Quilt by Association

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Quilt by Association Page 6

by Arlene Sachitano


  The look of relief on DeAnn's face suggested that plan worked for her.

  "I'll check with Carla,” Harriet said. “Anyone see which way she went?"

  "She went upstairs to take a piece of cake to the babysitter,” Mavis said.

  "I'll see if she's available.” And see how she feels about leaving Neelie here alone for that amount of time, she added silently.

  Mavis followed her into the kitchen. “I know you're wondering if Carla is willing to leave home with Neelie staying here, but you don't have to worry. Terry's taking a few days off and said he would come stay here. He said Aiden bought a new sound system, and he had volunteered to hook it up and wire speakers into two other rooms as soon as he had some time off. Now he does, and it will provide a perfect excuse for him to be around the house. Since he lives on the base, and it's so far away, there's a good reason for him to stay here while he's doing it."

  "I'm going to go say goodbye and see if she's free in any case,” Harriet said and went up the servants stairs to the second floor. She met Carla on the landing.

  "Hi, Harriet, I was just taking Haley some cake. Wendy and Kissa are napping."

  "Mavis said Terry was going to come stay a couple of days."

  "And it's sort of cute that you all think I don't know you asked him to come stay here until Aiden gets back. Don't worry—when Terry told me he was coming to work on Aiden's sound system, I didn't let on I knew the real reason."

  "When did you get so smart?” Harriet said with a smile.

  "When I started hanging out with you.” Carla's cheeks turned pink, and she laughed.

  Harriet laughed with her then sobered.

  "Even with Terry here, you need to be careful. And keep your eyes and ears open. See if you can learn anything more about Neelie."

  "I'm trying, but she doesn't give up much. She reminds me of my mother's ‘friends'—they come from some vague place that doesn't have a name and they always have families they don't want to talk about and they're always one deal away from the big score."

  "Has she mentioned what her one big deal is?"

  "No, but you can tell she's got one."

  "Well, like I said, be careful. And it may be cute that Terry is coming to protect you, but we don't know who this woman is or what her intentions are so, until we find out, let him do his job."

  Carla looked at her feet.

  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so harsh, but I don't want you or Wendy to get hurt."

  Carla lifted her gaze to Harriet's face.

  "Do you really think we're in danger?” she asked, her dark eyes serious.

  "I don't know. Right now, it's just a feeling. All the same, you be careful. On a lighter note, are you available tomorrow to do our dog blocks?"

  "My block is done..."

  "But you don't want to leave Neelie here by herself,” Harriet finished for her.

  "Not until Terry is here, and I don't know when he's coming."

  "What if we meet here? I mean, you'd have to be invaded by the Loose Threads again, but I can come early and help you get ready."

  Carla smiled. “That's a good idea. Not the part about you coming to help get ready, the part about having the meeting here. You can come early if you want to have tea and leftover party food, but with a house this big, there's always a room ready, especially with Aiden away. I think Avanell used to have meetings in the upstairs parlor. I found a portable design wall in a carry bag in the closet."

  "That's perfect. Let's go see what the others think."

  Connie was standing at the kitchen sink, hand-washing the delicate teacups and saucers. Mavis was drying them, and Aunt Beth was carefully putting them back into the kitchen china cabinet.

  Harriet told them about Carla's offer to host a dog block meeting the following day.

  "I suppose we're inviting la diabla?” Connie said.

  "No, we're not inviting Neelie to join us. Carla would just feel better not leaving her here alone if she doesn't have to,” Harriet explained in a hushed voice.

  Connie rolled her eyes. “Dios mio,” she muttered.

  "I'll call Sarah, since she's already gone, and Robin, too.” They all could see Robin getting into her car in the gravel parking area outside.

  "If you ladies have the cleanup under control, I'm going to go find Randy and say hi to her so I don't have to lie to Aiden when I finally get to talk to him."

  "This sounds like the dog ate my homework,” Connie said. “I've heard that one before."

  "You gave homework to first graders?” Harriet said and laughed. “No wonder they all fear you, even as adults."

  "Don't change the subject,” Connie said. “Go check the table and sideboard and make sure there aren't any more cups that need washed."

  Harriet did as instructed and did find two more cups hidden behind a large vase of flowers on the sideboard.

  "Now can I go?” she asked Connie as she handed her the dishes.

  "Yes, honey, thank you."

  She left through the kitchen door and circled around to the back of the house. Aiden's property had a separate kennel with its own fenced yard that had once been home to his father's hunting dogs. Randy was happy to see Harriet, since she lived in the main house when Aiden was home and lately had taken to spending her days following Wendy everywhere as Carla tended to the care and cleaning of her master's residence.

  Harriet unlatched the kennel yard gate and let the little dog out. After a minute or two of joyful jumping up and down and circling Harriet's legs, she started running in large circles and figure-eights on the lawn in a pattern only she knew. Harriet moved out onto the lawn, positioning herself in the middle of the pattern. As she got closer to the house, she heard a woman's voice coming from an open window on the second floor.

  "Do not come here. You have no business here.” There was a pause. “No, you're the one who's going to be sorry."

  Either the conversation had ended or the speaker moved away from the window. Harriet couldn't be sure. She hadn't recognized the voice. Her only two choices were Neelie or the babysitter, Haley. It hadn't sounded like the voice of a teenager, but on the other hand, it lacked Neelie's accent. She wasn't familiar enough with the second floor of Aiden's house to be able to figure out which room the window belonged to.

  One more reason to be glad Terry was going to be staying with Carla, she thought as she reached down and patted Randy's head. She led the exhausted dog to the back porch.

  "Is it okay if she comes in?” she asked, holding the kitchen door open with her free hand and holding Randy with the other.

  Aunt Beth agreed, and she pushed the dog inside and left.

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  Chapter 10

  Her phone was ringing as she came from her studio to the kitchen.

  "Hello."

  "I just missed you at my house,” he said, the fatigue clear in his voice. “Carla told me your phone was broken, and to try this one."

  "It is, and it's a long story that can wait until you come home.” Harriet was still holding out hope Neelie would get tired of waiting for Aiden and give up on her scheme.

  "You'll be happy to know it'll be sooner rather than later."

  "That's great news,” she said. “Were things better than you expected?"

  "Unfortunately, they were worse. The team ahead of mine lost a couple of dogs. After we assessed the cases we have left, we talked to the head of the project and convinced him we're better off doing a scoop-and-run."

  "A what?"

  "Sorry, that's what we call it when we move the patient as quickly as possible as opposed to doing triage and emergency treatment in the field first. Most of these dogs have open sores and infections and need to get to a more sterile environment."

  "How are you doing?” she asked.

  "I'm fine. I just wish I could say the same for all these dogs. I know hoarding's a disease, but when you see how they've suffered, it makes you want to put the owner in a dirty, crowded room and see h
ow he or she likes it."

  "I'm so sorry you have to deal with that."

  "Don't feel sorry for me. It's the dogs that need your sympathy."

  "I'll ask the Loose Threads and see if anyone needs a pet."

  "Don't get them too excited—these will be special-needs dogs. They aren't used to normal human contact. Tell them that, and if they're still interested, they can talk to me. On a more important subject, have you been staying out of trouble while I'm gone?"

  "Of course,” she lied. “I've just been stitching quilts and working on quilt blocks for our dog adoption benefit quilts."

  "Good, I wouldn't want to have to worry about you on top of everything here. I better go—I just wanted to let you know I'll be back in a day or two. The first temperature-controlled truck is arriving tomorrow, and when we load the last one, I'll head back."

  "It's so good to finally talk to you."

  Whatever Aiden said was lost in the ether as the connection went abruptly dead.

  "Fred, my boy, this is going to get real interesting,” she said to her fuzzy companion.

  After playing with Randy in Aiden's perfectly manicured yard she had resolved on her way home to clean out and winterize the modest flowerbeds passed on to her along with the house. Fortunately, Aunt Beth stopped by periodically and pulled weeds or divided plants, since Harriet had a bit of a black thumb where the outdoor plantings were concerned.

  She realized she was still holding the phone. She set it back in its cradle and turned to look out the window. A light rain was falling. The tall Douglas fir trees at the head of her driveway glistened with silver drops. Saved! she thought.

  Unlike the rest of the northwest, rain wasn't something that could be counted on in Foggy Point. The town sat in the “rain shadow” of the Olympic Mountains, and rainclouds had a tendency to pass right over the area without dropping their load.

  She knew she should go work on her dog block but instead went to her computer and opened the email Lauren had sent her.

  "Who are you?” she said as Nabirye Obote's image resolved on her screen.

  She pressed the white play arrow and watched the entire clip without stopping. Nothing jumped out at her, so she watched it again and again. If Nabirye was, in fact, Neelie's sister, there wasn't a strong resemblance. There was a little similarity around the eyes, but Neelie had a narrow nose where Nabirye's was broad. Both women had full lips, but Neelie's mouth wasn't as wide. Or maybe it was just that she always seemed to have her lips pursed. Nabirye smiled easily in the video, speaking on a topic she was obviously passionate about.

  "What am I missing?” Harriet said out loud. She pressed the white arrow again and, this time, forced herself not to look at the woman but at everything else in the scenes.

  The action was divided into three parts. The first showed a mud hole. Animals were drinking on one side, and a child was scooping brown water into a plastic bucket on the other. There was nothing to indicate when in time it had been filmed.

  The second scene was what Harriet assumed was a clean-water well. It looked like a large metal tray with a pipe, topped by a square metal box. A spout protruded from the side of the larger pipe, spilling clean liquid into a white bucket. Again, nothing that would pin it down to a particular date.

  The final scene was in an office of some sort. This was the shortest. She stopped the play at the first full frame. It would have been nice if there had been something as obvious as a newspaper with the current date, or a calendar with the days marked off until today. No such luck.

  Harriet printed a copy of her computer screen showing the office. She pulled it from her printer and turned the picture so the image was upside-down. She took another piece of blank paper and laid it over the picture, exposing only the first inch of the image. She searched the picture inch by inch in this manner, and when she was midway down the page she hit pay dirt.

  She returned to her computer screen and hit the zoom button. Nabirye stood in front of a table. Under the table was a shipping carton. What appeared to be manufacturing data was printed on the side of the box. While it wasn't conclusive proof, whatever had been in the box had been manufactured or shipped ten days ago.

  Given travel time for the package, Nabirye had been alive and appearing in a video a week ago, give or take a day. When you added the time Neelie had been in Foggy Point and the time it would have taken her to make arrangements and travel, it would seem that rumors of Nabirye's death had been greatly exaggerated.

  Harriet moved to her cutting table and pulled out the sets of diamonds that were going to be her dog block. She needed to keep her hands busy while she thought about this latest revelation.

  An hour passed, and she hadn't made any progress on her dog block, so she decided to put it aside for a while. The shower had provided a light lunch, but that had been hours ago, and she was starting to get hungry. Tico's Tacos could take care of that problem.

  Harriet hadn't thought about it before, but she generally got an urge for enchiladas when she needed advice. Jorge Perez not only owned Foggy Point's best Mexican restaurant but was the father of Aiden's closest friend Julio, and had taken over as father figure when Aiden's own father died when he was still in grade school. Jorge was bound to have some insights for her on the subject of Neelie once she'd filled him in on what had been happening.

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  Chapter 11

  "Hey, chiquita,” Jorge called from the kitchen as Harriet entered the restaurant. “You alone?"

  It was early for dinner, and only two tables were occupied. A teenaged couple sat in the back corner, their heads close, whispering words meant only for each other. A larger group was clustered around two tables that had been pushed together and were laden with an assortment of nachos, quesadillas and taquitos. Probably co-workers on their way home from work, Harriet mused.

  "Here we go,” Jorge said a few minutes later as he set a heaping stoneware bowl of freshly made guacamole and a basket of warm tortilla chips on the table at the booth where Harriet was sitting. He slid into the seat opposite her. “Next time you have a party, you let me know, and I'll fix food that will stick to your ribs."

  Harriet stared at him.

  "I can make fancy food, too, you know,” he said with a smile.

  "How...?"

  "Your aunt and Mavis picked up burritos a half-hour ago, Carla called in a takeout order for her boyfriend to pick up, and if you didn't see the blond one with the smart mouth in the parking lot, then you just missed her."

  "Lauren was here?” Harriet was only surprised because, even though Foggy Point wasn't exactly a metropolis, people who lived on or near the water at Smuggler's Cove tended to frequent the cafes and pubs in their neighborhood. As a new resident of the area, she'd thought Lauren had been doing the same.

  "Yeah, that's the one. She's become a bit of a regular since you had all those secret meetings in the back room. She likes my cheese nachos,” he added with a grin.

  Harriet dipped a chip into the guacamole and slowly ate it, savoring the smooth flavor.

  "Mmmm,” she said with a groan.

  "Okay, I know my guacamole is good. Your theatrics are good for an old man's ego, but I've got chicken in the oven I have to tend to. What is it you want, chiquita?"

  "I can't fool you, can I?” she said and laughed. “Okay, I was just wondering if you'd seen a young black woman with a baby around town."

  "The same one your aunt was asking about?” Jorge grinned.

  "That would be the one."

  "I'll tell you what I told her and Mavis. I saw the woman, but not the baby. She came in here earlier today, met a guy for an early lunch and was out of here in less than an hour."

  "What guy?"

  "I don't know his name. I've seen him in here once or twice. Not with the se—orita, though."

  "What did he look like?"

  "Skinny, pale, probably late thirties or early forties. Light-brown hair. Looks like he works indoors.” Jorge paused
and looked up for a moment. “That's all I can think of. He looks like a lot of guys."

  "That must have been during the baby shower, when she was supposed to be out buying baby formula."

  "I have to go check my pollo. If I see her—or him—again, I'll give you a call."

  "Thanks, Jorge,” she said and then explained about her phone and the need to call her land line.

  "No problem. You want to try some of my pollo verde?"

  "Sounds great,” Harriet said and dug into her chips again.

  A few minutes later, a young woman with long dark hair in a braid down her back, dressed in a bright pink-and-orange ruffled skirt and white embroidered peasant shirt, set down a platter heaped with chicken in a green chili sauce, red rice and pinto beans topped with crumbled cotija cheese, and a generous scoop of sour cream. She also brought a plastic container that held soft hand-sized flour tortillas. She left, then returned a moment later with a frosty glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade.

  Harriet pondered Neelie's lunch date as she ate. There was clearly more going on with her than the story she was telling.

  "You need a box for the leftovers, chiquita?” Jorge asked when he returned to her table a half-hour later. He set a foam carry-out box next to her plate.

  "This was enough for three people,” she said. “It was very good, though."

  "And you're going to need to feed that young man of yours."

  "He's not home yet, and I don't know when he'll be back."

  "As it happens, he's on his way now."

  "What?"

  "He called while I was fixing your plate. He tried your home phone, and when you didn't answer, he took a chance and called here. He was just leaving Ephrata. That should be a four-and-a-half-hour drive, but with a truckload of dogs it could be twice that."

  "How did he sound?"

  "I won't lie, chiquita,” Jorge said and rubbed his large hand over his face. “He sounded bone-weary. He won't be driving the truck, so don't worry about that,” he hastened to add.

  "I wish there was something I could do."

 

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