The 12 Quilts of Christmas

by Arlene Sachitano

  “Valery would never leave his shop unattended. He locked all the doors when he took his trash out to the back alley. He was very paranoid about art theft. In fact, to say he was paranoid would be an understatement.”

  “So, where do you think he is?” Morse asked the jeweler.

  Anthony spread his hands wide.

  “I have no idea. Like I said, I can’t imagine any circumstance where Val would leave the gallery unlocked without him being there.”

  Morse made another note and put her pad back in her pocket, then pulled out a business card, handing it to him.

  “Call me if you see or hear from Mr. Melnyk, or if you see anyone else over there. In the meantime, I’ll send an officer over to put one of our locks on his door.”

  “Do I need to be worried?” Anthony asked.

  Morse blew out a breath.

  “I’d like to say no, but given your proximity to both the print shop and the gallery, you would be wise to exercise a little extra caution. Don’t let anyone, including you, work alone. Make sure you double-check your door locks when you leave, and set your alarm even if you’re only gone for a few minutes.”

  “I’ll let my clerks know about doubling up on our shifts. We already have a robust security system, given the business we’re in. We have video cameras inside and out as well as glass-break and motion detectors.”

  “Depending on what happens next door, I may need to have a look at your camera footage from out front.”

  “Not a problem,” Anthony said. “We upload it to the cloud and keep it for two months at a time.”

  “I’ll let you know if we need it.” Morse turned back to Harriet, Jenny and Lauren. “Until we figure out what’s going on, you ladies would be wise to shop in pairs.”

  Lauren gave her a mock salute then glanced at her phone.

  “I better get going. Call me if you hear anything.”

  “Don’t go looking for trouble,” Morse cautioned them before leaving.

  Jenny buttoned her coat.

  “I think I’ll see if I can catch up with Beth and Mavis and Connie and fill them in on what’s going on and pass along the ‘don’t go downtown alone’ warning.”

  “Good idea,” Harriet said, joining her as she headed out the door.

  CHAPTER 12

  Harriet turned her long-arm quilting machine off when she saw Luke coming up the driveway after school and waited in her studio until he came in.

  “Hey, how was school?” she asked.

  Luke grinned and shook his head.

  “You always ask, like it’s going to magically get better. The best I can say is it wasn’t any worse than usual.”

  “Hope springs eternal,” Harriet said and smiled back at him. “James left you a plate of tea sandwiches when he was home earlier. After you eat them, would you like to come to the homeless camp with me? James also brought home a couple of boxes of food for them, and I need to run it out there.”

  “Sure. It’ll only take a minute for me to eat.”

  “I’ll take the dogs out while you’re doing that.”

  True to his word, Luke had finished his plate of sandwiches and was just finishing a second plate of small desserts James had also left.

  “I’m ready,” he said around a mouthful of cookie.

  “Take your time, we’re not in that big of a hurry.”

  Luke opened the back of the car and pulled out the large blue tote. Harriet grabbed a smaller one and set it on the pavement at her feet while she locked the car.

  “Follow me,” she said, picking up her tote.

  “This is really cool,” Luke said as he scanned the park.

  “Haven’t you ever been here?”

  “We weren’t really the picnic-in-the-park sort of people. My dad probably came here after dark to sell drugs, but he never brought us kids along.”

  Harriet smiled as she led the way toward the homeless camp.

  “We’ll have to add ‘picnic in the park’ to your life-experience to-do list.”

  Luke laughed.

  “You’re assuming I’m going to survive the sit-on-Santa’s-lap adventure.”

  “Am I trying too hard?”

  “Maybe just a little. You know, I’ve got a whole lifetime to make up for these early deficits. You don’t have to try to recreate the perfect childhood all in the first couple of months.”

  “I know,” Harriet said with a sigh. “I just feel so bad for what you had to go through. And I want things to be better for you.”

  Luke stopped.

  “Harriet, things are better for me. Just waking up in my own room in your house with you and James and the animals and not being hungry is beyond my wildest dreams. Don’t get me wrong, I’m enjoying all the new experiences, and I like that you’re trying so hard, but you’ve already done the important stuff.”

  She set her tote down and hugged him awkwardly around his box. He set it down and hugged her back.

  “You are the best son ever.” She said, swiping at the tears in her eyes.

  Luke picked up his tote again.

  “Now, don’t go getting all mushy on me.”

  She smiled.

  “I’ll try,” she said and headed into the woods.

  Joyce Elias had her back to the trail as Harriet entered the homeless camp’s eating area. She turned when Harriet set the box of food from James on the large table in the center of the clearing.

  “Harriet,” Joyce said in her soft, British-accented voice. “I was hoping I’d see you. And this must be the lad you were telling me about.”

  Harriet put her arm around Luke’s shoulders.

  “Joyce Elias, meet our foster son, Luke Harris.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, young man. Harriet and James have told me all about you—all good of course.” Joyce said, and extended her hand. He shook it, his cheeks turning red.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” he said.

  “Can I make either of you a cup of tea?” Joyce asked then, her breath visible in the cold air as she spoke. She wore a plaid wool shirt under a green down vest, a jaunty Fair Isle beret covering her gray curls.

  Harriet opened her tote.

  “Thanks, but we can’t stay. James was so busy with his afternoon tea service he didn’t have time to drop these off earlier, so I told him we’d handle it while we were out doing errands.” She lifted a foil-wrapped bundle from the box. “These are toasted ham-and-cheese sandwiches,” She set it down and pulled out a round foil-covered pan. “Three of these pans are chicken piccata and three more of them are chicken fettuccini. And in the bottom, we have baked potatoes and two bags of rolls. He suggests you use the fettuccini first—it doesn’t keep as well as the piccata does.”

  “We greatly appreciate everything he sends us.”

  “It works out well for him, too. I don’t think a lot of people realize how much food waste restaurants produce. He’s happy his leftovers can be put to good use.” She snapped the lid back on the tote. “You said you were hoping to see me. Is there something I can do for you?”

  Joyce sat on the wooden bench that ran the length of the table.

  “One of our regulars has gone missing. I know homeless people tend to be a transient lot, but as you know, we have people who pass through here, and then we have the group that winters over. Smokey Joe is one of the latter. He has only been with us for a year or so, but he had no plans to go anywhere. Max has searched the woods as well as he can, and we’ve found no sign of him.”

  “Do you think he might be at the warming shelter?” Harriet asked.

  “It’s possible. He had a friend who stayed in town; I suppose he may be visiting. Or he may have gone to the clinic and been kept. He was having chest pains a week or so ago. The point is, he’s been gone for two days, and it’s not like him.”

  “Sure, we can check the warming shelter and the clinic, and I’ll ask at the Methodist church. I know they make beds available on these cold nights. Would you like me to ask Detective Morse to lo
ok into it?”

  Joyce pressed her lips together.

  “Let’s hold off on that for a bit. He’s not been gone that long, and I don’t want to cause him any problems if he’s just staying in town with his friend. As you know, we don’t ask too many questions when people come to live here as long as they follow the camp rules. If he’s here trying to get away from something, that’s his business.”

  “Okay.” Harriet said. “Give me a contact number, and I’ll see if I can find him.” She handed Joyce her phone.

  “I would appreciate it. I’m sure he’s fine, but you know, in the winter we tend to worry a little more.”

  “Well, we better get going. I’ll come by tomorrow and let you know what I find out, either way.”

  “Wow, do they live there all year around?” Luke asked as he followed Harriet out of the woods and back to the car.

  “Indeed, they do.”

  “My dad sold drugs to the homeless people in Seattle when I was little, but they were a lot different than Joyce.”

  “I’m guessing they were a younger crowd?”

  “Some of them, although there were plenty of old alcoholics. At least, they looked old.”

  “We made quilts for this group last winter and learned a lot about them in the process. An architect friend of mine worked on a project that included building showers in the park restrooms for them as well as the dining table and benches and secure storage boxes for their personal possessions.”

  “That’s cool.”

  “I’m sure it helps. I think Joyce has had offers to move inside, but she likes living in the woods. Max, too.”

  “If I was still living with my dad when I turned eighteen, I’d think seriously about moving onto the streets. It would be safer.”

  “I’m glad you aren’t in that situation anymore.”

  “Me, too,” he finally said.

  “Are you okay with doing a little looking for Smokey Joe on the way home?” Harriet asked when they reached the car.

  “You’re the driver.”

  Harriet paused before getting in the car.

  “You do get a say in what we do.”

  “I know,” he said, smiling. “I just need some time to get used to that concept.”

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m freezing,” Harriet said as she put the key in the ignition. “I say we go through a drive-thru and get some hot chocolate or something.”

  Luke shivered as he fastened his seatbelt.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Thirty minutes later, Harriet and Luke got back in the car, parked in front of the downtown warming shelter, a location that had been a boutique hotel in a previous life.

  “Well, we’ve checked the clinic and the warming shelter, and I have a call in to the friend,” Harriet said. “Before we go to the church, how about we have a look in the little park by the Muckleshoot River bridge, since we’re close. Sometimes, the homeless people congregate there when they come into town so they can catch up with people who live in other camps.”

  “As long as we’re here, we might as well. That hot chocolate did warm me up a little.”

  CHAPTER 13

  They could have walked to the park, but it was cold and a wind had kicked up to make it feel even colder, so Harriet drove.

  “Let’s follow this path to the left,” Harriet suggested as she wrapped her knitted scarf more tightly around her neck. “There are several picnic areas along the river, and if we’re going to find any homeless people out in this weather, it will be in one of them.”

  Luke stuffed his gloved hands into his vest pockets and cocked his head, listening.

  “I don’t hear anyone talking.”

  “I’m not sure you would over the sound of the river.”

  No one was in the first picnic area, or anywhere else. They continued along the path as it curved toward the river and the next set of tables, set on a small bluff overlooking a parallel bend in the river.

  Luke went to stand on the edge of the bluff.

  “Wow, this spot has a great view of the river.”

  Harriet went over to stand beside him.

  “It is nice, especially on a sunny day when the winds are calm. In the summer, the water is so clear you can see all the way to the bottom.”

  Luke leaned forward and pointed.

  “Wait, what’s that white thing at the bottom of that area of rapids?”

  “Where?”

  He moved behind her and rested an arm on her shoulder so he could guide her line of sight.

  “It kinda looks like a person.”

  Harriet trained her eyes on the spot he was pointing at.

  “It does look like a person. Let’s go to the next picnic area—I think we’ll have a better angle.”

  They hurried back to the path and jogged to the next picnic area, crossing past the tables to stand on the edge of the steep river bank. This vantage point was closer to the river and a good ten feet lower. From here, they could see a human shape clad in a white shirt. The legs were underwater and appeared to be wedged between two large rocks.

  Harriet pulled the phone from her pocket and dialed 911.

  “There’s a body in the river just below the rapids,” she reported when she’d given her particulars to the operator. She paused and listened. “We’re not close enough to see anything else.”

  After listening to admonitions to stay where she was until the police arrived, she hung up and put her phone back in her pocket.

  “We’ll have to wait until someone arrives.”

  “I wonder why they were outside without a coat,” Luke said. “I mean, it looks like they’re just wearing a shirt.”

  “We can’t assume they went into the water without a coat on. If they went in above the rapids, and then went over the rocky area before getting hung up at the end, their coat could have come off and been swept down the river.”

  “You’d think they’d have it zipped up tight in this weather, though.”

  Harriet smiled at him. She liked his analytical reaction to what was clearly a disturbing situation. His questions were good. She had a thought he would make a great detective, but she wasn’t sure how she’d feel about his putting himself in harm’s way. This parenting business was tougher than it looked.

  A uniformed officer joined them near the picnic tables ten minutes later. Harriet was thankful that, for once, it wasn’t Officer Nguyen. This guy’s name tag said Smith. He looked to be in his thirties, with dark hair and a muscular build.

  “Are you the woman who thinks she saw a body in the river?” he asked her as he pulled a notebook from his pocket.

  Luke didn’t wait for Harriet to answer. He pointed to where the body bobbed at the base of the rapids. Officer Smith scanned where Luke pointed until he found it.

  “Oh, geez, it really is a body.”

  Harriet put her hands on her hips.

  “What did you think it was going to be when we called in and said we saw a body in the river?”

  Smith’s face flushed.

  “I’m sorry, but you can’t imagine how many dead-body-in-the-river reports we get that turn out to be bags of garbage, large stuffed animals, dead real animals, and all sorts of other stuff.”

  Harriet sighed and shook her head.

  “You’re right, though,” he went on. “You do have a reputation around the station for finding dead people.”

  “Not on purpose,” she protested.

  “Still, most people never see a dead body outside a funeral home, and you’ve found more than one or two, according to the talk at the station.” He pushed a button on the radio clipped to his shoulder and began his report.

  “Sorry about all this,” she told Luke.

  “Hey, it’s not your fault. And we were looking for a guy.”

  “We didn’t find our guy, though. If Smokey Joe wore a white shirt in the winter, jacket over it or not, I’m sure Joyce would have mentioned it. White shirts aren’t something you see among the homeless,
given their lack of laundry facilities in the camps.”

  “Is there any reason I should keep the two people who spotted the body?” she heard Smith say into his radio. “No, we’re quite a distance away. The kid spotted the body from the lower picnic area in the park.”

  They couldn’t hear the reply, but Smith listened, then turned the volume down.

  “You two are free to go, but depending on what they find, someone might want to talk to you again later.”

  “Do you need my contact info?” she asked.

  “We know where to find you,” he said with a smirk.

  Down below, people in wetsuits had arrived on the opposite bank of the river and were preparing to go into the frigid water.

  “Is there any way we could be notified about the identity of the person?” Harriet asked.

  “Why? Are you missing someone?”

  “As a matter of fact, we are. Or rather Joyce from the homeless camp in Fogg Park is missing someone. She asked us to look for him in town. It’s a guy they call Smokey Joe. That’s what we were here doing.”

  “You can call the station tomorrow. Depending on how long the vic’s been in the river and how far the body traveled, it could take a while to identify.”

  “Thanks, we’ll do that. Come on, Luke, I think we’re done here.”

  She spun on her heel and headed for the car; Luke mimicked her motion and followed her.

  CHAPTER 14

  Weak sunlight attempted to warm the still-frigid air the next morning. Harriet stood, her upper body bent into the open door of the tool cabinet in her garage.

  “I know my uncle had a tree saw,” she said over her shoulder to James, who was at the back of the car winding a coil of rope.

  “I’m sure they’ll have saws at the u-cut place,” he told her as she continued to rummage around.

  She straightened finally, a worn bow saw in her hand.

  “This one will cut through our Christmas tree trunk like butter.”

  James put his rope in the back of the car and took the saw.

  “Wow, that one has cut a few trees.” He turned it from side to side. “The paint is almost completely gone from the handle.”