Deadly Thanksgiving Sampler: a Danger Cove Quilting Mystery (Danger Cove Mysteries Book 21)

by Gin Jones

  I gave Matt a quick hug before rejoining the parade.

  * * *

  The next place the parade stopped was at the corner of Fletcher Way, within easy sight of The Clip and Sip. Behind us the giant inflatable turkey the owner, Cassidi, had installed on the salon's roof earlier in the week had since been given the "smoky eye" treatment by her cousin, Gia, using blue and green fabric.

  Up ahead of us, I could see the statuesque and brightly dressed museum director, Gil Torres, talking on her phone at the end of the parade route, in the far corner of Town Square Park.

  Lindsay appeared beside me. "Emma texted me to say that Dee wants to talk to you when the parade ends. Something about guild business."

  "More likely, she wants to grill me about Brooke's death and her missing quilt," I said. "And I don't have much to tell them yet."

  "So you still haven't figured out what the quilt is trying to tell you?"

  "Not entirely," I said. "I've got a general idea about most of the blocks, but the key is in the last row, and there are just too many different ways to read it."

  "Like what?"

  I got out my phone and found the pictures for the last row. "The first two blocks are pretty innocuous, with the lighthouse probably referring to Brooke's moving to Danger Cove, and then the next one with a pieced boat looks pretty cheerful."

  "I wouldn't mind being somewhere that had palm trees," Lindsay said, drawing my attention to the embroidery in the corners of the block. "Maybe Brooke and her husband went on a special vacation."

  Lindsay's interpretation of the block highlighted how difficult it was to be sure of what Brooke had been trying to say. I'd been thinking of the block as referring to activities in Danger Cove, which had a long history of boats for business, pleasure, and smuggling. Of course, that was before I'd seen the palm trees. They definitely didn't suggest a local connection.

  Lindsay sighed. "Maybe if I'd chosen a tropical cruise instead of New England bell tower tours for this week, my boyfriend wouldn't have cancelled it so quickly."

  "I'm sorry you missed out on your trip," I said. "And that the boyfriend didn't bother to discuss it with you."

  Lindsay shrugged. "I guess it's better to find out now rather than later that Andy doesn't really care about what I want. It's just that I really thought we had a future together, and now I don't know what to think."

  "You need to talk to him about it, not assume the worst. Tell him why you're upset, and see how he reacts. It might have been a stupid mistake that won't ever happen again, but unless he knows it's an issue for you, he can't be supportive in the future." Even as I spoke, I knew I was being hypocritical. I really needed to have my own serious chat with Matt at the first possible opportunity, which unfortunately wasn't likely to be until after dinner, when we were both going to be sleepy from turkey and wine. "If you can't talk to your boyfriend about what you need from him, then the relationship is doomed already."

  "Why does good advice have to be so hard to carry out?" Lindsay asked in a surprisingly cheerful voice. "You're right though. I'll call Andy today and see when we can get together to talk in person. But don't worry. I can still do more research if you need it. I won't be leaving Danger Cove today. I don't expect to even hear from him until Sunday. It's the only day of the week he's been taking off even an hour or two from work while he's been focused on this big project."

  "Your relationship is more important than any research I might need," I said. "If you get a chance to resolve things with Andy, you should take it."

  "I want to help."

  "Thanks." I turned my attention back to the pictures on my phone. If Lindsay was right and the boat block commemorated a vacation, not a local pastime, I might be able to find out from Lawrence when they took that trip, which would help me figure out the timing of the remainder of the blocks. The blocks in that last row got emotionally darker after the boat, at least in my eyes. But maybe Lindsay would see it differently.

  "Take a look, and tell me what you see," I said, showing her the next block after the boat. It was one of several that depicted a schoolhouse. "Originally I thought it looked like a celebration of her life as a teacher, but if you look at some of the details, they hint at something bad happening. Check out the apple in the window. Brooke embroidered a worm chewing on it. What do you think?"

  "Ew." Lindsay wrinkled her nose. "I'd say she had some sort of problem at work that was small but disgusting."

  "That's what I thought too," I said, relieved that I was on the right track. "The worm might refer to some problems she'd been having with the father of one of her students. But that's not the only ominous block in that row. The next one is a particularly old design with a lot of names, but it's most commonly known as Monkey Wrench. There's another one earlier in the chronology, so I'm guessing they both refer to her husband's work, repairing vehicles. The earlier one had some initials embroidered into it, and I haven't decoded them yet. This one has an upside-down piggy bank that's raining dollars out of it."

  "So she thought her husband's garage was a money pit?" Lindsay said. "I thought it was a popular place."

  "Except with the person you found who's leaving bad reviews all around the internet," I reminded her. "Perhaps he's succeeded in damaging Lawrence's reputation, and that's affected the business's profitability."

  Lindsay didn't seem to hear me. She was focused on the images in my phone. "What part of Brooke's life is that Schoolhouse supposed to be from? Shouldn't it have been more than three or four years ago? If that last row represents a decade of her life, then each block should represent a year or two. So that one should be closer to ten years ago."

  "If she divided her life up into equal segments, each block should cover about eighteen months, but it's possible she took some liberties with that if there were several major events within a short period of time. That's what I'm assuming happened in the last row of blocks. Her husband said she'd been upset for the past year or two, and there are four blocks that seem particularly dark, so I'm assuming they line up with the time she was upset."

  "What are the rest of the blocks in that row called?"

  I showed her the close-ups of the last two blocks before the coffin. "The first one is usually known as Drunkard's Path, and there was another version of it earlier in the quilt."

  "You think she or her husband had a drinking problem?"

  "It's possible, but no one seems to know much about their private lives. And the design might mean something completely different. The block is a traditional one with a large number of names. I looked it up, and there are several names that refer to excessive travel, like Wanderer's Path, Endless Trail, and Sherman's March. The first time Brooke used it, she might simply have been referring to being a military wife and having to move frequently. But that first one seemed…I don't know, but it's more matter-of-fact about a difficult situation. The colors, while still mostly grays, are brighter than the ones in this last row. I don't know about you, but for me, there's something about this later block that evokes dread rather than mild annoyance."

  "I get that feeling too," Lindsay said. "The fabrics aren't just gray. They're downright ugly. My grandmother once told me that a quilt can sometimes benefit from the occasional ugly fabric mixed in with prettier ones to give the eye a place to rest. I think she was trying to teach me about needing some balance in my life or something. And balance is different from using nothing but ugly fabrics like the ones in those last few blocks."

  As an appraiser, it wasn't good for my business to publicly apply the word "ugly" to any quilts, but Lindsay was right in this case. "That fabric choice had to have been intentional. Some quilters might not have known better, but Brooke had a reputation as a good designer."

  "She was an amazing embroiderer," Lindsay said. "Even I can see that. I mean, look at those tiny little outlines of jigsaw puzzle pieces embroidered into the Drunkard's Path block. I wonder what they're referring to. That she was puzzled by someone's drinking?"

  "The
block and the embellishment don't necessarily have to refer to exactly the same thing. Perhaps she combined two events in her life. She could have been puzzled about something in addition to whatever the drinking reference is."

  "That opens up the interpretation to almost anything," Lindsay said. "I'm glad you're the one responsible for figuring this out, not me."

  "At least the last block is pretty obvious." I showed her the coffin. "If you look closely, you can see that there's a different kind of gun embroidered in each of the four corners."

  "So Brooke knew someone was going to shoot her," Lindsay said. "Why couldn't she just have embroidered his name into the quilt somewhere? Or, you know, called the police?"

  "I suspect Brooke wasn't thinking clearly this past year or so."

  "So, not only are you trying to decode a message, but that message might have been written by someone who wasn't in her right mind?"

  "I'm afraid so."

  "My grandmother's not going to be happy about that."

  "I know," I said. "It's going to make for interesting conversations over the turkey later today."

  "It could be worse," Lindsay said. "With murder on everyone's mind, at least no one's going to start talking about politics."

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The parade started up again, and I lost track of Lindsay as I got back to work handing out flyers about the miniature quilt exhibit at the museum. When we finally arrived at Town Square Park and the end of the parade, Carl Quincy hadn't even fully brought the pickup truck to a stop before Dee was out of her throne and leaning over the edge of the side to get my attention.

  I went over to see what she wanted before she overreached and tumbled onto the pavement.

  "We need to ask you a favor," Dee said.

  "Two favors, actually," Emma said apologetically from beside her friend. "I've done everything I can to find someone else to help, but, well, it is Thanksgiving, and most people have families."

  "We're Keely's family," Dee said. "And that's why she won't mind doing this for us. We need someone to accompany the miniature quilts until they're handed over to the museum. Gil went ahead to make sure everything would be ready, but she said someone had to sign off to confirm that they all arrived and are undamaged. Emma already sent you pictures of all the quilts on your phone, and you know what to look for, so you're the perfect person to do it."

  The parade had ended about half an hour earlier than I'd expected, so I did have a few minutes to spare before I needed to get home to finish preparing for the holiday meal. "I'll take care of it if you can get everything packed up quickly. Otherwise, my dinner guests will get to my house before I do."

  "The quilts will be ready in just a few minutes," Emma said. "Everyone's pitching in to help take down the display. Not just the guild members, but Lindsay and Manny too."

  I glanced in their direction, and the volunteers were indeed making quick work of deconstructing the float. Carl Quincy, Lawrence Donnelly, and the handyman—he had to be the Manny that Emma had mentioned—were doing the heavier work of disassembling the quilt stands, while half a dozen women were carefully packing the quilts into a tote like the one they'd been stored in originally. They were working carefully, but with so many helpers, it wouldn't take long at all before they'd be done. There would be plenty of time for me to deliver the quilts and then get home before my guests arrived.

  "And the other favor you needed?" I knew the second one was going to have something to do with the investigation into Brooke's death, and I didn't have any solid leads yet. Suspects, yes, but any one of the possibilities had means, motive, and opportunity as far as I could tell. And there were probably countless others who were equally likely that I didn't know about yet. "I should warn you that I don't have any answers to Brooke's death, if that's what you wanted to ask about. And now that the parade is winding down and everyone will be home with their families for the rest of the day, there isn't much I can do until tomorrow."

  Dee waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, we didn't expect you to solve the murder today. Death may not take holidays, but murder investigations do."

  "Then what's the second favor?"

  Dee looked somewhat abashed, which wasn't at all like her. "I got a little carried away while I was talking to Lawrence during the parade. He said something about being all alone at the B&B after the parade, and the Ocean View is a lovely place but not the same as being with friends and family on a holiday. I invited him to your house for dinner. I just felt so bad for him. He shouldn't be alone at a time like this. The first holiday after a loved one's death is always extra hard, and coming this soon after Brooke's death, well, I just couldn't help myself. I had to do something."

  Emma leaned around her friend to add, "We know it's an imposition, and if there's no room at your place, we can tell him that the plans have changed and he should come to our house. We have some beef stew in the freezer, and it would be easy enough to thaw it out and heat it up."

  "It's really good beef stew," Dee said. "Emma made it from scratch."

  But it wouldn't be anything like a Thanksgiving dinner.

  Dee didn't have to say the words; I could read them in her pleading expression.

  It was still possible Lawrence had killed his wife, although he wasn't at the top of my list. After all, he'd been at work when Brooke was killed. And even if he had killed her, there wouldn't be any reason for him to attack me or anyone else at dinner, not with so many witnesses around.

  "He's more than welcome to join us." At this point, one more person at dinner wouldn't matter, as long as Lawrence didn't mind filling up mostly on bread and vegetables and getting only the smallest sliver of the heritage turkey. "It may be standing room only, but you're right. Lawrence shouldn't be alone today. I'll go let him know we'll be setting a place for him."

  * * *

  "I hope you'll be able to join us for dinner today." By the time I'd reached Lawrence, the display stands had all been disassembled, and Lawrence was carrying pieces of them to the back of the pickup. I walked beside him, adding, "Dee tells me that you'd be alone otherwise, and no one should be alone on Thanksgiving."

  "That's very kind, ma'am, but not necessary." He carefully lowered the armful of wood pieces into the bed of the pickup. "I know it takes a lot of planning for a holiday dinner, and I've got supplies at the Ocean View B&B, where I'm staying until the police let me back into the house. Wouldn't want to inconvenience you."

  I pictured him all alone in his admittedly nice but still lonely room at the B&B, eating sawdust-flavored military rations. On Thanksgiving. Even if he weren't mourning the death of his wife, that would be too pitiful for words.

  "It's no trouble at all." It was mostly true. Even though we'd added several guests this week, they'd all offered to bring something, so there wasn't much more work than what I'd have done for just Matt, Dee, and Emma. "I do hope you'll join us. In fact, when Dee mentioned you, I had this image of how great you'd be on KP duty afterwards, so my offer isn't entirely selfless."

  Lawrence nodded solemnly. "Brooke always assigned me to clean up. Didn't even let me help with the shopping. Which reminds me. She'd already gotten our Thanksgiving ham. She didn't like turkey, you see. If the cops will let me into the kitchen long enough to get it, I'll bring the ham with me to add to today's menu. It's too much for me to eat alone."

  "That would be great." Especially since the turkey had been too small even before the last three diners had been invited today.

  "I do love turkey." He patted his stomach and almost smiled before he suddenly froze for a moment and his face settled back into its usual grim expression. "Not that I wouldn't give up ever having turkey again if it would bring Brooke back. But that isn't an option."

  "I hope to have dinner ready around two o'clock." I made a mental note to have a chat with Dee and Emma and Matt before then to encourage them to skip the turkey and eat the ham instead so Lawrence could have as much as he wanted. Lindsay had already offered her share to Sunny. "Do you r
emember where I live?"

  "I do," he said. "It's the building that used to be the Danger Cove Savings and Loan. Hard to forget that. I'd just opened an account there before it was sold. I always like working with local businesses, and I remember I'd applied for a credit card with a local bank, and by the time the card had been approved just a few days later, it was issued by a national bank. I'd thought about cancelling it, but at the time I was just relieved to have some credit to help with opening the repair shop. Brooke hadn't wanted me to even have that one card."

  It struck me that the quilt block known as Card Trick could just as easily refer to credit cards as playing cards. The design was first created and named in the 1970s, before credit cards were ubiquitous, but as far as I knew, there weren't any other blocks that might serve as a better representation of the bank-issued kind of cards as opposed to playing cards. Perhaps the Card Trick block in the row from when Brooke lived in Kansas had nothing to do with gambling but instead referred to her dislike of the other type of cards.

  "What did Brooke have against credit cards?"

  "I wish I knew, ma'am. She never would tell me. I figured she was just too sensible to risk going into debt for things we didn't need."

  "Was she always like that?"

  "You know, I'd forgotten, but no, she'd loved credit cards when we first got married. Might have gone a little crazy with them for a while, but nothing we couldn't handle. It wasn't until we were in Florida, I think, that she cut up all our cards and insisted on paying cash for everything."

  Maybe the Card Trick block wasn't referring to credit cards after all, since it was right next to the Kansas Troubles block in the quilt, not after the block that I thought represented the Donnellys leaving Kansas.

  "No, wait," Lawrence said. "That's not right. She cut them up while we were still in Kansas. Right before we moved to Florida."

  "That was when she was still planning her quilt shop, wasn't it?" I asked. "How could she run a business that didn't take credit cards?"