The Devil's Puzzle

by Clare O'Donohue

  “Then what?”

  “People with money, as F. Scott once said, they’re different than you and me,” Ed said. “Winston flaunted his money and supposed superiority. He kept his thumb on people like Eleanor.”

  “I can’t image Eleanor being under anyone’s thumb.”

  “She was different in those days. She had children and no money, no education beyond high school, and no husband. And when Grace died, nowhere to go,” Maggie said. “The day she opened Someday, her hands were shaking. Hard to believe now, but that goes to show you how strong a person can get.”

  “Is that where she got the money to open the shop? Did Eleanor know something about Winston stealing money from Grace’s account and he paid her off to keep her silent?” I said.

  Ed shook his head. “Eleanor never would have stayed silent about something like that. I assumed he paid her to take Grace to Canada, to get Grace out of the way.”

  “They went every year, didn’t they? Eleanor said it was to get Grace out of the humidity of an Archers Rest summer.”

  “They did,” Ed said, “but Eleanor was afraid the trip would be too much for Grace. Her health was very fragile.”

  “But Winston insisted they go,” Maggie added. “So Eleanor took her. And within days of their return to Archers Rest, Grace died. Eleanor felt, as I did, that the trip killed her.”

  I sat watching Ed. And watching Maggie. There was regret in both their eyes. But there didn’t seem to be guilt. I was glad of that. Considering for even a second that my dear friend Maggie had hurt someone was almost as unthinkable as imagining Eleanor capable of murder. But as far as Ed was concerned . . .

  “After Eleanor returned,” I said, “and Grace had died, why didn’t you talk to her then?”

  “I did. She told me that it was too late.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “She didn’t tell me.”

  I looked at Maggie and then at Ed. “Do you know now?” I asked.

  “I know what a mistake I made, and what a lucky man Oliver is,” he said. “And that’s all that matters to me anymore.”

  CHAPTER 53

  Maggie walked me to my car and hugged me a long time, as if I were going away somewhere.

  “Ed and Eleanor have spoken. Whatever hard feelings there were between them are gone,” she said. “By the way, I have another quilt for you. It’s a grandmother’s flower garden made using reproduction 1930s fabrics, just like the one you wanted to make. I think it would make a nice addition to the show. I know its name might have an unfortunate connection to what’s going on, but I think if we want a beautiful traditional quilt in the show, we should do it.”

  “Why did Ed come to your house?” I asked.

  “My friendship with him ended when Eleanor and he broke up—out of loyalty to her.”

  “And now . . .”

  “We can all be friends again, so some good has come from all of this,” she said.

  “The summer Winston died . . .”

  She squeezed my hand. “I’ll bring it by the shop tomorrow.”

  Then she turned and went back toward the house, where Ed was waiting for her.

  Once she reached him, he smiled at me, and they both went inside and closed the door.

  There was nothing left for me to do but go back to Someday and think. Surrounding myself with fabric often put me into a peaceful sort of trance. My brain would quietly work on my problems as I focused on color and pattern. Even if I hadn’t needed to finish my quilt for the show, I would have gone back to the shop to piece a few blocks of something. People always assume quilters do what we do so we can have a finished product. And, I admit, there is little more satisfying than sewing in the final stitch of the binding and knowing that another quilt is done. But mainly we quilt because we like the process of quilting. It is our meditation, our therapy, and our connection to the soul.

  I got in my car and headed back toward Main Street, feeling confused, sad, and tired, but anxious to work on my devil’s puzzle quilt. But just as I pulled up in front of the shop, my cell phone rang.

  “When’s the last time you saw Molly?” Jesse asked before I’d even had a chance to say hello.

  “Again? When I left the house this morning, Mike was with her. He said he would stay at the house until Eleanor got home.”

  “I just got a call that a woman fitting her description, with a bandage on her head, was seen breaking into the bank. Mike said she went up to take a nap, but when I called, he checked on her and she wasn’t there.”

  “I’ll meet you at the bank,” I said.

  Jesse was at the scene before me, as were a half dozen of his force. Being a Sunday, the bank was closed, but their cameras were working. Jesse and one of the bank’s security guards checked the tape, and sure enough Molly was using a screwdriver to open the back door to the bank. It looked like she was doing pretty well, too, until the alarm went off and she ran, leaving her screwdriver—actually Eleanor’s screwdriver—behind.

  “Where could she be?” Jesse asked.

  “Out trying to solve the case.”

  “And maybe getting herself killed in the process.”

  I grabbed his hand. “I never thought I’d say this, but amateur detectives really get in the way of an investigation.”

  He laughed. “I don’t know. Sometimes they come in very handy.” “Chief?” Greg, one of Jesse’s detectives, approached cautiously. “I just got a call. There’s another problem.”

  “Of course there is.”

  “There’s a bomb threat at city hall. They’re clearing the building now, but someone has to go check it out.”

  Jesse rested his head in his hands. “All right. Everyone stay away. Greg, call the state police and see if they can get a bomb squad here. I’ll talk to the mayor.”

  “Let me go with you,” I said.

  He shook his head. “Stay here, Nell.”

  I waited by the bank for a few minutes, then made my way over to the shop. News of a bomb scare had gotten all over town in just the time it took me to make the walk. Carrie, Natalie, and several customers of both the quilt shop and the coffeehouse were outside on the sidewalk, though we were a block and a half from city hall and couldn’t see anything.

  “There was a threat against city hall years ago,” Natalie said.

  “Mary Shipman.” I took a few steps closer to the end of the block. As I did I saw Ed walking toward the theater.

  “What’s the fuss?”

  “Someone called in a bomb threat at city hall,” I told him.

  “Good heavens. Who would do that?”

  “Not sure. But it’s not the first time it’s ever happened.”

  “No.” His voice was shaking.

  I was about to tell him that Jesse had it under control, but he disappeared into the theater.

  After another twenty minutes passed, I walked to the end of the block and around the corner. I could see Jesse talking with several state police. The mayor was there, as were Glad and several more of the town’s leading citizens. If there still was any danger, I decided, Jesse wouldn’t allow them to be there. And since there wasn’t any danger, I walked the rest of the way to city hall.

  “False alarm,” Jesse said when he saw me. “The state’s bomb squad just came out and gave us the all clear.”

  “What happened?”

  “Someone said they would blow up city hall,” the mayor said.

  “Did you get the call?” I asked him.

  “Not me. Glad.”

  I turned and saw Glad walk up behind me. “Why would someone call you?” I asked.

  Glad clutched at the top button of her light pink suit. “I was in the building, at the historical society office. You know I’m the president.”

  “I do.”

  “I was getting together a presentation for the unveiling of the statue and I noticed that some of our artifacts were missing. Nothing valuable, just a few pieces. I came out to speak to the mayor.”

  “You were work
ing in city hall on a Sunday?”

  “Yes, I was. I have a lot to do to keep things running smoothly. After that atrocious article came out in the paper, it will be that much harder,” she sniffed. “I couldn’t find the mayor, so I was going back into the office, and the phone rang. A voice, a muffled voice, said there was a bomb in the building and everyone should get out or someone would be hurt.”

  “Man or woman?”

  “I was so frightened, I couldn’t tell.”

  “You should get home,” I said. “And maybe call your sister to see where she was today.”

  “It wasn’t my sister.” Her voice hardened. “She only threatened to blow up city hall once in her life, and that was twenty years ago.”

  “Still, she did make the threat once.”

  “It was because the powers that be at the time were trying to pass an ordinance that would have limited the number of pets a person could have in their home. It would have meant Mary would have had to get rid of her cats. She didn’t actually intend to blow the place up. She was making a point.”

  “You could say the same thing about whoever called today.”

  I left Glad to be offended by my insinuation and went over to Jesse, who was talking to the mayor.

  “What were you doing at city hall?” Jesse asked, his voice all business.

  “I have to get signatures to get on the ballot for the next primary,” he said. “It’s never too early to worry about reelection.”

  “Did you hear the call?” Jesse asked.

  “No. I was coming out of the men’s room when Glad came running out into the hallway in hysterics. She said something about a bomb and that we had to run. So I went office to office making sure the place was empty. It’s a good thing this happened on a weekend, because I think we were the only people in the building.”

  “And that’s all you know?” Jesse asked.

  “I want publicity. This isn’t publicity. This is a disaster.” The mayor looked around. “We have three days, Chief. Three days until the anniversary celebration. I can’t have this kind of thing hitting the papers and scaring off tourists.”

  “I know that.”

  “Solve it or shut it down,” he said. Then he patted Jesse hard on the back and headed back into city hall.

  Jesse let out a grunt. “This doesn’t even make any sense, Nell. Why would someone pull such a stupid prank? Assuming it was a prank.”

  “There wasn’t a bomb,” I said, “so what else could it be?”

  “A diversion.”

  “That doesn’t sound good. That means something worse is about to happen.” I could see Greg signaling for Jesse, so I waved him over. “I think one of your detectives may be about to tell you what’s next.”

  Greg ran over to Jesse and whispered in his ear. It was police business, I understood that, but I probably would hear about it anyway, so I waited until Greg was done.

  “Jitters,” Jesse said to me, and then took off into the police station.

  CHAPTER 54

  I ran down the block and around the corner to Jitters, but somehow Jesse had gotten there before me.

  “Back entrance of the police station,” he said. “I can cut through the alley.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “The state police were able to trace the call that came in on Glad’s phone. It looks like it came from here.”

  “Someone in here called in a threat?”

  We looked around. The usual customers—students, moms with strollers, folks looking for a good cup of coffee. Maggie was sitting with Natalie on the purple couch. No one in the place looked the type to make a threat against city hall.

  “But if you could make the trip from city hall to here this quickly . . .” I started.

  “Then so could anyone else,” Jesse finished my thought.

  “Or maybe it was a completely innocent call,” I said. “A coincidence. And Glad could be lying about the threat.”

  “Always a possibility.” Jesse looked around.

  I went behind the counter to talk to Carrie, with Jesse close behind. “Did anyone make a call from your landline just before we got word of the bomb scare?” I asked.

  “Not that I know of,” she said. “It’s been really busy, so I guess someone could have.”

  “But you didn’t use it?” Jesse asked.

  She shook her head.

  “And you didn’t notice anyone hovering near the phone?”

  “Half the town comes in here,” she said. “I leave my cell phone next to the cash register, but the landline sort of moves around. It’s cordless, so it tends to be left on the counter or even on a chair. I don’t really pay attention. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” I turned back to Jesse. “What now?”

  “Another dead end,” he said. “I just start investigating one thing and something else happens. I can barely keep up with the manpower I have.”

  “Maybe that’s the point. Maybe Winston’s killer is just giving you busywork to keep you distracted.”

  “And unable to follow up on the evidence from Winston’s death.” Jesse nodded. “It makes sense. New crimes are more of a priority than a cold case. And I have limited staff.”

  “And when you think about it, no real damage was done to anything around town. No personal property, all stuff belonging to the town. And it was nothing that couldn’t be cleaned up or easily replaced.”

  “Except Molly was hurt.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t the same person,” I offered. “Or maybe she knows something she doesn’t even realize she knows.”

  “Or there was something in those letters . . .”

  “I guess we should find Molly,” I said, “before she finds out who the killer is the hard way.”

  “I’m going to get in the car and patrol the streets,” Jesse said.

  “I’ll check a few places and see what I can find out.”

  He took my hand. “If someone is trying to keep us from solving Winston’s murder, then I want you to remember it’s someone who is capable of killing another human being. I need to know you’re going to be careful.”

  “Is this going to be a speech about staying out of police business, because—”

  “No.” He smiled a little. “This is a speech about how lucky I am to have you in my life, and how I don’t want to lose you.”

  “Aren’t you smart to have learned that now, instead of forty years from now, like Ed did with Eleanor?”

  “I have no idea what that means, but yes, I am.”

  “I’ll explain later,” I told him.

  “Hopefully we’ll get a lot of things explained soon.” He kissed me and headed out toward his car.

  I agreed with Jesse about the killer being out there, potentially ready to commit another murder. But I wasn’t sure I shared his optimism about finding explanations soon. Answers in this case always seemed just out of my grasp, and I could feel my chest tighten at the thought of what might be next.

  CHAPTER 55

  I walked across the street to Someday Quilts trying to piece together what I knew. The vandalism in the library, at the church, or in the cemetery didn’t require any special knowledge of the town. And as far as stealing an old paper from the newspaper office, anyone in Archers Rest could walk in and get access. In a town like ours, people usually aren’t on guard.

  There wasn’t a single event that pointed to, or eliminated, anyone in town. Even hitting Molly over the head didn’t offer any special clues. She was small and young, and she was walking an unfamiliar street. It would be easy to watch her, to sneak up from behind and hit her. And as bad as it had initially looked, it hadn’t been a strong hit. Anyone could have struck a blow like that.

  “What are you staring at me for?” Eleanor asked as I stood by the door looking at her.

  “I’m actually looking for Molly.”

  “She hasn’t been in here. Is she up to something?”

  “She’s trying to track down Winston’s murderer.”

&
nbsp; “What is it with you young people? You have all the things I had as a girl, plus the Internet and television and computer games. And still you spend your time chasing after killers.”

  “Natural curiosity, I guess.”

  “Natural stubbornness is more like it.”

  “I inherited that.”

  She smiled. “I suppose you did.”

  “Which is why I’m never going to stop bugging you about what happened thirty-five years ago.”

  “I’m finding that out.”

  “So you should tell me.”

  She looked around. There were no customers to help, no bolts to be restocked, no fabric to be cut. She sighed. “I want you to be proud of me, Nell.”

  “I am proud of you, Grandma. I won’t stop being proud of you if you tell me what’s bothering you.”

  Her eyes welled with tears. She was silent for a moment, and when she spoke she was almost whispering. “Okay. But I just want to ask you one thing. I want you to call Jesse. I think you should both hear this.”

  Jesse arrived ten minutes later—with Molly in tow.

  “I found her trying to walk back to your house by following the river.”

  “I just wanted to see if it were possible to walk from town to Eleanor’s house without being seen,” Molly said.

  “It is,” I said. “What does that prove?”

  “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “But I did see a woman from the back. She was running along the riverbank. Long gray hair, like that woman . . .”

  “Mary,” I jumped in. “It had to be.”

  “So I found a suspect,” Molly said, a triumphant tone in her voice.

  “I knew if I just kept at it . . .”

  “You need to stop, Molly. You tried to break into the bank,” I pointed out. “Even I’m not that nutty.”

  “On Friday I asked to see the records of Grace’s accounts. Even though they were closed decades ago, they still wouldn’t show them to me.”

  “The bank has been owned by a new company since the mid-eighties,” Jesse said. “They probably don’t even have the records.”