in case it became necessary to pass any of the information on to the investigators.
“Sure. That would be great,” Frank responded. “It’s not far. Just up the road. My grandma and I walk down here to the store all the time.”
“Your grandmother sounds like a very special person. I’m glad you’re making her such a beautiful gift.”
“I leave it at the shop. If I take it home, I’m afraid I’ll get excited and show it to her. I want it to be a big surprise on her birthday,” he said. His whole face beamed with anticipation.
“Stop here,” he said abruptly. “That’s grandma’s house right there.” He pointed to a large Victorian house painted in purple and pale green. “That’s
my room up there on the top,” he said pointing to a dormer window protruding from the third floor. A woman, older than Sarah had pictured, was sitting on the porch knitting. She waved to Frank and looked with curiosity at the car. Sarah waved back and told Frank to let her grandmother know who drove him home so she wouldn’t worry.
“See you Friday at the library,” he hollered to her as he approached the house.
At the library? Then she got it. Frank hadn’t told his grandmother about the class. Driving home, she couldn’t help but wonder about Frank’s grandmother living in such a big house. Maybe there were other people there, but if not, that was a lot of house for a widow. Later, she wondered about how quickly Frank had come up with a cover story.
And even later, she wondered what Charles Parker was doing.
Chapter 22
Early the next morning, there was a loud banging at Sarah’s front door. She rushed down and opened the door, leaving the security chain in place. “Sophie? What’s going on?”
Once Sarah got the door opened, Sophie said excitedly, “Put the coffeepot on, kiddo, we’ve got business to conduct!”
“Business?” Sarah asked sleepily.
“You bet. Last night that imbecile Shields and his crew did a door-by-door search of everyone’s house on the block. Well,” she continued, “everyone who would let him in. He didn’t have a search warrant, and I sure didn’t let him into my house. He’ll be here in an hour or so. He said he would come back to see everyone who wasn’t home last night. Where were you, anyway?” Sophie asked.
“Sophie, you’ve given me so many things to respond to ... and I haven’t had my coffee, so let’s move to the kitchen and slow this thing down.” While she was starting the coffee, she said, “Let’s start with where I was and get that out of the way. I was at the community center using the computer. I was looking up fabrics and quilt patterns, and the time got away from me.” She set out mugs and stuck some sweet rolls in the oven to warm. She didn’t mention that Charles Parker was there with her.
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