Quilt or Innocence (6 page)

Meadow put her hands on her hips. “Well, who
do
you see clubbing Judith on the head? I’m the one who was so furious with her last night, if you’re going to limit suspects to people who were angry.”

Daisy said quietly, “I was mad at Judith, too. Plenty of times. We all were. But why would we kill her? What possible motive could we have?”

Beatrice saw Meadow color and wondered if there was something Meadow might have said if Daisy hadn’t continued talking. “No, I think the murder has more to do with that antique quilt. Or
quilting
itself. No one likes being taken advantage of like Felicity was. It must be the lowest feeling ever.”

Beatrice said, “But, Daisy, Felicity was perfectly reasonable last night. She stated very calmly that she needed time to think the deal over.”

“But
Amber
wasn’t reasonable,” Daisy said with emphasis. “Amber was upset that Judith was trying to cheat her mother. As I recall, Judith was putting down her mother because she’d lost her money in a pyramid scheme.”

Meadow jumped in. “As Amber’s friend—and mentor—I cannot let you blame her for murder, Daisy! There’s simply no way she’d kill somebody over strips of cloth and some batting.
Or
because of some inane put-down Judith made about her mom.”

Beatrice hid a smile at the thought of the scattered, excitable Meadow being someone’s mentor.

Daisy said quickly, “I wouldn’t dream of accusing Amber of murder. I’m simply pointing out that people act out of character sometimes—especially in the heat of the moment. Or when they’ve had too much to drink.”

Meadow was about to hotly contest this fact, but then pressed her lips together tightly.

“I’m not saying it definitely
was
Amber who killed Judith,” said Daisy. “Think about Savannah or Georgia. Judith has picked on Georgia for ages, and it clearly makes Savannah very defensive and upset. I can easily picture Savannah killing someone if she thought her sister was being hurt.”

Meadow was indignant. “Daisy, I can’t believe you! Savannah and Georgia and Amber are our friends!”

Daisy said, “Well,
somebody
we know is a killer. That’s a fact, ladies. The sooner we get to the bottom of it, the quicker we’ll stop gossiping about which of our friends is a murderer.”

Beatrice said, “Do any of us have an alibi for last night? The murder must have happened sometime after the quilting bee and before dawn. Posy and I were in the park really early this morning, and I could tell that Judith must have been lying there for a while.” Beatrice tried to forget the sight of Judith’s stiff limbs.

There was silence for a moment, and Beatrice felt as though there were some undercurrents in the room that she couldn’t quite figure out. “After the bee, everyone went home,” said Piper finally. “At least they seemed to be heading that way. Since I’m by myself, there’s no one to vouch for me.”

“I was alone,” said Beatrice.

“Me, too,” said Meadow, still with that faint color staining her cheeks. “Ramsay was out working all night.”

Daisy said, “I was at home with my husband some of the evening, but he had ER duty most of the night at the county hospital.”

Posy said quietly, “My husband was at home, but Cork was snoring away when I came in and still sleeping when I left to take Duchess for her walk. Long day at the wine shop, I guess. Besides, nothing seems to wake Cork up—he sleeps like a baby.”

“Posy, you shouldn’t say things like that,” said Meadow, eyes large. “Did you tell Ramsay that?”

“But, Meadow, it’s the truth.”

“You should’ve just told them that Cork was home.
That
was the truth, too. And that he’s a very light sleeper and would have woken up immediately if you’d left the house to nip out and murder Judith.”

Posy’s brow creased with worry.

The shop bell chimed and wizened Miss Sissy, back bent in a bow, thumped in with her wooden cane. She scowled at the group. “What’s wrong?” she barked. “Somebody die?”

* * *

Back home and ready for a rest, Beatrice pulled her wrought-iron table over next to the hammock in her backyard and brought out a small pitcher of fresh lemonade and a glass filled with ice. She lay down gently in the hammock, put on a pair of reading glasses and happily opened her book,
Whispers of Summer
. Noo-noo lay on the ground next to her, making little snorting snores. The yard was dappled with sunlight, and a soft breeze wafted through the air.
This
had been her vision of retirement. She gave a sigh of satisfaction.

After only ten minutes of reading, though, she felt restless. Shouldn’t she be doing something? Emptying the dishwasher? Mailing bill payments? She probably should have gone by the store to pick up something for supper. She wasn’t
used
to relaxing, she told herself. It was probably something she’d have to work up to.

Her mind kept drifting away from her book and back to Judith’s death. In an ordinary day at the museum, she’d always been engaged in
some
kind of mental exercise—researching a new exhibit or studying various aspects of the folk art she was appraising. Every bit of art in the museum told a story, and she’d felt like a detective investigating the story behind each piece of art. There must be a story behind Judith’s death, too. She hoped Piper’s best friend wouldn’t be at the heart of the story. Piper had seemed very concerned about Amber when they’d talked yesterday. The police were sure to be interested in talking with Amber, especially after they learned about her heated argument with Judith over the quilt last night. Could the girl really be a cold-blooded killer, though? It was hard to picture. Maybe, if she poked around a little, she could find a way to clear Amber’s name.

Beatrice shifted in the hammock. Too bad the quilting hadn’t been quite the relaxing activity that Piper and Meadow had assured her it would be. Meadow, true to her word, had made an exacting list of supplies for Beatrice, and Posy, despite her anxiety, had gently and skillfully found some fabrics that she thought Beatrice would enjoy working with. It all seemed effortless for Posy, as if she automatically knew beautiful color and texture combinations. Beatrice felt like she had to turn her creativity on and off like a faucet. Back at home, she’d watched a short beginner-quilter video on her computer, but the forty-five minutes she’d used to apply the techniques to her own quilt had been disastrous.

Piper thought quilting would prove a great way to get Beatrice’s mind off discovering Judith’s body. And it had done that—only because the experience had been so frustrating. It had taken ten minutes just to thread the needle. Then she’d tried some basic hand-piecing—sewing a couple of scraps together by hand. It should have been simple to sew a triangle of light fabric to a triangle of dark fabric, but the back of it was a catastrophe and the front hadn’t been much better. She knew that quilting was a big way to connect to the other women in the community, but she was becoming more convinced that her role should be that of an adviser or organizer or even designer rather than a hands-on creator.

Beatrice jumped, heart pounding, as Noo-noo exploded into barking and bolted toward the back door, looking back at Beatrice as if telling her she needed to follow. But by the time Beatrice had extricated herself from the hammock and found a spot to put down her book, Posy was already unhitching the back gate.

“Beatrice, I’m so sorry! You’re trying to relax and you certainly need to after such an unsettling morning.”

“No, actually, I was thinking how horrible I am at relaxing. And this refreshing lemonade isn’t nearly as refreshing as the mint julep I keep thinking about. Especially after this extraordinarily long day. How about if I make us both one?”

Posy took her up on her offer, and in a few minutes Beatrice was back outside with a small tray of drinks and napkins.

“I think,” said Posy thoughtfully, “that relaxation is a acquired skill. It must be really difficult for you to make the adjustment from being a busy curator to being a retired lady in a hammock.”

“I’ll have to put in some practice, I guess. I had no idea that I was going to be so bad at the art of relaxation.” They both took healthy sips from their glasses. “Posy, I’m so glad you came over.” To her surprise, Beatrice found it was true.

Posy had settled into a wicker chair, and Noo-noo had apparently developed instant devotion, and lay her head on Posy’s leg. Posy bent to talk to Noo-noo. “Your hearing is amazing!” she said to the dog in an earnest voice. “Absolutely amazing. You could hear me knocking at your front door and you weren’t even in the house! Good thing I could hear
you
in the backyard, or I’d still be knocking.” She beamed at the corgi.

Noo-noo flopped over on her back and watched her with glowing eyes. Posy seemed to have that effect on animals.

Finally Posy sat back, glanced around the backyard, and said to Beatrice with a smile, “I brought you a little something from one of the downtown stores. I was worried you might already have one, but I don’t think you do.”

Beatrice now noticed that Posy had placed a canvas bag on the ground beside her. Posy opened it up and pulled out a bright red hummingbird feeder, and handed it to Beatrice with a smile. “Posy, that’s so sweet of you. No, I
don’t
have a hummingbird feeder. I lived in a condominium in Atlanta and there was no place to put one.”

Posy said, “Oh, good! I was a little worried you might already have one, but then I just figured that you could have two. I hope you’ll have a good time with the hummingbirds. They’re such wonderful little birds, but really so ferocious! You’ll have hummingbird battles in your yard at all times.”

“I can’t wait. I’ve always wanted a hummingbird feeder. Such a thoughtful housewarming gift, Posy. Thank you.”

“A housewarming present, but also a thank-you for being such a good friend this morning,” said Posy seriously. “Could you tell that I was absolutely terrified after we found poor Judith? Such an awful scene . . . finding her body, our unhappy little dogs, the fog everywhere. You were so cool and matter-of-fact that you calmed me right down. I’m still worried, of course—I know that I’ve got to be a main suspect. But I’m so grateful that you were there and were so competent in such a stressful moment.”

“It was frightening for both of us—and for Duchess and Noo-noo, too, I’m sure. But I’d only just met Judith, and my first impression obviously wasn’t wonderful. It was really startling to discover her that way, but I don’t think I’ll have too many nightmares over it. You’ve had a much longer relationship with her, and I’m sure it was a huge shock for you to see her that way.”

A shadow flitted across Posy’s placid features, so Beatrice quickly moved on, not wanting to make Posy think about their discovery of the body. “As far as being a main suspect, I wouldn’t be surprised if all of us will fall under suspicion. Don’t worry too much about being singled out—everyone was arguing with Judith last night.”

Posy looked sadly at Noo-noo, who seemed so in tune with Posy’s feelings that her brown eyes were also mournful. “I can’t imagine any of them murdering Judith. Having an argument is one thing, but killing someone in cold blood? I simply can’t see it. I’ve known most of those ladies my whole life.”

“That’s the thing about murder, though, Posy—I think
anyone
could be capable of it, depending on the circumstances. We all have our triggers. If we feel threatened or angry or belittled, who knows what could happen when we’re at our worst? Judith was pushing everyone’s buttons last night. She made ugly accusations and insinuations and tried to take advantage of an older lady who thought of her as a friend. Then she plainly stated her intentions of taking a solitary walk in the park to clear her mind.” Beatrice shrugged. “We all heard her. We were all angry with her. It could be anyone.”

Posy sighed. “Judith
was
acting especially unpleasant last night. It’s a shame you didn’t have a chance to meet her when she was behaving better. She was a gifted quilter and a great booster for our guild. Judith was very supportive of the Village Quilters and proud of the progress our group had made and the ribbons we’d won.”

“But I’ve also heard she was extremely competitive and was unhappy when fellow quilters won awards or got chosen as beekeeper,” said Beatrice.

“We all have our faults, I suppose.” If it was a reproof, it was a very gentle one.

Beatrice took a deep breath and then jumped right in. “There was something I wanted to ask you about, Posy. Meadow dropped by this morning. She admitted, although she hadn’t wanted to, that she’d seen you out last night. With a shovel in your car.”

Posy made a soft gasp and gave a little jump. She said quietly, “I
was
out that night. And I
did
have a shovel in the car with me. But I didn’t murder Judith.”

“What were you doing?”

“It was probably the strangest night ever, followed by the strangest
morning
ever. I was getting ready for bed when we got an automated call from the alarm company that the shop was being broken into.”

“The Patchwork Cottage?”

“Actually, no. Cork’s wine shop. But those calls are starting to be a regular occurrence, because the alarm is malfunctioning somehow. Once or twice, though, Cork
has
had someone break in, so we have to take it seriously.”

“But
you’re
the one who went out to check on the shop?” That didn’t seem very chivalrous of Cork.

“No, Cork went—but he had a real bee in his bonnet about it. He’d actually been sound asleep and snoring when I came home from Judith’s house, so the call woke him up. He decided to stay in his pajamas and drive over real quick to see if he saw anything. He wouldn’t even call Ramsay and let him know—he was that convinced it was going to be a false alarm.”

“So how did you end up driving around with a shovel?” asked Beatrice.

Posy said sadly, “I told Cork to take some kind of weapon with him, in case there
was
somebody breaking into the shop. But he was so crabby and stubborn that he took off in the car. I decided to pull some clothes on and follow him. I grabbed the shovel, which was the first big thing in the garage that I could get my hands on. I’d just finished preparing a flower bed for planting, so it was really convenient.” Posy swallowed. “I know it sounds horrible, especially since I had a problem with Judith and I was so close to the scene of the crime.”