A Quilt in Time (A Harriet Turman/Loose Threads Mystery)

by Arlene Sachitano

  “I do, indeed. I have wool or cotton batting on the roll, and if you want, Carla has a friend in her young mothers’ quilting group who does binding for hire. Fifteen cents an inch, and she does really nice work.”

  “Perfect. Sign me up.” She rubbed her hands together. “This might just work after all.”

  “Was there ever a doubt? And we aren’t even going to have to tap into the Loose Threads. Now, how about some coffee and a cranberry-orange muffin?”

  Harriet turned to lead the way back to the kitchen. Detective Morse put a hand on her arm, stopping her.

  “Wait. Before we go in, I want to apologize for my behavior the other day when the cars were bombed. I know you all aren’t trying to cause trouble. I hope you can believe this, but I really do worry about your safety. You’ve been lucky so far. In the year or so since you’ve been back in Foggy Point, you’ve gone up against some nasty people and for the most part come out unscathed. I worry that your luck is going to run out. If I came on too strong, I’m sorry.”

  “I understand. It’s just hard to stand around and do nothing when our friends are in trouble.”

  “Try to restrain yourselves. And it wouldn’t hurt if you all didn’t go places alone until we catch our perp.”

  “I promise,” Harriet said and held up her two fingers in a Girl Scout salute. Even as she did it, she knew it wasn’t true. She was sure Morse knew the same thing.

  “Good morning, Detective,” Mavis said as Harriet and Jane Morse entered the kitchen. “Here, sit.” She pulled out a chair.

  Harriet refilled the water chamber, snapped another coffee pod into her machine and pushed the go button. Aunt Beth looked over at her.

  “That thing is slick.”

  Mavis pushed the plate of muffins closer to Morse.

  “Here, help yourself.”

  Beth handed her a napkin.

  Jane selected a muffin and began peeling off the paper.

  “I’m sure you are all anxious for an update on the bombing. Unfortunately, I don’t have much for you. The bombs were made from a mix of fertilizer and motor oil with simple detonators activated remotely, probably by a cell phone. They didn’t contain shrapnel of any sort.”

  “What do you mean?” Mavis asked.

  “Often, in this type of bomb, you’ll find that, besides the explosive materials, there will be nails or tacks or other small metal objects designed to cause as much damage as possible. There is no sign of that in your bombs.

  “There were no large charges of material in the bombs, either. We think this person was trying to create a distraction—they were trying to damage the cars and nothing else, and they were successful.”

  Beth leaned forward.

  “Were there any fingerprints?”

  Detective Morse finished chewing her bite of muffin then brushed the crumbs from her mouth with her napkin.

  “No, whoever made these was careful. They probably wore gloves.”

  “Do you have any suspects at this point?” Harriet asked.

  Morse sighed. “Not really. We’re interviewing all the people in our area that have shown a fondness for explosives in the past, but honestly, in this area that’s mostly people we’ve had contact with over illegal fireworks.”

  Harriet took the finished cup of coffee from her machine and set it in front of Jane. She slid the sugar bowl to the detective before sitting back down.

  “What do you think about Howard Pratt?”

  Jane Morse stopped stirring her coffee and sighed. She pressed her lips together firmly, still not answering.

  “I don’t like the man. I don’t like the way the upper level of the Foggy Point Police Department treats him like he’s some kind of royalty. I’d bet he’s abusive to his wife. I have no proof, so don’t tell anyone I said that.”

  Mavis asked, “What about shooting Seth or bombing our cars?”

  “He had solid alibis for both events.”

  “Could he have faked them?” Harriet asked.

  Jane gave a forced laugh.

  “Hardly. He was at a city council meeting when Seth was shot and playing golf with the mayor when your cars were bombed. And before you say it, yes, he could have hired someone to do it, but we have absolutely no evidence that was the case.”

  Beth looked at Lauren, Mavis and Harriet.

  “We’ve been to the senior center quilting several times lately.” She paused, giving the other three a chance to protest before she continued. “The people in the independent living section of the place think Howard is committing fraud involving medications and Medicare.”

  “Are you suggesting he might have killed Seth because Seth discovered what he was up to? Do they have any evidence to back up that theory?” Morse asked.

  No one said anything.

  “I didn’t think so,” she continued. “Seth Pratt was a pharmacist and probably took some sort of oath like doctors do, but everything I’m hearing is he was also egotistical and abusive, much like his old man. Everything points to him being complicit in whatever Howard is doing, not opposed to it.”

  “Can you investigate that?” Mavis asked her.

  “No, not really. Medicare and Medicaid fraud are federal offenses. We can contact the FBI and tell them we suspect something, but we would need actual evidence to even do that.”

  Harriet took a bite of her muffin and chewed it slowly.

  “What about Sarah?” she asked when she was finished.

  “What about her? If Seth Pratt was her abuser, and we’re sure he was, she should be safe now that he’s dead.”

  “The seniors at the center think Howard will try to pin Seth’s death on Sarah.” Harriet told her.

  “That doesn’t make any sense. What would his motive be?”

  Mavis stood up and went to Harriet’s coffee machine.

  “Do you care if I try this hazelnut pod?” she asked.

  “Sure. Just snap it in and push the go button,” Harriet instructed.

  Mavis did as she was told and put her cup under the spout.

  “For that theory to work, you have to believe Howard is the killer. He would blame Sarah to clear himself.” She thought for a moment. “I suppose he could believe Sarah really did kill Seth.”

  “That’s not what the seniors think,” Harriet said. “They think Howard doesn’t want any scandal to taint his business. Blaming Sarah would make it go away quickly.”

  Morse shook her head. “They’re reaching. That makes no sense at all.”

  “I just had a thought,” Harriet announced. “The senior center belongs to Sarah’s mother, as far as we know.” She looked at her aunt. “Didn’t you tell me that when Sarah’s parents divorced, they owned several health-related businesses? Her dad kept the medical supply business and her mom kept the senior center?”

  “That’s right.”

  Harriet stood up and paced across the kitchen.

  “What if Howard wants to blame Sarah so he can secure the center for himself? He dominates her mother. And with the way his wives die, she may not be long for this world anyway. With Sarah in jail, he’d have full control of the place. If that happened, I’ll bet he could talk her into turning it over to him.”

  Morse picked at her muffin.

  “I hate to be a wet blanket, but all that supposes Howard is trying to blame Sarah for Seth’s murder, and so far, I don’t see anything but the suspicions of a group of senior citizens. And what are you talking about—‘the way his wives die?’”

  Harriet quickly explained what they knew about the untimely deaths of Howard’s first two wives, including Joshua’s suspicions.

  “You must know all about that,” Mavis said. “I mean, you’ve investigated Howard, right.”

  Morse looked at her.

  “No, and before you say anything, he has an airtight alibi for both the murder and bombing, as I told you earlier. He also is very good friends with the movers and shakers in town. He’s not someone you can casually investigate and expect it won’t get back
to him. Show me some concrete evidence, and I’m all over it, but until then, it’s hands off Howard.

  “Have any of you seen Sarah lately? Is she doing any better?”

  Harriet sat back down. “We haven’t seen her for a while. I haven’t, anyway.”

  The other Threads murmured their agreement.

  “We need to go check up on her and the quilting project they’re working on.” She explained the joint grandmother’s flower garden activity.

  “Let me know how she is when you do, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Morse ate several more bites of her muffin.

  “I’ll tell you what. I’ll call my old partner in Seattle. She can dig around on Howard. If she ruffles any feathers, she can say she’s investigating a complaint by one of the resident’s families or something. You’ve got me curious about his dead ex-wives. One young wife dying is sad. A second young wife dying is a coincidence, and I don’t believe in coincidence. Not when it involves dead people.”

  “Can you let us know what you find out?” Harriet asked.

  Morse sighed again. “If I’m able to, I will, but no promises.”

  Harriet rolled a muffin crumb in her fingers.

  “That’s all we can ask.”

  Morse finished her muffin and folded the baking paper neatly on her napkin.

  “These are really good. Where did you get them?”

  “Would you believe it if I said I made them?” Harriet replied with a smile.

  “Really?” Morse said.

  Harriet pointed to an empty muffin mix box on her counter.

  “Wow, did you add anything extra?” Morse asked.

  “You really are a detective,” Harriet said and laughed. “I added some fresh cranberries and freshly grated orange peel. Otherwise, they were straight out of the box.”

  Morse stood up.

  “Speaking of detecting, I better go do some. Thanks for the coffee and muffin. They really hit the spot.” She picked up her jacket from the back of her chair and put it on.

  Aunt Beth stood up as well.

  “Would you like to see my new car on your way out?”

  Morse smiled. “I’d love to.”

  Chapter 21

  Aunt Beth raised the presser foot on the sewing machine, picked up her scissors and clipped the threads on the senior bib she’d just finished.

  “There, now I have a total of ten more bibs to take to Sarah’s mom. Would you like to come with? I’ll drive.” She smiled.

  “Can you give me five minutes to finish this section I’m working on?” Harriet had loaded Detective Morse’s quilt onto her long arm machine right after the detective left. Lauren and Mavis had followed shortly after, but her aunt had stayed and had been able to complete two more of the senior bibs she had cut out the night before.

  “That’s fine. I’ll take the dogs out while you do that.” Beth had brought her rescue dog along when she’d come that morning. “I’m going to bring the travel kennel in, too. Brownie’s been getting into wastebaskets and chewing up tissues when I leave her unsupervised.”

  “We can leave them in the kitchen. I can shut the doors to the other rooms and put the gate across the stairs. That way, they can get in the back hallway and kitchen, but nowhere else.”

  Harriet finished what she was doing, and the two women headed for the senior center.

  “Hi, Hannah,” Harriet said as she approached the reception desk. “Is Elaine in?”

  Hannah stood up.

  “She’s waiting for you in the small dining room. She had the kitchen people make tea and snacks. Could you tell her I’m leaving to go work with Aiden? Oh, and also that I put the phones on auto.” She set a desk phone onto the counter with a tent sign that instructed visitors to sign in or to dial 6745 to reach the nurses’ desk if they needed help.

  “Sure, no problem.”

  Hannah brushed by her and out the front door. Beth came up behind her.

  “Where’s she going in such a hurry?”

  “Off to work with Aiden. She said Elaine is waiting for us in the small dining room.”

  “Hi, Elaine,” Harriet said a few minutes later, after going to the memory care dining room first by mistake.

  “I hope it’s okay we’re meeting back here. I asked the staff to make tea sandwiches for us so we could have lunch while we talk. I need to cover the front desk while Hannah’s gone.”

  “Oh, yeah, I’m supposed to tell you she put the phones on auto. She put a phone and sign up on the counter, too.”

  Elaine pressed her lips tightly together and frowned.

  “Is there something wrong?” Harriet finally asked.

  “No, not really. Hannah was supposed to wait until we were done before she left. Howard doesn’t like to have the front desk unattended.”

  “Would you like us to have our meeting out there?” Aunt Beth asked.

  “It’s okay. Howard is at a planning commission meeting. He won’t be back for a few hours. It really doesn’t hurt anything to leave the front desk empty once in a while. Howard just thinks it gives the wrong impression.” Elaine stared at the door and then said, more to herself than anyone else, “If Sarah would just come back, we wouldn’t be having all these problems.”

  Harriet looked at Aunt Beth, her eyes wide in disbelief. Aunt Beth moved her head back and forth in a barely perceptible negative, silencing any retort Harriet was about to make.

  Aunt Beth held out the plastic bag containing the bibs she’d made.

  “Here are some more of the adult bibs, as promised. Are they working out okay?”

  Elaine took the bag and brought the new bibs out.

  “These are lovely. They’re working wonderfully. Unless you look closely, you can’t tell the person is wearing a bib. It gives a much better impression to our visitors, and I’m sure it makes the residents feel better, too.”

  The bib conversation was interrupted by a small woman wearing a hairnet over her brown hair and pushing a cart laden with two teapots, two large platters full of crustless sandwiches and a smaller plate of cookies.

  “Thank you, that will be all, Beatrice,” Elaine said and unloaded the cart onto the table. She pulled three bundles of silverware wrapped in cloth napkins from the cart shelf along with three sandwich plates and three teacups and saucers.

  “This is lovely,” Aunt Beth said.

  “And unexpected,” Harriet added.

  Elaine blushed. “Oh, it’s nothing. We like to do this when prospective families come to tour.”

  Harriet hoped Elaine wasn’t trying to make an impression on her regarding her Aunt Beth. Beth had only just retired and when and if the time came, Harriet would move her into her own home long before she’d let her come to the Foggy Point Senior Center.

  Elaine set the table and poured tea before sitting on the opposite side of the table from Beth and Harriet. She was neatly dressed in an expensive navy blue skirt, plain white blouse and pale-blue cardigan sweater. Her makeup didn’t quite conceal the dark smudges under her eyes or the purple bruise on her cheekbone.

  “Have you seen my daughter Sarah?” she asked, looking at Aunt Beth as she spoke.

  Aunt Beth paused, her cup almost to her lips, then went ahead and took a sip before answering.

  “No, not lately.”

  “No one will tell us where she is, and Howard is anxious to have her back.”

  Harriet set the cucumber sandwich triangle she was eating back on her plate.

  “I’d imagine she’s convalescing somewhere.”

  “I can’t believe that,” Elaine said, her face turning pink under her makeup. “I mean, if she was sick or hurt she’d come here.”

  Harriet looked at Beth for help.

  “I’m sure she’s just staying with a friend,” Beth suggested.

  Elaine made a snorting noise.

  “Sarah doesn’t have friends. She has people who are kind enough to tolerate her. Why you all put up with her in your quilting group has always been a myst
ery to me. I’m sure you’ve seen her quilts. She never was willing to put in the effort it takes to make a fine one. Not like Hannah. That girl can do anything she puts her mind to. Not that she does. She’s lazy, that one; but when she does make a quilt, her stitches are tiny and even and her points are always sharp.”

  It was hard to refute what Elaine was saying about Sarah, but Harriet couldn’t let it go.

  “All of us in the Loose Threads consider Sarah our friend,” she said.

  “Is Sarah staying with one of your group members?”

  “No, she isn’t.” Beth answered for Harriet. “I’m surprised she hasn’t called you to let you know she’s okay.”

  “She always has been a difficult child,” Elaine complained.

  This wasn’t going how Harriet had planned.

  “Have the police told you anything about your stepson’s death?” she asked.

  Elaine’s eyes filled with tears.

  “You mean his murder? The Foggy Point Police Department has no idea. His father and I can’t imagine who could possible want to harm him. He was such a help to his father in running this business. I hope Sarah isn’t involved. The longer she’s on the run the more I worry that she had something to do with it.”

  Aunt Beth reached across the table and patted Elaine’s hand.

  “I’m sure Sarah could never do such a thing. She loved Seth.”

  “Why won’t she come home?” Elaine asked.

  Neither Harriet nor Beth had an answer for that, so they ate their sandwiches in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Aunt Beth wiped her hands on her napkin.

  “We’re having fun quilting with the people in the memory unit and some of the independent living folks.”

  “We appreciate you coming to spend time with our people,” Elaine said without noticeable enthusiasm.

  “It’s a pleasure for us,” Harriet said. “And we’re learning a few tricks from Violet.”

  Elaine set down her teacup.

  “We’re glad you’re keeping that little group busy. They tend to stir up trouble here.”

  “How so?” Harriet asked.

  Elaine looked at her hands, folded in her lap.