"We're glad you're here,” Aunt Beth said as she came back into the studio.
"Speaking of the quilts,” Mavis said. “Let's get them out and see what we've got."
Connie and Lauren got up and pulled a quilt out of its pillowcase, then held it up for the group to see. Connie had provided a slate-gray landscape fabric for the doghouse roofs, and Lauren had hand-dyed a pale-blue fabric so it had random streaks of white that looked like clouds. These two features provided a unifying effect among the blocks made by the various Loose Threads members. Mavis had found a print with small doghouses for the outer border, and they had used a dark-brown Moda Marble for the inner one.
"That came out nice,” Jenny said.
"It's okay,” Lauren said, “but let's be honest—if this is the best we've got, we're in trouble."
Mavis and Beth got up next but kept their quilt folded in half, obscuring the front.
"As you know, we've been working on the snowball blocks. We tried fussy-cutting images for the center, but once we saw the star blocks, we felt ours were too similar,” Mavis said.
Aunt Beth took up the story. “Next, we tried using small-scale coordinating prints—bones, paw prints, that sort of thing. They would have made a serviceable quilt, but when we put a couple of rows together, it was too boring."
"We decided it was time to get creative,” Mavis said.
"So, when you guys go off the rails it's creativity, but if I do it, I'm not being a team player,” Lauren said. “How's that work?"
Mavis ignored the interruption.
"We were doing a computer search for dog pattern fabric when this one came up.” On cue, Beth stepped to the side, opening their quilt. “It's dogwood and daffodils."
The main fabric used for the quilt had a mauve background with pink dogwood flowers and cheddar daffodils with brick-red trumpets. They had alternated the snowball blocks with green and dark-salmon-colored nine-patch blocks.
"Who makes that fabric?” Jenny asked.
"It's a Phillip Jacobs print for Rowan,” Mavis replied.
"Well, it's cheating, but I have to admit, we might have a chance with that in our arsenal,” Lauren grumbled.
Robin stood up and removed the quilt that was folded up in her bag, Carla took one corner and stepped aside, opening it to the group's view.
The quilt was composed of multiple-sized star blocks with a fussy-cut realistic dog for the center and a taupe background. The points of the stars were made from prints that coordinated with the center images.
"That came out real cute,” Mavis said.
"How did you find images that were spaced far enough apart to fussy-cut like that?” DeAnn asked, referring to the technique of cutting a quilt piece at any angle or direction that resulted in a particular image being centered in the piece.
"We didn't,” Carla said. “If you look close, you can see where we added solid-colored fabric to the edges of the dog fabric."
DeAnn stood and picked up the corner of the quilt, looking closely at one of the blocks.
"Very clever,” she said and went back to her seat.
"What about Harriet's quilt?” Sarah asked. “Do you need me to finish it?"
Harriet blanched at the thought of Sarah touching her quilt. Even knowing Aunt Beth and Mavis had already finished it, the idea of Sarah, who never met an instruction she couldn't disregard, even coming close to her design was frightening.
"Thank you, honey,” Mavis said, “Beth and I finished the quilt for Harriet when she got hurt."
Beth stood up and went to Harriet's work table to pick up the folded quilt. She handed two corners to Mavis and stepped to the side with the other two, allowing the quilt to unfurl.
"Whoa,” DeAnn said when the image was revealed.
Blocks appeared to cascade from the center of the quilt. The three dimensional cubes each appeared to have a dog inside it, due to Harriet's clever instruction to everyone to fussy-cut a diamond-shaped dog image to form one side of each block.
Harriet had chosen deep reds and brown tones that ranged from a light caramel to a brown so dark it was almost black. The overall effect was striking. The pile of blocks were appliquéd onto a black background.
"Wow,” said Robin. “You sure couldn't tell how dramatic that was going to come out just from doing a single block."
"I think we have a contender for raffle quilt,” Jenny announced then looked around the group, silently daring Lauren or Sarah to challenge her assessment, but they remained silent.
"Let's see the dog-bone quilt,” Harriet said.
"We made a change after the last meeting,” Jenny said and got up to take the quilt from Aunt Beth's work table. “The original plan was to have a different breed of dog in each bone wreath, but when I drew up the diagrams, it looked too disjointed, so I changed the plan and made each dog face different colors and expressions, but all based on a Yorkshire terrier.” She unfolded the result and held it up for the group to see. “Beth just finished it, so of course, it isn't bound yet, but here it is."
The dog faces were appliquéd in tan, white and black with touches of gray. Pink had been used for the dogs’ tongues and some of the bows in their topknots. They were set in two rows of three on a medium rose-pink background. Dark-green vines and dark-pink and white flowers twined around the outside of the dog blocks, framing them, and the final border was cut in deep scallops. The scallop area had been quilted in a closely set crosshatch pattern. Jenny explained that the binding would be the same dark green as the flower vines.
"We may be competing against ourselves for the raffle quilt,” Robin said. “This one is definitely a contender, too."
Jenny blushed a becoming shade of pink. “I don't know about that, but at least they should be able to sell it at auction."
She picked up Connie's plate of butterscotch chocolate bars and handed them around the group again before sitting back down.
Connie was explaining that grated carrots were the secret ingredient in her bars, but she stopped when someone knocked on the door. Harriet looked around. Most of the people she knew were already in the room, and Aiden was at the vet clinic—and he wouldn't have knocked, in any case. She mentally reviewed her quilting schedule, trying to think of any customer she might have a forgotten.
Aunt Beth went to the door to let Detective Morse in.
"What's she doing here?” Harriet blurted.
"Mind your manners, child,” Aunt Beth said. “I called Detective Morse and told her about Sarah's story of seeing Joseph. She wants to question her, and I told her to come on over.” She ushered Detective Morse into the center of the circle of chairs.
"Ladies,” she said. “I'd like you all to meet Jane Morse. She's a detective, and she's investigating the murders."
She didn't need to say which murders—they all knew. No one moved or said anything.
"She's also a quilter,” Beth added.
"What kind of quilts do you make?” Lauren asked.
"Mostly machine piecing,” Jane replied. “I'm learning to appliqué, but I'm not very good on inside curves yet."
Carla smiled at the last comment.
"I'd love to look at the quilts you have here, but first I need to ask...” She glanced at a small notebook in her hand. “...Sarah Ness a few questions."
Everyone turned to look at Sarah.
"I'm Sarah. But if you think I'm going to rat out Joseph, you're mistaken. I'm no one's snitch."
"Sarah!” Aunt Beth and Mavis said at the same time.
"This isn't some B-grade gangster movie, Sarah,” Harriet said. “People are dead. You could be endangering Joseph by not telling the detective what you know."
"She's right,” Lauren seconded. “We're just assuming Joseph killed those two people and attacked Harriet, but it could be his only crime is running."
"Why would he run if he didn't do anything?” Sarah asked.
"Geez, Sarah,” Lauren said. “Make up your mind whose side you're on."
"Is there s
omewhere I can talk to Ms. Ness alone?” Detective Morse asked.
"Sure,” Aunt Beth said. “Come on, Sarah,” she prompted and led the two women into the kitchen.
The Loose Threads used the half-hour while Detective Morse was questioning Sarah to discuss the details of the pre-auction meeting where the raffle quilt would be selected. The contenders would be judged by a committee made up of local city council members as well as representatives from several animal-related businesses and nonprofit employers. Each guild would present their quilts along with the all-important narrative about the design and construction of each entry.
"Have any of the rest of you seen or talked to Joseph Marston in the last week?” Detective Morse asked when she and Sarah returned to the studio.
"Aiden and I saw him at the Steaming Cup last weekend,” Harriet offered.
"Did you talk to him?"
"We did—or at least, we tried to."
"What do you mean?"
"He was acting kind of jittery, and when I asked him a couple of questions, he was sharp with me—he raised his voice. Said things like ‘What difference does it make?’ Normally, he's kind of quiet and patient, but that night he wasn't."
"Has anyone else heard from him?” Morse looked at DeAnn.
"Not in the last week,” DeAnn told her. “We've tried to get hold of him, but he hasn't returned any of our calls."
"Well, thank you, ladies,” Morse said. “Beth told me you're making quilts for the pet adoption benefit. Do you mind if I look?"
"You don't belong to the Small Stitches, do you?” Connie asked.
"No, I haven't found a quilt group since I moved to Foggy Point."
Connie glanced at Mavis then Beth and Jenny. Each in turn gave an almost imperceptible affirmative nod.
"Let's start with the doghouses,” Mavis said, and Carla and Lauren held that quilt up for the detective. They displayed each of the others then refolded them and piled them on the work table.
"Those are really beautiful,” Morse said. “They should bring a lot of money in."
If Detective Morse didn't already have her invitation to join the Loose Threads in the bag, her compliments would get her one for sure, Harriet thought. Seemed like the good detective would be thinking it was a conflict of interest—unless she had another reason to try to plant herself in their midst.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter 35
The meeting broke up at that point. The quilts that needed their binding finished were collected, and the rest were carefully refolded, put into their cloth bags and set on Harriet's to-do shelf.
"I've got to go get ready for my lunch date,” Sarah said. “Ta-ta, ladies.” With that, she swept out the door, putting on her raincoat as she went.
Lauren sat in the chair next to Harriet's.
"Did you notice the side of Sarah's face?” she murmured.
"No, she didn't come close enough for me to notice anything about her,” Harriet replied as softly. “Why?"
"It looks like she has a bruise along her jaw line, like maybe a handprint. And it's not the first time she's had a noticeable bruise."
"I haven't noticed anything, but I haven't paid that close of attention."
"She does make you want to look anywhere else but at her when she's running her mouth, which admittedly is most of the time, but since I've been spending so much time at the senior center, I've had occasion to...study her, if you will. I hate to think it, but she looks like someone who's being battered."
"Does she do patient care ever?” Harriet asked. “If she works with difficult patients that might account for bruises and scratches."
"I'll have to check that out. All the conclusions I was coming to were not good ones. Have you seen her boyfriend?"
Harriet thought for a moment. “I don't think I have. Why?"
"He's shockingly good-looking. And before you tell me I'm being mean, or talk about sour grapes or whatever, hear me out. You know as well as I do that Sarah is full of herself, annoying and doesn't really have very good taste in most things. I'm telling you—this guy is way too handsome, sophisticated...I know I'm not explaining this well, but believe me, something's not right."
"I don't know what to say."
"I'm not sure why I thought you'd be any help,” Lauren complained and started to get up.
"Wait,” Harriet said. “Sit down, please. I feel awful that I haven't noticed, but this isn't about me. As soon as I'm able to leave the house alone, I can check up on her."
"I guess I'm feeling guilty, too. She really is annoying, but no one deserves to be abused if that's what's happening."
"I know I have no right to ask, but would you be willing to help me with one little thing?"
"What do you want me to research?” Lauren asked with a sigh.
"Never mind, I'll do it myself."
"Sorry, I didn't think you were that sensitive. Can we skip the drama and go straight to what you want?"
Harriet told herself to relax and take a deep breath.
"I got some more information about Neelie, the woman who died.” She related the information Aiden had passed on earlier that morning.
"So, you know her real first name and that she was adopted as a baby or young child."
"And that she'd be in her mid- to late twenties now."
"That's not a lot to go on."
"I'm not sure we can make any assumptions, but she was most recently living in California,” Harriet added, referring to Rodney's information that Neelie had been living in “east bay,” which meant either Oakland, Berkeley or one of the smaller communities on the east side of San Francisco Bay.
"Well, I can try searching adoption databases on the West Coast. If she waited until she was almost thirty to go searching for her African roots, she may have recently left footprints on some of the bulletin boards that adoptees use. The fact we know where she found her cousins should help, too."
"Anything you find could be helpful, and I understand the usual disclaimers apply."
"You're learning,” Lauren said as she turned to go. She stopped at the door and, instead of going out, stepped aside and held the door to let Phyllis Johnson in.
"Hi,” Phyllis said and came to where Harriet sat. “I hope I'm not disturbing you.” She held a bundle in her arms.
Harriet looked at her aunt and Mavis, but they seemed as confused as she was by this unexpected visit.
"Hey, Phyl,” Aunt Beth said. “What brings you here this fine morning?"
"This is a little delicate."
"Well, just spit it out,” Mavis said.
"You know I belong to the Small Stitches quilt group,” she said and paused. “And I'm sure you've noticed that some of our members are...” She paused again. “Well, they're..."
"Just tell us,” Aunt Beth said, “whatever it is."
"I've seen what the Small Stitches are making for the auction, and frankly, it's embarrassing."
"Here, sit down,” Mavis said and pointed Phyllis to a chair. “I'm still not sure why you're telling us this."
Phyllis eased herself into the chair, and the energy seemed to go out of her.
"I'm telling you this because I made a quilt for the auction, by myself."
"So the others in your group don't know you're doing this?” Aunt Beth asked.
Phyllis dipped her head. “No, they don't. But I couldn't just stand by and do nothing."
"What do you want from us?” Harriet said. “Did you bring the quilt for me to do the stitching?"
Phyllis had the good grace to blush. “I know you're all busy, especially since Harriet's accident, but I was hoping somehow you could fit it in. I could pay extra for a rush order,” she said.
"I don't think that will be necessary,” Aunt Beth said. “As you can see, Harriet's not on her feet yet, but I'm all caught up, so if you don't want anything too exotic, I should be able to fit it in."
"I guessed Harriet wouldn't be back to work yet, judging by how she looked in the hospi
tal. Have the police figured out who did this yet?"
"If they have, they haven't told us,” Harriet said.
"I hope they don't think Joseph did it,” Phyllis said. “I know he's been distracted lately, but I can't believe he'd do anything violent."
"He's not helping his case by running and hiding,” Harriet said.
"Hiding?” Phyllis said. “Do you know he's hiding? Or where he's hiding? Anything about where he is?"
"Sarah claims she saw him this morning at the pet store,” Mavis said.
"I can't imagine why Joseph would have killed either of those two people—or anyone else, for that matter."
"Everyone has secrets,” Aunt Beth said sagely. “Since we can't figure out what Joseph's are, let's have a look at your little secret."
Phyllis had competently constructed a pieced quilt using the traditional block patterns. Harriet thought she recognized Jacob's Ladder, Churn Dash and Goose in the Pond, along with some flying geese and simple pinwheels. Most of the blocks shared common elements—squares and half-square triangles and four patches, all done in only one or two size pairings. Her quilt looked complicated, but had probably been relatively easy to cut out and stitch.
Phyllis had used an impressive variety of dog print fabrics and somehow pulled them into a cohesive whole. It was scrappy, but a very well-organized scrappy.
"If you could do an all-over pattern of stitching—a diagonal grid, maybe, or really, whatever you think would look good and that you could get done in time for me to bind it before the show, that would be fine with me. As I said, I'm willing to pay a premium."
"This looks real nice,” Mavis said as she ran her hand over the surface of the quilt top.
Phyllis pulled a piece of sewn flannel from her cloth bag.
"I pieced the back from a couple of large pieces of flannel and did a little appliqué around the spot where the label will go."
She held the backing piece up. She had cut out several of the smaller dog images from some of her fabrics and stitched them in a continuous rectangle so that when the label was in place, they would appear to be running around it, frame style.
"Have any of you spoken to DeAnn lately?” she asked. “With the mess Joseph left us in, I haven't had a chance to follow up with her or her husband. I hope things have settled down."
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