Crazy as a Quilt (A Harriet Turman/Loose Threads Mystery Book 8)

by Arlene Sachitano

  Harriet pulled her hand away and leaned her head against the window.

  “This nightmare just keeps getting worse. He was Aiden’s alibi, and now he’s gone, too.” She sat back up. “It can’t be a coincidence. I mean, someone kills Marine, and now the only guy who can give Aiden an alibi conveniently dies of alcohol poisoning? Just when we’re looking for him?”

  Tom took back her hand and squeezed it gently.

  “He was homeless, and from what Joyce said, he was an addict. He drank and used whatever else he could get his hands on. That’s why he wasn’t living in the main homeless camp.”

  “Do they know who he is?”

  “I don’t think so. When the police arrived, one person talked to me and another one searched his pockets. He didn’t have anything on him—no phone, no wallet, nothing. If he’s been living in the woods for a while, he probably has a hidey-hole where he keeps his stuff. I’m sure the police will look when it’s light.”

  “Why would some random homeless guy help set Aiden up?”

  “Come on, do you really have to ask? The guy was an addict. If—and this is a very big if—he is even the right homeless guy, and if he was part of a setup.”

  Harriet yanked her hand away and turned to glare at him.

  “Are you saying you think Aiden did kill Marine?”

  “No, of course not. Doc couldn’t kill a spider, much less a person. I’m just saying the homeless man’s calling might have been a coincidence. Where would Aiden have been if he hadn’t been looking for the guy?”

  “He had the morning off because he’d worked the night before. He went for a run, and then he was going to shower, and eventually, he would have gone to work.”

  “So, all the killer had to do was wait until he went to work. If they were watching him, they’d know once he went down to the clinic he’d be gone for hours.”

  “Still, I don’t believe in coincidence. It’s too weird that Aiden is gone on a wild goose chase right when someone is staging a crime at the apartment.”

  “For what it’s worth, I spent quite a bit of time in those woods before I found the guy. If anyone else is living out there, I didn’t see any signs of it.” Tom shivered and rubbed his hands on his arms. “It was really cold out there.”

  Harriet turned the engine on and put the heater on full blast. He smiled at her gratefully.

  “Well, we aren’t going to be able to solve this tonight. How are you doing? Are you remembering to eat? And sleep?”

  Harriet tried to smile.

  “Sure. I’m busy with the quilt meeting and my houseguest.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question, and I can see from your face, you aren’t eating enough, and you’re not sleeping. That won’t help Aiden. He needs you to be on your A game.”

  She did smile at that.

  “Okay, Dr. Phil. Way to make it about Aiden. But your point is taken. My not eating or sleeping isn’t helping him at all.”

  “I’m just worried about you. Of course, I’m concerned about Aiden, too, but I’m having trouble believing anyone is going to actually prosecute the good doctor for a crime he obviously didn’t do.”

  “Every wrongly accused person sitting on death row probably has had that same thought.”

  “Let’s not borrow trouble. I’m going to be in Foggy Point for a few days. What can I do to help?”

  Harriet thought for a moment.

  “How would you feel about going to Marine’s memorial service? Since her family doesn’t have any resources, the quilters took up a collection, and Pastor Hafer said the church would pick up the rest. It’s going to be on Saturday. Another set of eyes might be helpful. True crime shows always talk about detectives attending funerals because perpetrators like to show up.”

  “Well, it must be gospel if it’s on TV.” Tom laughed. “Seriously. I’d be happy to be your extra set of eyes. Is your roommate staying for that, too? I’d like to meet someone from your old life.”

  Harriet briefly considered telling him what Jessica had told her about Sharon and the photo album, but she didn’t want to think about the whole mess, much less involve Tom in it.

  “She’s just another quilter, so don’t get your hopes up.”

  “I’d better go so I don’t keep the Renfros up too late. I have a key so they can go to bed, but they never do. Mrs. R always waits up with a snack for me.”

  “Thanks for helping today.”

  He leaned in, took her face in both his hands, pulled her toward him and kissed her on the forehead.

  “If you need anything, day or night, call me, and I’ll come. Okay? Anything.”

  With that, he got out of her car and walked away.

  Harriet knew Lauren would be still be at the coffee shop, waiting to hear what Tom had said. In any case, it wasn’t much out of the way to drive by on her way home.

  Sure enough, Lauren, Sharon and Jessica were seated around a table at the Steaming Cup, each with her hands wrapped around a mug.

  Lauren flagged her over when she came through the door.

  “I went out on a limb and ordered you a cinnamon dulce hot chocolate when I saw you drive up. It’ll be ready in a minute.”

  Harriet slid out of her coat and sat down in the fourth chair. Jessica reached across the table and took her hand.

  “Sweetie, I can tell by your face something’s happened. Do you feel like talking about it? If you don’t, we can just sit here with you.”

  Lauren and Sharon looked at each other but didn’t say anything.

  The barista brought Harriet’s drink, and she took a long, slow drink.

  “Tom found the homeless guy.”

  “That’s great,” Jessica said.

  “No, it’s not great. He found the guy’s body.”

  Lauren sat back in her chair.

  “Oh, geez.”

  Sharon looked at Lauren and back at Harriet but didn’t say anything.

  “Are you sure it’s the same homeless guy?” Jessica asked.

  “No, but Foggy Point isn’t that big. Most of the homeless people in Fogg Park are in the main camp. It’s possible there are multiple people out in the woods, but Tom was out there for an hour before he found the body, and he didn’t see anyone else. Besides, like I was telling Tom, I don’t believe in coincidences. What are the chances of us needing to find a homeless guy who set Aiden up, and we find a guy in the same area, and he’s dead, and then he turns out not to be Aiden’s guy?”

  Jessica’s shoulders sagged.

  “I was trying to think positive, but you’re right. It makes sense that it’s the same guy.”

  Sharon shivered. “That’s a scary thought. If he’s the same guy, it means whoever killed Marine was willing to kill again to keep Aiden in jail.”

  “Now, there’s a thought,” Harriet murmured.

  Lauren set her mug down.

  “What?”

  “Maybe we’re looking at this all wrong. I’ve been thinking it was about Marine, and Aiden was a convenient target because of their past relationship. Maybe it has nothing to do with Marine and more to do with preventing Aiden from doing something. I know he has to testify in a dog hoarding trial. I don’t know if someone would commit murder just to prevent him from testifying, or at least to discredit him.”

  “That seems awfully thin,” Jessica said.

  “I’m grasping at straws,” Harriet said with an attempt at a smile.

  “I like it, though,” Lauren said. “We need to consider all possibilities and then, one by one, disprove them.”

  “Please don’t quote Sherlock Holmes,” Harriet warned her. “I don’t think I’m up to a quote.”

  Lauren looked hurt.

  “He wasn’t wrong, you know.”

  “He wasn’t real, either.”

  Jessica stood up and took her empty mug and added it to a tub full of dirty dishes on a cart near the bar.

  “Okay, you two, I think it’s time to go. Our discussion is no longer productive. Besides, I’ve b
een in big girl clothes far too long today.”

  “Thank you for all your help,” Harriet told her.

  Jessica wrapped both arms around her and gave her a hug.

  “You’ll get through this. We don’t know anything tonight, but maybe the answer will come in the morning.” She let go but didn’t step away. “And not to get all nun-ey on you, but I’ll pray for Aiden before I go to bed, and for you, too.”

  Lauren stood as well.

  “Come on, let’s get out of here before somebody starts crying.” She put her cup in the busing tub and led the way to the door.

  Chapter 20

  Sharon was standing in Harriet’s kitchen when she returned from taking Scooter out for his evening walk. She hung up the leash and removed her coat. Sharon hadn’t moved.

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “I was wondering if you could recommend someplace I could stay for a few more days.” Sharon shuffled her program from the dinner from one hand to the other. “I know you were only planning on having me here through tomorrow afternoon. I’d like to stay for Marine’s memorial service and maybe one more day, but I know you’ve got a lot on your plate right now, and I don’t want to impose.”

  Harriet was quiet for a long moment.

  “Here’s the deal,” she said finally. “You staying here is not a problem, but I can’t help thinking you’ve got another agenda.” Sharon started to speak, but Harriet held her hand up to stop her. “You’re right. I’ve got a lot on my mind with what’s going on with Aiden. I don’t need any distractions, so I’m just going to come out with it.

  “The other night when the Threads were here, and you were upstairs working on your embellishments, Jessica went up to look for you. She checked the TV room, and you weren’t there, so she opened the next door she came to, which was your room. You weren’t in there, either, but she noticed an open photo album on your suitcase. She assumed it would be pictures from your modeling days, so she took a look. I’m not saying what she did was right, but it’s what she did.”

  Sharon went to the kitchen table and collapsed onto a chair.

  “She saw the pictures of me and Steve.”

  “You and Steve ‘in compromising positions’ was how she put it.” Harriet sat down opposite her. “Look, it was a long time ago, and obviously way before I met Steve. I couldn’t care less if you and Steve had a teenage romance. He told me you dated briefly, but he said you’d been friends for so long that it felt slightly incestuous, so you both decided you were better as friends. In fact, wasn’t he the best man at your wedding?

  “What I don’t get is why, all these years later, long after Steve is dead, you come to my house packing an album of steamy pictures of you with my husband.”

  “It’s not what you think.” Sharon’s face had turned red, and her eyes were filling with tears.

  “Enlighten me,” Harriet said in a hard tone.

  “Steve and I started dating in the spring of our junior year in high school. His girlfriend at the time had moved out of state during Christmas break. I’d just had a traumatic breakup with my boyfriend.

  “I’m sure you remember how things were at that age—every little thing was a major tragedy. We spent most of our time together commiserating about how much our lives sucked. We were good kids. We didn’t drink or do drugs or anything like that. No one in our group did.”

  Sharon paused, and Harriet got up and brought her a glass of water. She set it in front of her.

  “Go on.”

  “In a moment of terrible judgment, we decided being good wasn’t getting us anywhere, so we’d try the other side.”

  “What did you do?” Harriet asked in spite of herself.

  “Steve’s parents were going away for the weekend, and of course they didn’t give a second thought to leaving him home alone. We were the good kids, after all. I told my parents I was going away for the weekend with a girlfriend. They didn’t ask too many questions, so we had the whole weekend and an empty house.”

  Harriet sat back in her chair, curious now about where this was going.

  “So, you got into their liquor cabinet, I’m guessing.”

  “Yes. First their liquor cabinet, then their bed. When we sobered up, and cleaned up the wreckage, we realized that drinking and having sex were not the answer to anything. We also realized that something that should have been so special when you’re with the right person, at the right time, was now ruined forever for us.

  “We stayed friends and went to the prom together, mainly because we were sufficiently disgusted with ourselves we weren’t ready to date anyone else and didn’t want to miss prom.”

  “I guess I’m missing something here, because I’m not getting how that brief, ill-advised interlude in your teen years is causing you to carry a reminder with you here. I mean, everyone makes mistakes in their youth.”

  Sharon sipped her water.

  “Some mistakes carry bigger consequences than others.”

  Harriet stared at her.

  “You got pregnant?”

  Steve had lied about his illness, but Harriet couldn’t believe he’d have omitted having gotten a girl pregnant. He definitely would have told her if he had a child.

  Wouldn’t he?

  “Steve never knew. School was almost out for the summer when I realized. I was in denial at first, but when I missed my second period, there was no doubt. My parents were great. I was already doing modeling jobs by then, so sometimes I’d go away on shoots. My mom told the school I was abroad and would work with a tutor. She took me to her sister who lives on a farm in Middle of Nowhere, Washington. A friend of hers in England would send postcards and letters I’d write back to Oakland.”

  She paused to sip her water again.

  “What happened to the baby?”

  “We made arrangements for it to be adopted right from the hospital. I say ‘it’ because the adoptive parents were in the delivery room. The baby was wrapped in a blanket, I nursed it once; but by previous agreement among all the adults, its gender was never mentioned. The new parents took the baby away to another room, and I was moved to a different floor where there weren’t mothers or babies.”

  Tears began to slide down Sharon’s perfect face.

  Without thinking, Harriet reached across the table and took her hand.

  “That sounds so sad. I can’t imagine how you coped.”

  “Like I said, my mom was great. We stayed on for another month in Washington. She took me to a therapist daily at first and continued it when we got back to California. They kept me on antidepressants until I’d made peace with the situation. I came back during Christmas break as if nothing had happened. If the others noticed I’d changed, they chalked it up to my modeling in Europe.”

  “And you never thought Steve would want to know he had a child?”

  “Later, yeah. When it was too late. My mom and the therapist kept really close tabs on me. I was in my senior year when I came back, and I was getting more and more modeling jobs. I threw myself into my career and never looked back.”

  “What changed?”

  “The easy answer is—my accident. I’d like to think I’d have gotten to this point even if I hadn’t been in the accident, but being in the hospital brought back memories and gave me ample time to think. I used it reflecting on the mistakes I’ve made. Steve’s dead, so I can never fix that mistake. When I saw the quilting event and saw the opportunity to come stay with you, I guess I figured telling you would be the next best thing.”

  “So, when were you going to tell me?”

  “After I got here and spent time with you, I decided it wasn’t fair to make myself feel better by unloading all this on you. I wasn’t going to tell you.”

  “And yet here we are. What I still don’t understand is why the pictures? They have to be a painful reminder.”

  “They aren’t, strangely enough. I don’t have a single picture of my child, so those are the only things I have to remind me that it was real. Steve
and I were together, and we created a child.”

  “Are you still seeing a therapist?”

  “I am. Not the same one, of course. That’s another reason I wanted to come to Washington. It turns out attitudes have changed about adoption. Both birth parents and adopted children are finding it beneficial to connect. And before you say anything, I’ve talked a lot with my therapist, and I know not every child wants to find their birth parents and vice versa. I also know my child might not still be alive, and I’ve been warned he or she might not have had the ideal childhood I’ve imagined for him or her. And he or she might blame me, if that’s the case.”

  “But you’re going to try and find your baby?”

  “I am. The adoption took place in Washington, so I was going to find an investigator while I’m here.”

  The two women sat in silence until Scooter jumped into Harriet’s lap and settled.

  “I may be speaking out of turn, and we’ll have to ask Lauren first, but she works with a group of computer people who might be helpful. They’re programmers, not real investigators, but they can find things through the internet no one else can.”

  “Should I ask her, or do you need to talk to her?”

  “I better talk to her first. And you’re welcome to stay here while you get things set up.”

  “I’m really sorry. You don’t need my drama on top of everything else.”

  Harriet set Scooter on the floor.

  “I’m going to go upstairs and pretend to sleep. Help yourself to a snack or tea, if you want.”

  Sharon groaned. “I may never eat again after this week. I think I’ll go up—I need to refresh my manicure.” She held her right hand out, fingers spread. “It probably seems silly, but for so many years when I was working, we had to keep our nails neat and prepped with clear nail polish so we’d be ready on a moment’s notice. It’s just habit now.”

  “I hear you about the food. And there are worse habits than keeping your manicure tuned up.” She looked down at her dog. “Come on, let’s get on up to bed.” She looked back at Sharon. “See you in the morning.”

  Chapter 21

  The sky was gray when Harriet took Scooter out for his morning walk. With luck, the clouds would clear off before Marine’s funeral tomorrow.