by Jeff Shelby
“Nothing,” I told him. “Except for the fact that, like I predicted, the sheriff would try to blame me. Which is exactly what he’s doing.”
Gunnar frowned. “You’re gonna have to back up a little here,” he said.
“Greta was poisoned and the sheriff is convinced I did it. That’s about all you need to know.”
“How did we get to you being accused of stealing drugs at the grocery store?”
“Because he thinks I was the one who poisoned her. So he must think that I got ahold of some drugs that would make her sick enough to kill her.”
He made a noise that sounded like a cross between a snort and a laugh. “That’s ridiculous.”
“I know, but he’s convinced I’m the one responsible. Even though I didn’t know her. Even though I’d only been to her house once. And even though I had no idea where any of her medications were kept, or what she took or—”
I stopped mid-sentence, and the hairs on my neck stood up.
I closed my eyes, trying to remember what I’d heard about medications. Greta’s medications.
My eyes flew open as Carol Luft’s words came back to me.
I couldn’t remember the exact words she’d used, but I had total recall of one thing.
Greta Hedley took medications daily.
And Heidi was the one who had been responsible for dosing them.
THIRTY ONE
“I…I have to go,” I stammered.
I pulled back on the cart, dislodging Gunnar’s hand.
He gave me a surprised look. “What? What’s going on, Rainy?
I shook my head. “Nothing,” I lied. “I…I just need to get home. Got to get these groceries put away, and then take a nap. I was up all night.”
His look of surprise morphed into a frown. “You’re not telling me something.”
He was right. I wasn’t.
Mack had been wrong about the clue I’d been missing. He said I needed to look at family, and he’d been right: that was part of the clue.
But the bigger one was Heidi and the medications. She was the one responsible for picking them up at the pharmacy. She’d tasked herself with sorting them during the week, making sure her mother had what she needed.
And, at least in theory, she also had the means necessary to slip pills in unnoticed.
Pills that could kill her mother.
I returned my attention to Gunnar. “I’m fine,” I insisted. “Really. I’m just going to go home and rest.”
I hated lying to him, but I needed to get out of there. Not to go home, but to go and pay a visit to Heidi.
I started rolling the cart toward my car and he didn’t stop me.
I gave him what I hoped was an apologetic, reassuring look as I steered past him.
“Hey, Rainy,” he said.
I paused.
“You go get some rest, or whatever it is you’re gonna do,” he said.
I turned. He was standing right where I’d left him, his hands in his jeans pockets, a small smile on his face.
“Because the next time I see you, we need to talk.”
I swallowed. “About?”
His smile widened, and despite everything else I was feeling—the anxiety, the apprehension, the shock as I zeroed in on Heidi as suspect number one—the butterflies fluttered in my stomach.
“About just what the two of us are doing.”
He didn’t wait for a response, which was a good thing, because I didn’t have one. He nodded a goodbye and took a step toward the sliding doors, then disappeared inside the store.
I pushed the cart the rest of the way to my car with shaking hands. Gunnar had definitely not forgotten about our kiss. And he wasn’t going to let me forget about it, either.
I loaded the bags into the back seat of my car. I knew I would have to deal with it eventually. Not just because I was an adult and no longer capable of simply hiding out in the school bathroom until my crush walked by, but because I owed it to him. And to me, too. I might not have any solid answers, but knowing Gunnar, an honest statement like that would probably be answer enough. At least for a little while.
Besides, I had more important things to worry about at that moment.
I needed to find Heidi.
I was convinced my freedom depended on it.
THIRTY TWO
Five minutes later, I was still sitting in Toby’s parking lot.
Because I realized something that was thwarting my plans.
I had no idea where Heidi lived.
I had two options.
I could drive around town aimlessly, looking for signs of her. Considering I had no idea where to start—for all I knew, she could be at work—this didn’t seem like the best, most efficient use of my time.
Or I could call someone who knew her and subtly try to find out where she lived.
I made my decision.
“St. Simon’s,” Declan said in a smooth, cheerful voice when he answered the phone.
“Hi, it’s me,” I said.
“Rainy.” He sounded genuinely happy to hear from me. “How are you? How did your conversation with the sheriff go?”
“It was…interesting,” I said, trying not to sound too evasive.
“Interesting?”
“I told him what I knew,” I said, “just like you told me to do.”
“Good, good,” he said, and I could imagine him smiling and nodding. “I bet that was a relief.”
It hadn’t been at all, but I wasn’t in the mood to give details or answer more questions. I had a murder to solve.
“Listen, I’m hoping you can help me with something. I sort of need to talk to Heidi, and I don’t know how to find her.”
“Heidi?” Declan repeated. “Is everything okay?”
I tried to think of a reason to give him. “We’re both volunteering for Dorothy Days and I need to touch base with her about a few things.” The statement was, in fact, true: we were both volunteering for the festival and I did need to talk to her about something: why she had killed her own mother.
“I’m glad to hear you’re volunteering,” he said. “I think it’ll be good for you.”
Clearing my name would also be good for me.
“Thanks,” I said. “I think it will be, too.”
“I can give you Heidi’s contact info but if you’re interested in speaking to her today, your best bet is to head over to Greta’s. I know she had plans to do some weeding through of her belongings.”
“She’s at Greta’s right now?”
“I believe so, yes,” Declan replied. “She was talking about doing an estate sale soon and wanted to figure out what exactly she had to work with.”
I made a face. It wasn’t enough that she’d wanted her mother dead; now she was already looking to profit off her.
“Okay, thanks,” I said. I told him goodbye and ended the call.
I sat in my car, my hands on the steering wheel, and thought. I couldn’t exactly go over there and accuse Heidi of poisoning her mother. Even though I thought it, and even though there was some pretty strong circumstantial evidence that supported my suspicions, I didn’t think Heidi would just immediately confess if I asked the question.
How was I going to find out if she was indeed the one responsible?
I shifted the car into reverse and backed out of the parking space.
I didn’t yet know, but that wasn’t going to stop me.
I had a murder to solve.
THIRTY THREE
Heidi was at Greta’s house when I pulled up to the curb.
Or, at least, someone was.
The front door was ajar, and even from the street, I could see that the living room light was on.
I stepped out of the car, still not sure what I was going to ask or say to Heidi that might coax a confession out of her. I didn’t think flat-out asking her if she’d committed the crime was the best approach, but I wasn’t coming up with other options.
I stood by the driver’s side door, frozen in
place. Maybe I needed to call Mack first, and get his opinion. He’d have some suggestions, some advice. Or maybe I could beg him to come down and do the interrogating himself. With any luck, he could be here in under two hours. It was still early enough that if Heidi were planning to spend the day going through her mother’s things, she’d still be around when Mack showed up.
The idea gained traction in my mind. I could just do a stakeout. Park the car further up the road and watch the house, making sure she didn’t leave. And then when Mack got there, he could wield all of his Mack magic and get her to confess and I would be in the clear.
I nodded, smiling to myself.
It was the best option. The only option, really, since I didn’t have a clue how to get the information I needed out of her.
I was stepping back into my car to call my former boss when I heard the yelling.
I hesitated.
It was definitely two female voices.
And they were coming from Greta’s house.
“Get your hands off of that!” a woman shrieked.
“Give it back to me!” another woman yelled.
One voice was definitely Heidi’s. Or at least I thought it was.
There was a shriek, and then a scream.
I hesitated for about half a second before making up my mind.
I bolted toward the front door.
Five seconds later, I was pushing the front door open, my mouth agape as I looked at the scene in front of me.
Heidi and Lila Bartholomew were in a tug-of-war over a quilt, a sunny yellow and blue one with birds and flowers pieced together from calico fabrics. Lila must have had the strength of an ox because she was putting up a good fight. Both hands clutched a different corner of the quilt, and she was red in the face from tugging so hard. Heidi had a steely look of determination in her eyes as she held on tight to the other side, her fists squeezed together to keep hold of it.
I cleared my throat.
Neither of them looked at me.
I did it again, louder this time, and said, “What’s going on here?”
Both women’s heads swiveled in my direction, and both wore scowls.
“She’s trying to steal my mother’s quilt!” Heidi yelled.
Lila glowered at her. “I am not!”
“Are too!”
“Am not!”
Interrogating Heidi about Greta’s death was going to have to wait. Because I was pretty sure one of them was going to end up dead if I didn’t intervene.
I approached them slowly, my hands in the air. “Can we discuss this without screaming? I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for what’s going on.”
“Yes, there is,” Heidi said, anger flashing in her eyes. “This woman is trying to take my mother’s quilt.”
I looked to Lila for her to refute this. “Are you trying to take one of Greta’s quilts?”
“Yes.”
I did a double take. “You are?”
Lila nodded, a look of determination on her face. “But I’m not stealing it.”
I frowned. I didn’t know what her definition looked like, but taking something that wasn’t yours fit the bill for stealing in my book.
“But you’re taking Greta’s quilt…” I began.
Lila still held the quilt tightly in her hands, but she’d relaxed her stance a little. “I am not stealing it. I want to take it to the quilt competition.”
Heidi gasped. “So you want to take credit for my mother’s work?”
It was Lila’s turn to gasp. “Of course not! Why on earth would I do that?”
“You just said you wanted to enter it,” Heidi said. Her grip on the fabric hadn’t loosened, either.
“I do!”
Lila wasn’t making any sense.
“Lila, you just said you wanted to enter the quilt,” I said, trying to keep my tone gentle and calm. “What exactly do you mean?” I took a step closer. “And would it be okay with both of you if I went ahead and held the quilt?”
They both looked at me with widened eyes and I added, “I’m afraid it’s going to rip or something. You’re both holding on pretty tight.”
As if on cue, they both glanced down at their clenched fists. With quick looks at each other, their hands loosened and I reached out and took the quilt. It was thick and heavy, and I noticed the perfect, even stitches in the designs.
I held the quilt to my chest and turned to Heidi. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on? Your side of the story, I mean.”
Heidi took a deep breath. “I was cleaning out Mother’s linen closets when she showed up.” She jabbed a finger in Lila’s direction. “She asked to see some of the quilts Mother had finished this year so I pulled out the two that were done. She had one she was working on when she died. She spent a few minutes looking at them and then picked up that one.” Her finger pointed to the one in my hands. “And then she said that she was taking it!”
Lila glared at her. “That isn’t what I said! Are you deaf or something?”
Heidi’s eyes blazed. “You’re the one pushing eighty!”
“Ladies,” I said, holding up my hand. I felt like I was refereeing two arguing kindergartners. I addressed Heidi. “Can we let Lila speak now?”
Heidi grunted and folded her arms, which I took as permission for Lila to speak.
Lila must have, too, because she cleared her throat and said, “I stopped by to take a look at Greta’s quilts. Heidi showed them to me. And then I picked that one to enter into the quilt competition.”
“See?” Heidi said, frowning. “She wants to enter my mother’s quilt!”
“Of course I do!” Lila said. “But I’m not entering it for me! I’m entering it for her!”
THIRTY FOUR
“What?” I asked.
Heidi parroted my question. “What?”
Lila rolled her eyes. “I’m not entering it for me, you nitwits! I’m entering it for her.”
She had already said that, but I still wasn’t following.
“For Greta?” I asked. “You want to enter it for her posthumously?”
Lila nodded.
I was taken aback. I’d apparently had Lila pegged all wrong. I’d thought she was an enemy of Greta’s, someone who at one point I’d considered a strong suspect in her death. But there she was, standing in Greta’s living room, fighting her daughter over a quilt that she wanted to enter as a tribute to her former nemesis. Whatever had happened during their time together, it seemed as though Lila was trying to make amends. My heart swelled at the thought.
“Why?” Heidi asked, her eyes narrowed.
Lila frowned. “I came back to Latney and I wanted to enter the quilt competition this year, but I wanted it to be a true competition. Greta died and I just knew that I would win. There is no one in this county who quilts as well as I do. Except Greta. So I figured I’d enter one of her quilts, too. That way, when I beat the pants off of her, it’ll be a win, fair and square.” She folded her arms defiantly.
My happy little sunshine moment evaporated. I truly had gotten it wrong. Lila wasn’t doing it for Greta; she was doing it purely for herself.
But there was one thing I was fairly confident that I was still right about—and not just because I was now convinced of Heidi’s guilt. Lila really didn’t have anything to do with Greta’s death. Because if she had, she would have wanted her dead so that she could secure the win at the quilt competition. Coming here and grabbing the quilt so she could still compete against her nixed all my suspicions of her being the responsible party.
“My mother could quilt you under the table,” Heidi announced smugly.
Lila chuckled. “Oh, you think so?”
Heidi nodded, her hair bouncing up and down on her shoulders. “I know so.”
“Ladies,” I warned in a loud voice.
They both looked at me.
“So Lila, you are saying you’re not stealing the quilt but just want to enter it?”
She nodded. “Of course. Why would I wa
nt this wretched thing?” She glanced disdainfully at the quilt in my hands.
Heidi stiffened.
“But you will return it, if you are allowed to take it?”
“Absolutely.” She sniffed. “You couldn’t pay me to keep it.”
I turned my attention to Heidi. “And are you willing to allow Lila to take the quilt and enter it into the competition on your mother’s behalf?”
Heidi didn’t respond.
“Heidi?” I said, after waiting a minute. “Yes or no?”
“How do we know she’ll do it?” she finally said. “Maybe she’s telling us that’s what she’s going to do, but what if she destroys it? These quilts are important to me.”
Her eyes welled with tears and she sniffled. It was the first sign of emotion I’d seen from her, and it gave me pause. Not because it wasn’t suitable, but because it took me by surprise.
“So you don’t want her to take it? And you don’t want it in the competition?”
“No, I do,” Heidi said, shaking her head. “ Maybe…maybe I should enter it for her.” She glared at Lila. “Since she seems to think so little of it.”
“Good luck with that,” Lila said, snorting. “Entry deadline has passed. But, as the organizer of the quilt competition, I’m sure I can convince the powers that be to allow for an exception.”
“And who are the ‘powers that be’?” I asked.
She smiled, her deep wrinkles swallowing up her eyes. “Me.”
Lila clearly enjoyed having the power to make this happen and I didn't see any way around giving her the quilt if Heidi wanted it to be entered.
I looked at Heidi. “It sounds that if you want it to be entered, you'll have to trust Lila with it.”
Heidi's hands were folded tightly together, almost like she was praying. “It would be a nice way to honor her memory, I suppose.”
I nodded. “I agree. It would be.”
She eyed Lila. “If I let you take it, you'll enter it? You won't do something terrible to it?”
Lila rolled her eyes. “Give me a break. It will give me great pleasure to enter Greta's last work because it'll give me one more chance to beat her.”