“But maybe it was meant to look like you took it,” Theresa offered gently.
“Maybe.” Lulu looked at her friends, as if trying to decide whether to elaborate. Finally, she said, “Yes. Franny and I hatched a plan to keep Art from selling her last asset. She needed money to get away from him for good. He was constantly hounding her for money she didn’t have. He claimed to have a buyer who’d give them top dollar.”
“Give them top dollar?” Theresa asked, puzzled.
“Right. That was the problem. Art expected a cut of the sale of the quilt as a finder’s fee of some sort. Of course, Franny wasn’t going to sell. It’s a family heirloom. But she was having trouble making payments on the house … and …”
“Which means collecting the insurance money, while hanging on to the quilt, became a possibility,” Gloria said.
Lulu shifted uneasily, looking at the floor. “Right. And I said I’d help her. She could blame me, and no one would find it, because I didn’t have it. She wanted to sell the house and leave Deer Creek. Go where Art couldn’t find her. He’s not a nice guy, and Franny put up with an awful lot over the years. This was the last straw. She needed to get away from him.”
“But they were divorced. Art didn’t have any right to something that belonged to Franny,” Theresa said, rising and returning to the kitchen where she hung up the towel on a knob.
“That wouldn’t stop Art and hasn’t. The more I think about it, I’m sure he was in my garage the night Franny was there, trying to find the quilt. It was supposed be a little skit for the neighbors. I’d yell at her for being in the garage, and she’d yell back and then go home. It all fell apart.”
“Like Franny’s act with us in your yard?”
Lulu nodded. When Theresa returned, Gloria had produced two more chairs, so they all could sit down.
Lulu cleared her throat. “There was another voice I heard that night. Art must have had someone else with him. I wish I could be sure though. But I am quite sure he was the one who broke into the garage today.”
Gloria stood, chewing her bottom lip. “Which makes it difficult to report, with this backstory you’ve told us.”
Lulu nodded, with a sheepish expression. “I had to tell someone. It’s eating me up. I’m afraid he may try to break into my house next. What if he’s violent?” She walked into the kitchen, dumping the rest of the water from the glass and placing it on the counter.
“Why is Art so strapped for money?”
“A good question, Theresa. He’s perpetually broke and guilted Franny into helping him even after the divorce. He had a gambling problem at one time, maybe he’s always had it, but Franny hated talking about him. It always brought on one of her spells. I just wanted to help her.” Lulu pinched the bridge of her long nose, a pained expression on her face.
Gloria sighed. “This is a bit of a mess. The stolen quilt isn’t stolen, but you don’t know where it is. We need to stop the insurance claim right away, which means we’d better go talk to the executor, who’s waiting for his Sunday dinner.”
***
Albert Minders’ look of astonishment was only outdone by his uncharacteristic outburst: “Are you kidding me?!”
Lulu shrank back from her usually mild-mannered pastor, looking like a trapped animal.
“I’m sorry, Lulu,” he said immediately, adjusting his glasses. “Really. Let’s sit down and talk about this.”
Gloria busied herself in the kitchen, warming up a pot of leftover beef stew. She sliced into a dark loaf of pumpernickel bread, straining to hear the conversation in the living room. Poor Theresa must be grinding her teeth over missing this tête–à–tête. She’d demand a full report.
Albert regained his composure, and his voice was even and low.
“Let me understand this. The quilt really wasn’t stolen. Franny and you wanted it to appear that way.”
“Oh yes. I’m so sorry. I’m afraid it may have killed her. Her heart was bad, and the stress of Art pressuring her and making the insurance claim, the silly act to search the garage to make it look real—it was too much for her.” Lulu sniffed and then blew her nose, sounding like a sick goose.
Gloria edged toward the doorway, listening intently and trying to decide if she should invite Lulu to stay for dinner. Deciding against it, she went back to the stove to give the stew a thorough stir and lowered the heat.
Albert scratched his head, ruffling his hair. He leaned back on the couch, his hands in a prayer pose, but fingers tapping against one another. Gloria impetuously joined her husband, perching on the arm of the couch.
“Well, you can let the insurance company know you’re cancelling the claim. No harm, no foul, in my opinion.”
The pastor shot his wife a sideways glance. “I’m responsible for all the assets of the estate. I can cancel the claim, but what about the quilt? Franny’s relatives are very interested in obtaining possession of it, and it may be rightly theirs, after seeing the old agreement you found at the house. Then there’s the promissory note that Art insists is legitimate. There’s no way there are enough assets to pay off all the debt.”
“I’m so sorry, Pastor. It’s all my fault for going along with it.” Lulu fidgeted, straightening a couple of magazines piled on the coffee table. She stopped and looked at the Minders. “There’s an agreement about the quilt?”
“Oh yes,” Gloria said. “Theresa and I found it when we were picking out an outfit for Franny. Ownership or use of the quilt was given to each side of the family, depending on whether it was an odd or even year.”
Lulu looked puzzled. “She never told me about that. I wonder why.”
Albert harrumphed, raising his eyebrows. “She was very attached to it,” he stated.
“She was. But I’m not sure what to do about the garage break-in. Do I report it? I don’t want the police at my house again. I can barely stand to go into the garage.”
“You shouldn’t ignore it,” Albert said firmly. “You don’t know for certain it was Art. Your safety is a priority.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I’m having a service clean it out anyway. It’s time to move on with my life.” Lulu stared into the distance and then stood. “I’d better go.” Her tone was brusque. Lulu was back to normal.
“If you need anything, please call,” Gloria urged, seeing her to the door.
“I will. But … oh, never mind,” she finished quickly, hurrying to her car parked on the street.
CHAPTER 26
“My top secret clearance is official,” Marc bragged, a broad smile on his face. He laid the cell phone on the kitchen bar. “Everything is a go for Wednesday, according to Mr. MacElroy himself.”
Gracie pulled the roasting pan from the oven, setting it on top of the range. “That’s good. Everything seems to confirm it was the right decision.”
Max trotted into the kitchen with Haley right behind, her nails clicking on the tile.
“You two are scroungers. No chicken for you,” she scolded the dogs, who sniffed and jockeyed for position around the stove.
Haley sat at Gracie’s feet and put her front paws in the air, begging oh-so-very-pathetically.
“How can you tell her ‘no’ after such a touching performance?”
“No problem. She’s getting a little too heavy. Marian is always giving her treats, which now won’t be for a while. I will be stinking busy while you’re away. That’s probably good, because I’m going to be desolate without you.”
“Double for me,” Marc said, kissing the back of her neck.
She turned and put her arms around his neck. “We definitely need a real honeymoon when your training is over.”
“Why is that? This one seems to be going just fine, plus we have a fabulous chicken dinner. When do we eat?”
She pushed him away, with a chuckle. “As soon as you finish setting the table, Mr. Stevens.”
Halfway through their meal, Gracie’s cell sounded. It was her mother.
“Not even one day of time alone,” Gracie complained,
contemplating not answering the call.
“She’s probably making sure the dinner was okay.”
“Maybe,” she replied, swiping the phone’s screen.
The chicken dinner wasn’t on Theresa’s mind, and it wasn’t long after the dishes were placed in the dishwasher that the couple drove to Oak Street to pay a visit to Lulu Cook.
Theresa and Lulu stood on the side lawn, while Marc examined the broken padlock on the side entrance to the garage. Gracie followed Marc in and whistled. It looked like an explosion of cloth strewn around the old garage. The concrete floor was cracked and broken in a few places that weren’t covered by quilts and sewing supplies. A single overhead lightbulb didn’t help illuminate the area well. The majority of containers were open, and some were overturned, the contents strewn about.
“Ho-ly cow. Mom wasn’t exaggerating. I can’t believe the amount of stuff in here.”
“It’s a lot. Someone snipped the padlock and had themselves a heck of a time looking for something. I’m not sure if you could tell if anything had been stolen.” Marc pushed to the back of the garage, batting at cobwebs.
“We should’ve have brought a flashlight,” Gracie said, examining a couple of blue and yellow quilts. There was no doubt about it, Lulu was an excellent seamstress. “Do you think she should report it?”
Marc came back, brushing off his jeans and jacket. “Yes. But if nothing was taken, it won’t be a priority. It could’ve been kids doing a little pre-Halloween mischief. I don’t see anything to indicate who was in here.”
“End of story then.”
Marc shrugged. “Probably. But your Mom’s friend is acting a bit peculiar. There might be more to this than meets the eye.”
“She’s a hoarder. That’s plenty peculiar.”
“Agreed. There’s something else going on here, or we wouldn’t have gotten a call.”
Gracie stopped, righting a couple of Totes. “Absolutely correct, my handsome detective. Let me see if I can make them spill the beans.”
Neither Theresa nor Lulu were forthcoming on many more details. Lulu restated her fear that someone was searching for Franny’s quilt, which she adamantly maintained was not in her possession. Marc joined them on the lawn. The breeze was now icy, and thick clouds blew in from the west.
“It feels like snow,” Theresa grumbled, thrusting her hands into the pockets of her navy wool jacket.
“I guess,” Gracie agreed. “I’m really glad this held off until today.”
Marc handed the broken padlock to Lulu. “Mrs. Cook, I’d report the break-in, but if you’re sure nothing was taken, it will probably just be filed.”
“Thank you for checking it out, Marc. I hated to bother you on your honeymoon, but Theresa was sure it would be fine.”
Gracie glared at her mother, who seemed to be concerned with her shoes, which she scuffed on the grass.
“No problem,” Marc assured her. “After my mother-in-law’s gift of a delicious dinner, it’s only fair. You might want to have motion lights installed out here and replace the lock.”
“I will. Right away. Thank you.”
Walking to the red RAV4, Gracie glanced back at the women, who were still talking while entering the house.
“I don’t think she’s going to call the police, do you?”
Marc huffed. “No. For some reason, she needed someone official to check out the garage, or more accurately, your mother wanted me to. I’m telling you, there’s more to it than that.”
Gracie turned the ignition on as Marc fastened his seatbelt. “I’ll call her a little later and get to the bottom of it.”
Marc frowned.
“Don’t worry, that’s all.” She backed out of the driveway onto the street.
“I hope so. I’d hate to have to worry about you becoming tangled up in some bizarre sewing circle cloak-and-dagger thing. I’m kind of wondering about the company your mother keeps.”
Gracie laughed. “Interesting women—all of them,” she said, turning onto Main Street. “Let’s go home and—”
Marc’s cell phone interrupted with a loud buzzing.
“It’s my mother now.”
The conversation was brief, but Marc’s expression turned from amused to solemn.
“Are you sure? How could they have not picked him up? All right. I’ll call the agent.”
Gracie slowed the vehicle to turn onto Simmons Road. “What’s going on?”
“The FBI missed picking up this Adam Delaney, who’s been threatening Miranda. They found out at the airport. An FBI agent actually met them at the luggage carousel.”
“Oh no. I thought it was a sure thing.”
“So did I. Apparently, it wasn’t as simple as we were told. I’m calling the agent I talked to before they left.”
He scanned his recent call list and selected the agent’s number. The agent confirmed that Adam Delaney was still out there, but had left his phone at the location where they’d expected to arrest him. Marc rubbed his hand through his hair in agitation.
“It was too easy. I should’ve known,” he said tersely. “They’d better protect Miranda and Larry and my mother.”
“Are they?” Gracie turned the vehicle into the driveway, leaving it outside the garage.
“So they say. There are teams surveilling their homes. Miranda is probably having another meltdown, and I wouldn’t blame her.”
“Let’s hope they track him down today,” Gracie said, opening the door. “There’s nothing more you can do, so let’s try to enjoy what’s left of the afternoon. The Bills are playing a late game today.”
A few more phone calls throughout the football game broke up the monotony of three and out for the Bills. The FBI had regained its footing on locating Adam Delaney and expected to have him in custody before midnight. She was happy to see her husband’s more relaxed demeanor.
He brought in a plate of nachos, setting them on the blocky square coffee table. “Need anything else, while I’m roaming around here?”
Gracie stretched out her legs on the leather sofa, feeling the fatigue of the last week catching up with her.
“No. I don’t know if I can keep my eyes open much longer. I’m feeling dog-tired tonight.”
Marc bent and kissed her forehead. “The salsa on the nachos will perk you up.”
“Ha! I doubt it.” She leaned forward and snatched a generously cheese-and-salsa loaded tortilla chip. “Mmm. Very good.”
Her reaction brought the dogs to the coffee table. Max put a paw on the table and looked longingly at the plate. Marc grabbed a couple for himself and shooed the moochers back to the dog bed in front of the fireplace.
“Weren’t you going to call your mother about the quilt lady?”
Gracie swung her legs off the sofa and onto the floor. “That’s right. Totally forgot after the FBI manhunt thing.” She yawned. “I don’t want to do that now. My mind isn’t working all that well, and my mother can be pretty cagey. There’s always tomorrow.”
CHAPTER 27
Lulu tossed the plastic bag into the kitchen’s trash can and held the shiny new padlock. The walk to Evans Hardware this morning had been invigorating. The fall air was crisp, and she was one day closer to warm weather forever—if she could hold everything together for a few more weeks. She buttoned up her jacket and trundled out to the garage. Snapping the padlock on the hasp, she turned and found Art Walczak standing next to her.
“Art! You about scared me to death! What are you doing here?”
Art rubbed an unshaven jaw, his bushy eyebrows drawn together.
“I’m wondering when you’re turning over that quilt.”
“I don’t have it. I never had it. In fact …” She hesitated. Did she really want to be the one to tell him that the quilt hadn’t been stolen?
“Franny would’ve never accused you unless she was sure.” He dropped his hand to his side, making a fist.
Lulu edged away, calculating how far it was to the kitchen door. “Someone broke into my
garage yesterday. They cut the padlock off, as a matter of fact.”
Art’s eyes flickered, and he thrust his hands into pockets of his dirty baseball jacket. “Are you accusing me?”
“Should I?” Lulu began walking purposefully to the house.
Art tagged along. “No. I wasn’t in your garage. You can’t prove it either.”
“Didn’t say I could. But you were in the garage the night Franny died, weren’t you?” She stopped and looked coldly at the disheveled man.
He sucked in a breath and exhaled it into a white cloud. “You can’t prove that either.”
“Maybe not. I heard your voice and someone else’s too. Franny wasn’t in there alone. You and this other person could very well have—”
“You’re the one who knocked those tubs over on poor Franny. No one else did that. That’s the reason she had a heart attack. It’s all on you. Handing over the quilt is smart. Otherwise, something could happen to you.”
Lulu gasped. Clutching the top of her coat, she drew it around her throat. “You’re threatening me? In my own yard? Get out, Art, and stay off my property.”
Her voice was steely. The man’s chutzpah knew no bounds. She’d had enough of his bullying.
“No problem. Give me the quilt, and everything will be fine. If you don’t, I might let some people know you’re still hiding it, hoping to sell it after Franny’s estate is settled. The cops might be interested in searching your house, if that happens.”
Lulu felt the color drain from her face, her courage gone. “Leave me alone. I don’t have the stupid thing.”
How she wished Franny had given the quilt to a museum or historical society years ago!
“Okay then. Whatever you say. This isn’t over though.” Art stalked away and walked down Oak toward Main Street.
***
A brush in one hand, her cell phone pressed to her ear with her shoulder, and a Yorkie dancing on the grooming table gave Gracie the appearance of an awkward juggler.
“Mom, the whole thing was strange yesterday with Lulu. What’s really going on over there?”
“Someone broke into Lulu’s garage. I thought if Marc stopped by and assessed the situation, she’d feel better.”
Pins & Needles (A Gracie Andersen Mystery Book 5) Page 15