The 12 Quilts of Christmas

by Arlene Sachitano

  “I wish I could call my parents,” Jade fretted.

  “If you’re not okay with this, it ends here,” Morse told her.

  “No, no,” Jade said. “Something has to happen. I can’t go on hiding in the barn attic, hoping some crazy person doesn’t find me. But what if it doesn’t work?”

  “Then you haven’t lost anything,” Lauren all but shouted. “Geez, what is the question? The rest of us don’t enjoy having a killer running around our streets. At least this would be something.”

  Harriet put a hand on her friend’s arm, but Lauren pulled it free.

  “You’re the one who was captured and narrowly escaped this killer,” she snapped, glaring at Harriet. “Don’t you want him or her caught?”

  Harriet sighed.

  “Of course I do, but we can’t force Jade to help the police.”

  “What does she have to do?” Lauren complained. “Keep hiding? She’s already doing that.”

  “You don’t need us anymore, do you?” Harriet asked Morse.

  The right side of Morse’s mouth lifted in a half-smile.

  “No, I think you’ve done enough. I’ll let you know if this is a go. I might need to talk to you about the stable set-up.”

  Harriet stood up.

  “Let’s go, Lauren.”

  Harriet led Lauren across the street to the sidewalk in front of Pins and Needles before stopping.

  “Before you say anything, yes, I think there’s something off about those two. Maybe not the same something, but I don’t think either one of them is telling our friend the detective the truth.”

  “I shouldn’t have lost it in there, but come on, she’s hiding in the attic of the stable, and she has to think about whether she wants help from the police in catching the guy she’s hiding from? There’s something not quite right about that.”

  “Morse didn’t say anything about Jade showing up when she was ‘possibly calling’ tonight, so I didn’t think it was my place to mention it, but it makes me think Sunny is a little more involved with whatever is going on with Jade than she wants us to believe.”

  Harriet looked up and down the street, checking for the gray sedan, but other than a black pickup truck, Morse’s sedan, Lauren’s car, and her own, Main Street was devoid of vehicles.

  “Listen, do you want to come have dinner with us tonight? James and Luke have been at his parent’s house all day helping James’s dad set up the new saw and then playing with it. Which is all to say, dinner will be something simple.”

  Lauren smiled.

  “I’ll take James’s something simple any time. Do I have time to go let Carter out? He’s been home alone for hours.”

  “Bring him with you. I’m sure Scooter and Cyrano would love to have company.”

  Harriet cleared the plates off the table, and James served fruitcake.

  “So, let me get this straight,” he said as he sliced the cake. “The police are going to put out false information about a horse-theft ring being caught and take away the security at the stable—or at least pretend to. And the killer will come try to steal Becky, only she won’t be there, but the police will, and they will arrest whoever it is, and we’ll all live happily ever after. What could go wrong?”

  Harriet set small dessert plates beside the cake dish. James put a slice on one and handed it to Lauren. She took a bite.

  “Wow, this is really good. Do you serve it in the restaurant?”

  “No, it’s my mom’s recipe. She won’t tell me her secret.”

  Luke accepted his plate of cake and ate a forkful. He smiled.

  “This is good.” He inhaled the remainder in two bites. “May I be excused? Emily texted and wants me to call her.”

  “Sure,” Harriet said.

  James watched Luke until he was up the stairs and out of sight.

  “You know he’s going to ask if he can go out to the stable and ride tomorrow,” he said.

  Harriet swallowed her first bite of fruit cake.

  “This really is good.” She put her fork down. “I know he’s going to want to ride, and it’s going to be hard to say no when it’s his Christmas break.”

  “Do we think it’s dangerous for him to be there while the police are trying to lure the killer?”

  “It’s not my place to say,” Lauren interrupted, “but I don’t think the killer is picking people at random. He’s blackmailed all the victims first.”

  Harriet ate another bite of her cake.

  “Major seems to be pretty protective, also. I don’t think he’d let a stranger approach without raising a ruckus.”

  James sighed.

  “That all sounds reasonable, but you’re assuming our killer is a stranger. What if he—or she—isn’t?”

  Harriet set her fork down.

  “If they aren’t a stranger, then it could be anyone. If that’s the case, we should stay home and never leave the house again.”

  “Come on, you know what I mean.”

  Harriet got to take a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water.

  “Anyone else?” she asked before sitting down. James declined, and Lauren accepted.

  Lauren ate the remainder of her fruitcake.

  “It’s none of my business, but I’m pretty sure there will be more than one or two plainclothes policemen at the stable once they set the plan in motion.”

  “And the action will be centered on Becky’s stall. I noticed a short row of stalls on the opposite side of the warm-up arena. They’re probably for overnight visitors. We can ask if Major can be moved to one of them for the duration,” Harriet suggested. “That would keep Luke a good distance away from the action.”

  Lauren set her fork down. James leaned back in his chair.

  “I suppose we can’t keep him in a glass bubble,” he said.

  “It’s not obvious the killer will even take the bait. If you ask me, it’s pretty weird that someone kills three people they’ve been blackmailing and then decides to just mess around with the fourth person, who they’ve also been blackmailing. And I’m not sure what I think of Sunny’s whole ‘my brother is a feared gang member, so no one will mess with me’ thing. I guess it’s possible, but how probable is it in Foggy Point?”

  James stood and took the remaining fruitcake to the counter to wrap.

  “Well, for tomorrow anyway, I can go watch him.”

  “I’m sorry you’re having to do that,” Harriet said. “You don’t get that many days off.”

  James smiled. “I don’t mind hanging out with Luke. We had fun today.”

  “Are you going to the stable tomorrow?” Lauren asked Harriet.

  “No, I got a call from a new customer. She has a Baltimore Album quilt she needs quilted on a fairly short timeline. I haven’t seen it, but she says it has a wide border with dense berry vines, leaves, and flowers. It will take a lot of slow, careful quilting. I’d like to receive it and get it on the machine first thing.”

  “I’ll be around tomorrow, if you want to go to coffee when you’re ready for a break.”

  “Okay, thanks. Do you want to stay and watch a British mystery? They have a whole collection of Christmas episodes.”

  Lauren grinned.

  “How can I refuse?”

  CHAPTER 38

  The temperature had dropped again the next morning, but at least the rain had stopped. Harriet cut her run to two miles so she could have breakfast with James and Luke before they went to the stable.

  Marcia had been fine with moving Major to the stall row away from the main barn and, in fact, decided to move Emily’s horse Fable along with another horse to keep Major company and keep Emily out of any possible action.

  Luke dug into a fluffy stack of pancakes with maple syrup.

  “Where did they take Becky?” he asked when he’d polished off half.

  Harriet poured syrup on her two cakes.

  “They aren’t saying. Since they don’t know who’s causing the problems in town, anyone could be talking with the pe
rpetrator without knowing it. It might be one of the King County Posse members’ places, but that’s just a guess. Don’t tell anyone my guess. Not even Emily.”

  “I won’t,” he promised.

  James sat down with his own plate of pancakes.

  “When do you think you’ll be done with your customer?”

  Harriet did a quick calculation in her head.

  “Probably a couple of hours. I need to talk with her and receive the quilt, then I’d like to get it on the machine. And I suspect I’ll need to go to Pins and Needles and get a couple cones of thread. What are you thinking?”

  “I was thinking we could drive over to Port Angeles and ride the ferry to Victoria. Luke’s never been.”

  “That sounds like fun. I’m meeting Lauren for coffee, but I think I can accomplish everything within two hours. Do you want to meet me at Annie’s?”

  James got up to open the oven and used a spatula to lift three pancakes from the stack being kept warm. He carried them over and slid them onto Luke’s plate.

  “Do you think we can be done horsing around in two hours?”

  Luke drenched his new pancakes in butter and syrup.

  “Sure. Emily has to be done by lunchtime anyway.”

  Harriet stood up and carried her plate to the dishwasher.

  “Sounds like a plan. Leave me a message if anything changes.” She retreated to her studio to prep her machine and wait for her new customer.

  Kimberly Bailey turned out to be a delightful quilter in her mid-fifties. Her appliqué skill level was off the charts. Her quilt was expertly done and, as Harriet had suspected, was going to require a lot of careful stitching in the densely-patterned border.

  “Do you think I could get it back by the weekend after New Year’s?” Kim asked her when they had finished checking the quilt in.

  “That should be no problem. I’ll get it on the machine as soon as you leave. I’ll have to go pick up thread in town, but from then on, it should be smooth sailing. I should be able to have it done by the Wednesday before that weekend.”

  Kimberly smiled.

  “That’s perfect. My friend Jenny said you were the best long-arm quilter in this area.”

  Harriet laughed. “She might be a little prejudiced, but I will do my best.”

  With that, Kimberly left, and Harriet got to work setting up the quilt on her machine.

  Pins and Needles quilt shop only had two other customers when Harriet arrived to pick up her quilting thread.

  “I thought you’d be full of customers,” she said to Marjorie.

  Marjorie laughed.

  “That rush of after-Christmas shopping pretty much passes us by. People usually take a week or two to get over all the stitching they did making Christmas presents. But it’s okay with me. I’ve got a lot of holiday fabric to move to the attic, and I’ve been collecting some new fabric for winter and early spring that needs to come down.”

  Harriet raised her eyebrows at the mention of new fabric.

  “You want to come up and see what I’ve got?” Marjorie asked.

  “Sure. I’d like to make a new quilt for Luke’s bed. I replaced the one in his room with first a Halloween quilt and then a Christmas one. The original I had in that room was floral. It’s okay, but not as masculine as I’d like for a boy’s room.”

  “I may have just the thing.” Marjorie looked around the shop and spotted her two shoppers. “Are you ladies okay for a few minutes if I go up to the attic?”

  The two friends smiled.

  “We’ll be okay for an hour or two,” one of them said, and they both laughed.

  Marjorie pulled the stairs down from the hallway ceiling and led the way up to the attic. She stepped over to a large table stacked high with bolts of new fabric wrapped in plastic. Harriet lifted one for a better look.

  “Can I remove the plastic?”

  “Sure. I’m about to take it off anyway.”

  Harriet had found the first of a whole line of gray-and-red winter bird fabric.

  “That’s a new design line I found on the internet,” Marjorie explained. “If their winter fabric does well, I may pick up a few more of their groupings. They have some nice neutrals and tonals.”

  Together, they selected six bolts of fabric and carried them downstairs. Harriet had just listed out how many yards of each fabric she needed when her phone rang. She pulled out her debit card, set it on the counter, and answered.

  “Come to my shop, now!” Sunny yelled and hung up.

  Marjorie had heard, Sunny had spoken so loud.

  “Go ahead, I can finish this up.”

  “Thanks.”

  Harriet hurried to the corner and crossed the street. The bakery looked closed; the blinds were drawn, and the lights were off. She reached for the door handle, but the door opened before she touched it.

  “Sunny?” She leaned in but didn’t enter. “Sunny?” she called again.

  A hand grabbed her arm and pulled her inside.

  “Sit down,” an electronically altered voice said and shoved her into a chair.

  She looked up and saw a familiar figure dressed in black, including the black ski mask, a small black box held up to their mouth.

  “You again,” she said. She glanced around the dimly-lit restaurant. Sunny was slumped in another chair to the right of the display case, her hands at an awkward angle behind her back, restrained. Across the room, a muscular Asian man sat by another table in a similar position, his tattooed face covered in blood and one eye swollen shut. His face was too battered to see if there was a family resemblance, but she assumed this was Sunny’s brother. The muscles in his chest strained the fabric of his black tee-shirt. He looked tough, but clearly, he’d run into someone tougher.

  “I let you go before, but you won’t be so lucky this time—unless you tell me where Jade is, and more importantly, where the horse is. I suppose the police thought I would be foolish enough to believe their ruse at the stable. But alas, I’m not that stupid. Now, where is Jade, and where is the horse?”

  Harriet shook her head.

  “Why on earth would I know where Jade is? I would assume her horse is at the stable.”

  “You’re trying my patience,” her captor said. “Everyone in this town knows you’re that police detective’s favorite pet. And weren’t you just here with her yesterday, planning a trap for me?”

  Harriet felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She looked at Sunny, but the baker wouldn’t make eye contact with her.

  The electronic voice made a noise. Harriet realized it was laughter.

  “Did you think you could trust that one? Haven’t you ever heard a leopard can never change its spots.”

  “He was going to kill my brother,” Sunny blurted.

  So much for the feared Asian gang member, Harriet thought. And Sunny’s use of “he” must mean that, as she suspected, Sunny knew who the killer was.

  Harriet heard a scraping noise to her left—the brother’s chair scooting on the floor.

  “I still don’t know where Jade is, or where her horse is,” she said, loudly enough, she hoped, to cover the noise.

  “It seems we have a problem, then. What are we going to do?” The intruder grabbed her wrist again.

  “Give me your phone,” he commanded.

  Harriet complied, and he tossed it on the counter with two others. He roughly pulled both her arms around the back of her chair and secured them with a zip-tie.

  “Let her go,” Sunny said. “She doesn’t know anything.”

  The intruder paced across the room and faced Sunny.

  “I think she’s made that clear. But she is the one who can get that police woman to reveal the information I need.”

  Harriet gave a harsh laugh. “You overestimate my influence.”

  “When you tell her what I say, she’ll tell you what I want to know.”

  Harriet never got a chance to find out what that was.

  At that moment, the front door of the bakery opened.


  “Harriet?” Marjorie called out. She stood outlined in the doorway, purse over her shoulder, Harriet’s debit card in her hand.

  Before Harriet could say anything, Marjorie flipped the light switch by the front door. She took in the tableau in front of her—Harriet, Sunny, the bloody man across the room and the figure in black.

  “You’re supposed to be dead,” she said in an incredulous tone.

  She strode over to Harriet digging in her purse as she came.The man in black turned around.

  “Who’s supposed to be dead?” Harriet asked as Marjorie pulled the pair of shears she always carried from her purse.

  “Put the scissors down,” the electronic voice commanded.

  Marjorie ignored him and snipped Harriet’s zip-tie; she looked up to see the gun in the man’s hand.

  “Oh, so now you’re going to shoot me?” she said. “And then kill all of them? Do you think no one is going to notice a gun going off? Valery, we’re on Main Street. I know Foggy Point isn’t the big city, but there are people out there.” She started to gesture toward the outside, then threw the shears at his face instead.

  Harriet jumped up as the shears slashed the mask and Valery’s cheek. She covered the few steps between them and placed a well-aimed kick at the man’s ankles. He fell, knocking over a table and chair. Marjorie jumped forward and pinned his arms to the ground while Harriet shoved the gun out of the way with her foot.

  Marjorie was not a small woman and had Valery under control in spite of his struggling, so Harriet grabbed the shears and crossed the room, cutting Sunny’s brother loose. He took control of the downed man. Then, he ripped the knitted mask from the intruder’s face.

  “You’re supposed to be dead.” Harriet repeated Marjorie’s words. “I saw your body.”

  Marjorie pulled her cell phone from her bag and dialed 911.

  “And send Detective Morse,” she finished after telling the police operator the particulars.

  CHAPTER 39