A Quilt in Time (A Harriet Turman/Loose Threads Mystery) Page 16

  “What time?” Harriet asked.

  After a little negotiation, they all decided six o’clock would give the women enough time to all take their dogs out.

  “If no one has anything else pressing, it makes more sense for us to do it this way instead of making Harriet come back for us a second time,” Mavis pointed out.

  Beth pulled her own phone from her purse.

  “I’ll call Connie and see if she and Rod want to join us. I’ll text Jor-ge if they say yes. They can give Mavis and I a ride home, too, if they come.”

  “Look at you, all high-tech,” Lauren teased. “When did you trade in your Jitter-bug?”—referring to the simplistic phone that was often advertised in the AARP newsletter.

  “I never had a Jitter-bug,” Beth said when she had finished her call. “My old phone was state-of-the-art in its time.”

  “Yeah? And when was that? Cell phones aren’t made to last more than six months, max. You must have had that one ten years,” Lauren said.

  Beth completed her text and dropped her smartphone back into her purse.

  “They shouldn’t punish a person,” she said, “for taking proper care of her things. And it was only seven years.”

  Harriet laughed and glanced at Lauren.

  “You’ll never win that argument, so you might as well give up.”

  Lauren just shook her head.

  Harriet scooted her chair back from the table in the private room.

  “I’d say that’s a keeper. I can’t eat another bite.”

  “You didn’t save room for my flan?” Jorge asked in a hurt voice.

  “I suppose I could squeeze some in,” she answered with a laugh.

  Aunt Beth set her napkin beside her plate.

  “Maybe we can talk about what happened today while we let our dinner settle,” she said.

  Lauren filled the men in on the day’s activity.

  “Diós mio,” Connie said and covered her face in her hands. “And we agreed before we left we weren’t going to do anything else that might provoke the bomber.”

  “That would be easier if we knew who the bomber was,” Harriet said. “And for the record, I had no intention of going into Howard’s office. I wanted to, but I wasn’t going to. That plan was all on the senior citizens who live there. They’d gotten a bootleg key and everything.”

  “Are you sure they’re telling you everything they know?” Aiden asked.

  “No, I’m not, but why do you ask? Do you know something?”

  He slipped her hand into his.

  “I wish I knew something for sure. I just have this vague recollection about the woman in the wheelchair. Janice?

  “It was a big scandal in Foggy Point when she had her accident and it came out she was with Howard Pratt. Then it seems like it was all hushed up. My mom had heard some rumors at work.”

  He stared past her, trying to pull the memories from thin air.

  “She wasn’t from here. She was some sort of journalist, and she was investigating something or someone.” He pressed his lips together. “I just don’t remember. I was in high school.” He grinned at Harriet. “Chasing girls.”

  Beth rubbed her hand across her mouth absently.

  “I remember the accident was all over the paper when it happened, the part about the up-and-coming journalist being injured. I didn’t remember Howard was in the car. You’d think I would have, too, since I think she was investigating the death of Jill Pratt.”

  “She was investigating his wife’s death, and the paper didn’t mention he was in the car with her?” Harriet asked. “That’s rather fishy.”

  “I’m not sure many people knew what she was here for. I only knew because she came to Avanell’s business to interview one of her secretaries. Jill’s death was ruled a suicide. I don’t know why Janice thought otherwise.”

  Aiden looked at Beth. “My mom told you and didn’t tell me?”

  Beth smiled sweetly. “She probably did and you just don’t remember. You were fifteen at the time, and as I remember, you didn’t listen to much of what your mother said back then.”

  “I wonder why she thought Howard’s wife had been murdered,” Harriet said. “I mean, if she wasn’t living in Foggy Point, how would it even be on her radar. It wasn’t exactly national news, I’m guessing.”

  Lauren took a sip of her water.

  “I wonder why she got into a car with the guy if she thought he’d murdered his wife.”

  Jorge came in from the kitchen balancing a tray of dessert dishes filled with his creamy flan.

  “Is it too obvious to just ask the señorita?”

  Harriet put her hands around the dish he handed her as he made his way around the table.

  “We could, but first, we don’t know her very well, and second, with all the discussion about Seth’s murder and the group’s suspicion about Howard’s involvement in that, she’s never mentioned her relationship with him. It seems like if she suspected him of killing his wife, she’d have said something about that. Since she didn’t, I have to wonder why.”

  Lauren took a bite of her flan.

  “Mmmm, this is soooo good.” She closed her eyes as she swallowed then opened them and looked at Harriet. “I’m with you. We need to find out a little more about her relationship with Howard before we ask her anything. Mickey and Jo seem to trust her, but what if they don’t know she had a previous relationship of some sort with Howard. She could even be spying for him.”

  “That wouldn’t be good,” Harriet said.

  Aiden took her hand again.

  “Another reason for you all to back off.”

  “I’m taking Jo and Violet fabric shopping tomorrow. I’ll see what they know.”

  Lauren turned toward Harriet.

  “Are you sure Janice isn’t coming with you?”

  “I’ll fold the back seat of my car up and throw something in the space; then there won’t be room for her and her chair. And by the way, that’s ‘us.’ Coming with us.”

  Lauren rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything.

  “That’s not polite, excluding a handicapped person,” Beth scolded.

  Harriet looked at her aunt.

  “Keeping secrets isn’t polite, either. I get that maybe it’s too painful for her to talk about her accident and the time surrounding it, but Sarah’s in trouble. We don’t have the luxury of being able to be considerate of everyone. If I can get the information from Jo tomorrow, Janice staying home will be a small price to pay for her not having to talk about it.”

  “My son is taking me car shopping in Seattle tomorrow,” Mavis said. “I’ll be back before dinnertime. Call me and let me know what, if anything, you find out.”

  “Are you getting another Lincoln Towncar?” Rod asked her.

  “My boys want me to get a new car. They said they’d feel better if I drove something with all the latest safety features. So, no Towncar.”

  “Don’t they make Towncars anymore?” Harriet asked.

  Mavis sighed. “Sadly, no.”

  Beth reached over and patted her on the back.

  “You’ll live.”

  Chapter 17

  Lauren set a paper cup of hot chocolate down on Harriet’s cutting table.

  “Here,” she said, setting her cup of coffee next to it while she took off her black fleece jacket and tossed it onto a chair. “I figured we needed some fortification before we take on Violet and Jo. And we need a plan.”

  Harriet took a sip.

  “My plan is to tell Jo what we’ve heard about Janice’s past and ask her what the deal is.”

  “Do you think she’ll tell you, just like that?”

  “If she really is who she claims to be, she’ll have done some checking up on her co-conspirators. If she claims no knowledge, then she either isn’t an ex-spy or she has another agenda. I’m guessing she knows. Why she hasn’t told us before now will be the interesting part.”

  Lauren pointed at the quilt top Harriet had spread out on her cu
tting table.

  “Is that for the women’s shelter?”

  Harriet sighed. “It is. Or it will be, when I get the design worked out. The panel in the center is called ‘The Healing Tree.’ I’ve been trying out various pieced blocks to put around it, but I’m not sure any of them is going to work.”

  “Are you trying to soften the boldness of the tree image?”

  “That was my plan, but I’m not sure it’s possible. Maybe I’ll just make a wall hanging from the panel and donate it at their next fundraiser. Then I can make something simpler for the shelter.”

  “We should get some of whatever fabric Jo and Violet choose and take it to the shelter for the flower blocks Sarah’s going to do so they’ll all coordinate.”

  “Good idea,” Harriet said and took another sip of her hot chocolate.

  “I do have one every now and then, you know.”

  “You know, I was thinking about Sarah. With Seth dead, I wonder how long she’ll be able to stay at the women’s shelter.”

  Lauren picked at a thread on the edge of one of the quilt blocks.

  “Having her stepdad trying to blame her for her stepbrother’s murder has to be some sort of mental abuse.”

  “If that’s true,” Harriet said. “We’ve been told Howard is going to blame Sarah, but I’m not sure we have any evidence that he is.”

  “Good point.”

  “I say we worry about one thing at a time. Let’s go get Violet and Jo and see if we can figure out what Janice’s deal is.”

  Lauren picked up her purse and messenger bag.

  “Lead the way,” she said.

  Harriet’s ruse to keep Janice from coming to the fabric store proved unnecessary. Violet and Jo were waiting alone in the lobby of the senior center, coats on and purses in hand, when she pulled into the pick-up/drop-off lane in front of the building.

  “Are you two ready to go look at some fabric?” she asked when she joined them.

  Violet smiled.

  “Good morning, Harriet. I’m glad you decided we should go to the fabric store before lunch instead of after. I get sleepy after I eat.”

  Jo scanned the lobby.

  “Let’s get out of here before anyone sees us.”

  “Is there a problem?” Harriet asked as she pressed the blue handicapped button next to the door. The double glass doors swung open.

  “You can’t be too careful,” Jo told her. “You never know who might be watching.”

  Lauren stood by the curb.

  “That’s what I always say. Here, let me hold your purse while you get in.”

  Harriet took Violet to the opposite side of the car and helped her in.

  “Were there any repercussions after our last visit?” Harriet asked as she guided her car out of the senior center driveway.

  “Pfft,” Jo scoffed. “Howard is so sure he’s smarter than everyone it doesn’t occur to him that someone could get past his defenses. He put an expensive pickproof lock on his office door and then carried the key around on a monogrammed ring in his pocket. Mickey made an impression with a bar of soap and had the key back in Howard’s pocket before he’d had a chance to miss it.”

  “Speaking of Howard,” Harriet said, keeping her eyes on the road. “We’ve been doing a little research about Janice’s accident.”

  “And you found out that Janice was investigating the death of Howard’s second wife,” Jo said before Harriet could continue.

  “Was she?” Harriet shot back. “I was going to say he was driving the car when she had her accident.”

  Lauren turned and looked at Jo in the back seat.

  “We do find it a little curious that now she’s living at Howard’s facility. I’d like to know if we’re sure whose team she’s playing on.”

  “Howard makes a big show of how guilty he feels,” Jo said. “He refers to the ‘terrible accident’ that put her in that chair and fawns over her. For her part, she doesn’t remember the accident or the time right before it. I tapped a few resources and did as much research as I dared do without raising suspicion, and here’s what I know.

  “Janice was a pretty, young investigative journalist who showed up in Foggy Point for no known reason. It’s clear she entered into a personal relationship with Howard. What isn’t clear is if she was doing it to get information from him about his wife’s death or if she just succumbed to his charms. I’m sure, if he did have anything to do with Jill’s death, he wouldn’t be above using romance to throw her off the story.

  Harriet made eye contact with Jo in the rearview mirror.

  “I suppose she doesn’t talk about it.”

  “She’d like to think she was working undercover, but she just doesn’t remember.”

  “I never knew Janice back then,” Violet said sweetly. “But Howard’s wife Jill came to work at the hospital while I was a volunteer there. She was a nurse. I can’t remember if she was an RN or an LPN.” She thought for a moment then shook her head. “Well, that doesn’t matter. What I remember is that she was very accident-prone, if you know what I mean.”

  Lauren turned to look at her.

  “Just to be clear, why don’t you tell us what you mean?”

  “Well, she ran into doorknobs and tripped on stairs—that sort of thing. Never at work, of course. She would come to work with a black eye or limping. I mean, really, how many people walk into a door more than once.”

  Harriet glanced into the rearview mirror.

  “Did you ask her about it?”

  “Of course we did. You know how that goes, though. She made excuses and assured us we were wrong. She asked us not to make any trouble for her. It went unsaid that she was worried how much worse it might get if we did.”

  “How did she die?” Harriet asked.

  “We were told she committed suicide.”

  “Except you don’t believe it?” Lauren said.

  “What choice did we have but to believe it? I went to the hospital, and there was a sign at our station saying she’d died by her own hand and offering grief counseling to anyone who wanted it. They also had someone from the women’s shelter come talk to us about recognizing the signs of abuse and telling people what their options were if they were the one being abused, but it was locking the barn after the horse was stolen.”

  The smile had left Violet’s face, and she sagged back into her seat when she was finished speaking.

  Jo turned to her. “This would have been useful information to know before now.”

  Tears filled Violet’s eyes, and Jo reached over and patted her hand.

  “It’s okay. It wouldn’t have changed anything we’ve done so far.”

  “Have you had any more thoughts about your fabric?” Harriet asked, ending the discussion about Howard and his dead wife.

  The quilters at the senior center had decided to set their blocks on a green background, and Violet found a perfect fabric at Pins and Needles. Jo selected a yellow for the centers, and Harriet had Marjory cut enough of each for both the senior center and the women’s shelter and then had a yard and a half of each color cut for herself.

  She wasn’t sure how well the memory care folks were going to be able to do their share of the blocks and wanted to be prepared in case the Loose Threads had to make extra blocks to be sure they could make a full-sized quilt.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind driving to the Cafe on Smuggler’s Cove?” Jo asked when the women were back in the car. “I made us a reservation, but I could cancel if you don’t want to drive that far.”

  Lauren held her hand up, her first and second fingers twined around each other.

  “Harriet and Chef James are like this.”

  Harriet turned in her seat and spoke to her back seat passengers.

  “Don’t listen to her. I’m actually a substitute on his dog Cyrano’s support team. He is a racing wiener dog.”

  Violet smiled. “Does that mean we’ll get chef’s specials for lunch?”

  “I don’t know about that,” Harriet
said and pulled her seatbelt on, “but anything he cooks is going to be fabulous.”

  “Hey, Harriet,” James said as she followed Violet, Lauren and Jo into the restaurant. “If I’d known you were coming, I’d have prepared something special.”

  She pointed at a small sign standing on the maître’d’s desk.

  “Looks like you did make something special.”

  “Of course, but I’d have made something extra-special. “ James leaned in and gave her a quick hug.

  “How’s the racer?”

  He picked up four menus and signaled the women to follow him.

  “I got this,” he said to his lunchtime hostess. “Cyrano is training hard and looking forward to his next set of qualifying races. I’ll tell him you asked.”

  “Have the police figured out who vandalized your car?” Harriet asked.

  “No. Not even a hint. Their best guess is random violence by disaffected youth.”

  “Did you hear about the bombing at my house?”

  “Are you kidding?” James stopped at a table with a view of the cove and pulled out chairs for Jo and Violet. “Everyone in Foggy Point is talking about it. I heard your car was safely in the garage. That’s good, at least.”

  “Mine was totaled, thanks for asking,” Lauren said.

  He smiled. “Sorry for your loss. I didn’t realize you’d lost a car. If you’ll allow me to, I’ll make it up to you in chocolate.”

  “Say yes,” Harriet encouraged her.

  Lauren looked at her and then James.

  “If you say so.”

  The four women were opening their menus when Hannah Pratt stopped by their table.

  “Hey, Harriet, Violet.” She gestured to include Lauren and Jo. “When I saw you at the dog races with that guy, Aiden told me he was a chef at the best restaurant in town. I thought I’d try it out.”

  Harriet smiled at her.

  “What did you think? ‘That guy,’ as you call him, is not a chef here, he is the chef. And he owns the place. I’ve never been disappointed in anything he’s prepared.

  Violet set her menu down.

  “He has a real gift for chocolate. His mousse is to die for.”

  Hannah grinned. “I had his Death by Chocolate. It was fabulous.”