“Man or woman?” Gracie jumped in.
“Either one. Couldn’t say for sure. They were talking pretty quietly. What happened to him?”
“He had a pretty nasty fall and might have broken his leg,” Gracie said.
Butch shook his head. “That’s too bad. Hope he’ll be okay. You know there’s been a woman hanging around. I’ve seen her a couple of times this week around dusk. It’s when I walk Rocky.”
“You don’t know her?” Gloria asked.
“Never seen her before, but she was kinda bundled up in a big sweatshirt. Hard to see her face. I thought maybe she was the realtor or something since the sign just went up. Well, I’ve gotta get back.” Butch was off before the women could ask additional questions.
“That was enlightening,” Theresa commented.
“Yes. Interesting,” Gloria agreed, turning for the house.
“If you want my opinion,” Gracie said, clambering up the steps to the front door, “Art is still looking for the quilt.”
“That’s obvious,” Theresa answered with a dark laugh. “I want to know who’s helping him look.”
“We’d better get a move on to search ourselves,” Gloria reminded them. “Come on.”
Reaching Franny’s bedroom, they surveyed the mess. Gloria scooped up the discarded bed linens and pillows and dumped them on the bed.
Theresa scratched the side of her nose, looking around. The closet seemed like the best place to start.
The master bedroom closet was unusually spacious for an old house. A set of shelves held extra linens and out-of-season clothing. Theresa shoved the line of clothes aside on the opposite wall, the thin metal hangers grating on the old metal rod. A creamy white wall of bead board was exposed. A row of brass hooks held old handbags.
“Find anything, Mom?” Gracie bent over a storage container filled with winter clothes.
“No,” Theresa answered, watching Gloria sort through a pile of sheets. “It looks like Franny started to panel the closet and then quit for some reason. This wainscoting idea is quite pretty, and I love the storage for purses. I have no idea why she’d save these ratty old things though.”
Gracie stood and looked at the unfinished home improvement. “Too bad it didn’t go all the way around. It’s a nice look,” she said, running a hand over the wood. “Oh, look. There’s some sort of ventilation grill in here too.” She pointed at a long strip of wire mesh above the paneling, near the ceiling, that was painted to match the wood.
It seemed so out-of-place in the outdated décor. Gracie looked at the grooved wood again. She grasped the two hooks in the center and pulled.
CHAPTER 31
Adriana walked through the door, shedding her coat. Kevin took it from her, their hands momentarily touching in the transfer.
“I was hoping to catch Isabelle.” Adriana smoothed her hair into place and picked up a portfolio case, which rested against the wall.
“You’re in luck.” Kevin winked, pointing toward the dining room. “She’s in there.”
“Oh, it’s you,” Isabelle said, walking to meet her, a glass of white wine in her hand.
Adriana flashed an enthusiastic smile, patting the case. “I have the galleys here. I thought you’d want to see the finished product before it went to press next week.”
Isabelle relaxed, turning back to the living room. “Excellent. I was hoping to see them.”
“The house photos are perfect, if I do say so myself, and I think the article really does justice to how you’ve restored such a historic Deer Creek home. Readers are going to love it.”
Kevin poured a glass of red wine for Adriana while Isabelle examined the photo layout. Adriana crossed her long legs, which looked even longer in skinny jeans and the white sweater tunic.
“These photos are very good,” Isabelle concurred. “You captured the character of the house, especially the dining room.”
“I really wanted to feature it since you recently restored that space.”
Adriana uncrossed her legs, leaning forward to admire her work, which Isabelle had spread across the coffee table.
“Yes,” Isabelle said slowly. “You were able to shoot from every perspective.” She picked up the magazine galley and looked at the photos again. “Very nice. When did you finish these?”
“About three weeks ago. I’ve had such tight deadlines for work lately. I have one due tomorrow that I need to work on. Another historical magazine.” Adriana rubbed the back of her neck.
“You always manage to pull it off,” Kevin said, chuckling. “You’ve always been a good time manager.”
Isabelle glanced up at him, sliding the pages back to Adriana.
“What’s the subject of that photo shoot?” Isabelle asked before sipping at her wine.
“Antique textiles.” Adriana slipped the proofs into the portfolio. “I’ve been all over the countryside visiting old ladies who have all sorts of treasures lying around their houses.”
Isabelle leaned back against the sofa. “Really? So embroidery—samplers, that sort of thing?”
“Yeah. Quite a few. But I think the larger pieces of fabric art are much more interesting.”
“Larger? Like what?”
“Tapestries, rugs, and quilts.”
“Quilts are considered art?”
Adriana nodded. “Absolutely.” She eyed the handsome arts-and-crafts oak clock, with its decorative inlaid tile woodland scene. “I have to dash. I’ve got a gallery opening in Rochester tonight, and I promised to send a few wedding photos to your cousin Gracie by Friday.” She set her unfinished glass of cabernet on the coffee table.
“I’ll see you out,” Kevin said, rising from his chair.
Isabelle flipped on the TV, changing the channel to HGTV, kicking off her high heels. She stared at the screen, chewing on her bottom lip, fingernails pressed into the palms of her hands.
***
“Holy smokes!” Gracie exclaimed, backing away from the hidden compartment.
The small crack she’d seen between the panels had opened up to reveal a concealed space, about two feet deep and ten feet long.
Theresa’s eyes were round. Gloria sucked in a breath.
“What in the world?” Theresa said, surveying the rectangular opening.
A slim wooden rod hung on two sturdy hooks near the top of the opening, and another rod crossed the opening halfway down, which held what appeared to be a white sheet. A heap of white cotton fabric was underneath them. The area was cedar-lined and smelled strongly of the fragrant wood.
Gloria poked her head into the opening, and nudged the cloth on the floor with her toe. “Why would she store a couple of sheets in here?”
“This is more than linen storage,” Theresa guessed. “Look at it. Cedar and ventilation. I want to see what’s so special about this sheet hanging on the rod. Help me with this, Gracie.”
The heft and thickness of the sheet indicated that something more was inside as they carefully pulled it off the rod and took it to the bed. Buttons ran down two adjoining sides of the sheet, which Gloria quickly undid. She peeled back the covering to reveal a length of printed fabric in faded reds and blues. Birds and flowers were splattered across it.
“I recognize those patterns,” Theresa gasped. “They’re the appliques on Franny’s quilt.”
“No kidding,” Gracie said, wondering what exactly they’d found.
Gloria lifted another white sheet. “There’s more in here.”
A yellowy silk fabric lay underneath, fold marks still evident, although it had been hung on the rod. Still another layer held a once-white piece of finely-woven cotton, now with brown stains and yellowing throughout, and a small length of cloth printed with exotic blue and purple birds.
Gracie went back to the opening and looked around the corners for any other hidden treasures. A small black wooden box was on the floor, which she brought out to examine. Opening the lid, the box’s contents were spools of thread—red, white, blue, and gray. She set i
t on the bed beside the fabric. Gloria and Theresa looked at each other and then at the items on the bare mattress.
“I think these are the original materials for the Stederman quilt,” Theresa said, running nervous fingers through her bangs.
“I believe you’re right,” Gloria agreed, standing back and gazing at their discovery. “Now what do we do?”
Gracie chewed the inside of her cheek. “If Franny stored this old fabric in that hidden space, do you think the quilt was in there too? Something was taken out, if the sheet on the floor is any indication.”
“That’s right. We’d better make sure it didn’t just fall off the rod,” Theresa said, hurrying back to the closet.
She gingerly brought the rumpled sheet to the bed. The same buttoned opening was sewn on it, but it was open, and nothing was inside.
“My best guess is that it had the quilt inside,” Gloria said. “I wonder if Lulu knew about this hiding place. Or did Art? Art! Theresa, somebody needs to go to the hospital and see if he’s all right.”
Theresa blanched. “You’re right. How could we forget? I’ll go pick up Bob, and we’ll go over. You let Albert know what we’ve found. Gracie, put this stuff back in. Be careful with it.”
A bewildered Gracie stood in the vacant bedroom, wondering how she’d been left in charge of cleaning up.
CHAPTER 32
After a two-hour wait in the ER of the Wyoming County Community Hospital, Art’s lower left leg was casted, and he was issued a pair of crutches. The official diagnosis was a broken ankle and a bruised ribcage. Bob helped him maneuver to the car, which was parked near the ER entrance.
“Did they give you any pain meds?” Theresa asked, opening the front passenger door.
“Yes, but I hate taking anything, especially if it makes you woozy.” Art attempted to turn and deposit himself on the front seat. “I don’t want to fill this prescription.”
Bob took one crutch trying to position Art correctly without the cast hitting anything. “Careful,” Bob warned him.
“Ugh,” Art groaned, squinting his eyes.
“You’d better fill the script,” Theresa advised. “You’ll be sorry tonight if you don’t.”
Art made a face. “I just want to go home.”
“We’ll drop it off at the drug store. And, if it’s going to take a while, I’ll have Bob pick it up later.”
“Well, all right,” Art conceded.
“Now are you sure that Lulu—” Theresa couldn’t help ask.
“It was Lulu, but I’m not pressing any charges against her. You don’t know what she’s really like. Greedy.” Art looked straight ahead, his mouth in a firm line.
Bob slid into the driver’s seat and shot his wife a warning look. Theresa clenched her fists, determined to heed her husband’s silent admonition.
***
Lulu bustled in her kitchen, scrounging up some canned soup and a sandwich for her dinner. Streetlights winked on while she spread mustard on the bread and piled on some deli turkey. The street scene from the window over the sink was bathed in a dusky half-light. Butch was out walking Rocky, his beagle. They were like clockwork. Maybe she’d get a dog when all of this was over. Flickering sodium lights struggled to energize. Movement across the street caught her eye, and she thought a silhouette slipped behind a lilac hedge in Franny’s side yard. Was someone back to continue ransacking the house? She took a chef’s knife from the wooden block and cut the sandwich in half. Wiping her hands on a damp kitchen towel, she fumbled for the cell phone at the bottom of her purse. There was no way she was going to be blamed for trespassing at Franny’s yet again.
***
The deputy’s SUV came to a quick stop in front of Franny’s house, which brought Theresa both relief and anxiety. She and Gloria stood on the sidewalk, huddled in their coats. Both husbands were fortunately entrenched in an emergency church board meeting over a roof issue, which was probably just as well. A young African-American woman in uniform exited the vehicle.
“I’m Deputy Shaw,” she said, introducing herself. “There’s a break-in here?”
“Maybe,” Theresa answered. “We think there was one last night and—”
“And the neighbor across the street called us and said she thought she saw someone in the yard a few minutes ago,” Gloria interrupted, pointing to Lulu’s house.
“One last night and another tonight?” The deputy looked puzzled. “You didn’t report—”
“It’s a really long story,” Theresa broke in. “Could you check on the house?”
“Of course. Does anyone have a key?”
Gloria handed the deputy a small keyring with a single key. “It’s for the front door.”
“You ladies wait here,” she instructed.
Another sheriff’s department SUV rolled up.
“Looks like we’ve called in the cavalry tonight,” Gloria pointed out.
“Well, Lulu saw someone in the yard. She said Butch Novak has seen a woman around the property.”
“And a couple of other things,” Gloria hissed.
“Not a word about them,” Theresa warned her.
The other deputy jogged to the front door, a flashlight in his hand. Minutes later, the pair returned, talking softly.
“Did you find anyone?” Gloria asked anxiously as they approached. She shivered, her hands in the pockets of her jacket.
“No, ma’am. The house is empty. No one is in there,” the female deputy answered.
“What’s this about a break-in last night?” the short deputy with a moustache asked.
“Well …” Gloria began.
“Bart, I’ve got this,” said Deputy Shaw. “Thanks for your help. Why don’t you ladies come to my vehicle, and we’ll talk about it?”
The strong-featured female deputy smiled, motioning for Theresa and Gloria to follow. The other deputy’s vehicle soon pulled away, the red taillights of his SUV disappearing around the curve of Oak Street to Main.
Gloria and Theresa explained what had brought them to Franny’s house, minus the details of the hidden closet and the discovery of the injured Art. They concentrated on the mysterious woman in the neighborhood and the trashed house.
“Is anything missing, Mrs. Minders?” The deputy stood with her notepad at the ready.
“Not that I can tell. It could’ve have been teenagers, just making trouble.”
“Right. It could’ve been teenagers,” Theresa quickly agreed. “You know stuff like this happens.”
Theresa’s doubts about the wisdom of calling in the police were growing. There were too many awkward facts to share with law enforcement.
“I think if we just change the locks on the house and check on it daily, it’ll be fine,” Gloria added.
“That’s a good idea, Mrs. Minders. I don’t think there’s anything else—”
“Thank you for coming so quickly,” Theresa said with a bright smile.
The deputy’s expression made her nervous. Theresa waited for the other shoe to drop. Instead, Deputy Shaw retrieved a card from her vehicle.
“Here’s my card, if you decide to elaborate on tonight’s report.”
Gloria tucked the business card into her purse. “Oh, sure. If we remember anything else that might help. Thank you.”
Gloria and Theresa walked back to Gloria’s sedan. Gloria turned on the ignition and cranked the heater, as the deputy sped away.
“That was uncomfortable,” Theresa groaned.
“No kidding. I don’t know what we should have done. Lulu wants to remain anonymous, and Art claims Lulu pushed him down the cellar steps. Now we’ve withheld information from the police. That deputy knows we didn’t tell her everything.”
“If Bob and Albert find out, we’re in serious hot water.” Theresa unbuttoned her coat.
Gloria lowered the speed of the blasting fan. “I’d agree with that.”
“You’d better show Albert the closet compartment we found today. It sheds a whole new light on the Stederman quilt.”<
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CHAPTER 33
Lulu contemplated her options after watching Theresa and Gloria pull into Franny’s driveway. They were back again, and she had a nagging feeling they’d be showing up on her doorstep soon. Returning to the sewing room, she pinned another block together of the Blushing Bride pattern, sewing the pieces carefully. It would be a shame to ruin it by ripping the seams open, but it was the final one, containing the last shipment of money. Her other patterns had given her natural pockets and folds to secret the bills. The clamshell design, with its flap openings, and the one made from the pockets of Ed’s old shirts had been the easiest to cram with cash. She’d placed buttons on each pocket to secure the cargo. This one was much more complex, because she would be carrying it in her luggage.
The walls of the house seemed to be closing in on her. She couldn’t wait for the recycling guys to show up. Everything needed to go except basic furniture, which Isabelle had agreed to purchase with the house.
She sewed two more blocks onto the growing rectangle. At least, this one didn’t need to be very big. She drew out a passport from a small drawer in the sewing cabinet, opening it to her photo. It was even a decent picture. She might never be able to use it if things kept going wrong.
Stuffing it back in the drawer, her laptop dinged with an email notification. Her heart jumped. It needed to be good news.
***
“Did you find anything in there?” Gloria asked, searching through an old bureau.
“No. There’s nothing in this closet and no secret doors that I can find.” Theresa shut the door of the small closet, hands on hips. “We looked everywhere. The attic is the only place left.”
“Gracie’s not coming, is she?”
“No. Marian broke her hip, and the poor girl is running six ways to Sunday trying to keep up.”
“Probably a good thing she’s busy, with Marc being gone.”
“I think so.”
Theresa gazed up at the access door in the ceiling of the hallway. The cord dangled just out of reach. Heights were not her thing, but Gloria would never go up there.
Pins & Needles (A Gracie Andersen Mystery Book 5) Page 18