Quilt by Association Read online

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  Zumaya Publications

  www.zumayapublications.com

  Copyright ©2011 by Arlene Sachitano

  First published in 2011, 2011

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

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  QUILT BY

  ASSOCIATION

  A Harriet Truman/Loose Threads Mystery

  ARLENE SACHITANO

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.

  QUILT BY ASSOCIATION

  (C) 2011 by Arlene Sachitano

  ISBN 978-1-936144-19-8

  Cover art and design (C) April Martinez

  All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is prohibited without the written permission of the author or publisher.

  "Zumaya Enigma” and the raven logo are trademarks of Zumaya Publications LLC, Austin TX. Look for us online at www.zumayapublications.com/enigma.php

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Sachitano, Arlene, 1951-

  Quilt by association : a Harriet Truman/loose threads mystery / Arlene Sachitano.

  p. cm.

  ISBN 978-1-936144-18-1 (trade pbk. : alk. paper)—ISBN 978-1-936144-19-8 (electronic)

  1. Widows—Fiction. 2. Quiltmakers—Fiction. 3. Quilting—Fiction. 4. Murder—Investigation—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3619.A277Q854 2010

  813'.6—dc22

  2010051185

  Chapter 1

  OIt looks hideous,” Harriet Truman stated. She pushed her chair back from the table and stood up. “Anyone else need a refill?” She held up her empty mug and looked at each of her fellow Loose Threads in turn. Several raised their cups, and Harriet took them, cradling her own in her elbow.

  "I'll help,” Robin McLeod said. She picked up the mugs of the two women on either side of her and joined Harriet in the small kitchen of Pins and Needles, Foggy Point, Washington's, best and only quilt store.

  Harriet filled the large electric kettle and turned it on. Robin did the same with the coffeemaker then proceeded to execute a painful-looking yoga maneuver. She inhaled deeply then slowly let her breath out.

  "I don't think more tea is going to help,” Harriet said as she dropped fresh tea bags into the mugs. “But staring at those blocks isn't getting us anywhere."

  When the drinks were ready, they returned to the women seated around a large table in the bigger of the two classrooms at the back of Pins and Needles. Having distributed the hot beverages, they returned to their own seats.

  The Loose Threads quilt group had turned the interior wall of the classroom into a makeshift design wall by tacking a large flannel-lined plastic tablecloth, flannel side out, onto it. Assorted quilt blocks were arranged on the flannel, and they studied the resulting pattern as they sipped their tea.

  "I'll say it if no one else will,” Connie Escorcia said. She stood to emphasize her point, an effect lost thanks to her less than five feet of height. “This is a disaster. Our quilt blocks all look great by themselves, but together?” She broke into rapid-fire Spanish that even Harriet, who was fluent in seven languages, couldn't follow.

  "There has to be some way to make them work,” Harriet's aunt Beth insisted.

  "Don't waste your time,” Lauren Sawyer said as she entered from the hallway. She went to an empty place at the table and set her canvas quilting bag and stainless steel travel mug down before pulling out the chair and sitting.

  "Would you like to explain?” Aunt Beth asked.

  "The rival gang is meeting at the senior living center right now, and they have this same quilt on their wall, only theirs looks good,” Lauren reported. “Sarah asked me to help—by that, I mean she sat at her desk and I did the work—install a software upgrade on the center computers. When I walked by the cafeteria, I noticed they had a design wall up, so I made an excuse to go in, and the Small Stitches were there working on their raffle quilt. I'm telling you, theirs looks good."

  Connie collapsed into her chair. “Dios mio."

  "I thought they were doing a Maggie Walker appliqué pattern,” said Jenny Logan, one of the group's more mature members.

  "I'm telling you, they've changed their plan,” Lauren insisted. “They have twelve appliquéd blocks, each one with the face of a dog—our Rottweiler.” She pointed to one of the blocks on the wall. “Only they all used the same six shades of brown and black, and they used the same background for all the blocks."

  "Using the same background would have helped us,” Jenny mused.

  "Help me understand the rules again,” Harriet said. “I thought this was a benefit, not a competition."

  "It is a benefit—for the Foggy Point Animal Shelter,” Mavis Willis replied. At seventy, she was currently the group's most senior quilter. “In the old days, the Clallum County Quilt Guild was the only quilt group in town. They provided one raffle quilt plus a stack of functional doggie quilts every year at the shelter fundraiser.

  "As the Guild grew, smaller groups formed, and each year one of those groups had the task of making the raffle quilt. The shelter's needs also grew, and somewhere along the line, all the groups started making quilts for the event. One is chosen to be the raffle quilt, and the rest are sold in a silent auction. Any unsold quilts are donated to the shelter for functional use."

  "So, our quilt could end up in a dog cage if it's too ugly,” Harriet said.

  "We would never turn in anything that was in danger of that happening,” Jenny protested.

  "Having your quilt chosen for the raffle is a matter of group pride,” Aunt Beth explained.

  "One this group takes very seriously,” Connie added. “We've won every year but one since I've been retired. How long has that been?” she asked Mavis.

  "Long enough,” Mavis replied.

  "Nothing in the rules says we can't submit more than one quilt,” Robin said. An attorney by trade, she always knew the rules. “Let's set these blocks aside and see
if we can come up with an idea for them later. I say we pack it in for today and meet again tomorrow to brainstorm ideas for a new quilt."

  "I'll go reserve the room,” Jenny said and got up from the table.

  Harriet leaned back in her chair.

  "I'd like to know how they ended up with our same design."

  "Well, duh,” Lauren said. “Don't you think dog faces are an obvious choice for an animal shelter raffle?"

  "I guess.” Harriet gathered her scissors, thread and pincushion and put them back in her tote bag. “I've got a quilt on the long-arm machine I have to finish. I'll see you all tomorrow."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter 2

  I don't suppose you have any ideas,” Harriet asked her fluffy gray cat Fred the next morning. Fred wove in and out of her ankles then meowed. “I know—you'd make it a cat quilt."

  "Who are you talking to?” Aunt Beth asked as she came into Harriet's sunny yellow kitchen. “I see you've got that purple quilt off the machine."

  Beth had let herself in through the studio she'd added when she became a long-arm quilter, having owned the house for more than thirty years before giving both it and the shop to her niece earlier in the year.

  "How late did you have to stay up to finish it?"

  "Not all that late. Aiden canceled dinner, so I grabbed a quick snack and kept working until it was finished."

  "Trouble in paradise?"

  "He's leaving for Ephrata.” Harriet looked at her watch. “In about two hours."

  "What's he doing in eastern Washington?"

  "He's not supposed to be talking about it, so you have to promise not to tell everyone,” Harriet cautioned. She knew her aunt could keep a secret when she had to, so she continued. “A really bad pet hoarder situation was raided a week and a half ago. So far, they've kept it from the press, but Aiden says it's horrendous.

  "It's by far the biggest animal abuse case in the history of Washington State and maybe even in the country—just awful. And it's hard on the vets who have to work on the animals, both physically and emotionally, so they rotate them in and out from animal clinics all over the state."

  "I suppose Aiden has to go because he's still the newest vet in the clinic,” Aunt Beth guessed.

  "Actually, it's because of the research he was doing in Uganda. He also worked at a free clinic in his village, and I think he saw more extreme problems than the average vet stateside."

  Harriet got Fred's prescription cat food from the refrigerator and scooped a gob into his fish-shaped ceramic dish.

  "How long will he be gone?"

  "He said their schedule is a work in progress. The first vets on the scene worked thirty-six hours straight and then collapsed. They're hoping he can stay a week. He thinks he'll be able to do more, but that could be his youth speaking."

  "Are you ever going to let go of the fact that he's ten years younger than you?” Aunt Beth scolded. “Age isn't all about the calendar, you know."

  "I'm not talking about our age difference. I'm just making a general observation about the self-perceived invincibility of youth."

  "Good, because frankly, we're all getting a little tired of your constant harping about it."

  "I don't harp."

  Aunt Beth rolled her eyes. “You ready to head out?"

  "Let me get my bag and sweater,” Harriet said.

  Beth followed her into the studio then out to the driveway, where they got into Beth's silver Beetle and made the short drive to Pins and Needles.

  "Hi, Carla,” Harriet said as she came into the quilt store. Carla Salter was the youngest member of the Loose Threads and worked part-time at Pins and Needles. She no longer needed the extra income since Aiden Jalbert had hired her as his fulltime housekeeper, but clerking at the store allowed her to get out. Her toddler Wendy enjoyed going to the drop-in day care at the Methodist church, too, so it worked well for all concerned.

  "Did you guys make any progress on the dog quilt yesterday?” Carla asked. She had missed the meeting because of Wendy's well baby checkup.

  "Our quilt blocks didn't go very well together, and then Lauren arrived, and she had just seen the quilt the Small Stitches were working on, and it was our idea, only better. They used coordinated fabrics instead of going scrappy, like we did. I guess they did similar dog faces, too."

  "That's sort of weird,” Carla said as she folded the half-yard piece of fabric she'd just cut.

  "That's what I said, but Lauren pointed out there are only a few specifically dog-related images, and dog faces are probably on everybody's short list."

  "I guess."

  "That's why we're meeting again today. We're shelving our dog-face blocks and trying to come up with another plan. Will you be able to help us?"

  "Yeah, Marjory said I could take a break for the meeting, but I'm just making half-yard cuts of the new Jo Morton fabric that came in. If no one cares, I thought I could move my cutting mat into the meeting room and keep working while we talk."

  "I'm sure the Threads will applaud your industriousness,” Harriet said, causing Carla's cheeks to turn a becoming shade of pink.

  "Is anyone else here yet?” Jenny asked as she came through the door. She was dressed in chestnut-colored corduroy pants and an olive-green sweater, one of the first in the group to concede that summer was truly over and pull out her fall wardrobe.

  "Aunt Beth is in back there somewhere,” Harriet said and gestured toward the classrooms. “This is as far as I've gotten, so I don't know who else is."

  "Mavis and Connie got here just before you,” Carla volunteered.

  "Am I late?” Sarah asked as she breezed in, late as usual.

  "See you inside,” Jenny said and headed for the back.

  "The meeting hasn't started, if that's what you're asking,” Harriet told Sarah.

  "I hope they plan on starting soon. I have to be back to work in...” She glanced at her watch. “...fifty-two minutes."

  "You better get in there, then, and get everyone organized,” Harriet said.

  Sarah hurried to the back of the store, brushing Harriet as she passed.

  "You're bad,” Carla said when she was out of earshot.

  "Mavis and Connie can handle Sarah,” Harriet told her.

  "I thought Mavis said Sarah's parents owned the senior center where she works."

  "They do. If you're thinking she can't be fired, you'd be thinking right. In fact, I'd be willing to bet money the other people working at the center are hoping our meeting runs long."

  Carla smiled and gathered her rotary cutter and three bolts of fabric and headed to the meeting. Harriet followed, and was settling in her customary place at the table when Robin McLeod and DeAnn Gault entered the room.

  "Anyone want coffee or tea?” Robin asked after she set her bag on the table.

  "I'll take some tea,” Harriet said, and after a few minutes Robin delivered a steaming mug then took her seat at the table.

  "Well, ladies,” Mavis began. “Did anyone have any brilliant ideas overnight?"

  The Loose Threads spent the next hour brainstorming. They didn't allow any criticism of the list until it had ten designs on it. This didn't mean Lauren and Sarah didn't comment on every choice; it only meant everyone tuned them out more than usual.

  "Okay,” Robin said and laid her pen down. “We should be able to come up with something out of all this.” As the member who always had a tablet and pen in her purse, she invariably ended up facilitating any planning functions the Loose Threads did. “Shall we discuss them one by one?"

  "Why don't we see if anyone has an outright objection to anything on the list?” DeAnn suggested and looked around the table to see if anyone agreed with her.

  A soft rap on the doorjamb interrupted the discussion before it got started.

  "Marjory told me it would be okay to come back and talk to you,” said a slender, sandy-haired man—Joseph Marston, a social worker for a local adoption agency.

  "Hello, Joseph,”
Mavis said. “Come on in."

  He did but remained standing. A large pink-and-green pastel-colored quilt was folded over his right arm.

  "Here, set that down,” Aunt Beth said, and took the quilt from him. Connie got up and helped her lay it on the end of the table.

  "What have you got there, Joseph?” Mavis asked.

  Marston cleared his throat.

  "Someone donated four quilts to the agency, and I'm not sure what to do with them,” he said. “They're really big, so I brought one to show you."

  The agency Joseph referred to was Little Lamb Adoption Services. Harriet wouldn't have known about the place except that DeAnn was in the process of adopting a baby girl, and Marston was the social worker overseeing the process. Most of their Loose Threads meetings lately had begun with DeAnn describing the various interviews and inspections she and her family were going through. Joe was a gentle, soft-spoken man, an attribute that helped his clients keep their sanity as they negotiated a stressful undertaking.

  "Let's see what we've got here,” Aunt Beth said.

  She unfolded the quilt, and the Loose Threads cleared their bags and cups off the table and helped spread it out. The quilt had been done in an overall pattern of large pinwheels separated by equal-sized blocks of plain fabric. Harriet estimated the blocks were ten-inch squares.

  "We don't really have a use for bed quilts,” Joseph offered. “Baby quilts would have been more useful."

  No one said anything for a minute while they examined the quilt, turning edges over and rubbing the fabric between their fingers.

  "This one's in great shape,” Connie said. “Grab the other end, mi'ja,” she told Harriet. “Let's fold it into quarters."

  Harriet did as requested, and they re-centered the folded blanket on the table.

  "Are you thinking we should cut it into quarters and rebind them?” Aunt Beth asked.

  "Good idea,” Jenny said. “We can remove the old binding completely so we don't have to try to match the fabric."

  "We could add a four-inch border to each piece, too,” Robin suggested. “That way, we'd have fresh fabric to apply the binding to. We could put batting in the border like you do with the quilt-as-you-go technique."