Murder on a Starry Night: A Queen Bees Quilt Mystery

by Sally Goldenbaum

  Po smiled. That was so true. She remembered how as a young boy, Ollie would come to her door, selling odds and ends he’d find around town so he could buy small binoculars or books about the stars. He’d tell her exactly where Mars was that day and what his favorite constellation was. And he was so happy when someone would listen to him.

  “Why would anyone kill Ollie, Po?” Halley asked suddenly. “Is land that important? Did Adele want that house so badly? In the four years I’ve known Ollie, she visited him once. Once! And it was awful—she wanted Ollie to move into a small condominium near her and sell the house. Can you imagine Ollie in a condominium? It was an awful time for him. And now she’s back and has what she wants. The estate is all hers. And she’s turning it into something he wouldn’t have liked at all.”

  “Maybe he’d have liked his sister coming home at last, Halley,” Po said gently.

  Small tears ran down Halley’s cheeks, and she looked away, embarrassed.

  “Do you really think Adele was involved, Halley? Maybe it’s your deep sadness in losing a friend and wanting some resolution to that.”

  Halley looked back at Po. She dabbed at her eyes with a napkin, then shrugged her narrow shoulders. “Somebody killed Ollie, Po,” was all she answered.

  Po reached across the table and covered Halley’s hand with her own. “Yes, someone did that terrible thing, Halley. And someone will pay for it—and hopefully that will be soon.”

  But much later that night, Po stood in her robe on the back deck, looking up at the same sky that Ollie Harrington loved with such passion. She thought back on her conversation with Halley Peterson and wondered about her own hollow words. Halley was lashing out at Adele, she thought, because there was no one else to focus on. She was the visible sign of the loss Halley had suffered in losing her friend. But killing her own brother?

  Po shuddered. A breeze whipped her robe about her legs and she stepped back inside, closing the French doors behind her. It was so unsettling: Her conversation with Halley, and even more than that, the uncomfortable feeling that there were secrets at 210 Kingfish Drive that threatened people she knew. There was a feeling of dread building up in the neighborhood—the place where she’d raised her children, walked alone at night, and left her doors unlocked. Having that lifestyle threatened was disturbing, unsettling, and in the end, made Po angry. She walked to the stove and put a kettle on to brew some tea before bed. It would be hard to sleep, she knew. It was time to do something.

  CHAPTER 13

  Joe Bates shuffled around the side of the wide garage and walked silently toward the pond in the back of the big house. The sun was slowly climbing up above the trees in the east and Joe could feel the soft glow on his leathered skin. It’ll be a warm day, he suspected. A late fall day tinged with impending winter. He clutched the thermos of coffee and planted one foot after another, drinking in the morning air. Not that the days had all been so great lately, but early morning seemed another world, another time, and he could forget for awhile the things that had gone bad, the dark days and dangers all around him.

  It was still quiet at this hour, before the jostling groups of foul-mouthed workers invaded his home. They’d come today, even on a Saturday, he knew. No peace. But for this brief hour, it was just Joe and his pond and the soft flat lilies floating along the surface. But no Ollie, who used to bring him blueberry muffins that he’d make all by himself, and they’d sit beside the pond while the last remnants of the sky’s galaxies faded into the light of day. And he’d let Ollie go on and on and on about those planets and stars that were so real to him they nearly became family. Lordy, how Joe missed that boy. Loved Ollie like a son, quirks and all. He was a good boy. Not sharp-tongued like that sister of his. Not cruel like his father. Kind and gentle, just like his sweet mother, God bless her soul.

  The thought of Oliver gripped Joe fiercely, and he paused on the flagstone pathway, his head cloudy and sad. Then, with the commitment he’d made to Ollie, he continued on toward his pond, trying to push the painful thoughts aside. Old Missus Harrington had left it up to him to watch over Ollie—even gave him the apartment up behind the garage so he’d stay close. And what’d he done? Let him get killed. And now he’d have to do something about it. Bring honor back to the boy. And now at last he knew how to do it. He’d right the wrong. Just like the Bible told him to do.

  Joe settled down on one of the boulders that ringed the lily pond. He remembered when they lifted those rocks in place years and years ago. Brought in a huge old crane and dropped them right in place. Directed it hisself. Joe carefully unscrewed the top of his thermos and felt the steam rise up his nose, wetting the thin hairs.

  He hadn’t understood Oliver’s ranting at first. Ollie’d been so mad, he didn’t make much sense. The boy didn’t get mad much, but this time he thought he’d lost not just what was his, but a part of his soul, he told Joe. People given him the short end of things all his life, he’d said. But this time it was wrong. They couldn’t take it away from him. He wouldn’t let it happen.

  Joe hadn’t quite understood, thought Ollie was talking off the top of his head like he sometimes did. But now Joe finally understood. And finally he had the proof he needed to make it right. He’d show the high and mighty Adele Harrington, sure as he knew his name was Joe Bates.

  Joe leaned forward, staring into the water, cleaned by the dozens of Koi that swam in slow circles just beneath the surface. Soon his boy would rest in peace. Joe bowed his head and briefly removed the faded Royals baseball cap from his head. With gnarled fingers, he made a sign of the cross over his chest. Requiescat in pace. Least he could do. He squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his arms around his body, silently praying he’d have the strength to do this one last thing for Ollie. He slipped the cap back over his thinning white hair.

  With his eyes closed, Joe didn’t see the shadow fall across the pond. And with his hearing not so perfect anymore, he missed the light play of tennis shoes across the path, missed the lifting of the large stone rock behind his back, up in the air over his head. Felt only the rush of air as the large rock crushed down unforgiving on the top of his head.

  For a brief second, Joe saw the lilies and the fish look up at him. Spread apart. Welcome him.

  And then all was black, and Joe’s body folded over and rolled off the rock as gracefully as a seal that was through sunning himself, and slipped silently beneath the cool, soothing water of his pond.

  Requiescat in pace.

  CHAPTER 14

  Maggie’s new van was parked at the curb, directly in front of Selma’s store. She stood on the sidewalk beside it, beaming. “Okay, ladies,” she said, “this may be your only chance to ride in my new chariot before it’s full of dog hair and tools.”

  “Mags, it’s beautiful,” Kate said, admiring the shiny white van with “Helmers Pet Care” painted along the side in bright blue swirling letters.

  “Thanks, Kate.” Maggie put her hands on her hips, her eyes bright. “I’m keeping the truck for old times’ sake— but isn’t this a hunk? And before I take out a row for cages, it will nicely fit all eight of us, I do believe.” She slid open the big side door to reveal three rows of seats.

  “Very nice, Maggie,” Po said. “It’s about time you got something for yourself. And it’s a vast improvement from that rusty truck, beloved or not.”

  “Let’s get this show on the road,” Selma said. “I want to be back before the Saturday crowd comes in and drives my staff crazy.”

  “Selma, don’t fret so,” Susan said, “things will be fine. You need to start taking some time off, away from the store.”

  “And realize that it really will survive without you,” Leah chimed in.

  Selma waved off their words and pulled herself up into the van, puffing a little as she settled herself near the window. “Hand me my bag, will you?” she asked Phoebe, who promptly spun her diminutive body up next to Selma, her own backpack and Selma’s sewing bag in tow.

  “Very cool, Maggie,” P
hoebe said as she reached down and helped Eleanor up into the van.

  Kate, Leah, and Susan slipped around the settled bodies into the wide back seat, Po joined Maggie in the front, and in minutes the Queen Bees were off, heading down Elderberry Road toward the Harrington mansion.

  “Why do you suppose Adele wanted us all to come?” Maggie called back over her shoulder. “You’d think looking at quilts on the beds would be the last thing she’d be thinking about.”

  Po shifted on the seat. “I think she’s just wanting some assurance that something in her planning is going right and is under her control. She seemed jittery yesterday when I talked to her.”

  “Very jittery,” Kate piped up from the back of the van. “And a little paranoid. She stopped me yesterday as I was biking by the house—she was pulling out of the drive in that long Cadillac of hers—and wanted to know if I had seen anyone suspicious in the neighborhood. I almost felt sorry for her.”

  “This is an enormous undertaking for her,” Po said. “Max said it’s costing more than she had thought, as things do.”

  “Well, maybe we can cheer her up a bit,” Leah said. “I think our quilt tops are beautiful.”

  “Of course they are!” Phoebe said.

  “And we’re here,” Maggie announced, pulling into the driveway.

  “This is the first time in weeks I’ve been able to see all the way back to the carriage house,” Po said as Maggie pulled over to the side of the drive and turned off the ignition. “Not a truck in sight.”

  “But there will be,” Selma said. “The renovation crew is here seven days a week, old Mrs. Porter tells me. She said she can hear the commotion all the way from her house on the corner. She’s ready to spit fire at Adele. Her husband patrols the street, just waiting for something to go wrong.”

  “A truck ran over the Porter’s new chrysanthemum bed, Mrs. P announced last week in the supermarket,” Eleanor added. “Unhappy neighbors are not a good thing.”

  “But it is a good thing we beat the mob. Shall we get this over with?” Po asked, opening the van door and stepping out into the drive.

  The others followed suit, and when they walked up the wide fan of steps leading to the front door, Adele was waiting for them.

  “You are prompt, as always,” Adele said, holding open the door. “Thank you for coming.”

  “Like I haven’t been dying to see the inside of this place?” Phoebe answered. She touched Adele on the arm and smiled brightly. “This is amazing, Adele. I want to see every single inch of it.”

  Po watched the exchange and noticed the instinctive tightening of Adele’s muscles at Phoebe’s light touch. The poor woman probably isn’t touched much, she thought, and the thought made Po suddenly sad.

  “I thought we would go directly up to the guest rooms and lay each quilt out on a bed so I can get a feeling for how they fit in,” Adele said, and led the group of women carrying their quilt tops up a wide, winding staircase to the second floor. Her back was rod straight, and her face unreadable as she walked next to Po.

  “Maybe my sweet Emma will get married here,” Phoebe whispered to Kate, her small hand sliding along the walnut banister.

  “Phoebe, she’s three years old.” Kate laughed.

  “Well, one needs to plan.” Phoebe lifted her chin up into the air.

  When they reached the top, Adele waved the Bees into separate rooms, directing them to smooth their tops out on the beds.

  Po walked into the small room that had been Oliver’s. Everything was the same as the last time she had seen it— the book case filled with books, the small desk positioned beneath the window with a yellow pad of paper and cup of pencils ready for his use, the copy of Professor Fellers’ book. She stretched out her quilt on the narrow bed and stood back.

  “It’s perfect,” Adele said from the doorway. She looked at the stars shining up from the bed.

  Po turned. “You think Ollie would have approved?”

  Adele nodded. A sad smile eased the sternness in her face.

  “This must be difficult for you,” Po said.

  “I don’t let things be difficult, Po. It’s a choice.”

  “Not always, Adele. But you do seem to handle things that would get the better of most of us.”

  Adele didn’t answer. She walked over to the window and stood next to Oliver’s telescope, pointed up to the sky.

  Po walked over to her side.

  “I didn’t neglect my brother, you know.” Adele’s voice was so soft Po could barely hear her words. “I did the best I could under the circumstances. Things are not always as they seem.”

  Po felt an urge to wrap an arm around Adele, to pull her close and comfort her. But she knew instinctively the slight openness Adele had allowed would disappear in a heartbeat if she disrupted the moment.

  Adele looked back at the quilt, and when she spoke this time, the softness was gone, and the protective shield was back in place. “The colors are good and the paint color goes well with it, don’t you think?”

  Po nodded. She looked around the room and agreed that the deep blue of the walls and the white smooth woodwork were perfect for the multi-starred quilt. And then her gaze settled on Ollie’s desk and the yellow pad, waiting to be used. “Ollie didn’t use a computer, did he? But he loved to write. I can’t imagine writing anything in long-hand anymore.”

  “He wrote all the time, even as a child. It was one thing he could do well, even when he didn’t always communicate well in conversation. Some people are like that, you know.

  “He wanted to write a book someday. That Peterson girl wanted all his writings, but I wouldn’t give them to her. Why would I do that?” Adele shook her head and bent over to smooth the quilt with the flat of her hand. “Everyone wants a piece of Ollie,” she said softly.

  “People liked your brother, Adele,” Po said.

  Adele didn’t answer, but the slight nod of her head and sad smile told Po that she knew it to be true.

  “Here you two are,” Selma said, walking into the room. “I think all the quilts are going to work beautifully, Adele.” Adele turned around. “You’ve all done a nice job. Once they’re completely finished, we’ll have an open house so everyone can see. And now we will have coffee and scones down on the back veranda before you leave.”

  “No need for that,” Selma began, but Adele had already walked out into the hallway and started down the steps, motioning for everyone to gather their quilt tops and follow her.

  “I guess we’ll have coffee and scones,” Selma said to Po, shrugging her shoulders. “But let’s keep it short, Po. I have a full day ahead of me.”

  “We all do, Selma. I agree. Short it will be.”

  The wrought iron table on the brick veranda was set with an embroidered tablecloth, and a platter of blueberry scones sat in the center, next to a vase of bright yellow mums and pot of sweet butter. Adele urged them to make themselves comfortable and slipped back inside to get the coffee.

  “This is so lovely,” Po said, admiring the fairytale setting. She stood next to Kate at the stone railing of the wide veranda and looked over the yard. Sunlight streamed through the trees, casting soft shadows across the recently mowed grass.

  “This backyard is awesome,” Phoebe said, walking up beside them. “So cool! If we put in a slide and wading pool, it would be a perfect park for Emma and Jude.”

  “It doesn’t have a wading pool, Phoebe, but there’s a pond down beyond that clump of trees,” Kate said, pointing to the flagstone path that led to Joe’s pond. “Joe Bates— the gardener—tends to it so lovingly you’d think Monet was going to show up to paint lilies any day,”

  “I want to see it,” Phoebe said. She looked back toward the French doors. “Let’s go look. Adele is still inside.”

  “I’m sure she’d be happy for us to admire the grounds,” Po said. “She’s put so much effort into cleaning everything up.” The three women walked down the steps leading into the backyard and walked slowly toward the pond, admiring
the touch of color in the tips of the Japanese Maples. “I came out here a few times with Oliver and Joe Bates to see the pond—it was lovely then, but now the yard is so green and lush you want to roll on it.”

  “This will be a magical place next spring when all the hydrangeas and dogwoods bloom,” Kate said. “I think you’re right about it being an ideal spot for a wedding.”

  “Maybe you and P.J. can tie the knot here,” Phoebe said.

  Kate laughed. “Do you know something I don’t, Phoebe?”

  Po listened to the banter, wondering if Phoebe’s prediction would come true any time soon. Things seemed to be heading in that direction, and having Kate and P.J. married would certainly fill her with joy. She thought of her dear friend Liz, and knew Kate’s mother must be watching over this relationship with a bit of joy herself.

  “This is wonderful,” Phoebe said, walking around a shade grove of hydrangeas circling a clump of towering pine trees. “A pond in the park.”

  “Looks like Joe beat us out here,” Kate said as they neared the pond. She pointed to a thermos lying by the rocks.

  “I wonder if he’s around,” Po said. “I don’t want to frighten him. His hearing isn’t very good anymore.” She looked over toward the gardens as Phoebe and Kate rounded the mound of rocks on one side of the pond.

  “Po,” Kate said, staring into the pond. “Po, come here.” Her voice was urgent.

  Phoebe followed the point of Kate’s finger down toward the edge of the pond where a clump of lilies fanned out, separating from one another. A faded blue KC Royals cap floated between the leaves.

  Po stared down into the water. And as the lilies moved in the chilly breeze, she spotted what caused the urgency in Kate’s voice. The blue ball cap moved slowly away, and beneath it, a school of brilliantly colored koi swam in and out of the waving strands of Joe Bates’ thinning white hair.

  CHAPTER 15

  Going to Marla’s bakery and café Sunday morning with Leah Sarandon was a tradition as old as Po and Leah’s friendship, and it was in keeping with that tradition and nothing else that found the two women sitting in the busy bakery the day after finding Joe Bates’ body. They were surrounded by gossip thicker than the syrup Marla served with her blueberry pancakes.