The Rescue Quilt

by Carol Dean Jones

  “She’s just lying on the kitchen floor. She appears to be resting, but I think she’s just resigned to the fact that her person is gone. She looks depressed.”

  “Did she eat any of the food you brought?”

  “She took a few bites out of Sophie’s hand last night. I’m hoping she’ll perk up when she gets to the farm.”

  “I’ll pick you up in about a half hour if that works for you gals.”

  “Perfect. We’re dressed and having coffee. We’ll see you then.”

  Sarah slipped her cell phone back into her pocket and picked up a slice of Sophie’s pumpkin-nut bread. She put a thin smear of butter on it. Sophie pushed the jam in her direction and asked, “What did he say?”

  “He’ll be here around ten. I’m going to take the dog for a short walk before we leave. Do you have any idea what her name is?”

  “None. There’s no identification on her collar, and the shelter staff said she didn’t have a microchip.”

  “That’s too bad. I had Barney chipped right away when I adopted him and got him registered with the microchip folks. That way if he’s ever found wandering like this poor dog was, any vet or shelter can find out who he belongs to.”

  “It’s pretty unlikely that your Barney will ever wander. He knows a good thing when he sees it,” Sophie chuckled. “That’s one spoiled dog. Back to your question, I think her name is Drusilla.”

  “Drusilla?” Sarah’s eyebrows flew high on her forehead as she responded.

  “Yes. I tried out a bunch of names on her last night, and she didn’t react until I said ‘Drusilla,’ and then she gave me this look.” Sophie tilted her head to the side and looked at Sarah wide-eyed.

  “Perhaps she thought you’d lost your mind. That’s a strange name for a dog.”

  “Well, it was good enough for my Aunt Drusilla,” Sophie announced indignantly with her fists on her sizable hips.

  “Oops, sorry.” Sarah stood up and reached for her jacket. “Come on Drusilla, let’s take a walk.” The dog didn’t respond.

  “Now that I hear you saying it,” Sophie reluctantly admitted, “I guess it’s not the best name for her. What do you think of Emma?”

  “Oh, I like that!” Sarah responded looking pleased. Turning to the dog she said, “Come on, Emma. Let’s go.” To their surprise the dog stood up, stretched, and followed Sarah to the door. “I think that’s it,” Sarah said giving Sophie a nod.

  “I agree, “Sophie responded, “and let’s stop at the pet store on our way to Kelly’s farm. They have a machine there that you can use to make a name tag. That way her new owner will know what to call her. I think it’s important to her.”

  Sarah sighed and nodded her agreement.

  As Sarah and Emma were leaving the house, Charles pulled into the driveway. “Glad you’re here,” she called to him. Once she got closer, she confided, “I think Sophie needs to talk to you about yesterday. Discovering that body has really upset her, but she doesn’t seem to want to talk to me about it. I think she’ll talk to you.”

  “Will do. But first I need my good morning kiss.” Sarah glanced around, always a little embarrassed when Charles showed affection in public. Her late husband, Jonathan, had been a very private man and wouldn’t as much as hold hands in public, even when they were young. Sarah was slowly getting used to Charles’ demonstrative ways and was even learning to enjoy it.

  “Are you gals about ready to leave?” he asked.

  “Sophie is calling Kelly now to tell her what time we’ll be there. I’m going to walk Emma around the block before we leave, and that’ll give you and Sophie time to talk.”

  “Emma?”

  “Don’t laugh. She was almost named Drusilla.”

  “Then I’m glad you two settled on Emma. In fact,” Charles added, tilting his head and looking at the dog more critically, “she sort of looks like an Emma.”

  While Sarah walked Emma around the block, Charles and Sophie talked about the night before. Sophie wanted to know what was going to be happening at the police station and Charles described the procedure. “They like to talk to the witnesses right away. They just need to document your description of what happened last night.”

  “What happened?” Sophie repeated looking confused. “I don’t know what happened.”

  “I just mean things like when you got there, what you saw or didn’t see -- things like that. They usually talk to the witnesses at the scene, but they agreed to let us go home and come back this morning.”

  “I keep thinking about that poor man lying there in that puddle of blood. What do you think happened to him?”

  “I don’t know, but the police will find out. I’m sure they’ve started their investigation already. In fact, they might have something to tell us when we get to the station.”

  “Did you hear the officer say it was probably just the old man’s time? Do you think he died of natural causes?” Sophie asked. Charles wasn’t accustomed to seeing Sophie looking so intense. She had almost a pleading look on her face.

  “I don’t know Sophie, but they’ll find out. Middletown has some very competent investigators.”

  “Are you folks about ready to leave?” Sarah hollered from the front door.

  Before Charles could respond, Sophie called out, “We’re right behind you. Go ahead and get Emma settled in her crate.” Turning to Charles, she said, “Thanks for talking to me about it. I feel better. I guess I was picking up some of Emma’s concerns.”

  “Emma probably knows what happened,” Charles said speculatively. “Too bad she can’t tell us. Anyway, Sarah’s waiting. Let’s hit the road.”

  They stopped at the pet store, and Sarah offered to remain in the car with Emma while Sophie and Charles had the identification tag made. When the two returned to the car, they were carrying several bags, two of which were very large. Sophie opened one of the smaller bags and removed a small heart-shaped tag with the name Emma engraved on it and a pink leather collar. She snapped the tag onto the collar and replaced Emma’s ragged collar with the fresh new one. “There,” she said with a smile. “I told you it would fit.”

  “You were right,” Charles said, slipping two fingers under the collar to make sure it wasn’t too tight.

  “What’s in the big bag?” Sarah asked.

  “Food,” Sophie answered. “Lots of food.”

  “And a few toys,” Charles added grinning.

  As they approached the farm, the sun began to shine. There was a light dusting of snow on the fields that sparkled in the sunlight. “It’s beautiful out here,” Sarah commented. “I love the countryside.”

  Kelly met them in the driveway when they pulled in and eagerly welcomed Emma to her home. Emma looked around spotting the cows near the fence and started to whine. Kelly gently caressed her head and assured her there was no danger. She snapped her own leash onto Emma’s collar and handed Barney’s leash back to Sophie. “I’ll take her in the house and introduce her around. She’ll be fine once she gets the lay of the land. By the way, do you know what her name is?”

  “It’s Emma,” Sophie announced with authority. “It’s on that little tag on her collar.”

  “Oh, good. We often don’t know what name these little rescue dogs are accustomed to. Come on, Emma.” The dog looked back at Sophie for a moment, then turned and followed Kelly into the house.

  Sarah thought she saw Sophie begin to tear up, but decided she must have been mistaken when Sophie turned abruptly and said, “Let’s go see the cops.”

  * * *

  “How many times am I going to have to repeat that story?” Sophie demanded, sitting suddenly very straight in her chair and looking indignant.

  Officer Reilly, sitting behind his cluttered desk, continued to look directly at Sophie. He repeated his question. “Why were you at the Hawkins house yesterday?”

  Sophie signed. “Okay, one more time. I was transporting a dog from the downtown shelter to an animal foster home out past the truck stop. The dog jumped out of
the car and I followed him. He ran right up to the house and scratched on the door.”

  “How long have you known Mr. Hawkins?”

  “What?” Sophie shrieked. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “It’s no laughing matter, Mrs. Ward. A man has been murdered.”

  “Murdered?” Charles spoke up, abruptly interrupting what was beginning to sound like an interrogation.

  Officer Reilly turned to Charles with a deep frown. “I’ll handle this,” he chastised.

  “Murdered?” Sophie said, repeating Charles’ question. “Yesterday you said he died of natural causes. In fact, I think your exact words were, ‘it was just the old man’s time.’”

  Reilly gave her a cold stare before responding. “We’re waiting for the medical examiner’s report but, in the meantime, we’re looking at other possibilities. So, Mrs. Ward, I’d appreciate your answer to my questions.”

  “Do I need a lawyer?” she asked in an accusatory tone.

  “I don’t know, Mrs. Ward. Do you?” Reilly responded raising his left eyebrow high on his forehead.

  “My friend here,” waving her hand toward Charles, “knows I didn’t do it, and he’s a famous detective…”

  “Wait a minute, Sophie,” Charles said, interrupting what was quickly becoming one of Sophie’s tirades and not knowing where she was going with it. The three were sitting on folding chairs across from the investigating officer. Charles gently laid his hand on her arm and said, “We’re just here so you can answer some questions for them.”

  “Well, if the man was murdered, then someone needs to be pursuing the real killer and not wasting time asking me stupid questions,” she responded, pulling her arm away from him.

  “Let’s talk about this when we get home, okay?”

  Sophie looked at Charles. She knew he had suspicions the previous night when they were all in the man’s cabin. Maybe he wants to investigate this on his own, she thought. “Okay,” she said softly, deciding to trust what she knew about her friend’s husband. “I’ll let it go for now, but…”

  “Thank you, Sophie,” Charles said interrupting her. “Please go on, Officer Reilly. You were asking about Mrs. Ward’s involvement.”

  “Yes,” the officer responded, seeming grateful that Charles had put the issue to rest, at least for now. “Why don’t you tell your side of the story first, Mr. Parker.”

  “That’s Detective Parker,” Sophie interjected proudly.

  “Retired,” Charles clarified. “Mrs. Ward was transporting the dog from the Humane Society to…”

  “I drive the Pup Mobile…” Sophie added.

  The officer looked at her for a moment and turned back to Charles. “Go on please.”

  Charles gave Sophie a look that she read to mean she should remain quiet. “As I was saying,” he continued, “she was driving this dog to a foster home outside of town when the dog escaped from the car.” He went on to tell how Sophie had followed her to the cabin and saw the body through the window.

  “When did you call the police, Mrs. Ward?” he asked.

  “I called right away and then I called my friends. They…”

  Charles cut in and finished the story about how they told her to get back in her car and lock it until the police arrived. “My wife and I got there just after the police arrived.”

  “Did anyone touch anything before we got there?”

  Sophie, stiffening again and looking irritated said, “Didn’t he just tell you I sat in my car until you got there? Of course no one touched anything. None of us were in the house until you arrived.”

  The officer wrote a few words in the record and then asked, “Was the door locked when you got there, Mrs. Ward?”

  Sophie sighed. “I didn’t try it. Was it locked when you got there?” she asked in a slightly sarcastic tone.

  Officer Reilly ignored the question and made a few more notes in the record.

  “Why do you think the dog led you to the cabin?”

  Sarah had been quiet up to that point, but she responded to his question, knowing that it could easily set Sophie off again. “We think the dog lived there and was in town trying to get help for her owner.”

  “Hmm. Seems a bit farfetched,” he muttered.

  “She seemed right at home once help arrived.” Sarah added in a non-confrontational tone.

  “Where’s the dog now?”

  “We took her on to the foster home,” Sophie said, not adding that she took her home with her the night before. None of his business, she thought defiantly.

  Officer Reilly asked a few more questions to clarify the details and finally closed the folder. “Thank you folks for coming in,” he said while standing up, which clearly gave the message that the interview was over. As the others reaching for their coats, he added, “Mrs. Ward, don’t leave town. We’ll be in touch.

  Sophie who was in the process of pulling on her gloves, froze. “Don’t leave town?” she repeated. “Don’t leave town? What is this, a mafia movie? Don’t leave town?” Turning to Sarah she added, “It looks like I do need a lawyer. Get your son-in-law on the phone.”

  Charles rolled his eyes and gave the officer an apologetic look.

  Chapter 5

  “How much longer will Maria be gone?” Sarah asked.

  “Two or three more months,” Sophie responded. Maria had called Sophie to say that she’d decided to extend her vacation. Her sister wanted her to see more of Europe while she was there. “They’ve scheduled a cruise that starts in the Mediterranean and goes…” Sophie stopped and picked up a note pad where she had jotted down some of the places Maria told her about. “...from Italy, the ship sails west past Gibraltar and on up the coast, disembarking along the way for shore-excursions in Spain, Portugal, France, and…” looking up, Sophie added, “and I think she said England too, but she was talking so fast I didn’t get it all down. Anyway, she said they’ll end up in Amsterdam and from there they’re taking a train down through Germany and the Bavarian Alps.”

  “Whew. What a trip,” Sarah responded. “That must take weeks, but what a wonderful experience. As long as she’s there, she might as well make the most of it.”

  “I think she wanted to spend more time with her sister too. They hadn’t seen each other for the past six or seven years. Her brother-in-law hopes to retire soon and they’ll probably move back to the States. In the meantime, this is great for Maria.”

  “So you’ll keep driving the dogs?”

  “You bet. She wanted me to call Sheila’s Shuttle service and let her know that I’ll be continuing to take Maria’s runs until she comes home. Actually, I’d forgotten about that. I just got so busy getting things ready for Tim. You know, I’m redoing the guest room so it’s not so girly.”

  “When do you expect him?” Sarah asked, thinking Sophie must still have another month or so.

  “He’ll be here in late January, but I want to hire someone to paint that room. I don’t think my son’s going to go for pale lilac,” she added chuckling.

  “Let me check with Charles. He’ll probably do it for you.”

  The two friends went on to talk about Tim, but they avoided the topic of any potential marriage between their children. Both Timothy and Martha had made it clear they didn’t want to discuss the possibility with either of their parents. Martha had traveled to Alaska the previous summer and had returned with few details, despite her mother’s gentle prodding.

  “What’s the big secret anyway,” Sophie scoffed.

  Sarah didn’t respond, but she thought she understood her daughter’s reluctance to make a commitment. Martha had a very painful experience in her first marriage – something she was careful to never repeat. Perhaps she’s being a little too careful, Sarah thought but didn’t say.

  “We’ll have to just pull back, Sophie. They’ll talk to us when they’re ready.”

  “So,” Sophie said changing the subject, “let’s drive over to the hardware store and look at paint chips. I’m not sure what color t
his room should be.”

  “Good idea. I need to stop in the fabric store while we’re on that side of town.”

  “More fabric?” Sophie asked. “What’s with you quilters anyway? Every time you go into a fabric shop, you come out with bags and bags of fabric. What do you do with it all? I haven’t seen nearly as many quilts come out of your house as I’ve seen bags of fabric go in.”

  “It’s called stash, Sophie. If you’d agree to let me teach you how to quilt, you’d understand. Stash is critical. In fact, it’s been said that whoever dies leaving the largest stash – wins.”

  “Wins?” Sophie responded sounding perplexed.

  “Don’t ask,” Sarah said quickly, anticipating the next question

  While they were out, they stopped at Ciara’s for lunch and discussed the New Year’s Eve party. Sarah described the plans she’d made with the caterer and told Sophie who was coming. “I wish Tim would be home by then,” Sophie said regretfully.

  “I’m sorry he’ll be missing the holidays, but he’ll be here in just a few weeks,” Sarah reassured her friend.

  “Let’s hope I’m not in the state penitentiary when he gets here,” Sophie muttered.

  “Sophie! Don’t be ridiculous. Have you heard from Officer Reilly?”

  “No, not a word.” Sophie looked hesitant and then added, “Do you think Charles could check things out for me. I know it’s crazy, but I keep expecting them to come crashing through my front door with battering rams and machine guns.”

  “You’re right about one thing – that is crazy. Sophie, they don’t think you killed the man. Officer Reilly is just doing what he has to do – asking questions, getting the whole story down for the record. We’ll know more once the medical examiner determines cause of death. Officer Reilly was probably right in the first place when he said the man died of natural causes.”

  “I guess you’re right…” Sophie responded doubtfully, “but will you ask Charles to talk to them?”