"Those are really beautiful,” Morse said. “They should bring a lot of money in."
If Detective Morse didn't already have her invitation to join the Loose Threads in the bag, her compliments would get her one for sure, Harriet thought. Seemed like the good detective would be thinking it was a conflict of interest-unless she had another reason to try to plant herself in their midst.
Chapter 35
The meeting broke up at that point. The quilts that needed their binding finished were collected, and the rest were carefully refolded, put into their cloth bags and set on Harriet's to-do shelf.
"I've got to go get ready for my lunch date,” Sarah said. “Ta-ta, ladies.” With that, she swept out the door, putting on her raincoat as she went.
Lauren sat in the chair next to Harriet's.
"Did you notice the side of Sarah's face?” she murmured.
"No, she didn't come close enough for me to notice anything about her,” Harriet replied as softly. “Why?"
"It looks like she has a bruise along her jaw line, like maybe a handprint. And it's not the first time she's had a noticeable bruise."
"I haven't noticed anything, but I haven't paid that close of attention."
"She does make you want to look anywhere else but at her when she's running her mouth, which admittedly is most of the time, but since I've been spending so much time at the senior center, I've had occasion to…study her, if you will. I hate to think it, but she looks like someone who's being battered."
"Does she do patient care ever?” Harriet asked. “If she works with difficult patients that might account for bruises and scratches."
"I'll have to check that out. All the conclusions I was coming to were not good ones. Have you seen her boyfriend?"
Harriet thought for a moment. “I don't think I have. Why?"
"He's shockingly good-looking. And before you tell me I'm being mean, or talk about sour grapes or whatever, hear me out. You know as well as I do that Sarah is full of herself, annoying and doesn't really have very good taste in most things. I'm telling you-this guy is way too handsome, sophisticated…I know I'm not explaining this well, but believe me, something's not right."
"I don't know what to say."
"I'm not sure why I thought you'd be any help,” Lauren complained and started to get up.
"Wait,” Harriet said. “Sit down, please. I feel awful that I haven't noticed, but this isn't about me. As soon as I'm able to leave the house alone, I can check up on her."
"I guess I'm feeling guilty, too. She really is annoying, but no one deserves to be abused if that's what's happening."
"I know I have no right to ask, but would you be willing to help me with one little thing?"
"What do you want me to research?” Lauren asked with a sigh.
"Never mind, I'll do it myself."
"Sorry, I didn't think you were that sensitive. Can we skip the drama and go straight to what you want?"
Harriet told herself to relax and take a deep breath.
"I got some more information about Neelie, the woman who died.” She related the information Aiden had passed on earlier that morning.
"So, you know her real first name and that she was adopted as a baby or young child."
"And that she'd be in her mid- to late twenties now."
"That's not a lot to go on."
"I'm not sure we can make any assumptions, but she was most recently living in California,” Harriet added, referring to Rodney's information that Neelie had been living in “east bay,” which meant either Oakland, Berkeley or one of the smaller communities on the east side of San Francisco Bay.
"Well, I can try searching adoption databases on the West Coast. If she waited until she was almost thirty to go searching for her African roots, she may have recently left footprints on some of the bulletin boards that adoptees use. The fact we know where she found her cousins should help, too."
"Anything you find could be helpful, and I understand the usual disclaimers apply."
"You're learning,” Lauren said as she turned to go. She stopped at the door and, instead of going out, stepped aside and held the door to let Phyllis Johnson in.
"Hi,” Phyllis said and came to where Harriet sat. “I hope I'm not disturbing you.” She held a bundle in her arms.
Harriet looked at her aunt and Mavis, but they seemed as confused as she was by this unexpected visit.
"Hey, Phyl,” Aunt Beth said. “What brings you here this fine morning?"
"This is a little delicate."
"Well, just spit it out,” Mavis said.
"You know I belong to the Small Stitches quilt group,” she said and paused. “And I'm sure you've noticed that some of our members are…” She paused again. “Well, they're…"
"Just tell us,” Aunt Beth said, “whatever it is."
"I've seen what the Small Stitches are making for the auction, and frankly, it's embarrassing."
"Here, sit down,” Mavis said and pointed Phyllis to a chair. “I'm still not sure why you're telling us this."
Phyllis eased herself into the chair, and the energy seemed to go out of her.
"I'm telling you this because I made a quilt for the auction, by myself."
"So the others in your group don't know you're doing this?” Aunt Beth asked.
Phyllis dipped her head. “No, they don't. But I couldn't just stand by and do nothing."
"What do you want from us?” Harriet said. “Did you bring the quilt for me to do the stitching?"
Phyllis had the good grace to blush. “I know you're all busy, especially since Harriet's accident, but I was hoping somehow you could fit it in. I could pay extra for a rush order,” she said.
"I don't think that will be necessary,” Aunt Beth said. “As you can see, Harriet's not on her feet yet, but I'm all caught up, so if you don't want anything too exotic, I should be able to fit it in."
"I guessed Harriet wouldn't be back to work yet, judging by how she looked in the hospital. Have the police figured out who did this yet?"
"If they have, they haven't told us,” Harriet said.
"I hope they don't think Joseph did it,” Phyllis said. “I know he's been distracted lately, but I can't believe he'd do anything violent."
"He's not helping his case by running and hiding,” Harriet said.
"Hiding?” Phyllis said. “Do you know he's hiding? Or where he's hiding? Anything about where he is?"
"Sarah claims she saw him this morning at the pet store,” Mavis said.
"I can't imagine why Joseph would have killed either of those two people-or anyone else, for that matter."
"Everyone has secrets,” Aunt Beth said sagely. “Since we can't figure out what Joseph's are, let's have a look at your little secret."
Phyllis had competently constructed a pieced quilt using the traditional block patterns. Harriet thought she recognized Jacob's Ladder, Churn Dash and Goose in the Pond, along with some flying geese and simple pinwheels. Most of the blocks shared common elements-squares and half-square triangles and four patches, all done in only one or two size pairings. Her quilt looked complicated, but had probably been relatively easy to cut out and stitch.
Phyllis had used an impressive variety of dog print fabrics and somehow pulled them into a cohesive whole. It was scrappy, but a very well-organized scrappy.
"If you could do an all-over pattern of stitching-a diagonal grid, maybe, or really, whatever you think would look good and that you could get done in time for me to bind it before the show, that would be fine with me. As I said, I'm willing to pay a premium."
"This looks real nice,” Mavis said as she ran her hand over the surface of the quilt top.
Phyllis pulled a piece of sewn flannel from her cloth bag.
"I pieced the back from a couple of large pieces of flannel and did a little appliqué around the spot where the label will go."
She held the backing piece up. She had cut out several of the smaller dog images from some of her fabrics and stitched them in a continuous rectangle so that when the label was in place, they would appear to be running around it, frame style.