Quilter's Knot Read online

  "Now, everyone sit down, and we'll see what we've got here,” she ordered, and began distributing tea.

  Connie brought Aiden in and sat beside him on one side of the table. Harriet and Tom sat opposite them, with Mavis at the head.

  "I'll start,” Harriet said. “I'm the reason Tom's here.” She looked at him. “I'm sorry about this."

  Aiden's face reddened, but Connie put her hand on his arm, silencing him.

  "Tom found me searching his office this afternoon,” Harriet continued. She looked him in the face. “Our friend Lauren is a long-term student here. We went to her exhibition, and my aunt, who was visiting from Foggy Point, joined us. She's just returned from a cruise to Europe, and she noticed that Lauren's quilt was an exact duplicate of one she saw in a gallery over there. Lauren swears she didn't copy anyone else's work and asked me to help her figure out what was going on. We went back to look at her quilt again and discovered it was missing. Someone said you were the one who shipped students’ work to the other schools in your system for evaluation."

  "You could have asked,” he pointed out.

  "Yes, I could have, but if you were involved in the copying, why would you tell me the truth?"

  "What you're saying makes no sense. You just said your aunt saw a copy in Europe. If I were masterminding a quilt-copying ring, why would I take your friend's quilt after the fact? What would I be doing with it? It had already hung in the exhibition."

  "Hello! To destroy the evidence?” Connie suggested. “You might have realized we were on to you."

  "And just exactly how did I figure that out? I've met Harriet exactly twice. The second time, we went out to dinner when that clown stood her up.” The last was accompanied by a smirk at Aiden.

  "So, you're saying you don't know anything about Lauren's quilt being copied?” Harriet asked.

  "That's what I'm telling you. I ship quilts a couple of times a year, but just to the other two folk art schools we work with. They ship students’ work to us and we do the same. Everyone evaluates the work independently, and then they all get together to see if they agree."

  "Tom, someone is copying quilts. Carla and I saw the evidence. It was in the workshop on the other side of the meadow."

  "That's convenient,” he scoffed. “That would be the workshop someone tried to burn down? Did you break in there, too?"

  "The door was open,” Carla said softly from her perch at the end of the sofa in the common room.

  "Wait, you said tried to burn down?” Harriet said.

  "I'm not sure anyone was actually trying to burn anything down. One of the big garbage cans was filled with fabric then doused with something flammable and set on fire. The fireman said they would do some tests, but it looked like it was gasoline. It mostly just smoked the place up, though."

  "I can imagine what that fabric was,” Harriet said. “We saw several copied projects in process."

  "It makes no sense,” Tom argued. “Why would anyone want to copy student work? No offense,” he added and glanced at the women sitting around the table.

  "That's what we've been trying to figure out,” Mavis said.

  "Did you ship teachers’ work also?” Harriet asked.

  "Sometimes, but mostly they did their own thing. We keep acid-free paper and boxes. The teachers came and got packing materials from me once in a while."

  "What about your mother?” Harriet persisted.

  Tom looked down at the table. It was almost a minute before he spoke. “My mom hasn't shown any of her work in a while,” he said quietly.

  "Was your mother planning on selling the school?” Harriet asked in an abrupt change of topics. Mavis looked at her and raised her eyebrows.

  "No,” Tom said. “No.” He studied his hands. “I'm sure you saw the property offers on my work table.” He looked up at Harriet. “Is that what you were really doing in my office?"

  "No,” Harriet assured him. “But I have to admit I was curious. I mean, one day we see you with surveyors, and then a few days later there are property bids."

  "It's none of your business what I do or don't do with my mother's property."

  Aiden stood. “This isn't getting us anywhere. I've got to go to the hospital to check on Cammi.” He looked at Tom. “Sorry,” he said and held out his hand. Tom stared at it but made no move to take it. “Whatever,” Aiden muttered and left.

  "Tom,” Harriet said, “I'm sorry I went into your office uninvited, but I spent the morning with Lauren at the police station. They think she killed your mother."

  "Maybe she did. Did you ever think of that?"

  "Of course, she didn't kill your mother,” Mavis snapped. “Why would she?"

  "Why would anyone kill my mother? Her students loved her. The teachers respected her. But someone killed her."

  Harriet wondered if he had ever seen his mother in action.

  "The police suspect Lauren because she's been vocal about her work being copied, and your mom is the person who had the most access to Lauren's work,” she pointed out. “Maybe your mom was investigating and caught someone in the act."

  "Poison is hardly the method you would use if someone caught you in the act of something."

  "Well, maybe she saw what we saw in the workroom. She knew someone was copying but didn't know who."

  "My mom hadn't been out to her workroom in months,” Tom informed her. He rubbed his hands over his face. “You really aren't going to let this go, are you?"

  "I can't."

  "I guess you're going to find out eventually, so I might as well tell you."

  "What?"

  "My mom had dementia.” He leaned back and sagged in his chair. “She was still in the early stages, but she wasn't doing any new art. And I certainly don't think she could have carried out a scheme to copy student work. This was going to be her last term teaching."

  "So, that's why you were selling the property?"

  He looked directly at her. “I wish it was that simple."

  "I'm sorry,” Harriet said.

  Tom picked up the cup Mavis had set in front of him earlier and drained it.

  "After my mom got diagnosed, I went through a million different scenarios in my mind. The doctors can't predict how long a person will live with dementia, you know. And no one could tell me what the decline would be like. Some people are aware they have it, others aren't. My mom wasn't, so I couldn't talk to her about it.

  "In the end, I figured she'd want to be here as long as she could. I had this idea that I could partner with someone who knows the adult foster care business. We could build a couple of homes right on the property, and then people like my mom could continue to do art as long as they are able to.” He set his cup on the table and ran his hands through his thick hair again. “Now I don't know what I'm going to do."

  "This certainly brings up more questions than it answers,” Mavis said with a sigh.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Twenty-two

  "I can understand why the police suspect Lauren,” said Harriet. “I don't believe she did anything to Selestina, but she has been bad-mouthing her to anyone who would listen because she believes Selestina copied her work. What I don't understand is why someone from the school tried to run Aiden off the road, injuring Cammi in the process."

  "Don't look at me,” Tom protested. “He's the one who hit me. All I know about him is that he stood you up for dinner the other night."

  "Well, it's too many coincidences to just be random,” Connie said.

  Harriet looked at Tom and took a deep breath. “Especially since it was a black Ford Explorer that ran him off the road, and one of the school's vehicles is damaged."

  "What? Why wasn't I told about this?"

  Before anyone could answer, a sharp knock sounded on the Tree House door. Carla jumped at the noise then got up off the sofa and hurried to open it.

  "Is Tom Bainbridge here?"

  The voice belonged to Detective Ruiz. Tom rose and met him in the entryway.
>
  "I'd like to ask you a few questions about a black Ford Explorer your business owns."

  "Sure. I only just heard one of the cars was involved in an accident. Can we go to my office?” He glanced back at the women.

  Detective Ruiz agreed, and they left.

  Mavis gathered the teacups and took them to the kitchenette. Harriet followed her with a handful of used napkins and spent tea bags for the wastebasket under the sink.

  "So, Selestina had dementia,” she said.

  "That kind of puts a new wrinkle in things.” Mavis started washing cups with a worn-looking sponge. Harriet took each one in turn, rinsed it and set it in a wooden dish rack on the tile counter.

  "I'm not sure it does,” she replied. “The effects of early stage dementia could have given Selestina a good reason to be copying student work. Who knows how long it had been affecting her? Maybe she wasn't able to do new work but still was aware enough to know she needed to be putting something out there to keep her reputation."

  "And maybe someone else discovered their work had been stolen and took exception?” Mavis suggested.

  "I guess it's still pretty weak. I'm sure no one wants their work copied, but there has to be more to it. I know people kill for pocket change, but not quilters."

  "Are you sure it was a quilter?"

  "I guess we don't have any proof other than the fact that she was teaching a quilting class when she dropped. We need to ask Darcy what's happening regarding the poisoning. Is she still here?"

  "I saw her up at the office after lunch. She was talking to a policeman, so I didn't interrupt."

  "Anyone home?” Robin sang out as she came into the Tree House.

  "In here,” Harriet called back.

  "Anybody want to go out to eat tonight?” Robin asked. “I could kill for a burger."

  Mavis glared at her over the top of her glasses.

  "Hey, it's a joke."

  "Don't you think it's a bit insensitive, given the circumstances?” Mavis asked.

  Robin shrugged. “Chalk it up to lawyer humor."

  "No wonder no one likes lawyers,” Mavis said. She wiped the area around the edge of the sink.

  "Did I hear the word burger?” Connie asked. “Sign me up."

  "Sarah said to tell everyone she and Lauren are going into town with someone from Lauren's class to buy some mat board,” Robin added.

  Carla agreed to the plan, and after a round of bathrooming and purse-gathering the group of five got in Robin's van and headed for Angel Harbor.

  "Jan Hayes was talking about a place called Big's Burgers,” Robin said as she drove up the hill. Harriet could see the yellow tape flapping in the breeze where Aiden's truck had gone over the embankment. “It's supposed to be on the right one block past the UPS Store."

  "Up there,” Mavis said, and pointed to a red-and-blue sign next to a driveway.

  Robin parked, and the group got out and headed for the door. A gray sedan pulled into the parking spot next to her van, and Aiden got out.

  "Do you have room for one more?” he asked as they gathered in front of the restaurant.

  Mavis looked down her nose over the top of her glasses. “That depends."

  "On what?"

  "On whether you can behave yourself."

  He had the good grace to blush. “I'm sorry. I don't like that guy to begin with, and he was grabbing Harriet."

  "I can take care of myself,” Harriet said.

  Mavis hadn't moved.

  "Okay, fine, I'll be good."

  "How's Cammi doing?” Connie asked as they went inside to wait for seating.

  "Her doctor is hopeful. She can't really move her legs right now, but they think that might change when the swelling in her back goes down. She's got a little bit of feeling in her left foot, so that's a good sign."

  "That's just so weird,” Robin said. “Do you suppose the other car didn't see you in the rain?"

  "Not a chance. I was in front, and the Explorer pulled partway into the other lane and then rammed me so I would go off to the right. Besides, I was in a white full-sized pickup. And it wasn't that stormy."

  The hostess came and led them to a red leatherette window booth that was big enough for them to sit three on a side. She passed out menus and chatted amiably with them about the burger choices, only leaving when she had everyone's order.

  "I've had a little time to think about this,” Aiden continued. “I keep going over everything in my mind, trying to figure out why someone would want to run me or Cammi off the road. Between college and my post-graduate work in Uganda, I haven't been around until two months ago. That's hardly enough time to create any enemies. And Cammi's young. She's going to community college. I can't imagine she'd have made someone mad enough to try to kill her.

  "Then I got to thinking about Harriet, and how she's in the middle of the trouble at the school, and it made me wonder."

  "What?” Harriet asked.

  "Did you keep wearing that purple hat I gave you?"

  Harriet felt warmth creeping up her neck. “Yes, I did. I kept it on after you gave it to me."

  "And then you left it in the truck when I gave you a ride to the copy store."

  "Yeah, so?"

  "The sun broke through the clouds when Cammi and I were coming back toward town, and she put your hat on."

  "Oh, my gosh.” Harriet slumped in her seat. “You think someone thought it was me?"

  "I don't know. I'm just saying there seems to be all kinds of trouble at the folk art school, and the only connection I have to that place is you."

  "So it's my fault Cammi got hurt?” Harriet asked, anger and hurt mixing in her voice.

  "Now, honey,” Mavis protested. “I'm sure Aiden didn't mean it that way."

  Aiden looked at Harriet. “It's no one's fault but the person in the Explorer. I'm just saying maybe the driver thought they were eliminating someone who was digging around in things they didn't want dug in."

  "Hmmm,” said Mavis. “It makes a certain amount of sense."

  "I just wish I knew what we were missing,” Harriet complained.

  "I heard there was a fire at one of the outbuildings,” Robin said.

  Harriet explained about the discovery of Selestina's workroom and the obvious copying being done there. She ended with their narrow escape from the basement root cellar, Tom's report that the fire was limited to a garbage can, and her supposition the can contained the evidence that had been hanging on the design wall.

  "That suggests it was a quilter who did the deed,” Aiden said. “I hate to defend Bainbridge, but if he was burning the place for insurance or to conceal evidence, wouldn't he be more likely to burn it to the ground?"

  "Good point,” Harriet agreed. “And a quilter wouldn't want to see those expensive sewing machines ruined."

  "If it was a quilter,” Connie said, “that gets us back to the idea of someone killing Selestina because she was copying their work.” She shook her head. “It still doesn't seem like enough."

  The waitress arrived with their burgers. Aiden and Carla had opted for bacon, and Harriet glanced longingly at the crispy strips of fat that crisscrossed their cheese-dredged patties. In a moment of guilt, she'd ordered a broiled chickenburger with lettuce and tomato after Robin got a veggie-burger. Connie had gone for the jack cheese-and-roasted pepper burger, while Mavis had chosen the basic version with cheddar cheese. The burgers came with heaping plates of Yukon Gold French fried potatoes and a tray of icy sodas.

  Aiden finished his burger while Harriet was just picking up the second half of hers. He wiped his hands with his paper napkin and dropped the rumpled remains on his empty plate.

  "I know better than to try to tell a determined group of quilters what to do, but I have to say it. Go home. If you hurry, you could still make the last ferry of the night. Let someone else figure out what's going on."

  "But, mijo, that would leave Lauren on her own. She's been questioned by the police,” Connie protested.

  "So?
You guys don't even like Lauren."

  Carla looked from Mavis to Harriet and then to Robin, waiting to see who would refute the statement.

  Finally, Mavis spoke. “Lauren doesn't make things easy for herself. And she does seem to take issue with Harriet. But that being said, she's part of our group, and the Loose Threads don't abandon a member who's in trouble."

  "So, don't abandon her. Can't you support her from the safety of Foggy Point?"

  "I don't think we're going to figure this out if we aren't at the folk art school,” Harriet said. “I feel like there's something right in front of us, but we're not seeing it."

  "Well, be careful. And don't break into anyone else's office.” He slid out from his end position in the booth and stood up. He pulled several bills from his wallet and tossed them on the table. “I've gotta go check on some patients. Can I come by for a cookie later?” he asked Harriet.

  Mavis looked at the others. No one changed expression, so she assured him he was welcome as long as he didn't come too late.

  "Tell me again how the schedule works tomorrow,” Carla said when he was gone.

  "In the morning, the teachers will each give a lecture on some aspect of embellishment,” Robin said. “Ray Louise is demonstrating dry needle felting. And I think Patience will teach a session on fabric painting with oil sticks. Marla Stevens is going to talk about dyeing thread to match your fabric. There are a few more, but those are the ones I'm interested in. Two sessions will be going on at the same time. We have a complete list back at the Tree House, by the phone."

  "After lunch, the teachers will have stations set up in the classroom so you can try the techniques,” Mavis added.

  "It's kind of nice to have a break from sitting in front of a sewing machine all day,” Robin said.

  Harriet wished she'd spent a little more time with her machine. Her half-rectangle quilt top was barely started. She was going to have to do some late-night stitching if she wanted to have something for the show-and-tell on the final day of school.

  * * * *

  There was a fresh bouquet of wildflowers on the table in the entryway when they arrived back at the Tree House. A clear plastic garbage bag full of clean towels sat on the floor.