Stitched Together

by Carol Dean Jones

  Trying to lighten the mood, John spoke up, saying, “I remember when you used to come over and we’d get a game of football going.”

  “Oh man, I’d forgotten about that. Your brother David was a phenomenal player. Did he go on to play in school?”

  “No. David became very studious. He finished undergraduate school in three years and went on to get his PhD in education. He’s principal now at one of the largest high schools in Denver. It’s an inner-city school, and he’s got his hands full.”

  “Wow! That’s impressive.”

  The three remained quiet for a while, each lost in their own thoughts and remembrances. Finally Sarah spoke up and asked if they wanted more coffee.

  “I’ll take a cup, Sarah,” Graham responded. “Then I think we need to get down to brass tacks.”

  Once the men had their fresh cups of coffee, Sarah sat a plate of oatmeal cookies on the table and excused herself, saying that she had some calls to make. “We need you here, Sarah,” Graham responded. “You’re part of the plan.”

  “The plan? There’s a plan?” Sarah asked, sitting back down.

  “You bet,” John responded. “I’m not licensed to do legal work in this state, but we’ve been talking about how I can best help Dad.”

  Graham spoke up, rather apologetically at first. “Sarah, you know as well as I do that the case against Charles was circumstantial at best. But once they found that bloody towel in your trash can everything changed. What John and I’ve been talking about is that the one sure way to get Charles off is to find out who murdered Max Coleman.”

  “I know. Sophie and I’ve talked about that, too.”

  “I’ve told Graham that I’ll stay on as long as necessary and work with you to find the killer. The police aren’t looking. They think they already have him, and they’re dead wrong!”

  “Sophie and I have made a few inquiries that I can tell you about, but they haven’t really offered any leads.”

  “We’ll go over them together. Another set of eyes is often helpful. Also, I have a friend who works up in the state capital now. He’s with the FBI on special assignment. I’ll get him involved, too.”

  Tears came to Sarah’s eyes as she reached over and laid her hand on John’s. “This is the first time I’ve felt hopeful in weeks,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “We both love him.”

  “All three of us love him,” Graham added.

  Chapter 29

  The next few days flew by quickly. John and Graham spent hours at the jail. Charles was looking better, and Sarah attributed it to the fact that John and Graham had involved him in their investigation. The three men talked, speculated, took endless notes, and came up with a list of people who might be able to provide them with leads. Much of their time was spent attempting to figure out how the bloody towel got into the trash can. “And why did it appear there weeks after the murder?” Charles asked. “If someone was going to plant it there to incriminate me, why would they wait so long? That just doesn’t make any sense.”

  Graham shook his head. “It’s a conundrum.”

  Charles laughed and turned to John. “That’s his word. I’ve listened to him talking about conundrums now for forty-some years!”

  “Life is filled with conundrums,” Graham shrugged. “What can I say?”

  Sarah had gone to visit Charles in the evening during regular visiting hours but was letting the men spend their time together during the day. She knew it was revitalizing for Charles to be working at what he did best, not to mention the many hours he was able to spend with his son.

  When he wasn’t with Charles and Graham, John met with Sarah and Sophie, identifying tasks to be accomplished and deciding who would do what. It was decided that Sarah and Sophie would approach the bartender at Barney’s about the two women they had learned about from Donald. In fact, John agreed that they should be the ones to talk to both of the women and feel them out as to whether the killer might have been one of their husbands or even another boyfriend. “They won’t be eager to admit it, so you’ll have to be sensitive to their body language and the small cues.”

  “Women are good at picking up on those things, but we’ll stay on our toes,” Sarah assured him. Sophie and Sarah agreed that Wednesday afternoon would probably be a good time to go by and see the bartender. “He shouldn’t be too busy to talk to us then.”

  “I’ll go meet with the inspector,” John said. “Sarah, you have his name, I think?”

  “Yes,” she responded, picking up Sophie’s box of carefully alphabetized 3 × 5 cards. “His name is Kenneth Rawlins. He’s in the Code Enforcement Office. Here’s his address and phone number.”

  “I think someone needs to sit down with the builders, B&H. Braxton, is it?” John asked.

  “Braxton is one of the owners. Bill Braxton,” Sarah responded. “There’s also a Ted Harper.”

  Sophie grabbed the box of cards possessively and pulled out the B&H card. “Here’s their card with the address and phone numbers. These next five cards that are coded with B&H have all the other information we have about them.”

  “Other information?”

  “Things other people have said,” Sarah quickly clarified, seeing that Sophie was becoming agitated.

  “Ah, I see what you mean. It says here that Braxton has an explosive temper, and on this card you wrote about the fight Larry observed between Braxton and Coleman. I’ll talk to Larry, too. Where can I find him?”

  “Under L,” Sophie said impatiently. “L for Larry.”

  “I see,” John responded, glancing at Sarah as they both pinched in their smiles.

  “You can usually find him at the new house early in the morning,” Sarah said. “I guess Charles has told you about him; they’ve become good friends. He’ll be happy to meet you.”

  “And he had an assistant, right?” John asked.

  “Yes, Donald,” Sarah responded. “Actually, I’d like to know more about him. I don’t know why; I just had a funny feeling about him. So arrogant for such a young man and with an undercurrent of anger.”

  “You talked with him already?” John asked.

  “It’s all in the cards,” Sophie said somewhat indignantly.

  John picked up the card box, hesitated a moment, and went to D. Sure enough, there was Donald: “Donald P. Wasserman, full-time student and Larry’s assistant. Heard argument between Braxton and Coleman. Thinks the husband of one of Coleman’s married girlfriends might have murdered him.”

  “Excellent cards, gals. Very helpful!”

  “Thank you,” Sophie spoke up proudly. “Now, I’ve got to get home. I left my friend, Higgy, alone watching his Soaps, which are probably over by now.”

  “Higgy?” John asked.

  “Cornelius Higginbottom. You might have heard of him. He’s a famous writer of verses.”

  Sarah snickered and Sophie shot her a look.

  “Don’t think I’ve had the pleasure,” John responded, aware there was much more to this story. “But I’d enjoy meeting him sometime.”

  After Sophie left, John packed up his briefcase and prepared to meet with Graham and Charles. Sophie had left the card box on the kitchen table. “Do you think I could take these along?” he asked.

  “Sure, but don’t get them out of order. Nothing upsets her more than that, and she originally told me she wanted these so we could shuffle them around and find clues.”

  John laughed and shook his head. “I love that lady!”

  Once everyone was out of the house, Sarah took some time to straighten up the house and change John’s bed linens. She put the sheets into the washer and went into the kitchen to plan a few meals and prepare a grocery list.

  * * * * *

  An hour or so later, Sarah pulled into her driveway and was unloading groceries from the trunk when she noticed an envelope on top of her mailbox. “I already picked up the mail,” she said to herself as she walked over and reached for the envelope. It had the shape and feel of a greeting card. �
�It’s not my birthday,” she said, still talking to herself and hoping the neighbors weren’t listening. She put the two grocery bags down on the counter and used a kitchen knife to slice the envelope open.

  Sarah recognized the card as one from the box of all-occasion cards she had brought Sophie from Paris. She had chosen ones that were blank inside since the ones with verses were in French. There was a picture of a man and a woman sitting together on a park bench in a field of flowers. The words “thinking of you” were neatly hand written across the top. She eagerly opened the card, assuming it was from Sophie. Inside, a message had been penned by hand:

  I know you’re worried about your man,

  And you probably want to do what you can,

  But until he walks out of that prison gate,

  There’s not much you can do but wait.

  Chapter 30

  Sarah introduced herself and Sophie to the bartender at Barney’s. It was midafternoon, and there were only three people in the bar: an elderly man sitting at the bar, looking as if he’d already had his quota of alcohol for the day, and a young couple in a back booth clearly attempting to resolve a disagreement.

  “I’m Rick,” the young bartender responded, wondering why the women were introducing themselves. “What can I get you?”

  “Oh, no. We aren’t here for drinks. We wanted to talk to you about a couple of women we heard have been in here.”

  “If this is about your husbands, I don’t get mixed up in family feuds. ‘What happens at Barney’s stays at Barney’s,’ as they say.” He grabbed a towel and began wiping the bar. “Sure you don’t want a drink?”

  “I’ll have something,” Sophie spoke up as she pulled herself up onto a bar stool. “How about one of those things that looks like a milkshake.”

  “I can make you a grasshopper …”

  “What’s that?” Sophie asked, looking interested.

  “Its crème de menthe, cream, mint chocolate chip ice cream, and milk.”

  Sophie smiled. “I’ll have one of those with whipped cream on top,” she responded, reaching for her wallet. “But leave out the alcohol.”

  “Look lady, this ain’t no ice cream parlor.”

  Sarah immediately spoke up. “Could you just give it to her with the alcohol on the side? I really need to talk with you.”

  Rick didn’t look too pleased, but at least this would justify charging the full price for the drink. After he added a generous portion of whipped cream and placed the glass in front of Sophie, he turned to Sarah. “Okay, what is it you want to know?”

  “I have some questions about a man named Maxwell Coleman. He’s the man who …”

  “Oh, I know who Max Coleman was. A real womanizer, and I can say that now since the man’s dead. There’s no privacy to protect now.”

  Oh, the complexities of bartender-customer confidentiality, Sarah thought. “I’m trying to find two young women that were involved with him—one a blond and one a redhead.”

  “I know who you mean, but I’ll have to think about how much I can tell you. They’re still living, and I’m not sure I should be telling tales on them …” he responded hesitantly.

  “He wants some incentive money,” Sophie said without looking up from her half-empty glass.

  “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t think about that.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a twenty. He looked at the bill without a reaction. She pulled out another and said, “This is for my friend’s drink; keep the change.”

  Rick took the two bills, and Sarah noticed he slipped them both into his pants pocket without going to the register. “Okay,” he began. “I can tell you one thing about them. The blond is in here ’most every night and leaves with a different man now that ol’ Max is gone. The redhead’s a different story. She comes in once in a while, usually on the weekend. If you come by here on Saturday night around 9:00, you’ll probably catch one or maybe both of them.”

  Sophie slurped the last of her drink and started to get off the barstool. Sarah had remained standing throughout the exchange. As Sophie’s foot touched the ground, her bad knee collapsed under her. Sarah grabbed for her and was able to keep her from hitting the floor, although she found herself partially pinned between Sophie and the barstool. The man at the back table jumped up and came over to help get them both back on their feet. “You ladies should watch that drinking at your age,” he said as he turned to return to his table.

  Sophie started to respond, but Sarah was able to stop her. “We’ll see you Saturday,” Sarah called to Rick as they were leaving.

  “That was embarrassing,” Sophie muttered as they reached the car.

  * * * * *

  When Sarah got Sophie delivered to her door and returned home herself, the phone was ringing.

  “Sarah, it’s John. I just left Licensing and Inspection. I met with our Mr. Rawlins, and I’m feeling very suspicious. He acts like he’s got a lot to hide, and he knew I was picking up on it. As soon as I started asking questions, he got very nervous and cut our visit short.”

  “Did you leave right away?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t seem to have a choice. But as I walked past his secretary, I overheard him on the intercom asking her to get Braxton on the phone right away.”

  “I’m going to call Jackson up at the capital. He’s the FBI agent I told you about. I’m asking him to look into B&H and Rawlins. It might even involve the entire Licensing and Inspection Department. I’m guessing Max Coleman got caught in the middle.”

  And if so, it cost him his life, Sarah thought.

  That evening, Sarah entered through the visitor’s door at the jail and checked in with the guard. She started to introduce herself, but the man said, “Good evening, Mrs. Parker.” She smiled and wondered if it was really a good thing to be well known in this particular venue.

  “May I see him?” she asked with a friendly smile, despite the nervousness she always felt when she signed in. She glanced down at her outfit as she read the sign: No revealing clothing. No sleeves shorter than halfway down the arm. No spandex. No dress or skirt above mid-thigh. No clothing displaying obscene language or gang affiliation. A second sign reminded visitors to place everything they were carrying into a locker, including purses, wallets, packages, phones, recorders, writing implements, and weapons. She tucked her locker key into the pocket of her loose-fitting, appropriate outfit and proceeded to the door that led into the secured area. The guard met her at the door and let her in. “Thank you,” she responded compliantly. She hated being there.

  The moment they led Charles into the room, her entire demeanor changed. The smile that crossed her face was immediately reflected on Charles’ face as he brightened up at the sight of her. “Sarah. I’ve missed you.”

  Visiting times were Friday through Monday evenings, with a depressing break in between. “I wish I could see you more often,” she said as she reached across the table to hold his hand. The guards were allowing this exception to the rule regularly now. They talked about the family and John, with Charles initiating the topics. She was hesitant to bring up anything that would cause him grief.

  “How about the house?” he asked. She hadn’t been there since her initial visit.

  “I should go back. I doubt there was much done since I was there last.”

  “I don’t know. The roof is probably on,” Charles speculated, “and I was hoping they got the right colors. We changed our minds so often, I’m not sure anymore what color the house will be.”

  Sarah smiled and reminded him of their final decision. “It’s like the model,” she said. “Light green siding with white trim and dark green shutters.”

  “Ah, yes. Well, be sure they got it right.”

  “I’ll check tomorrow,” she said. “I’ve been wanting to take John by, but we haven’t had a chance this week.”

  “How’s the investigation going?” he asked, “And are you careful about what you’re doing? I’m concerned about you getting in over your head …”

  “I�
��m only doing what John assigns me. And I always take someone with me. A couple of days ago, Sophie and I went to Barney’s and got information about Max’s girlfriends. We’re going back on Saturday night …”

  “Take John with you,” Charles interrupted. “I don’t want you two there alone with that Saturday night crowd. I’ve seen them.”

  “Hmm. I guess that would work. We want the girls to feel free to talk.”

  “John’s one handsome dude,” Charles said with a chuckle. “He’ll get them talking. In fact, I wonder if he should go by himself.”

  “I’ll ask him,” Sarah replied. “Actually, I was feeling a bit uneasy about that part myself.”

  Charles started to say something, but Sarah interrupted him with a big smile on her face. “Wait! I’ve got to tell you about Sophie.” She proceeded to tell him about the milkshake Sophie had managed to trick the reluctant bartender into making, and how she then slid from the barstool, causing a customer to accuse them both of having too much to drink. It was the first time she had seen Charles laugh in weeks.

  The guard indicated that it was time for Sarah to leave. Charles leaned across the table and kissed her. The guard didn’t object this time, and they both smiled at him. Sarah mouthed “thank you” as she left the room.

  When Sarah walked in the house, Barney enthusiastically greeted her and little Boots leapt around, trying to keep up with her best friend. It made Sarah laugh to see the two together: Barney, a straggly mutt, and Boots, such a well-groomed and neatly coiffed kitten. She stooped down and hugged Barney while scratching Boots’ ears. “Do you want to go for a quick walk?” she asked Barney. He began running in circles. Remembering his leash, he bounded toward the kitchen and came back dragging the leash with Boots attached to it and hanging on for dear life by her claws. “Wait, Barney. Let me get Boots loose.”