Claudia looked up from the quilt she was sewing on a frame with Muriel and Paula.
“Good morning! I didn’t expect you after you said your shift changed.”
Tess bent and hugged her, then sat down and nodded at the other women. “Day off.”
“You just missed your aunt. She was in this morning after they discharged her from the hospital, but she’s taking the afternoon off.”
“I’m sorry I missed her. I’ll give her a call later. She doing okay?”
“Doing fine.”
Tess said hello to everyone and felt herself relaxing. She pulled her quilt from her tote bag, threaded a needle, and began sewing. The quilt shop had become one of her favorite places. She could relax here like she couldn’t seem to relax lately. It seemed like she worked so much, and when she went home she knew she needed to relax but couldn’t. There was always something to do: housework, a DIY project—she’d bought a fixer-upper. Another look over Sam’s case.
Enough already.
Here in the little shop crowded with colorful fabrics and threads and yarn, she could just sit and work on something creative and let her mind wander.
The quilt pattern was something different for her—a mariner’s quilt. She’d always liked this pattern. She’d grown up near water and watched the sailboats from the shore. When she’d flipped through the big quilt pattern book looking for her next quilt, she’d fallen in love with it.
“Tell us about your new job,” Claudia invited, looking at Tess over her cat’s-eye reading glasses.
“Yes, do tell,” Donna said, her grin full of mischief.
“And don’t tell us you can’t talk about it because it’s work,” Monica told her.
Tess shook her head and laughed. “You sound like a bunch of high school girls.”
Claudia fluffed her hair. “Well, some of us aren’t far from that time.”
Monica guffawed. “We’re ALL decades from that, honey. Kathy might get away with pretending she’s still the young local beauty queen, but the rest of us aren’t getting away with it.”
“I’m glad she’s home,” Tess said.
“Don’t go trying to change the subject, darling,” Claudia advised. “I already let everyone know how Kathy is doing. Give us the scoop on your new job. And especially your new partner.”
Tess stopped sewing. “How do you know about my new partner?”
“Oh, honey, you aren’t the only one who can find things out,” Claudia told her.
“You’ve been prying information out of my aunt.” Tess tried to look stern but knew she failed when Claudia just chuckled.
“So, dish,” Claudia urged.
Tess shook her head. “Nothing much to say. We’ve only worked together for one day. He seems okay.”
Claudia snorted, then looked at the other women. “‘Okay.’ Right. I hear he’s gorgeous. And more important, single.”
“I don’t think you got that information from my aunt.” Tess concentrated on her stitching. She looked up. “Or my uncle.”
“I have a mole in the police department,” Claudia admitted. “She told me this Logan is cute and the two of you looked like a good match.”
“We’re partners,” Tess said. “How are women ever going to be looked at as professionals as long as people only see us as looking for romantic hookups?”
“She’s right,” Monica spoke up. “We shouldn’t tease Tess. She worked hard for this opportunity. Police work is still a man’s world, even here in our small town.”
“Especially in our small town,” Tess muttered. She parked her needle in the quilt and stood. “Is there any coffee?”
“Just made a fresh pot,” Claudia said.
“See, you made her feel uncomfortable,” she heard Monica say behind her.
“C’mon, Tess can take it. Like you said, she’s been working in a man’s world for a long time.”
“But we’re women,” Donna could be heard to say. “We should be supportive.”
“We’re being supportive. We want her to be happy.”
“Well, I’m not sure she appreciates us playing matchmaker.”
Tess stood out of sight and grinned as she sipped her coffee. They meant well. Trouble was, everyone thought they knew what was best for you.
She gave it a couple of minutes and then walked back into the room. Before she sat again, though, she went to the front window and looked out. She’d been so determined to make detective she hadn’t thought she’d miss her old job. But she did. She missed the contact that she had with the residents, the visitors.
Returning to her seat, she set her coffee on a nearby table and resumed sewing. Peace settled back over her. She quilted at home but the weekly class had become a fun way to be with other women interested in the same thing. They were a mixed group of ages and interests and different levels of skill in quilting. Her aunt and Claudia were the longtime quilters, Tess had been quilting for about four years, and Donna and Monica had joined the class earlier in the summer.
Her aunt had gotten her interested in quilting but Tess doubted she’d have grown and stretched as much without the class. Each time she finished a quilt, the other women had joined her aunt in convincing Tess to try more complicated patterns.
She looked around the shop again. It had become like a second home to her, a place to feel comfortable and be herself.
Logan surveyed the boxes piled in the kitchen and sighed.
The last thing he wanted to do was unpack on a beautiful Saturday morning. On the other hand, he hadn’t made much progress so far.
Tess had said she was going to do some home repair this weekend. That sounded like a lot more fun than unpacking to him. Too bad she hadn’t let him help her. He considered hanging around the local big box hardware store, but he had no idea if there was more than one in the town . . . and who knew how many hardware stores she could be visiting.
Resigned, he unpacked the boxes of glasses and plates and arranged them in cupboards he’d scrubbed earlier in the week. The kitchen was as dated as the house. The funny little World War II bungalow reminded him of his grandmother’s when he saw it, and it was close to work. Besides, he’d told himself he didn’t have time to look for something to buy. Later, when he felt settled in the job and knew the area better, he’d get a realtor to help him find a place.
Pots and pans were next, the few cookbooks he owned, and the few staples that had been worth moving. He’d have to grocery shop today or tomorrow if he didn’t want to live on takeout the following week. He wasn’t that great a cook, but he knew living on takeout wasn’t good for anyone.
Linens and towels were next, then a couple boxes of books. A box of shoes—he owned more running shoes than dress shoes—followed.
The stack of empty boxes by the front door grew. When his stomach growled, he looked at the time and was surprised that he’d been working so long. He checked the fridge knowing it was a futile effort. How could there be anything in there when he hadn’t shopped?
So he started carrying the boxes out. After the last one, he locked up the house and started out to the car to go get a sandwich.
That’s when he saw the gray and white striped cat lying on the roof of his car parked in the carport. At first, he figured it was enjoying the shade but then as he got closer, he saw the blood on its head. It moaned piteously.
“Wow, looks like you got into a fight,” he said, approaching cautiously. He didn’t want to get bitten or scratched.
He saw his neighbor working in his flower bed. “Hey, Kyle, this your cat?”
The man looked up and wiped at the sweat running down his face. “Nah. It’s hung around the neighborhood for about a year. Wife feeds it sometimes when it comes around. Told her no more cats in the house.”
“Looks hurt.”
“I heard cats fighting last night.” He got to his feet and walked over to the fence separating their yards. “Ouch.”
“I think he needs stitches.”
Kyle glanced bac
k at his house, then back at Logan. “Chase it away. Last thing I need is for Nancy to want to take it to the vet. Can’t afford the ones we have.”
The cat moaned again. Logan didn’t have the heart to chase it away. “You got a carrier I can borrow?”
“Yeah, I’ll get it.”
Kyle moved faster than Logan expected him to. Probably was feeling happy someone else was going to be paying this bill.
Logan pulled out his cell and hit speed dial. “Hey, Tess, you know a good vet? One that treats cats?”
“I didn’t know you had a cat.”
“Don’t. It’s a stray. Needs a vet.”
She gave him the number. “Thanks. Talk to you later.”
Kyle returned with the carrier, his wife trailing behind him. “Logan’s gonna take him to the vet,” he said to her. “It’s not our problem.”
“I know,” she said, frowning at him. She looked at Logan. “This is really nice of you.”
Logan shrugged. “He needs to be seen. Then maybe the vet can find him a good home.”
He took the carrier from Kyle and opened the door on it. Then he approached the cat. “Okay, nice kitty. C’mon, get in the carrier.”
The cat just looked at him. Logan could swear it was a look of disdain. His mother’s cat always did that.
He moved closer, and the cat rose and began backing away. “Kyle, maybe you can help me? Get on the other side of the car so he can’t go that way?”
Looking wary, Kyle moved to the other side of the car. “I’m not gonna wrestle him. Last thing I need is to get scratched.”
Logan set the carrier on the hood of the car and began edging toward the cat, talking in a low and soothing tone just as he might do if he had a jumper. The cat backed up and started to slide off the roof. Kyle lunged for him, but when he touched its flanks the cat turned and hissed at him. Kyle backed off, nearly tripping over his own feet.
Taking advantage of the cat being distracted, Logan lunged for it but got a swipe of a paw for his trouble.
“Guys, guys!” Nancy said with a big sigh. “Let me try.” She walked up to the cat. “C’mon, Joe, come to Nancy, there’s a good Joe.”
“Joe?”
She shrugged. “Looks like a Joe to me.” She turned her attention to the cat. “Poor baby, don’t you worry about these guys, they just want to help. Let’s get you in the crate and get a doctor to help you feel better. C’mon, sweetie pie.”
And the cat walked toward her and let her pick it up and put it in the crate.
Nancy fastened the door and turned to smile at Logan. “There you go. What vet you taking him to?”
When he told her, she nodded. “Good one. I’ve used her before.” She turned to her husband. “C’mon, I’ll fix you a cold drink, and then you can get back to weeding.”
“Lucky me,” Kyle said and followed her back into their yard.
Logan loaded the carrier in the car and backed out of the drive. This wasn’t the way he’d thought he’d spend his day off, but it wouldn’t take long to take it to the vet and leave it for treatment.
The vet turned out to be a pretty woman in her thirties who competently stitched up Joe’s head all the while she conducted an interrogation of Logan that ranked up there with some of the best he’d witnessed in his line of work. So he knew Tess? Where had he come from? How did he like St. Augustine? And the inevitable, how did his wife feel about it?
His response that he wasn’t married led to lifted eyebrows and a nod. “So you two are single?”
“Yeah. But he’s not mine, he’s a neighborhood stray. I was hoping you could help him find a home.”
“I’ll be happy to post his photo on the bulletin board at the reception window,” she said. “But first, we need to get this guy neutered. I’ll give you a discount seeing as you’re a police officer.”
“Oh. Okay.” He winced a little at the price she quoted, but nodded.
“Bring him back Monday. You’ll need to keep him indoors while his head heals and make sure he doesn’t take off.”
This was getting better and better. Resigned, he let her load the cat into the carrier and stopped at the reception window to pay the bill. His wallet a little lighter, he returned home and set the carrier in the middle of the living room. Now what?
He opened the door and Joe just sat inside it, glaring at him. Shrugging, he went into the kitchen, filled a bowl with water and returned to the living room. “There you go. You have to be thirsty by now.”
He might need other things, too. Pocketing his keys, he let himself out of the house and walked over to Kyle and Nancy’s.
“I came to borrow something,” he said when she opened the door. “I was hoping you had some kitty litter you could spare until I go to the store?”
He returned home with half a bag of litter, some dry kibble, two cans of cat food, and an offer to look in on the cat whenever needed.
His cell phone rang. Tess’s name and number came up on the display. “Cat came through it fine,” he said before she could speak.
“That’s nice, but that’s not why I called,” she said tersely. “We have a homicide.”
4
How many homicides have you investigated?”
“This is my first official one,” Tess said. “But I’ve been on scene for about a half a dozen through the years. Why, are you worried I can’t carry my weight?”
The minute the words were out, she heard the defensiveness in them and wanted to bite her tongue. Oh well, better she said it than held it inside.
“Not at all. Some places a detective doesn’t see one for years before they have to investigate one.”
Tess forced herself to relax her fingers on the steering wheel. “And other places like Chicago you see lots of them, right?”
“That’s not what I’m saying. But I have to say I’m sorry to have seen a good share.” He slipped on his sunglasses. “I read the statistics before I took the job. Some years you don’t have one here.”
“Did you come here because of that?”
“No.”
Just “no.” Talk about a man of few words.
They drove in silence for a few miles, and then Tess took a left turn and parked behind two patrol cars. One of the officers was already stringing crime scene tape around the porch of a small home.
Tess and Logan ducked under the tape. They slipped paper booties over their shoes while another officer filled them in on what they knew so far.
“Victim’s Antonia Sanchez, twenty-one. Worked as a legal assistant at Colbert and Colbert. M.E.’s with the victim in the living room. We’re working on notifying family.”
They entered the house and Tess stood there for a moment, frowning. Something seemed so familiar.
“What is it?”
She looked at Logan, then around the room. “I—I don’t know. I’ve been here before.” Shaking her head, she continued into the living room.
A woman’s body lay sprawled in the middle of the room, dark red blood pooling on the carpet around her head. Philip, the medical examiner, glanced up at Tess and Logan and nodded. “I’d say she’s been dead for twenty-four hours. Blunt force trauma to the head as you can see.”
Tess stared at her face. The woman was young—in her twenties. She was pretty, with long brown hair, her slim figure dressed in a pink t-shirt and jeans. Her blue eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling. She wore an expensive-looking gold chain at her neck, and her fingers were adorned with several rings set with small gemstones.
“It wasn’t a robbery,” the M.E. said, pointing at the jewelry.
“Rape?” she asked, noticing the way the victim’s jeans were unsnapped and her shirt was half-tucked into the waistband.
He nodded. “I’ll do the usual tests when I get her back to the morgue.”
“I know her. I came to a party here once. A baby shower for her sister Maria who works in Records. Maria called her Toni.”
“Do you need to step outside for a few minutes?” Logan asked q
uietly at her side.
She took a deep breath and shook her head. “No. It’s bound to happen when you live in a small town and you’ve lived here since birth.”
“Tell me about it,” the medical examiner said, his expression hangdog. “I’ve been at this for twenty years and I’ve seen way too many friends and acquaintances in my morgue.”
Tess took notes as the M.E. made his usual methodical exam of the body, and she asked him question after question. Logan observed and said little. The crime scene team went over the house looking for evidence, and the photographer bent close to record the body from every angle.
Then the M.E. moved Toni’s head and Tess’s breath caught. She’d seen that mark on the skin of the nape before. . . . It was engraved on her memory forever.
“He’s back,” she whispered. As the room and the noises around her receded, she felt like she was being pulled into a tunnel.
“Tess! Snap out of it!” Logan was saying as he shook her arm.
“I’m okay.” She shook her head and forced herself back to the present. “Phil, that’s the mark we’ve seen on three homicides now. The first one was on my friend, remember?”
He nodded. “I’ll check it against a photo back at the morgue, but like you, I’ve seen it enough now to recognize it. I was hoping this guy was dead or in prison for another crime.” He looked up at the photographer. “Get some shots of this.”
That done, he encased the woman’s hands in plastic evidence bags. “Let’s hope we get lucky this time and she has some skin cells from the perp under her fingernails.”
“Tess, there’s no evidence of a break-in,” Jason, one of the team reported when he walked into the room. “I’m thinking she knew the perp, let him in.”
She jerked her head at a commotion at the door. The officer guarding the door was trying to keep Maria from entering the house.
“What’s happened? Is Toni hurt? You have to let me see her!”
Tess strode to the door and led Maria outside onto the porch. Tears streaked the woman’s face.
“One of the clerks came to tell me she heard the call come in and recognized the address. What’s happened? You have to tell me, Tess!”
Scraps of Evidence: Quilts of Love Series Page 3