A Drunkard's Path

by Clare O'Donohue

  “We know that,” Bernie said impatiently. “Get to the prison record.”

  Maggie took a deep breath and continued. “I found several newspapers from that time, and I noticed that he seemed to have done a lot of group shows in alternative places from 1957 to about 1963. Then in ’67 he did a one-man show that got good reviews. Apparently he was doing a lot of paintings of people taking drugs or alcoholics passed out. In one article he was quoted as saying that he wanted to immortalize the people that society forgot—”

  “Maggie,” Carrie called out. “What happened to him?”

  “He disappeared out of the papers shortly after that show,” Maggie said. “Then I started seeing his name again in the seventies as an established Hudson Valley artist, with paintings selling in the thousands.”

  “He was struggling. Then he disappeared,” Natalie summed up.

  “When he reemerged, he was rich,” Susanne added. “How did that happen?”

  “And what does that have to do with prison?” I asked.

  “There was also this.” Maggie pulled out a photocopy of a newspaper clipping. The headline was “Artist Arrested at Opening.”

  “What does it say?” I asked.

  Maggie handed it to Natalie. “I haven’t got my glasses.”

  Natalie took a deep breath “ ‘A Greenwich Village art opening turned into a brawl last evening when emerging artist Oliver White was arrested for assault on Julie Young. According to witnesses, White approached Miss Young, allegedly his date for the evening, because she was speaking with another guest. The two got into a shouting match and White struck Miss Young, knocking her into a painting. Police were called and White was charged with assault, drunk and disorderly conduct, and resisting arrest. White was released on his own recognizance.’ ” Natalie looked up at us. We all looked equally stunned. She gave the paper back to Maggie. “It’s dated March 11, 1967.”

  “Did he go to jail?” I asked.

  “No. There’s another article I found somewhere that says the woman didn’t show up to press charges, so the whole thing was dropped,” Maggie said.

  “So he has a history of violence toward women,” Susanne said flatly. “That tears it. Eleanor needs to know.”

  “That was more than forty years ago,” Natalie said. “Nell, do you really think it means anything?”

  “I don’t know. I wish we knew more about him.”

  “We need to check his credit and tax records,” Carrie said.

  “I tried,” Maggie told her. “All that stuff requires special permission. You have to be a police officer or a private detective to get that information.”

  “Or a banker,” Carrie said. All our heads turned to her.

  “Could you get that stuff?” I asked.

  “I know where the files are. And I have the passwords I used when I worked on Wall Street. If they don’t work anymore, I can always call in a favor.”

  “Isn’t that illegal?” Susanne asked.

  Carrie shrugged. “This is Eleanor.”

  Nobody could argue with that.

  CHAPTER 21

  I left what was once a quilt group but had now become my own personal crime ring. I was amazed and touched by how much they were willing to put on the line for my grandmother and, by extension, me. I knew that if we were really going to solve this case, I had to do the same.

  I drove over to the Archers Rest Police Station and went inside.

  “Heya, Nell.” Greg came walking over. “Jesse will be happy to see you.”

  “Is he in a good mood?” This would be no time to confess if he was already angry.

  “He’s good. We’ve been out finding the killer.”

  “You’ve found the killer?” I couldn’t believe it.

  Greg smiled. “Not yet. But the point is that Jesse took me with him. He’s letting me be part of the team and”—he leaned in—“I found something.”

  The wallet. He must have found the wallet. I told myself to look surprised.

  Greg looked around then whispered, “We found this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a man’s watch.

  I took it from him and examined it. The watch didn’t seem particularly expensive or unique. There were no initials or anything engraved on it. Aside from a tiny piece of light blue rubber caught in one of the holes, it was just another cheap watch. There was nothing to tie it to one person. But it bothered me. It might be useless but why hadn’t I spotted it?

  “Where did you find it?” I asked.

  “In the bedroom. It was wrapped up in the sheets.”

  I hadn’t thought of looking there.

  “Shouldn’t it be in evidence?” I asked as I returned it to Greg.

  “It will be. I just want to look at it for a while. See if it gives me a clue about the identity of the wearer.”

  “Well, you should be proud of yourself that you found it, Greg. I’m sure it will help with the investigation.” I found myself a little jealous that Greg had uncovered a clue I’d missed.

  Greg couldn’t stop looking at his prize. “We searched the whole place. Dusted for fingerprints. Took pictures. It was so cool. Everyone else had already left the apartment when I checked one more time. I was never going to get promoted as long as I was out giving traffic tickets, but a murder investigation? It’s just the chance I needed.”

  “What a lucky break for you,” I said, hoping to bring Greg down to earth. But he would have none of it.

  “I had to do something to get Jesse to see what a good detective I’d make,” he continued. “I was getting desperate.”

  “Well you showed him,” I said. “I’m sure he’s very grateful.”

  Greg nodded happily and headed back to the front desk.

  If the investigation was going well, maybe Jesse would be in a good mood about my little field trip to Sandra’s apartment. Maybe. When I knocked on his office door, I heard his gruff “Come in,” but it still took several seconds for me to work up the courage to open the door.

  He jumped out of his chair. “Nell. This is quite a surprise. I thought you had ceramics class on Mondays.”

  “In the morning. I usually stay and work in the studio for a while, but I had something to do today.”

  “I’ll bet I know what it was.”

  I knew I was turning red, but I hoped he wouldn’t notice.

  “You know?” I asked.

  He smiled. “I drove by Susanne’s house and saw Maggie and Bernie headed inside. I figured you guys had some secret meeting that couldn’t wait until Friday.”

  “You did?” I was starting to sweat.

  “Carrie’s quilt. The way you were talking about it the other night at dinner, I could tell you guys were anxious to get it started.”

  “You’re quite the detective.”

  “I’m glad you’re . . .” He stopped and seemed to start the thought all over again. “I think you are one of the smartest people I know, and if you wanted to join the police force I’d hire you in a second.” He paused again. “But I’m glad you’re leaving this up to me. I know how important it is to you to find the killer, so it means a lot to me that you’re spending your time with the quilt group and not looking for clues.” He paused a third time, even blushed a little. “I’m glad to see you have faith in me.”

  Ouch. There was no way I was saying anything now.

  “No matter what I do,” I said, struggling to find the right words, “it’s not because I don’t respect your abilities. I sometimes let curiosity get the better of me.”

  “But now with school and the shop and Carrie’s mural and everything, you have enough on your plate,” he said. A little hopefulness in his voice made me feel worse.

  I nodded. “How’s the case going, by the way?”

  He laughed. “Okay. I’ll tell you this much. We went to Sandra’s apartment but we didn’t find much.”

  “Really? Greg seems to think he’s on to something with that watch.”

  Jesse kissed me. “He’s not. We found some g
lasses and an empty bottle of scotch, and the watch was found in the bed. A young woman entertained a man at her apartment.” He smiled. “I hear it happens all the time.”

  “But you must have found something: ID, money, a purse, or . . . a wallet.” I hoped it sounded as if I were just coming up with the list as I spoke.

  “We did find a wallet. Nothing in it.”

  “Not even money?”

  Jesse laughed. “Okay. We found some Canadian coins in it.”

  “So Sandra was Canadian. Just like Lily.”

  “We’re four hours from the Canadian border, Nell. I still have Canadian money from the last time I was in Montreal.”

  “In your wallet?”

  He nodded. “I see your point.” He leaned against his desk and put his hands on my hips. “When are we having our next date?”

  “You seem pretty busy with the investigation.”

  “I’ve got practically the entire Archers Rest force on it. Plus Powell and several of his guys. I think I can take a night off.”

  “Saturday?”

  He pulled me toward him. “Saturday.”

  We would have kissed but his phone rang.

  I couldn’t tell Jesse about the photo, but I couldn’t hold on to it either. Once I left Jesse’s office, I headed back over to Greg.

  “Jesse thinks you did a really great job out there today,” I said.

  “Really?” Greg’s smile took over his whole face. “That is so cool. I knew once he saw me in action he’d see what I can do. I would have done anything to get my chance to be a detective.”

  I nodded. “Well, you’re on your way. He told me you found a wallet and he wondered if I could identify it. Maybe I saw Sandra with it at class or someone else.”

  “Gotcha. I’ll get it.”

  While Greg was getting the evidence I took the photo out of my purse and folded it in half, the way I’d found it. I palmed it in my hand and waited. When he came back, he held a large, sealed evidence bag containing the wallet. This was going to be trickier than I thought.

  “So do you remember seeing it?”

  “I’m not sure. Can I look at it more closely?” Jesse would never fall for it but I was hoping Greg would. “I might be able to help you solve the case.”

  That did it. Greg grabbed a pair of latex gloves for me to wear, and I opened the envelope. I took out the wallet and started going through the empty credit card slots one by one. My plan wasn’t going to work unless I could get Greg to look away, but he seemed fascinated by my examination.

  I moved the hand with the palmed photo into position. “Can I see the watch again?” I asked. “Maybe it will jog my memory.”

  In the seconds it took for Greg to fish the watch out of his pocket, I pushed the photo into the slot. Then, after a few more seconds of fruitless searching, I found the photo.

  “What’s this?” I pulled it out and handed it to Greg.

  “Wow. How come we didn’t see this?”

  “It was really jammed in there,” I said. “But I have pretty small fingers so I guess I could pull it out easier.”

  Greg nodded but I couldn’t tell if he was buying it.

  “Why don’t you tell Jesse you found it,” I suggested. “You would have eventually.”

  “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “Not a bit.” I gave him back the wallet. “But why don’t you wait a couple of hours? Otherwise he might suspect something.”

  “You got it.”

  I started to walk out the door. Almost free. But I heard Greg’s steps behind me.

  “Hey, Nell,” he said. “Thanks.”

  I smiled. If Jesse solved the case and Greg made detective, then it was a win-win for all involved.

  The pressure I’d been feeling since I’d left Sandra’s apartment was starting to fade away. Instead of obsessing about the case, maybe it was time for me to start worrying about my outfit for Saturday night.

  CHAPTER 22

  It was my day off but I stopped off at the shop anyway. I just wanted to check on my grandmother and find out what she was feeling. Since I’d arrived in Archers Rest, Eleanor had been my best friend, my confidant, and my mentor. But I felt that something subtle was changing between us. She was busy certainly, but I was busy too. It was nice that our lives were so full and happy at the same time. It was just that I still sought out her advice and friendship and she wasn’t returning the favor. Whatever was going on with Oliver, I wanted her to share it with me.

  When I got to the shop, though, I was surprised to see Kennette alone, pressing her drunkard’s path quilt top.

  “Where’s Eleanor?”

  “Haven’t seen her.” Kennette smiled. “Do you think we can work on quilting it Friday?”

  “Sure. It already looks amazing.” I looked down at the purple and blue quarter circles meandering across the quilt. Between the cool colors and the movement of the pattern, the quilt reminded me of waves in an ocean. “It’s really turning out great,” I said. “Do you know how you’re going to quilt it?”

  Kennette’s eyes widened. “I haven’t a clue. Is that going to be a problem?”

  “My guess is that you’ll get expert advice on Friday. Probably more than you want.”

  “They don’t mind all my questions, do they?”

  “Are you kidding?” I laughed. “They love it. If I ever get around to finishing my Christmas quilt, I’ll go straight to the group for help on quilting.”

  Kennette smiled. “Why don’t I finish ironing my quilt and then we’ll work on yours. Maybe we can get both tops ready by Friday.”

  She had such enthusiasm that I found myself excited at the prospect. The shop was slow, so after her top was completely pressed, we sat and hand sewed sashes onto my remaining blocks and put the blocks together into a completed top.

  I held it up. “I can’t believe the top is finally finished.” I stared at the pretty little wall hanging with all of my Christmas characters finally together in a quilt. “Thanks so much for helping me, Kennette.”

  “Oh please. You guys have done so much for me. I could never do enough to repay it.” She seemed to be blushing a little. “I feel like I’m really making friends here. It’s so cool. Natalie even invited me to lunch tomorrow.”

  I immediately felt like a heel. “That’s great,” I managed to get out.

  “She’s so nice. Everyone is so nice. I can’t believe I met all of you.”

  “We are all fond of you too, Kennette,” I said. “We’re anxious to get to know you better.”

  She smiled but said nothing.

  “I mean, it’s like you just appeared out of nowhere,” I continued. “We don’t even know where you grew up.”

  “I was thinking the same thing about you. I mean, I know that Eleanor is from this area and so is Maggie. I don’t know where Carrie grew up or Susanne. I think Bernie moved here with one of her husbands.” She paused, only for a breath, and then looked at me, puzzled. “And you’re not from New York originally, are you?”

  “Pennsylvania,” I said. “But I spent a lot of time here because of my grandmother.”

  “And then you lived in New York City?” she asked.

  “After I graduated from college.”

  “That must have been cool.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “And now you’re here to stay,” she said. “Especially once you marry Jesse.”

  “Well, I don’t think Jesse and I are really at that stage.”

  “But you love him?”

  “I wouldn’t say love. I think we like each other.”

  “But you want it to be something more.”

  “I don’t know,” I stumbled. “And I don’t know what Jesse wants.”

  “I can see the way he looks at you. You guys are meant for each other.”

  I was getting dizzy. Just who was digging for information here? I took a breath and regrouped.

  “Have you ever been in love?” I asked.

  Kennette shrugged. “Do you th
ink Oliver and Eleanor are in love?”

  “I don’t know. I can see that you really like Oliver.”

  “He’s an amazing artist. I wonder if I could ever be as good, don’t you?”

  “I guess.” This was going nowhere. And just as I was about to change subjects once again and ask her about her childhood, a customer came into the store. Kennette ran over to help.

  I watched her immediately befriend the customer and make her feel at ease. Kennette had charm and charisma, though it was wrapped in kind of a goofy package. And it was clear she had talent. Even the choices she’d made for her quilt showed that. It was hard not to like her and even harder to imagine her killing someone.

  But that didn’t mean she couldn’t. As uncomfortable as it made me, I had to be open to the idea that anyone, even someone I liked, could commit murder.

  “We got a shipment of fabric this morning,” Kennette told me after the customer left. “I didn’t know if I should open it so I left it behind the counter.”

  “Let’s open it,” I said quickly. The arrival of new fabric was a major event, because inside the box were all the possibilities for new quilts. If Eleanor was going to take the day off, then she had forfeited the right to be here when the package was opened.

  Kennette ran behind the counter and disappeared for a second, reappearing with a huge box in her arms, which she set on the counter.

  “Kennette, that thing must weigh a ton,” I said. “You need to be more careful.”

  She just laughed. “I can handle it. I just can’t wait to see what’s in the box.”

  When we opened it, we were not disappointed. Fabrics for Easter and the Fourth of July were already arriving, as well as an entire line of soft romantic floral fabrics in faded shades of rose and green. Coordinating plaids and stripes had me already planning my next quilt.

  Since Kennette was alone, I stayed at the shop to help. There were few customers and we debated closing up early. Then, an hour before closing, the shop door opened and an enthusiastic Barney trotted in. He immediately went around the shop, greeting Kennette, myself, and the customers. Behind him Eleanor breezed in, without explanation. She was surprised to see me there, but more than anything, she was happy. Really happy.