“What about the stolen quilt? Has it been found?” Gracie laid the brush down and gathered a little fawn-colored topknot on the wriggling dog. She clipped a red bow on the impatient Dinah, whose pink tongue flashed in and out of her tiny mouth, trying to lick her hand. Once Gracie patted the dog’s side, Dinah finally sat, enjoying the attention.
“Well … there’s a development about the quilt.”
Here it was. The crux of the matter. She knew the defeated tone in her mother’s voice.
***
Marc seemed unsurprised when Gracie filled him in at lunchtime.
“I knew something was going on. Insurance fraud is a serious matter.”
“Pastor Minders won’t be in trouble, will he? After all, he had no idea.”
“No. I wouldn’t think so,” Marc said. He poured himself another glass of water from the pitcher at the kitchen bar.
“But Lulu could be,” Gracie mused.
“Hopefully the insurance company wouldn’t go after her. She didn’t hide the quilt—so she says, and she didn’t support the claim in any way.”
Gracie placed her glass and plate in the dishwasher after rinsing it under the faucet. “Any news from your Mom?”
“No, but the FBI agent called. They do have the guy in custody. With any luck, they can keep him off the streets.”
“Good. I’ve got to get back to work. The afternoon grooming schedule is full, and the rest of the week is just as bad. Plus, I need to order some flowers for poor Marian.”
“I’ll finish spreading the dirt and fixing the lawn today. It’s one thing I can do for you before I leave.”
Marc handed his dishes to Gracie and grabbed a hooded sweatshirt from the back of the dining room chair.
He disappeared through the French doors with the dogs, and Gracie wiped down the counter. Her cell phone buzzed in the back pocket of her jeans.
“Mom, what’s up?”
“I hate to bother Marc again, so I thought I’d call you. Lulu had a scary run in with Art Walczak today. I was wondering if Marc might have a talk with him.”
“You do know Marc isn’t a deputy anymore?”
“I know. But Lulu’s really upset. She doesn’t want to call the police, so I thought—”
Gracie’s patience had yet to appear on the horizon for the day. “Mom! Marc is busy. He leaves Wednesday morning. Tell her to call the police.”
The silence on the other end stretched into an awkward one before Theresa replied. “You’re right. Sorry. I’ll talk to Lulu again.”
“I’m sorry too. It’s really hectic here. Tell her to call the sheriff’s office if Art really threatened her.”
“Sure. I will. I didn’t mean to cause a problem.”
The call ended. Gracie stood, staring at the screen. What in the world was Art threatening Lulu about? Was it over the missing quilt? She stuffed the phone back in her pocket and jogged back to the kennel.
***
Isabelle followed Albert and Gloria Minders into the chilly house. The pastor flipped a light switch, illuminating the gloomy living room.
“I’ll take it from here.” Isabelle’s businesslike tone raised the pastor’s eyebrows, but he kept a smile on his face.
“Certainly. We’ll wait for you.”
Gloria twisted her mouth into a disgusted expression, as she plopped into an armchair. Crocheted doilies were draped over each arm and on the headrest. The sound of a vehicle turned their attention to the front windows.
“That looks like Kevin’s car,” Gloria said, holding the curtain back.
The pastor called up the stairway, “Were you expecting Kevin?”
Quick footsteps came to the top of the stairs. “Kevin’s here?”
“I believe so.”
“I’ll be right down.”
Albert answered the knock at the front door, and Kevin stepped into the living room.
“I thought I’d catch up with Isabelle to look the house over,” he explained, adjusting his blue-and-gray striped tie. “I’m not sure the house is right for her.”
“Kevin! Are you following me around today?” Isabelle was not pleased to see her boyfriend. Her narrowed eyes and a disapproving frown were his greeting.
“I thought I’d take a look myself. It is in pre-foreclosure. Just looking out for the bank’s interests.”
The Minders looked at each other and back to the sparring couple. Gloria could feel the smoldering acrimony.
“Can I show you around?” Albert asked. “The furnace or …”
“Is there an attic in the house?” Kevin asked. “I’d like to check the insulation.”
Isabelle shot him a suspicious look. “I saw an access panel in the hallway ceiling upstairs,” she replied. “I’d like to see the basement, Reverend.”
Gloria wondered about following Kevin upstairs and then decided to assist her husband. Empty canning jars sat in neat rows on two sets of metal shelves off to one side of the small basement. A crawl space yawned into blackness past the block walls that came halfway up to the floor overhead. Gloria stepped gingerly over a mousetrap, which fortunately was empty. She poked at a couple of cardboard boxes that seemed a bit damp. There were old pots and pans in one; the other held a few dishes. Nothing interesting. There were certainly no hiding places for an antique quilt. The dampness would mildew it into oblivion.
“That’s all the mechanicals,” Albert said, dusting off his hands. “The hot water tank looks fairly new. Did you want to have a look at the attic?”
“No. I’ll put in an offer today and have my home inspector do that. I’ll check out the kitchen and downstairs bathroom before I go though.” Isabelle brushed off the tweed blazer and bone-colored blouse.
“Of course,” Albert said, motioning for Gloria to join them in ascending the cellar steps.
Arriving back in the kitchen, Gloria expected Kevin to be finished with his attic inspection. No sound from above indicated he was upstairs though. She decided to check out his location, while Isabelle made notes on her iPad. His unexpected appearance had made her a bit skeptical as to his real reasons for stopping by. No one was on the second floor. The pull rope on the attic access door dangled a bit lower than before. No wonder. The mechanism hadn’t gone completely back into place. Where had he disappeared to? Quickly making her way downstairs, she glanced out the window at the driveway and saw that Kevin’s car was no longer there.
“Kevin left,” she announced, joining her husband and Isabelle in the kitchen.
“Good,” Isabelle answered with annoyance. “He doesn’t think this house is a good deal for me for some reason.”
“I think the house is sound and would be a good income property,” Albert said, cleaning his glasses on his blue-and-gray, diamond-patterned sweater vest. “It may need a bit of work though.”
“They all need work, Reverend. I’ll have to rehab the house across the street and this one too. Outdated kitchens and bathrooms don’t attract the best renters.”
“The house across the street?” Gloria asked.
“The Cook house. I’m closing on it in a few weeks.”
Gloria felt her mouth gape, and she covered it with her hand. “I had no idea.”
CHAPTER 28
The early morning farewell had been tough. Gracie’s eyes were still red and unfortunately puffy. She patted a cold washcloth underneath them, hoping that the evidence of her brief crying jag would be erased before walking down to the kennel. Despite her best efforts, her emotions had gotten the best of her when Marc and Max had driven away. Even Haley was droopy; the Lab’s normal enthusiasm level had dipped significantly. Haley was curled up on the bed in front of the fireplace, rather than begging to go out and run. Marc had left for the airport before dawn with Max hyped up, ready for action. She wondered how the dog would react to flying and the training situation.
The sunrise stretched over the horizon. Tendrils of light illumined the red and gold leaves of the maples in the backyard. The doomed birch tree was now
gone, a stack of wood ready to be seasoned for next year. It was shaping up to be a beautiful fall day.
Finishing her coffee, Gracie pulled on a sweatshirt and whistled for Haley.
“Come on girl. Time for work.”
Haley thumped her tail on the floor, rattling the tags on her collar before making a dash for the door. The pair jogged down the driveway to the kennel, with Haley flushing out a cottontail near the storage barn. The dog seemed satisfied she’d made it run and continued to the kennel entrance. Unlocking the door to the reception area, Gracie swiftly keyed in the code to disarm the security system. A chorus of yips and woofing began, and Haley was off to greet the boarders.
The routine of making coffee and firing up the computer took a couple of minutes. She then printed off the schedule of grooming appointments. She’d be on the run all day shampooing and clipping as fast as she could. Yesterday’s news that Marian would be out of commission for six weeks had her wondering if hiring a temporary groomer would be the best thing.
“Hey, Chief,” Jim called, tromping through the reception area to the office.
“Morning, Jim.” She turned her back to focus on the monitor and print out the arrival and departure schedule.
“Everything all right?”
“Yeah. Just a little preoccupied.”
“And a touch upset by the groom’s departure,” Jim guessed.
She looked up after clicking on the print icon. “A touch,” she agreed, her eyes suddenly welling with tears. “But it’s a busy day, which is probably a very good thing since I won’t be able to talk to him until the weekend.”
“Really? What’s up with that?”
“Orders. It’s very military-like. No communication until they have some free time on Saturday.”
“It’ll go by fast,” Jim said optimistically. He laid the morning paper on the desk and went for the coffee pot.
“Right. That’s what I’m telling myself.”
They sat in silence as Jim opened the newspaper and drank coffee. Haley came trotting in, rounding the corner from the grooming room next door. She sniffed in expectation.
“No Marian and no extra treats. I told you that it was now diet time for you, my chubby one,” Gracie admonished the disappointed dog.
“You’re so mean to that dog,” Jim teased. Haley immediately went to Jim and sat, placing a paw on his knee.
“Right. It’s for her own good. Anything interesting in the news?”
Jim rattled the pages. “Nothing much. Last movie of the year at the drive-in is coming up. Antique car rally at the Charcoal Corral. Oh, and there’s a fabric art show coming up in November. It’s in Batavia. Interested?”
Gracie shook her head. “Not really. What kind of art?”
“Fabric, it says. Embroidery, crewel and counted cross stitch, applique work, quilts, and much more.”
“Sounds like something for my mother. Sewing of any kind was never my cup of tea.”
“Ah … well, I guess it’s work, work, work for you.” He folded the paper and handed the section to her. “Also, heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it’s off to work, work, work for me. Food delivery is coming today, and Cheryl needs some help setting up the agility course stuff for tonight’s class.”
“All right then. You’re helping with play times too, right? There’s no way I can do them with Trudy.”
“Absolutely. Somebody’s got to handle the Irish wolfhound. I think he’s a little big for Trudy.”
“She’s fine with him, but I’m sure MacGyver will be pleased to play with you.” She flipped to the back page of the newspaper, an ad catching her eye.
“Did you see this ad for rentals in Deer Creek?”
Jim shook his head. “What rentals?”
“Houses in Deer Creek. Looks like my cousin is out to be a slumlord now. She’s now DC Property Management.”
Jim laughed. “I highly doubt Izzy would have anything to do with slums.”
“Well, probably not slums, but she may take over Deer Creek. It could become her fiefdom.”
“That I might buy, but no rest for the wicked. I need to—”
The bell on the front jangled. Trudy called out a cheery greeting, with Cheryl adding her “good morning.”
“The troops are here,” Jim said, slapping his leg for Haley to follow. “Let’s rock and roll.”
Two cocker spaniels sat in the drying area, while Gracie had a firm grip on a squirming beagle, who was boisterously unhappy about a pedicure.
“All right, Oliver. One more paw and you’re free to go.” She grimaced, adjusting her position to isolate his hind paw. The beagle whined, finally giving up on baying like he’d found a rabbit, and pulled his foot from her grasp. “Not so fast, buddy.” She speedily filed down the long claw-like nails to their proper length with the new nail grinder, which obviated any blood-letting caused by clipping into the quick of an uncooperative canine.
She’d just deposited him in a separate area from the cockers, when her mother appeared in the doorway.
“Hi, Mom. What’s up?” She took off her heavy apron and hung it on the wall hook.
“I’m just checking to see if Marc and Max got off all right this morning.”
“They did. And I’m fine. Yes, it was difficult. But I’m fine.”
Theresa made wry face. “Okay, smarty pants. I’m your mother. Inquiring mind and all that. For your information, you’re not the only reason I stopped by.”
Gracie groaned. It had to be the drama on Oak Street again.
“Is Art Walczak still threatening Lulu or something?”
Her mother hesitated, and Gracie feared another visit to Lulu’s was in her future.
“Gloria heard that Isabelle purchased Lulu’s house. She’s also put in an offer to buy Franny’s.”
“I saw her property management ad in the paper this morning. Apparently, Izzy’s on the move with real estate.”
“She’s an astute business woman. But the strange thing is that Lulu hasn’t mentioned the sale to anyone.”
Gracie walked past her mother, heading for the office. Theresa followed, pulling off her jacket and laying it on Jim’s ratty green plaid recliner.
“No crime there,” Gracie said, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Want some?”
Theresa shook her head, picking at some pilled fibers from the sleeve of her blue shaker-knit sweater. “The hoarding and now finding out that she’s sold the house don’t add up to me.”
“You’re over-thinking it, Mom. She’s probably ready to downsize and realized the house was too much to deal with. It seems like a good thing to me. She has to get rid of her stuff that way.”
Theresa moved her coat and sat on the recliner. “That’s what your father says.” She frowned and continued. “I’ve known Lulu for a long time. She’s never traveled and has always loved her house. I think something happened that triggered her hoarding mania.”
“Her husband died, and she’s been a little obsessed with her sewing, but now she’s cleaning up her act. What are you worried about?”
Theresa stood, slipping the jacket on. “She didn’t tell anyone she planned on moving away. That’s unheard of. Well, I’d better run. I’m glad you’re okay. Friday night fish fry, right?”
“Sure. What about Tom and Kelly?”
“They’ll be there. Emma has some special SAT workshop, so she’s busy.”
Theresa hurried through the doorway, with Gracie on her heels to return to continue the grooming schedule.
“I’ll see you then. Stay out of trouble, Mom.”
***
Lulu stood in the garage, contemplating which container to begin with. She shivered and zipped up her old sweatshirt jacket. The dampness chilled her to the bone.
What if Franny had put the quilt in one of these tubs? The Stederman quilt was nowhere to be found at Franny’s. The stupid thing needed to be located. The pastor was stressing about it; it was a major asset of Franny’s estate. Poor Franny! What a stupid, stupid plan! Why had sh
e agreed to go along with it? If Art found it first, he’d sell it in a heartbeat, although how he’d have connections to do that, she could not imagine. It must be on the most wanted quilt list somewhere. Then there was Franny’s cousin who had laid claim to it. Maybe it should stay lost. The old thing had certainly become a huge problem—maybe even a curse. No way did she want to be in possession of it. Her own plans would be wrecked beyond repair if that happened.
She grunted, pushing a stack away from the workbench, and located a light that Ed had used when he worked on his truck. Plugging in the square, black work-light, she set it on the floor to shine on the container maze, the bright lamp revealed the full extent of her hoarding. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t let the recycling company take anything unless she’d looked through it all. It could take forever.
“Lulu? Are you here?” Theresa called, stepping through the side door.
Two hours later, Lulu and Theresa emerged from the garage, smudges of dirt on their hands and faces.
“Franny’s quilt isn’t in there,” Theresa confirmed, finding a tissue in her coat pocket and rubbing it across her dirty palms.
“Thank goodness,” Lulu breathed. “I needed to be sure. The recycling company comes tomorrow.”
“What about all the quilts and the sewing supplies?”
Lulu sighed. “I don’t know. It’s so overwhelming. I just want to get rid of everything.”
“I’m sure the Red Cross or the homeless shelters could use the quilts. Or you could send more of them to Mexico. The church could help—”
Lulu eyes blazed. “Send more to Mexico? What do you mean?” she demanded.
***
Gloria handed a hot cup of tea to her friend. Theresa sank into the chair at the kitchen table, wrapping her hands around the cup. The warmth of the homey kitchen, smelling of fresh baked cookies, felt good after working so long in the freezing garage with Lulu.
“It was dumb, but it slipped out. I was only making conversation the day I mailed the package to the orphanage. She was really mad.”
Pins & Needles (A Gracie Andersen Mystery Book 5) Page 16