Quilter's Knot Page 16

  "I've got to work on my quilt,” Harriet said.

  "Me, too,” Carla chimed in. Harriet felt a small stab of guilt for keeping her from class today.

  Harriet had chosen a pale-blue fabric to build her quilt around. She was trying to decide whether to use a pale pink with irregular, multicolored dots on it or a tone-on-tone medium pink that would move the quilt in a brighter direction. If she used the bright pink she would probably add white to the mix. If she went with the pale pink then an off-white or yellow would work better. The trouble was, she liked the lighter pink and the white but the two weren't going to work together.

  Carla laid her fabrics out on the opposite end of the dining table; she was using a coordinated floral print series and emphasizing the star shape created by the half-rectangles. Harriet's layout would emphasize the curved look of the space between the star images.

  Harriet decided she would have to make a sample block with each color combination. She was about to start cutting the two alternatives when the phone rang. Connie answered, and after a brief conversation, she hung up and turned to the group.

  "That was Nancy from the front office. She asked if we could empty our wastebaskets into a garbage bag and put it on the front porch for pick-up in the morning."

  Mavis and Robin started setting their hand stitching aside.

  "Don't get up,” Harriet said. “I could use a break. If no one minds me going in their room, I'll gather everyone's garbage."

  No one objected, and she took a bag from under the sink and started up the stairs. The work wasn't difficult, as most people had no more than a couple of tissues and a few scraps of fabric in their wastebaskets.

  She hadn't seen Lauren downstairs, so she tapped on her door a few times but received no response. She tried the knob, and when it turned easily, she went in without another thought.

  The room was dark, but the light from the hall gave enough illumination for her to find the wastebasket and bring it out to her waiting garbage bag. It felt heavy, but a crumpled paper towel obscured whatever was in it.

  Harriet gingerly picked up the corner of the paper towel between her thumb and fore finger. The bottom of the container was filled with what looked like a large pile of cooked spinach. She dropped the paper towel and pulled Lauren's door shut, taking the waste container with her downstairs.

  "Look what I found in Lauren's room.” She lifted the paper towel aside and tilted the basket so Mavis, Connie and Robin could see without getting up. Carla came over and stood beside her.

  "What on earth is that?” Connie wondered.

  "Looks like Lauren's been cooking her own greens,” Robin said.

  "Marla talked about dyeing with plant materials the first day of class. I told Lauren about it. Maybe she was experimenting,” Mavis suggested.

  "That looks like the flowers on the front table,” Carla said in a matter-of-fact voice.

  "You're right,” said Harriet. She lifted the basket closer to her face. “Look, you can see pieces of flower stem."

  "Anyone home?” Darcy called from the entryway. “I have to spend another night here, so I thought I'd come by for a cup of tea before I go back to the motel.” She set her purse on the coffee table. “What are you doing?"

  "Just being snoopy,” Harriet answered. “I was taking the garbage out, and I found something weird in Lauren's can."

  "Oh, weird garbage, that's right up my alley.” Darcy smiled. She had a reputation in the Foggy Point area for her ability to find DNA on discarded objects, a skill that was largely due to her tolerance for picking through noxious garbage.

  She looked into the can. Her smile faded, and a ridge formed in her brow.

  "Did anyone touch this stuff?” she demanded, looking at each of her friends. Everyone looked at Harriet.

  "I just picked up the paper towel. By the corner,” she added.

  "Did your fingers tingle or anything like that?"

  "No, nothing. I barely touched it."

  "Set it down, gently,” Darcy ordered in a firm voice.

  Harriet did as instructed. “What's the matter?"

  "Maybe nothing, but I don't like the looks of this stuff.” Darcy had her cell phone out but couldn't get enough of a signal to complete her call. Mavis directed her to the phone in the dining room, and Harriet listened as she made a series of calls.

  When she finished, she came back to the great room; no one had moved.

  "We're still waiting for the final test results,” she explained, “but it looks like Selestina was poisoned with aconitum, a plant whose common name is monkshood or wolf's bane."

  "I can see where this is headed,” Mavis said.

  "You're sure no one touched this?” Darcy asked again.

  "No,” Harriet assured her. “I'm the only one, and I didn't touch the plant stuff."

  "Go wash your hands with soap at the kitchen sink, just in case,” she directed, and Harriet complied.

  "Aconitum is a very potent poison,” Darcy continued. “There are stories in the literature about people being killed by casual contact with the plants, but most experts believe it needs to be concentrated, and even then it probably needs to come in contact with broken skin.

  "Whoever did this to Selestina almost got away with it—most of her symptoms mimicked coronary artery disease. But she had a few that didn't make sense. She had numbness in her extremities, and her pupils were contracted. Still, if it hadn't been for that moonlighting pathologist I told you about, they might have gotten away with it. He suspected poison. One of the nurses pointed out her thimble finger was irritated. Again, that might not have been noticed in a woman who had arthritis in her fingertips and squeezed her finger into a metal thimble in spite of it. But once they suspected poison, they started looking for a delivery point."

  "So, someone cooked poison plants and put the juice in Selestina's thimble?” Connie asked.

  "That's the long and short of it."

  "But where would someone get the plants? Wouldn't they have to bring them along when they came?” Robin asked. “That would be pretty premeditated."

  "No, unfortunately,” Darcy said. “Monkshood grows all over the northwest in the hills. In fact...” She walked over to the bouquet of wild flowers. “...this flower right here...” She pointed to a green stem with lavender bluebell-like blossoms on its stalk. “...looks like it might be monkshood."

  She removed a latex glove from her pocket, pulled in onto her right hand and carried the vase over to set it on the floor next to the wastebasket.

  Everyone was standing in a circle staring at the two containers when the Tree House door opened and Detective Ruiz entered, followed by Officer Weber.

  "What have you got?” he asked Darcy.

  "I think we've found the source of the poison that killed Selestina Bainbridge.” She pointed at the wastebasket. “Don't touch it,” she warned. “It looks like someone cooked a batch of plants down to make a concentrated liquid. It's anyone's guess how much of that concentrate might still be in these plants. We'll have to send these to the lab and test them, but I don't think there's much doubt."

  "Where did you find this?” Detective Ruiz asked the group.

  The women looked at each other. No one wanted to be the one to seal Lauren's fate.

  "It's not a difficult question,” Ruiz prompted.

  "It was in Lauren Sawyer's bedroom,” Harriet said in a quiet voice.

  Ruiz let his breath out. “And where is Miss Sawyer?"

  "I don't know."

  "Please, don't play me."

  "No, really—we don't know. She didn't come to dinner with us. The last we heard she was going into Angel Harbor with some other students."

  Detective Ruiz nodded to the patrolman still standing near the door. “Let's find her,” he said.

  Weber stepped onto the porch, pulling a radio from his belt as he went. As he went out, Patience came in. She was wearing a faded pair of black cotton knit pants and an oversized lavender T-shirt with the Angel Harbor Folk
Art School logo stenciled on the back.

  "I'll need to question your client as soon as possible,” Detective Ruiz said to Robin. “I trust you'll let me know when she makes contact.” He handed Robin a business card. “Officer Weber will stay with the evidence until the lab picks it up."

  The ruddy-faced young officer came back in and took up his post in front of the evidence, and Detective Ruiz left.

  "Does he really think Lauren would be that stupid?” Robin wondered. “Clearly, someone planted that wastebasket.” She curled the first two fingers on each hand in the universal hand symbol for quote marks when she said planted.

  "The local lab guy will test the basket, and if we're lucky he'll pick up some prints that will tell us something. If there are prints, and none of them are Lauren's, that will help."

  "What's happened?” Patience asked. “I was in the office when the policemen came."

  "It would seem we found the poison that was used on Selestina,” Mavis said. She explained the series of events that ended with the appearance of Detective Ruiz.

  "My goodness,” Patience said. “Why would Lauren want to poison Selestina?"

  "Lauren didn't poison anyone,” Connie said.

  "Someone did,” Harriet had to point out.

  The local forensic lab people arrived and, using something that looked like Aunt Beth's antique ice tongs, picked up first the wastebasket and then the vase of flowers and stowed them in large plastic boxes. Darcy explained that the boxes weren't ordinary household storage boxes but were made from a hardened low-sodium plastic that wouldn't contaminate the contents.

  "I'm going to the lab,” she said and picked up the coat, purse and keys she'd dropped on the coffee table earlier. “We probably won't know anything before tomorrow."

  Mavis walked her to the door with the usual admonishments to make sure she got enough rest and remembered to eat.

  "Shall I put the kettle on?” Connie asked.

  "I could do with a cup of tea,” Patience said.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Mavis went into the kitchenette, pulled a plastic container of homemade lemon sugar cookies from a shelf under the counter and began arranging them on a large plate. Connie set two boxes of mixed tea bags on the table and distributed mugs. Patience, Robin and Harriet took places at the table. Mavis brought the cookies and Connie poured hot water. Carla handed out napkins then perched on a stool at the island.

  "Patience,” Harriet began, “do you think it's possible that one of Selestina's friends decided to spare her the indignity of dementia?"

  "What are you talking about? Selestina didn't have dementia. She was as sharp as you or I. What gave you the idea she had dementia?"

  Harriet was confused. Tom had been very clear. “I was talking to her son...” she began.

  "Is Tom telling that story again?” Patience asked, a look of righteous indignation on her face. “Last year the school barely broke even, so Tom got this idea he could build assisted living apartments that were geared toward the arts. Someone had talked to him about how much money he could make if he turned the school into a multi-level senior care facility. He's been trying to convince Selestina she had some kind of dementia ever since."

  "Wouldn't that be pretty easy to disprove?” Robin asked. “All she'd have to do is have an evaluation. Do you know if she owned the property herself?"

  Patience twined her fingers around the handle of her cup. “It's not that simple. Tom is her only child. She herself was an only child, so Tom is it as far as relatives go. Selestina didn't want to risk making Tom mad and being left all alone."

  "So, what was she going to do?” Harriet asked.

  "She complained about it to anyone who would listen, but she wasn't willing to do anything,” Patience said, and sighed. “I told her I would help her, but she wouldn't hear of it. Her plan, if you could call it that, was to try to get more students, so she could put off closing. She figured she couldn't stop him from building the apartments in the meadow by the pond, but she could keep signing students up for long-term programs and keep him at bay.” She slipped a crumpled tissue from her pocket and began rolling the edge between her fingers, leaving a small pile of lint on the table.

  "That sounds like a disaster in the making,” Mavis said.

  "It's been a terrible strain on Selestina. I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out her heart gave out in the end."

  "That's not likely,” Harriet said. “The police are pretty sure she was killed with a plant poison."

  "Well, that would be right up Tom's alley,” Patience said. “He was a botanist for the forest service before he came home to work at the school."

  Harriet leaned back in her chair. It was a lot to take in. Patience sipped her tea and reached for a cookie.

  "Is there going to be a memorial service for Selestina?” Mavis asked.

  "Every session we have a meeting on the Sunday before everyone goes home. We usually do show-and-tell, and people talk about their classes. We thought this Sunday we would do a tribute to Selestina. Of course, we'll do a proper memorial in town. Selestina was a big part of this community, after all."

  * * * *

  "I thought she'd never leave,” Harriet said fifteen minutes later when Patience had finally finished her cookie and tea and made her exit. “Her little bombshell certainly puts a different spin on things."

  "Oh, yeah? What spin is that?” Aiden said as he came in followed by Carla, who had apparently been the only one to hear him knock.

  Mavis quickly summarized the information Patience had conveyed.

  "I knew there was something off about that guy,” he said when she'd finished.

  "Being a botanist isn't proof he killed his mother,” Harriet protested.

  "Yeah, but knowing about an obscure yet plentiful poisonous plant does put him in the running, and at the front of the pack, if you ask me."

  "That still doesn't make it okay to hit him,” Connie reminded him.

  "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know—use my words not my fists. You've been telling me since I was seven years old."

  "And I will keep telling you until it sinks in, young man,” she retorted in her best teacher voice.

  "What did we really learn here tonight?” Robin asked the group.

  "Tom thinks Selestina had dementia,” Connie said.

  "And Tom wants to build some sort of assisted living facility here,” Mavis added.

  "Someone is working hard to make us think Lauren prepared the poison that killed Selestina,” Harriet said.

  "Bainbridge has the knowledge to prepare the poison,” Aiden said, and sat down next to her.

  "Person or persons unknown are running a quilt counterfeiting operation and may or may not be willing to kill people to defend it. That is, if you believe the person who lit the fire knew we were in there,” said Harriet.

  "Lauren's brother might have set us up,” said Carla. Her cheeks immediately reddened.

  Harriet looked at her and smiled. “Good point."

  "Unfortunately, none of this would stand up in court,” Robin pointed out. “None of it except the poison plants in Lauren's room. That would be considered evidence. Let's just hope whoever put it there wiped the container clean of prints, including Lauren's. That would at least be some help."

  "The damaged Ford Explorer must be evidence,” Aiden said.

  "If they match the paint up with the white truck, it proves the two vehicles came in contact. It doesn't tell us who was driving the Ford, or how it connects to anything else. Sorry,” she added when she saw disappointment cloud his face.

  "We aren't going to solve this tonight,” Mavis said. “I say we call it a night and see what tomorrow brings."

  "That would be a little easier for me if I knew where Lauren was,” said Robin.

  "Sarah's not home, either,” Connie noted.

  "Yeah, it's been kind of nice,” Aiden muttered. Harriet bumped him with her shoulder and tried to give him a
stern look but grinned instead.

  "You want to get up early and go into town for coffee?” he whispered to her. “I'll pick you up in my spiffy gray rental sedan."

  "Oh, be still my heart."

  "We haven't gotten to go on our date yet,” he pleaded.

  "Okay,” she conceded, “you had me at coffee. What time?"

  "That's the tricky part,” he said, still keeping his voice low.

  "I can tell I'm not going to like this."

  Aiden shielded his face with his hands before speaking, peeking from between his spread fingers. “Six-thirty,” he said, and ducked.

  "Oh, my gosh,” Harriet said then turned it into a cough when Connie asked her what was wrong.

  "I'm fine. I just swallowed wrong,” she gasped, and looked at Aiden.

  "You'll be up?"

  "With bells on,” she said.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Harriet gathered her half-rectangle pieces and stowed them in her bag. “I'm going to call it a night,” she said, and headed up the stairs. In spite of her intentions, however, it was several hours before she fell into a restless sleep.

  She woke with a start at four in the morning. She listened for the telltale sound of a door closing on the floor below her, but drifted back to sleep, awakening for good at five-thirty. Gray light was trying without much success to illuminate her room as she gathered her clothes and went down the hall to the bathroom.

  Her shower may not have been a substitute for a good night's sleep, but she had to admit she did feel better. She reached for the doorknob at her room and then froze.

  The door was ajar. She'd taken care to shut it without making noise when she'd left for her shower. She stepped back, then reached out and pushed the door open.

  "Who's there?” she demanded.

  "Oh, please, skip the dramatics and get in here,” Lauren snapped.

  "Where have you been?"

  "Not here,” Lauren said. “Tell me what you've got."

  "Do you realize the police are looking for you?"

  "Well, duh.” She sat on the other bed, her slender legs crossed, her foot bobbing nervously.