by Terri Thayer
Vangie had erased my to-do list on the whiteboard and was writing on it.
"What's going on?" I asked.
Gussie joined the group pricing the scissors. The worry lines had eased from her forehead a little. She liked Buster and was willing to wait for him.
"We're figuring out how to get everything done by tomorrow," Vangie said. She pointed to the new to-do list on the board. "Reprioritizing. I'm going to print out the directions to Kym's quilt."
I was not convinced. "What about the kits? She said there were going to be kits."
Jenn said, "I'll make them. I can stay late tonight if I have to. In fact, my kids can come over and help me bag up the kits. My daughter's totally into scrapbooking. She can make them look pretty. We can make at least two or three kits. We can take orders for the rest."
Vangie was writing while the others threw out ideas. Everyone was brainstorming. I was amazed by the energy in the room.
Ina said, "How's this? An incentive for people who wait until next week to get the kit. We'll give a free class to put the kit together."
I cringed. That meant less profit if I had to pay for a teacher. "I can't afford that"
Ina was adamant. "It won't cost you anything. I volunteer to teach the class. I'll show the kit buyers how to do the quilt. Just one night, but-"
I wanted to catch their optimism, but there seemed like so much to do. My mind buzzed with so many undone chores, I was afraid I'd blow a circuit. It was too late.
"I appreciate you guys stepping up, but ... Vangie you have the banking to do, and the online store. And Pearl and Ina, weren't you going to work on the Old Maid's Puzzle?" And Celeste, deep in her grief, shouldn't even be here. At least Gussie had let go of the idea of taking the bail money, for now.
The six of them gathered around me, drawing me closer to the whiteboard. Vangie's eyes flashed with determination.
Pearl spoke softly. "Let us help you, Dewey. If we say we can do this, we will."
My eyes filled with tears. "You really think this'll work?"
They all nodded. I was lucky to have them in my corner. I had to let them try.
I agreed. "Okay, get to it. I'll be in my office if you need me."
From there, I called Buster and asked him to check on Jeremy and see if he was in jail in Redding. He promised to call me back soon.
Jenn and Pearl went to the front of the store and pulled fabrics to match the ones in Kym's quilt. She'd used a particular line of fabric that we didn't carry anymore, but by the looks of what they had stacked up on the cutting table, they were finding great substitutes.
I opened the e-mail program. I'd send out the note to my customers reminding them of the sale tomorrow. Forget correcting the typos. Forget drawing the cute graphics. Forget embedding the video that Lark had sent me. I sent out the e-mail with just the times of the sale and the live link to the QP online store.
I also logged on the guild listserv and asked for people to volunteer to work tomorrow. I could only pay in fabric, but that should attract a few takers. The list was quiet. Thankfully. No more talk about a man dying in my alley.
About one o'clock, Celeste came out of the classroom. She looked drained, like she'd been running on adrenaline and her supply was suddenly cut.
"I'm going to take myself home," she told me.
I got up from my desk and went to her in the hall. "Thank you for helping. It means a lot to me that you were here today."
She waved me off.
"Need a ride?" Gussie called from the classroom.
Celeste shook her head. "The walk'll do me good."
Ina said, "Let one of us go with you."
"No," she said, shaking her head. "Dewey needs all the help she can get. Without Kym."
I sensed her disapproval, but shook it off.
Celeste said, "I'm just going to go to bed."
I walked Celeste to the back door. I wanted to be sure she was doing okay. She'd lost her boyfriend, after all. Even if he was a creep.
I asked, "Did you talk to the police yet?"
She shook her head, a long lock of gray hair coming loose from her bun. She didn't seem to notice. "I told them I wouldn't be available until this afternoon."
We stood in the hall, the open door allowing the cool October air in. It felt good on my overheated skin. I thought I could smell wood burning. It was the aroma of fall, of leaves falling and trees reinventing themselves for a new season. I needed to drop a few leaves, if QP was going to survive.
Celeste sighed deeply. She ignored my question about Zorn. "The whole thing is overwhelming." Celeste sagged against the door jamb.
I was alarmed at such un-Celeste-like behavior. I glanced back to the classroom to see if Ina or Pearl was coming. I would gladly let one of them take care of her.
I said softly, "Ina?" No one came. I guessed they couldn't hear me in the classroom.
Celeste continued, "I couldn't sleep last night." She seemed to pale further, and I was getting worried. She needed someone more nurturing. I threw my head in the door and called for Gussie a little louder.
To my relief, I turned to see Gussie coming with her keys in hand, carrying a full tote bag. I saw a Diet Coke can peeking out. Even today, Gussie was recycling. The sight made me smile.
Gussie said. "Come on, Celeste. I changed my mind. I'm ready for a nap, too."
"Thanks, Gussie," I said, the relief that Celeste would not be alone like a weight lifted off me. I followed them out, watching Gussie and Celeste walk arm in arm to her car. "Buster will call us and let us know what to do with the bail money."
Gussie waved me off, her concentration on her friend now.
I stood on the back porch. I closed my eyes, breathing deeply. When I opened my eyes, Celeste and Gussie were gone and the back of Shore's ugly van was in my face. I was so tired of looking at it. I'd call my father right now and ask him to tow it out of here. Now. I wanted Tim Shore out of my life once and for all.
I pulled my cell out of my pocket and dialed him. "Hi, Dad," I said. "I need a favor."
He didn't answer. I'd heard him pick up. He still didn't trust his cell phone, so I spoke louder. "Dad?"
But he'd heard me. He said, "Is this about Kym? Because I don't want to get caught in the middle."
I saw red. Kevin and Kym must have gone straight to the Pellicano Construction office and filled him in. "Dammit, Dad, no. That's business. My business. Nothing to do with you." "
I'd thought he'd understand. He'd had his own contracting concern for forty years. Surely he had had to fire people. "Dad..."
I mean it, Dewey," he warned.
"I just need to borrow a truck and a couple of your men."
He listened to my plea to get rid of the derelict van in my parking lot. He said he couldn't promise me anything until after work. All his men were out on jobs. I hung up, feeling less like a Pellicano, and more like an unwanted stepchild.
I went back to my office, sitting heavily at my desk and checked my e-mail. Several new messages had been posted on the guild list since this morning. One was from ruthbequiltin, promising to come in and help out tomorrow. She had a friend she'd bring along.
That was a step in the right direction. I felt a little better. Quilters were good people, always ready to jump in and lend a hand.
I opened another e-mail from the guild list.
"My favorite quilt shop has just become the worst," the first post began. "Kym Pellicano, one of the original owners, was fired today. I will never set foot in that store again."
My heart sank to a new low. There were several more e-mails in the same vein. Misinformation abounded. Kym was the daughter of the owner. Kym was the owner. Kym was the heart and soul and main contributor to the shop. I got sicker as I looked. I clicked off, and sat back in my chair. I had never appreciated the power of email until this moment. Word of mouth was nothing compared to word of e-mail.
The office walls closed in on me. I didn't want to look at any more e-mails, but if I sat her
e, I knew I couldn't help myself. I shut down the program and went up front to get away from the invading computer.
Jenn was working out on paper the dimensions she needed to cut. Each kit had to have enough fabric in it to make the complete quilt, but no more. If we accidentally shorted a kit, the customer would be upset. Of course if we included too much fabric, I would lose money.
Jenn had laid out the pieces that Kevin had sent in his e-mail. At least Kym had drawn all her applique figures. Once Jenn'd figured out what fabrics went into each kit, then I had to figure out the price based on the fabric used. It was tedious, time-consuming work. Not something to be done in a rush. Of course, time was not something we had today. Thank you, Kym.
I helped Jenn measure. We talked quietly while we worked. She told me she appreciated the new look of the store. I thanked her for helping out. She seemed to have put thoughts of Frank Bascomb out of her mind.
"My kids are going to come here after school, if that's okay. I'll work until five."
I was truly grateful. "Thanks, Jenn."
A customer came in, and Jenn moved on to help her. I glanced on the whiteboard and saw one job that suited my current frame of mind. Cleaning the bathrooms had been on Jenn's to-do list, but there was no way she was going to have time.
I was scrubbing out the toilet, wondering how many years I was cutting off my life breathing in the acrid smell of the toilet cleaner, when I heard Jenn call to me from the front of the store.
"I can't make change. I need more ones, Dewey."
I told her I'd be right there, and went into the office. Vangie could have gotten the change, but she was concentrating on writing Kym's instructions. She cracked her knuckles and stared at the screen. I opened the safe. I'd pulled out the pack of twenty ones and closed the door again before I realized something was wrong.
I panicked, opening the door again. Gussie's money was gone. "Where's the money?" I said.
Vangie picked her head up from the computer. "Gussie's money?" she said, "She took it when she left. Didn't you see her go?"
"Damn!" I yelled. Gussie had been carrying her tote bag when she left with Celeste. I'd just assumed it was full of cans.
I looked from Vangie to Pearl to Ina who'd come in from the classroom when they heard me shout. "Gussie! She's got the money and gone to get her grandson out of jail," I said. "I'm calling the police."
"Hang on," Pearl said. "Maybe she's home."
Or maybe she's already given her money away. The man that called last night had to be another con man. Larry's partner.
Pearl used her cell to call Gussie, but there was no answer. She tried Celeste. Same thing. No answer.
I looked from Pearl to Ina to Vangie. No one knew what to do.
I did. I said, "I'll go look for her at her place, but first I'm letting the police know. They can look for her, too."
I called Buster back. "Hey," I said.
He immediately said, "I'm still waiting on a call back from Redding."
"Forget it," I said. "Gussie took off with the money. She might be driving herself there. Can you track her down?"
"How long has she been gone?"
I looked at Vangie. "Two to three hours?" She nodded.
Buster said, all business-like. "I'll send out an endangered senior alert, and everyone on the force will be on the lookout for her car. It won't take long to catch up with her."
"The police will find her," I said to the three women in my office. They looked relieved. I hung up after thanking Buster.
"I can't just sit here. I'll go to her place and see if she's there," I said, grabbing my keys and my cell. "Call me if you hear anything."
I walked out the back door, knees shaking at the thought of Gussie out there alone with that kind of money. And a bad guy. I hoped the police would get to her before he did.
Shore's van was the first thing I saw. My blood boiled. This bastard was still here. I kicked a tire. That didn't begin to relive my stress. I banged on the side panel, my hand hurting satisfactorily. There was no answer.
I knew he didn't lock his doors, so I yanked hard on the back door handle.
To my horror, Tim Shore was lying in the back of his van, dead.
NINETEEN
OH, MY GOD. I covered my mouth. I thought I screamed, but only a tiny squeak came out. I stared at his body, sprawled on the dirty mattress. The stale smell of marijuana floated out along with another smell. Eau du death. I tried not to inhale.
My eyes adjusted to the dark interior. Tim Shore was dressed in his underwear and a T-shirt. The boxers were printed with dollar bills. He looked like he'd bedded down outside my store for the night again. I hadn't seen his van last night when I'd left because I'd gone out the front door to admire my handiwork. He must have pocketed the money Buster had given him for a hotel and slept out here again. And died.
I looked to see if he had the telltale expression that Frank Bascomb had had, but Shore's expression was smooth. If he'd been poisoned, it wasn't evident on his face.
A very white bare foot was right in front of me.
I touched him. His foot was icy. Like at a Halloween party, the freezing cold burned me and I drew my hand back as though it was on fire.
I wiped my hand on my pants. Past Shore's head, I saw Gussie's "You're nobody til someone bunny loves you" tote bag, flat and empty, ears flopping, lying on the back seat. The last time I'd seen it was in my office, full of zucchini.
I got angry. What was he doing with her bag? What else did he have that didn't belong to him? I went around to the passenger side. I was going to have a look before the police arrived. I wanted to know what this guy had been up to in my parking lot. I glanced at the shop. As long as no one came out the back door, I'd be okay.
I pulled open the front passenger door. Another decaying stench wafted out, but this one wasn't human. Squash lay in a pile, split open and rotting on the floor. A familiar key lay next to the zucchini, shiny and unused. the store key. Shore had stolen one of my keys and made a duplicate, just like Wong had suggested.
He'd broken into the store Wednesday night. Why? To steal a bag of zucchini?
I tried to remember where I'd seen Tim in the last few days. He'd been at the bank the morning Gussie and I were there. He might have overheard the conversation about the cash. Gussie had used that tote bag to carry the money. He must have been really frustrated when he didn't find the cash in the tote bag.
I picked up the PG&E bill that I'd seen on the front seat earlier in the week. The address was Milpitas. The same town that Larry had lived in, and where Frank Bascomb had his eBay account. Shore didn't live in Santa Cruz after all.
Tim Shore must have been Larry's partner. He was the "friend" who called Gussie last night. He attempted to extort her, but he'd died before he had the chance. From the looks of his clothes, he'd been dead for hours. I shivered. Gussie was out of danger, for now.
I dreaded making the next call-to the police. My insides felt like ice.
Another murder in the parking lot of QP. Did Shore kill Frank Bascomb? Poison him and watch him die before coming to class? I shivered at the idea of sitting in the same room with a murderer.
I headed back inside, but stopped as I remembered why I'd come out. Gussie was somewhere with nearly thirty thousand dollars. She could be at some rendezvous point, waiting for him to show. An awful thought crossed my mind as the wind blew through the van, refreshing the smell of marijuana.
For the third time in as many days, I headed over to Gussie's. I texted Zorn on my cell and told him there was a dead body in a van outside my store. I didn't correct him when he said he'd meet me there. I'd be there, but first I was going to find Gussie.
I parked on the street in front of her house. There was no sign of her car. It was getting dark. The porch light was on over Gussie's front door. Frugal Gussie would never leave a light burning unnecessarily. She must be home.
I rang the doorbell and banged on Gussie's door. No answer. I reached into the grinn
ing mouth of the ceramic frog, checking for an extra key. I found nothing.
I paced off the small walkway and glanced over at Celeste's. No lights were on there. She must have gone to bed. Could Gussie be asleep? I had to know.
My years of sneaking in and out of my parents' house were about to pay off.
I went around to the back, knocking at the kitchen door and peering into the windows. I could see a new puzzle half done on the card table. She must have started one last night.
I stopped in her garden. The night jasmine gave off a sickening smell that turned my stomach. Celeste's house cast a long shadow into Gussie's backyard. It seemed to be in mourning, just like its owner.
The window to Gussie's kitchen was low to the ground. I managed to pry off the old-style screen without breaking a nail and opened the window. I pushed it up without a problem, and pulled myself inside. I overshot and landed butt first, with a thud, next to the old refrigerator. It started up with a wheeze, causing me to cry out. And clamp my hand over my mouth.
Light from the streetlight outside flooded the living room. I maneuvered through the shadowy shapes in the kitchen. The stainless steel bread box, now empty, caught the light and shimmered. It was empty. I picked my way carefully, remembering the cats who liked to trip up humans.
I didn't hear a sound. I turned on a light, further illuminating the front room. She wasn't here. I took a peek into her bedroom. I banged my shin on a plant stand, rocking the cactus and pricking myself in the process of righting it. I sucked on my finger.
I'd thought for sure I'd find Gussie here.
My phone rang. It was Buster, but I didn't answer. He'd have heard about Shore's body by now. I was sure Zorn was wondering why I wasn't at the store.
Zorn had said Larry had been struck on the head. Probably by Tim right before he came into my class. But he'd died of poison.
Gussie had a garden full of toxins. What if Tim had convinced Gussie that her grandson was in jail, but instead of handing her money over again, she'd killed him. She could have fed him the compost tea. Or given him marijuana laced with something. If I went back in that shed, would I find DDT?