The 12 Quilts of Christmas Read online

  Connie pulled a plastic zipper bag filled with small prepared hexagons from her purse.

  “Jenny and I were talking last night, and she said the jewelry store was so busy she had to stand outside on the sidewalk for the first half-hour before she could go in.”

  Mavis looked into her empty cup.

  “Busy doesn’t necessarily mean profitable.”

  “At the prices Tony charges, he has to be making money,” Harriet observed. “And he has two apprentices now.”

  Mavis stood up.

  “I’m getting a refill. Anyone want anything?”

  “Could you get me a mini-bagel?” Connie asked. “With plain cream cheese.”

  Lauren came in and joined Mavis at the counter.

  “I’ll take mine to go,” they heard her tell the barista.

  Harriet draped her scarf around her neck and put her jacket on.

  “Will I see everyone at Pins and Needles tomorrow?”

  “I’ll be there,” Beth said.

  Connie and Mavis said they would also be attending the Loose Threads meeting the following day. Lauren came to the table, latte in hand.

  “Are you ready?”

  Harriet smiled.

  “If fabric is involved, I was born ready.”

  #

  Harriet and Lauren left Pins and Needles and headed up the street toward the print shop, a block and a half away.

  “Make sure you wash that flannel twice before you use it,” Harriet recommended.

  “I read on the internet that you don’t need to wash it since, once it’s quilted in, the stitching will keep it from going anywhere.”

  “That hasn’t been my experience. The stitching on functional quilts isn’t dense enough to come into play. Besides, dark-colored flannels can bleed.”

  “I don’t have time for a do-over if I don’t get it right the first time, so I will definitely heed your advice. Marjorie suggested I buy a quarter-yard more than I needed for that reason.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt to throw a color-catching sheet or two in when you wash the finished quilt, too.”

  Lauren shifted her shopping bag from her right hand to her left.

  “I can do that.”

  Harriet looked across the street to the Outdoor Store.

  “Your quilt design is perfect for the store it’s in.”

  Lauren grinned.

  “I do have my moments.”

  The print shop was on the corner of Main Street and Fourth Avenue. Harriet could hear Christmas music playing before she opened the door.

  “Daniel must really have his stereo cranked up,” she said as she stepped inside.

  Fir garland festooned with large red bows outlined all the interior doors, and a Noble fir sat next to the counter, decorated with samples of personalized ornaments, with your name here in various sizes and scripts, that could be ordered and delivered before the holiday. Large wrapped boxes with oversized bows were stacked at the opposite end of the counter, and a display of photo Christmas cards on the top surfaces had with a discreet sign promising a three-day turnaround time.

  “Wow,” Lauren said and surveyed the retail area of the shop. “Looks like he caught the Christmas spirit after the quilt unveiling.”

  “Daniel,” Harriet called out. “Are you here?”

  Lauren crossed the room, reached over the counter to the boom box responsible for the music, and pushed the off button. In the silence that followed, Harriet heard the rhythmic thunking of a large printer.

  “Daniel!” she tried again. “Anyone home?”

  “He must not be able to hear over the machines,” Lauren said and lifted a hinged section of the counter. “After you,” she said, and waved Harriet through.

  Harriet started through the swinging door that led to the production area and stopped abruptly, running into Lauren as she backed up. She felt the blood leave her face, making her dizzy. She staggered to Daniel’s desk chair and collapsed.

  “Call nine-one-one,”

  Lauren pulled her phone from her pocket.

  “What?” she asked as she dialed.

  Harriet took a deep breath.

  “Daniel is…” She took another breath and started again. “Daniel is hanging from the rafters in there.”

  “We need the police,” Lauren said into her phone. “We’re at the Print Shop, Four-oh-five Main Street, and there’s been an accident.”

  “I don’t think it was an accident,” Harriet said when Lauren had finished the call.

  “Are you sure it’s Daniel?”

  “Whoever it is, is tall, skinny, and wearing an apron with the shop logo on the front.”

  “Sounds like Daniel.”

  They heard sirens almost immediately, and within minutes two paramedics followed by Officer Hue Nguyen came into the shop.

  Harriet pointed.

  “He’s in there.”

  The paramedics rushed into the back room while Officer Nguyen stopped beside Harriet’s chair. He looked at the two women and shook his head.

  “What happened?”

  “I came to pick up James’s printing,” Harriet said in a rush.

  Nguyen looked from her to Lauren.

  “What she said. We came to pick up tickets and menus. We couldn’t find Daniel, but we heard the printers running. We started to go into the back, but as soon as Harriet opened the door, she saw Daniel hanging from the rafters, so we backed up and called you.”

  Nguyen tapped his pen on his notebook.

  “And you didn’t go back in for a look?” He asked Lauren.

  “No, I did not. This may come as a surprise, but some of us do not enjoy looking at dead people and, in fact, avoid it at all costs.”

  “And Detective Morse has lectured us on how not to contaminate a crime scene,” Harriet added.

  Nguyen closed his notebook.

  “It’s not a crime scene yet,” he said. “If he’s really hanging, as you say, it’s likely a suicide.”

  If he’s really hanging? Harriet thought. Seriously? Did Nguyen think a person could make a mistake about something like that?

  Lauren glared at the man.

  “Do people often mistake a man hanging from the rafters for something else, in your experience?”

  “If you only glanced, as you say, maybe it wasn’t a man hanging from the rafters.”

  “Oh, for crying out loud,” Harriet said, her voice rising. “Don’t you think the paramedics would be back out here if it was just a dummy or an I-don’t-know-what hanging from his rafters?”

  “Calm down. I’m just trying to wrap my head around the fact that, once again, we have a dead person in Foggy Point, and once again, you are the one to find him.”

  “Maybe you can wrap your head around the fact that in every single one of those cases, we—myself, Lauren, my aunt and all of the Loose Threads—had nothing to do with the murders that took place. I moved to Foggy Point thinking it was a nice, safe small town.”

  Nguyen gave her a grim smile.

  “And strangely, it was just that until you moved back.”

  Lauren stiffened.

  “Oh, so, now Harriet is responsible for all the crime in Foggy Point?”

  Nguyen’s face turned red, but he was kept from further comment by one of the paramedics’ coming through the door from the press room. She was a short, blonde woman Harriet had encountered before.

  “I think we’re going to need the medical examiner for this one. I’m sure it will turn out to be just what it looks like—a suicide…”

  “But?” Nguyen prompted her.

  The woman chewed her lip before answering.

  “There are a couple of small things that may be nothing, but I’d like someone who knows more than I do about this sort of situation to take a look.”

  “Do I need to call the detectives?”

  “They can’t come into the scene until the medical examiner releases it, but it might not hurt to give them a heads-up. I called the ME already, but it will take her a l
ittle while to get here.”

  “Thanks,” he said then turned back to Harriet and Lauren. “You two stay right here.”

  With that warning, he went outside to his car to make his calls.

  CHAPTER 8

  Harriet and Lauren stayed rooted to their spots until ten minutes had passed and it became obvious Officer Nguyen wasn’t coming back anytime soon. Harriet stood up and leaned to her left so she could see around the quilt in the front window.

  “Looks like Detective Morse’s is headed this way.”

  Lauren came to the counter beside her. Detective Jane Morse was a quilter and the only woman in the Foggy Point Police Department detective squad. They watched as she parked her car and approached the shop.

  “Good, maybe she can let us out of here. I’ve got a video conference later, and I’d like to do a little prep for it.”

  “I wonder if James will be able to get his menus.”

  Lauren looked at a work table beside Daniel’s desk.

  “Is that them?”

  Several bundles of printing were stacked neatly on the table, each with a slip of paper on top. Harriet went to look and checked out the bundle that was the right size to be menus. James’s name was on the job ticket.

  “I could slide them into my bag,” Lauren said. “No one would be the wiser.”

  Harriet shook her head.

  “If this does turn out to be a crime scene, we’d both be in big trouble.”

  “It was just a thought.”

  “And what thought was that?” Detective Morse asked. She had come in while their backs were to the door. Both jumped at the sound of her voice.

  “Nothing,” Lauren said a little too quickly.

  Morse crossed to the counter.

  “What have you two gotten yourselves into now?”

  Harriet sat back down in Daniel’s chair.

  “Like I told Officer Nguyen, we were just trying to pick up James’s printing order. Daniel wasn’t out here, but we heard the printing machine. I know it’s probably not legal for us to go into the workroom, but I was just going to stick my head in the door and call out to Daniel to see if he was there.”

  “And Harriet saw him hanging from the rafters, so we shut the door and called you guys,” Lauren finished for her.

  “Wait here while I see why they need a detective at an apparent suicide,” Morse told them.

  “If it’s a suicide, why do we have to wait here?” Lauren said to her back as she disappeared through the connecting door.

  Harriet pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped out a quick text to James, apprising him of her current situation. She knew he wouldn’t see it until things slowed down after the lunch rush at the restaurant but wanted him to hear it from her. He knew she’d planned on picking up his printing, and she didn’t want him to hear about the trouble from one of his customers.

  Lauren checked her messages then paced the width of the office area a few times. Harriet looked idly around the desk in front of her.

  “I wonder if he left a suicide note.”

  Lauren stopped pacing.

  “It can’t hurt to look. You check the desk; I’ll take the computer.”

  Harriet pulled open the flat drawer in the middle, using her shirt sleeve to cover her hand as she did so. It contained pens, pencils, paper clips—the usual small office supplies. The top drawer on the right held pads of pre-printed invoices, receipts for cash purchases, and business cards.

  “This is interesting,” she said as she pulled open the second drawer on the right.

  Lauren turned away from the computer screen.

  “What?”

  “We’ve got a regular pharmacy in drawer number two.” She took a tissue from a box on the desk and used it to pick up one of the amber bottles. “This one’s Triumeq.” She set it down and picked up another. “Descovy,” she read before dropping it and picking up another. “Retrovir.”

  “Whoa, that last one is an HIV drug. The rest of them probably are, too. Are they in Daniel’s name?”

  “They are,” Harriet replied. “There’s no reason we should have known that, but it does add to the possibilities, I guess.”

  Lauren returned to the computer.

  “Why would someone commit suicide if they were being successfully treated?” she wondered aloud.

  Harriet went back to searching the desk.

  “Maybe no one wanted to be in a relationship with him because of it.”

  “I find that hard to believe in this day and age.” Lauren frowned and slid off the stool she’d been sitting on in front of Daniel’s computer monitor and bent down below the counter. “Well, this is interesting,” she said in a muffled tone.

  “What?”

  Lauren slid the side panel off the computers tower.

  “I think Morse is going to want to see this. Someone has removed the hard drive from the computer.”

  It was another thirty minutes before Detective Morse reappeared.

  “They took Daniel out through the back delivery doors. If you ladies don’t have anything else to tell me, you’re free to go.” She headed for the door but stopped when neither Harriet or Lauren moved. “Is there something else?”

  Lauren cleared her throat, stalling while she figured out the best way to tell Morse she’d been touching the computer.

  “Umm…well, I thought you might want to know if Daniel left a suicide note on his computer, so I just tapped the enter key to see what might come up.”

  Morse closed her eyes and put her hand on the side of her face.

  “It’s probably useless at this point to tell you two to stay out of police business. But, okay, what did you find?”

  “Nothing.” Lauren answered.

  Morse’s eyes opened wide.

  “All right, so you touched one key and found nothing. What aren’t you telling me?”

  Lauren squirmed on the stool.

  “Well, when I hit the enter key, I got no response at all, so I thought I’d check the tower and see if it had been turned off.”

  “Had it?” Morse interrupted.

  “Yes, but that’s not the significant part. I slid the side panel off just to have a peek, and someone has removed the hard drive.”

  “That is interesting.” She thought for a minute. “Please tell me you didn’t touch it with your bare hands.”

  “I used a tissue.”

  “Make no mistake, I would prefer it if you wouldn’t meddle in police business, but thank you for not leaving prints on what may turn out to be evidence.”

  Harriet leaned forward in the chair.

  “Have you confirmed Daniel committed suicide?”

  “You know I can’t talk about an ongoing investigation. I guess, having said that, you might conclude there is an investigation to not talk about. That remains to be seen at this point. The ME is going to do an autopsy before declaring the cause and manner of death.”

  “Well, that’s interesting,” Harriet said.

  Lauren stood up.

  “Shall we go?”

  “I don’t suppose there’s any chance I can take James’s print order,” Harriet said to Morse.

  “Not until we process the scene. If we process it.”

  “Great. I guess I’d better break the news to James.”

  “Shall we go in person?” Lauren asked. “I mean, we did miss lunch and all.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  CHAPTER 9

  The lunch crowd had thinned by the time Harriet and Lauren arrived at the restaurant. They had barely gotten their coats off and settled in at their table when James appeared carrying a plate of tea sandwiches and another laden with small cakes and cookies.

  “You guys want to evaluate our new high-tea offerings?”

  Lauren reached for the sandwich plate.

  “Yes, we do. We’re starving.”

  “We were delayed at the print shop,” Harriet explained.

  “That’s an understatement,” Lauren said around a bite of
sandwich.

  Harriet set a small cucumber sandwich on her plate

  “Unfortunately, we weren’t able to get your printing.” She went on to explain what they’d found at the printer’s.

  James stood up when she’d finished.

  “I’m glad you two are okay. Not to disrespect Daniel, but I need to go call the printer in Port Angeles. I’ll wait and see what the business association wants us to do about the Christmas tickets, but I’ve got to have tea menus ASAP.”

  Lauren picked up another sandwich.

  “Harriet did try to get Morse to let us take them, but it was a no-go. You might see if anything’s changed. Maybe you can get them now.”

  “I’ll do that,” he said, and smiled. “And I’ll send out more sandwiches.”

  “Do that,” Lauren told him.

  A little later, Harriet wiped her mouth after finishing a bite of cake.

  “I only had a quick glance at Daniel, and I could be mistaken, but even though there was a stool tipped over under him, to me it didn’t look tall enough for him to have jumped off of.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I would think that, to hang yourself, you’d need to be standing on a stool with the noose around your neck, and then you kick the stool out of the way so you drop down and hang. If you were to put the stool I saw back in place, I don’t think his feet would have reached it.”

  Lauren chewed another cookie thoughtfully.

  “So, you think someone hanged him?”

  “Like I said, I only got a quick look, but the proportions looked wrong to me.”

  “Hard to imagine Daniel having those kind of enemies.”

  “You never know,” Harriet mused. “My aunt told me he’s from around here, but he moved to New York for about twenty years when he was younger. Anything could have happened there.”