Knot in My Backyard (A Quilting Mystery)

by Mary Marks

  “Those both sound pretty specific. And you know this how?”

  “As I said, Arlo, I’ve got people.”

  “What about names? Your people give you any names?”

  “It won’t take much digging to find that out.”

  Beavers shook his head. “This is vintage Martha Rose. Clever but devious. Always holding something back.”

  Look who’s talking! What about your blond veterinarian with the perky tail?

  Crusher walked to my side. “Hey, man. Show some respect for the lady. She stuck her neck out and did your detective job for you.”

  Beavers leveled his gaze. “What makes you think I don’t already know everything she’s told me?”

  Crusher sneered, “Because, man, she was the one who found the witnesses while you just dicked around.”

  Beavers studied the crystal vase filled with flowers on my kitchen counter. He looked at me with eyes both sad and hard. “Enjoy your evening.”

  Then he left.

  I stared at the closed front door, torn between wanting to yell and cry.

  Crusher put his arm around my shoulders. “Putz!”

  I leaned into this huge man and let angry tears spill from my eyes. He stroked my head as I buried my face in his chest and left dark, wet patches on his blue shirt. Then he picked me up in his arms and carried me toward the bedroom. I wrapped my arms around his neck for balance, and he rumbled an approval from somewhere deep in his chest. Nobody had ever been strong enough to carry me before. I felt delicate and cherished.

  He placed me gently on my bed and lay down next to me, bending over to kiss my wet cheeks. I still held on to him. He kissed my eyelids. “This is my promise to you, neshamah. I will never make you cry.” He called me by a word in Hebrew meaning more than just “honey” or “babe.” He’d called me his “soul.”

  Then he brushed my mouth with a soft kiss, which turned wet and urgent. His hands and fingers read the curves of my body, and I shifted my weight so he could unhook my bra. If this was a mistake—and I’m pretty sure it was—I’d think about it tomorrow. For now, I closed my eyes and gave myself over to the comfort of Yossi’s generous lovemaking.

  CHAPTER 35

  Once our passion was spent, Yossi Levy held me in his arms for the rest of the night. I woke up early in the morning to the sound of his soft snoring. I lay on my side with Yossi curled up behind me, forming a huge carapace, his heavy arm draped over my shoulders. Dawn would be breaking soon and then what? Was I ready for this? Was Beavers now a thing of the past?

  Oh, my God, what have I done?

  I quietly slipped out of bed and hurried into the bathroom. The sky turned from black to gray through the frosted glass of the window. Last night with Yossi was pure magic; but as day broke, I was terrified I’d just made the worst mistake of my life. I was pretty sure if there existed somewhere a handbasket labeled DESTINATION: HELL, I’d just earned a reserved seat.

  I turned on the shower and stepped in. What’ll Uncle Isaac think? He really liked Beavers. Oh, my God. What will I say to Sonia?

  Later, in the kitchen, I stirred a large heap of diced potatoes and onions in sizzling hot olive oil while Crusher showered and made a couple of phone calls. Then he came up behind me and kissed my neck, tickling my skin with his beard. “It’s all settled. I’m staying here with you for as long as you need.”

  All of a sudden, the room got very small; I couldn’t find enough air to breathe. I turned to face him. “No, Yossi. You staying here is a bad idea. I think we may have just made a huge mistake. A spectacular mistake.”

  He smiled indulgently. “Babe, it was spectacular.” He lightly stroked my cleavage with his fingertip and my whole body vibrated. “You didn’t like it?”

  I turned back to the stove and spoke to the potatoes, stirring as fast as the words tumbled out. “Of course I liked it! A lot! But that’s the whole point. Now my life is more complicated than ever. I’ve got to figure things out. You’ve gotta let me have some space here.”

  “This doesn’t have to be complicated.”

  What had my uncle Isaac told me? “It doesn’t have to be complicated, faigele. Love and trust. They should be simple.”

  Right. He hadn’t just gone from dating a straight-arrow cop to spending the night making glorious love to a six-foot-six mountain of muscle—a mysterious ex-con/biker/lover/dude in a kippah.

  And what about food? Feeding Crusher would require me to stir vats of food all day long, and I hated to cook. No, this could never work.

  We ate a huge breakfast, starved after our marathon workout. How many calories had I burned? Then I brushed away the thought as unworthy.

  At one point, he was staring at me with those hungry eyes. I quickly looked back at my plate. My head told me I should never again be intimate with Yossi Levy. I also knew that if he touched me, my body would volunteer a resounding You betcha!

  “You cooked—I’ll clean.” He’d just slathered his fourth piece of whole grain toast in butter and jam.

  As we cleared the table, the doorbell rang. Yossi motioned for me to stay where I was. He picked up the gun and slipped it inside his vest. He wore clean clothes he’d fetched from an overnight bag in his truck: black T-shirt, jeans, and a blue bandana. Yossi bent down to look through the peephole. He turned toward me and all the color drained out of his face. My heart started to race.

  Beavers? Kaplan? Army Special Forces?

  He muttered a four-letter word and opened the door.

  Sonia!

  She smiled at him; he looked over at me; I mouthed, “OMG!”

  “Did you see her last night?” She took a tiny step toward him.

  “See what?” He took a step backward, bare foot landing heavily on the wooden floor. His boots were still under my bed.

  She looked at me. “The army jeep, of course. She drove by your house several times yesterday evening.”

  Crusher and I looked at each other. Army jeeps were the last thing on our minds last night.

  He scratched his head. “Uh, I guess I missed that.”

  Sonia frowned. “I thought you were supposed to be guarding Martha. Where were you? I saw your truck here all night.”

  Neither one of us said a word and the silence deepened.

  Then her mouth fell open and her eyes got wide.

  I tried to smile, but my face felt all rubbery and fake.

  Then she noticed Crusher’s bare feet. “Oh, I get it.”

  I felt like a traitor. “Sonia, I—”

  Her shoulders slumped and she held up her hand. “Never mind. I just thought you were on my side. I thought we were friends.” She turned to leave.

  “We are friends. I’d never deliberately hurt you, honestly. It’s just that, well, things changed.”

  “Obviously.” She stared at Crusher’s bare feet.

  Crusher finally found his voice. “You’re a nice lady, Sonia, but I’ve always liked Martha. I’m sorry if I gave you a different idea.”

  Sonia sighed. “No, you didn’t.” Then she glared at me. “What about your cop boyfriend? What about him?”

  “We’re not together anymore.”

  She thought for a moment. “So . . . does that mean he’s free now?”

  I swallowed. I hesitated to mention that Beavers was probably spending all his free time in the arms of a lady vet.

  I walked up to Sonia and took her hand. “Look, I’ve just made some fresh coffee. Why don’t we sit down—I want to hear about the jeep.”

  She gave Crusher’s feet one last disapproving glance and followed me into the kitchen. We took our mugs to the table, where the sugar and cream still sat from breakfast.

  “Last night at eight, the EAP spotter observed a redheaded woman driving an army jeep.”

  Lawanda Price.

  Crusher scratched the back of his neck. “What does EAP mean?”

  “The neighborhood patrol put in place our enemy attack plan when we found out someone was after Martha.”

  I a
sked, “So you mean you actually placed a spotter on someone’s rooftop?”

  “Yup. Ron and Yuki Wilson’s teenage grandson, Parker, hid on Ed’s roof with a pair of binoculars and a walkie-talkie. It’s a primo spot because the overhanging mulberry branches made a perfect blind for him to sit in. Anyway, he logged four passes in front of your house between eight and nine p.m. He said she drove slowly, almost as if she wanted to be seen.”

  I was pretty sure Barbara Hardisty sent Lawanda Price to frighten me. Too bad for them. Instead of being scared, I was probably in the throes of a petite mort with Yossi at the time of the drive-by. My cheeks heated red at the memory. “What happened?”

  “Ron grabbed his pistol and drove over in his Buick. Tony came separately on his scooter.”

  I was confused. “No disrespect, but what could Tony do from his scooter?”

  “He brought a big camera and deliberately positioned himself in your driveway so she would see him taking her photo. It worked. She left and never came back.”

  Crusher raised his eyebrows. “So you drove off an enemy attack? Cool.”

  I was glad to see Sonia soften a little with his praise. Hopefully, she would come to accept a new reality that didn’t include Crusher.

  “What are you going to do now?” she asked.

  I took a sip of coffee. “I’m not sure yet. Tomorrow is Dax Martin’s memorial service at the baseball stadium. Maybe something will turn up there.”

  Sonia stood and looked from Crusher to me. “Mazal tov.”

  I jumped up and hugged her. “We’re still friends, right?”

  She nodded and went back to her house.

  “Yossi, I’m thinking maybe I overreacted to Lawanda Price’s threat. From what Sonia just told us, Price only wants to scare me. Maybe I don’t need a twenty-four-hour guard. I think I’ll be safe enough alone. Why don’t you go back to your shop? After all, you have a business to run.”

  Not to mention, I need some breathing room.

  “You ain’t getting rid of me that easily, babe. Don’t worry. I’ve got the shop covered. Wherever you are, I’m there, too, until the killer is caught.” He gave me a meaningful look. “And long afterward.”

  I started pacing. Partly from anger about being stalked, but mostly from panic at his “long afterward” remark. “Well, I just can’t sit around doing nothing. I’m thinking the best defense is an offense. I’m going to the Army Corps of Engineers office downtown and confront Barbara Hardisty. Once she knows I’ve already told the police everything I know about her corruption, she’ll no longer have a reason to try to intimidate me.” I turned to Crusher. “Are you in?”

  He slipped on his socks and boots. Then he stood with the keys to his truck. “Babe, you’ve got enough stones to make you an honorary guy.”

  “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

  Crusher laughed. “Actually, I like you much better as a woman.” His voice softened and he stepped in close. “My woman.”

  You betcha! sang my body.

  I put on a mental hair shirt. “Let’s get out of here.”

  CHAPTER 36

  The Army Corps of Engineers was on the eleventh floor of a high-rise on Wilshire Boulevard between the 110 Freeway and Figueroa Street in downtown Los Angeles. Crusher hid his gun in the truck so he wouldn’t get tagged going through the body scanner on the first floor.

  We stepped off the elevator into a large beige room and met a pleasant-looking African-American woman sitting at a steel desk.

  “I’m here to see Barbara Hardisty.”

  She smiled. “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No, but if you tell her Martha Rose is here from Valley Allstar Construction, I’m sure she’ll make the time to see me.”

  She gave me a puzzled look and made the call to Hardisty. After a minute, she put down the phone. “Follow me, please.”

  We walked past a dozen prefab tan steel cubicles populated by civil servants; worker bees nurturing the bloated hive of government. Crusher’s boots landed heavily on the gray vinyl floor tiles, inviting curious stares.

  The receptionist stopped at a bank of executive offices in the back and knocked on the third door in.

  A woman’s voice commanded, “Come!”

  Barbara Hardisty sat in front of a window behind a cheap government-issued desk covered with fake wood veneer. Tall tan file cabinets lined the walls on either side, and two office chairs of the stacking variety faced the desk. Her brown hair was styled in an asymmetrical bob, hanging approximately to her shoulders. She scowled and didn’t offer us a seat.

  “You’re the woman with those hideous pink shoes, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, but I’m also known as the woman who just informed the police of your connection to an illegal conspiracy between SFV Associates—specifically Jefferson Davis, Valley Allstar Construction—specifically Lowell Hardisty, and the Joshua Beaumont School—specifically the baseball stadium.”

  Crusher stood next to me, filling the space like a silent monolith.

  Hardisty’s calculating eyes darted back and forth between us. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about. That transaction was completely legal. You people have been whining about the stadium for years. Get over it.”

  “How about this? I’m also known as the woman who told the police you paid Allstar Construction— specifically Lowell Hardisty—with a million dollars of government money to destroy a federally protected wildlife reserve.”

  She crossed her arms. “I don’t know where you’re getting your information, lady, but I’ve done nothing illegal. The LAPD wanted that hellhole cleaned up. Believe me, there are people who’ll vouch for me all the way up to the highest levels in this city and beyond.”

  All the way to hell, I’m guessing.

  “You sent Lawanda Price to try to intimidate me. In case you don’t know, along with conspiracy, fraud, bribery, and embezzlement, stalking is a serious crime. I have a photo of Price in the act last night. Time to call off your dogs.”

  Hardisty shuffled some papers on her desk. “You’re just a hysterical nobody who wants to feel important. Why don’t you go back to your quilting bee?”

  It irked me Hardisty knew about the quilts because her spy, Price, watched us give them away to the homeless.

  I put my hands on the back of a chair and leaned forward. “I’ve got two words for you—Dax Martin.”

  She looked up warily. “What about him?”

  “Why was he killed? Did he know too much? Was he trying to blackmail one of you? Did he get greedy, like you?”

  Hardisty busied herself rolling up a topographical map. “I don’t know who killed the poor man, and I don’t know why. I had nothing to do with his death.”

  “Oh no? When the police come after you, let’s see which one of your high-level friends is going to risk an indictment in order to protect you. The higher up your so-called friends are, the more they’ll have to lose if they do.”

  I swept my hand toward the bank of dull file cabinets. “Take a look around. Is this the office of someone who’s valuable? You’ll be thrown under the bus so fast—you won’t know how you got there.”

  Hardisty’s face reddened. “Get out of my office.”

  I couldn’t help myself. I thought about my friend Hilda, the Acevedos, and all those poor, displaced homeless people. “You destroyed one of the few places homeless people could find refuge in this city. Jason and Emily, your kids. Where will they find refuge when both of their parents are in jail? I doubt the Beaumont School will still want them around. Don’t worry. They won’t be homeless. The state will split them up and place them in foster care. Good luck to them with that.”

  Barbara Hardisty stood behind her desk and shrieked, “Get out! Get out of my office now!”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Grab a parachute, lady, because you’re going down!”

  Hardisty tried to hide her shaking hands.

  Crusher and I waited until the elevator doors closed and we were alone
before we bumped fists.

  “Maybe I said too much. Do you think I said too much?”

  Crusher shook his head and laughed. “What’d I say before? Stones of steel.”

  We arrived at the first floor and Detective Kaplan flashed a badge on his way through security, followed by a couple of uniforms. Beavers must have checked out my evidence and clued in his partner, because Kaplan appeared to be coming after Hardisty.

  I might have been able to hide myself among the people in the lobby, but Crusher was impossible to miss. Kaplan did a double take and then barreled his way toward us.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Crusher crossed his arms. “It’s a free country.”

  Kaplan looked at me. “If I find out you’ve interfered in police business—again—I won’t hesitate to throw you in jail—again. I don’t care who you’ve been sleeping with.”

  Is it that obvious Crusher and I had sex last night? Then I realized Kaplan was referring to Arlo Beavers. Kaplan didn’t know Beavers and I weren’t together anymore.

  I lowered my voice and spoke confidentially. “Detective Kaplan, we just spoke to Barbara Hardisty and she says she has friends in high places in this city. Are you sure you’ve got enough authority to go after her?”

  Predictably, Kaplan planted his thumb in his chest. “Of course I’ve got authority. I don’t care whose friend she is. I’m taking her in for questioning.”

  “Wow. Okay, then. Good luck, and I mean it.”

  Kaplan smirked and swaggered toward the elevators.

  Crusher muttered, “Putz.”

  Back in the truck, we hopped on the 110 Freeway north and transitioned to the 134 west to Encino. My confrontation with Hardisty left me elated, which meant I was also hungry. I checked the digital clock on the dashboard, relieved to find it was lunchtime.

  “I’m starved. How about some lunch?”

  Crusher let his eyes slide down my body and grinned. “I know what I want for lunch.”