“So, you found out that the last person to live in that house was Maud Templeton, and she told you that she was the one who put the quilt in the attic. She said she got the quilt from her grandsons, Jerome and Darnell now in prison, who stole it from a burning house.”
“Yes. And the owner of that house never lived in it so it wasn’t his.” Sarah added. “He rented it out to a family named…” She hesitated.
“Anderson,” Sophie quickly filled in. “Susan and Phillip Anderson.”
“And where did they get it?” Sarah asked already knowing the answer, but she was enjoying Sophie’s enthusiasm.
“They got it as a wedding present from Susan’s sister, Marilee Wilkinson, in 1966,” Sophie responding, reading from another card.
“And they weren’t at all happy about that,” Sarah added as an aside.
“No, they weren’t, but that doesn’t get us anywhere,” Sophie responded with a dismissive gesture. “The important point is the name of the sister that gave it to them and I have that right here.” She reached for another card and read, “Marilee, now dead, and her husband, Harry, gave Susan and Phillip the quilt, but I don’t seem to have their last name,” she added, fumbling through her cards.
“Wilkinson, I think,” Sarah suggested tentatively at first, but then added, “Yes, Marilee Wilkinson. She gave the quilt to the Andersons as a wedding present, and Marilee got it from an elderly friend of hers named Agatha Tarkington, as I remember.”
“That’s right,” Sophie said, laying aside her last card. “Agatha Tarkington may have been the last family member to own the quilt. Marilee’s husband stated that Agatha didn’t have any children or siblings to pass it on to, but she told Marilee that it was a family heirloom.”
“Okay,” Sarah said, reaching for a cinnamon bun. “That answers your question about where we are with the search.”
“It does, but that’s where we were two weeks ago,” Sophie responded. “We aren’t making any progress.”
“And that’s primarily because Charles got side tracked. Meeting Maud Templeton and hearing about the sad death of her daughter got him distracted from his computer searches, and I think we’re going to have to take that over.”
“Why? What’s he going to be doing?”
“He’s determined to find some kind of closure for Maud. Certainly testifying in New Orleans helped her, but Charles doesn’t think the Grand Jury is going to indict Jamal, and that’s going to leave Maud right where she was when we met her.”
“Didn’t you tell me you have a friend who knows how to do ancestor searches? We’re not looking for living people any longer. We’re looking for Agatha Tarkington’s ancestors.”
“True and that’s an excellent point. I’ll give my friend Paula a call and see if she’ll talk with us about the next steps. She has her ancestors tracked back to the sixteenth century. Surely she can tell us where to go from here.”
“Good plan,” Sophie responded. “And there’s one card here which is still marked pending, and that’s the one about the Tarkington wing in City Hospital.”
“Oh my!” Sarah exclaimed. “Ruth told me about that the night before we left for New Orleans and I completely forgot about it!”
“You can tell your husband to stop making fun of my 3x5 cards,” Sophie responded, “because, as you can plainly see, they just saved the day!”
“You are so right. Thank you, Sophie. I’ll call the hospital administrator tomorrow and see what I can find out.”
“Now, for the strange disappearance of your husband on the last day of your getaway. You were starting to tell me about that when he walked up at the airport.”
Sarah caught Sophie up on Charles’ detective adventure in New Orleans, and they agreed that the best thing to do was to stay out of it and let Charles make his own decisions about how far he wanted to go. “It’s who he is,” Sarah had said, and Sophie agreed.
Sarah had brought Barney with her, and they decided to put ice cubes in the left-over coffee and take iced coffee and the dogs into the backyard so they could play. Once they were seated in Sophie’s new padded lounge chairs, Sarah told her friend about the sight-seeing they had done, the evening cruise, and the exquisite food they had enjoyed.
Sophie wanted all the details on jambalaya and asked Sarah to find her a recipe online that sounds authentic. “I’ll make it for the six of us this weekend.”
“Six?” Sarah repeated quickly counting only five. “You invited Charles and me, Timothy and Martha, and there’s you...Oh, I forgot Penny.”
“Penny is going to be spending the night with Caitlyn,” Sophie responded. “This is grown-ups night.”
“So who’s the sixth person?” Sarah asked, tilting her head and raising an eyebrow when she noticed that Sophie’s cheeks were a bit flushed.
“Just a person I met at the senior center,” Sophie said dropping her eyes. “It’s nothing,” she quickly added. “I just thought he’d like a home-cooked meal.”
“That’s sweet of you, but it hardly justifies the rosy color in your cheeks. Who is this man?”
“We’ll talk about that another time,” Sophie said with a wave of her hand, firmly declaring an end to the discussion. “Just get me that recipe.”
Before Sarah left, Sophie said she wanted to show her the progress she’d made on the wedding quilt. “I’m really enjoying this.”
When she pulled out her stack of completed hexagons, Sarah was amazed. “How did you get this much done in a couple of weeks? I’m finding each one very time consuming.”
“I’m taking the modern shortcuts,” Sophie announced proudly, holding up her template and iron-on foundation papers
“How does that help?” Sarah asked, thinking that just gave her a different template.
“I can iron this one onto the back of the fabric, cut it out leaving the seam allowance. That way it doesn’t slip around.”
“And you turn the seam allowance and stitch it?”
“Nope. I turn the seam allowance and swipe this water-soluble glue stick across the edge of the paper, and then I turn back the fabric. And I’m ready to slip stitch them together in no time!”
“But how to you get the papers out? Now they are glued in.”
“Ah, that’s the magic. This paper and the glue is water soluble. I’ll just dunk the block in water for a couple of minutes, and it’s ready to go.”
“That’s amazing. We’ve come a long way since the early days of paper piecing,” Sarah commented as she examined the materials and the results. “This looks really nice, and I love your colors.”
“I cheated just a little.” She held up the book, and Sarah could see that Sophie had followed the layout and colors of the quilt on the cover. “That way I knew it would look good.”
Sophie had asked the members of the quilt club to bring her three-inch strips of their floral fabrics, and she had purchased half-yards of different solids. She used yellow for the middle of each of her rosettes, a solid for the six surrounding hexagons, and one of the florals for each of the twelve hexagons in the outer ring. “I was able to get twelve hexagons out of each of the strips the girls brought me, but I’m beginning to run low and thought we could go to Stitches. I can buy quarter yards and get three sets from each one, maybe four.”
“How many more hexagons do you need?”
“I figure I need a total of ninety-nine so that I can do rows of nine across and eleven down. With the path pieces, that should fit their bed.”
Sarah measured one of the completed hexagons and found it to be nine inches across. “Yes, that should be just right if you aren’t using a border.”
“I’m not. I want just rosettes and the path. I have enough fabric for about eighty of them so I won’t need much more.”
“Let’s go later this week. Did you check the scrap boxes in her storage room?”
“There weren’t any pieces big enough to cut twelve matching hexagons.”
“Are you going to have it machine quilted?�
� Sarah asked. She’d been grappling with that issue herself.
“Yes, I talked to Kimberly about it, and she has an idea for custom quilting it.”
“She’s getting good at that,” Sarah replied.
Later, as she walked home leisurely giving Barney ample time to sniff along the way, Sarah wondered whether she should switch to the more modern technique of piecing the quilt. It would certainly take less time, she told herself. On the other hand, I’m trying to reproduce my Memories quilt, and it was made the original way.
Whenever Sarah worked on the quilt, she was aware that she felt oddly connected to the woman who created Memories. “Yes,” she added aloud. “I’m going to stay with the old technique.”
Barney turned and looked up at her to see if she had said something that might pertain to him, such as an offer of treats or a trip to the dog park. Realizing she hadn’t, he sighed, and continued to sniff his way home.
* * *
As she stepped into the house, she could hear a loud, angry voice.
“…and I don’t want you going near Jamal Davis, his son, or his neighbors. Do you get that?” the angry voice demanded. Sarah hurried up the hall following the sound.
“His son?” Sarah heard her husband respond. He had the phone on speaker and was sitting at his computer when Sarah approached the room. “What son?”
The voice on the phone replied furiously, “Detective Parker, I’ve said all I intend to say to you on this matter. From this point on, any conversations will be between your Lieutenant and mine,” and the man hung up.
Sarah stepped into the room and started to say something consoling, but her husband had apparently moved past the reprimand.
“Which son is he talking about?” Charles said rhetorically. “Jerome and Darnell are both in prison, right?”
“Yes, but wasn’t there another son?” Sarah responded. “I think I remember Maud saying Jamal had a son of his own when he married her daughter.”
“You’re right, and I remember you asking what happened to the older boy and she didn’t know. That son just might know exactly what happened. There’s a good chance he could have witnessed it, in fact. Why don’t you give her a call and see if she can remember anything about him.”
“I’ll call her in the morning,” Sarah responded. “I need to call City Hospital as well.”
“Couldn’t you call her now?” Charles asked impatient to start tracking the man. It just occurred to him that the older son just might be more than just a witness. Could he have killed his stepmother? He wondered but didn’t say.
“I suppose I could call her now,” Sarah responded with a sigh. “She doesn’t go to bed until eight. After I talk to her, I’m going to bring some hand-sewing into the living room and watch a movie. Do you want to join me?”
“I’ll be in later. Just let me know what Maud has to say.”
Once Sarah got settled in the living room, she picked up her cell phone and called Maud, but she wasn’t able to get any more information than they already had.
“His name is Jackson Davis,” she told him, “and I remember now that she told us that the day we met her. She said he was five or six years old when her daughter married Jamal which would make him in his late forties now. Maud said she never got to know the child.” Maud had told Sarah that Jamal didn’t like for her to visit their house and when Clarissa would bring the boys to visit her, she never brought Jackson.
“So she has no idea what became of him?”
“No idea,” Sarah responded.
“With the history the other boys have, he’s probably known to the criminal justice system. I’ll check that out now.”
An hour later when Charles emerged from his computer room, he looked glum. “No luck,” he announced. “I even checked the national system. He’s never been arrested anywhere.”
“Sounds like he didn’t follow in the family’s footsteps,” Sarah responded.
“Or he never got caught,” Charles responded, sounding disappointed. Charles sighed and glanced at the television screen. “How’s the movie?” he asked.
“I figured you’d be awhile so I chose a romantic comedy. I don’t think you’d like it, and it’s almost over anyway.” Sarah moved her project aside so Charles could sit down next to her. He appeared to be watching the last twenty minutes of the movie, but Sarah knew his mind was on Jamal and Maud’s daughter.
Once the movie ended, Sarah turned to her husband. “Did that neighbor who called you say anything about Jamal having a son?”
“Mrs. Carlson? No, as a matter of fact. She only referred to the couple, Jamal and Angela.”
‘Hmm.” She took a few stitches in her hexagons, then laid the project down in her lap and looked at her husband. “You have a plan, don’t you?”
“I do.”
Sarah sighed. “And?”
“I’m going to find Jackson Davis.”
Chapter 20
“I can’t take all the credit,” Sophie was saying as she scooped Jambalaya into everyone’s bowl. “I couldn’t have done it without Sarah’s recipe.”
“It looks just like what we had in New Orleans,” Charles remarked as he watched the andouille sausage rounds, chicken breast pieces, shrimp, tomatoes, diced peppers, and rice being heaped into his bowl,” Sophie added a scoop of the broth which was still steaming.
“You’ve been to New Orleans?” Sophie’s guest asked. He had simply been introduced as Norman Hill, a gentleman she met at the senior center. Charles gave him a brief rundown on the trip, excluding the hearing, and Sarah interjected some of the high points, including the cruise where they were introduced to Jambalaya.
“I worked briefly in New Orleans some fifty years ago,” Mr. Hill offered, confirming Sarah’s thought that the man must be at least in his seventies, if not older. He wasn’t much taller than Sophie and was very attentive to her, helping her with her chair and frequently glancing her way during dinner.
Timothy and Martha sat opposite Sarah and Charles while Sophie and Norman Hill sat at each end of the table.
Charles asked Tim about his job. He had already started working with Deegan and was eager to talk about it. “You know what my first task was, don’t you?” he asked, looking at Charles with a grin.
“Not the Quonset hut, I hope.”
“You guessed it. My first assignment is to get that stuff in some kind of order, and work with a contract company that will do the data entry.”
Charles laughed. “Well, we left it in better shape than we found it.”
Mr. Hill, acknowledging that Sophie had told him that Timothy was retired from the pipeline, asked him about his experiences in Alaska, and that led to a lively discussion about the Keystone pipeline controversy.
“Charles here,” Timothy began, hoping to get out of the limelight, “is the one with the most impressive career. He was a detective with Middletown Police Department for…what Charles? Thirty years?”
“Yep.”
“And I’ll bet he loved every minute of it,” Martha interjected. “Mom says he’s a detective at heart.”
Charles, looking self-conscious said, “Let’s not bore this gentleman with my escapades. How about you, Mr. Hill? What career did you leave behind?”
“Well, first of all, call me Norman. And I didn’t really leave it behind. I still get involved from time to time. I own Top of the Hill,” he announced proudly, assuming everyone would know what it was.
“I’m not familiar with Top of the Hill. What do they do?” Charles asked.
“We are wedding planners.”
Martha shot a harsh look at her mother, but Sarah merely shrugged her shoulders and shook her head indicating she knew nothing about it. Martha looked at Tim who turned his eyes on Sophie.
“Mother?” he began in a reproachful voice.
“What dear?” Sophie responded innocently.
“What are you up to?” he demanded, slamming his napkin down on the table. “You know what Martha and I told you…”
“I know, I know,” she responded. “I just wanted you to meet Norman. He’s been talking to me about some of the pitfalls of planning your own wedding, and I thought you might like to meet him. He offered to answer any questions you two might have. Believe me, I’m not trying to interfere.”
“Not much you aren’t,” Timothy snapped.
“Your mother’s right,” Norman spoke up looking directly at Timothy. “It was my idea. I offered to answer any questions you two might have, and your mother suggested we have dinner together. As you know, your mother and I have been seeing one another for several months now, and I’ve been eager to meet the rest of the family.”
Everyone stopped eating, several with their forks in the air. For a few moments, there was no response until finally Charles spoke up saying, “I think I can speak for everyone here when I say that we’re all very happy to meet you, Mr. Hill.”
“Please,” he repeated. “It’s Norman.”
“Yes,” Sarah said, “We’re delighted to finally meet you.” When Norman Hill wasn’t looking, she shot her friend a look which clearly said that Sophie had some explaining to do.
Everyone resumed eating but avoided each other’s eyes. Sophie passed the corn bread around again, and Charles stood to refill everyone’s wine glass with the Riesling Spatlese. At this point, he was relieved that he had brought several bottles.
“How did you decide to become a wedding planner,” Sarah asked in an attempt to defuse the tension at the table.
“Just luck, I guess,” Mr. Hill responded. “My early experience was in advertising. The company I was with had downsized, and we began doubling up on jobs, and the task that was passed to me was event planning – conferences, training, and special occasions. I discovered that I got a real kick out of pulling all the details together, and especially when I could see people enjoying themselves, and I started thinking about going into business for myself. I had some money saved up and was able to get a small business loan, and that was the beginning of Top of the Hill. Hill, get it?”
“Ah,” Sarah nodded. “Norman Hill – Top of the Hill.”
“Right!”
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