Quilt or Innocence (9 page)

Wyatt said, “But why do you think someone would want to kill you, Daisy?”

Ramsay nodded. “If there’s no motive, then there’s no point in even considering mistaken identity as a possibility. Who would want to kill you?”

Daisy said, “I’m sure that plenty of quilters would, Ramsay. Jealousy is a very powerful motivator. I’m a top quilter—and that means others have to lose for me to win. Not only that, but I’m starting to do a lot of judging for juried competitions. Maybe one of our more ambitious quilters thought that with
me
out of the way, there’d be more opportunity for her to actually win a prize. Plus, I judge a lot of competitions myself. Someone could have thought I should have given her a higher standing. Maybe she thinks I have it in for her somehow.”

“Daisy, I don’t want you to go around thinking these kinds of things about yourself,” scolded Meadow in between bites. “I’ve never heard a single quilter speak of you in a hateful way. I think we’ve all cheered on your success—both publicly and privately. We’re
proud
of you because you’re representing our guild well. Heck, you’re representing our
community
well. This is all nonsense.”

“Poppycock! It’s poppycock,” said Miss Sissy with sudden violence, waving a dinner roll to emphasize her point.

“Yes,” said Daisy, with a concerned look in Miss Sissy’s direction. “Well, I appreciate your saying so, Meadow, but I still think it’s a definite possibility and I didn’t want Ramsay to overlook it. I even got a threatening note the other day saying that I should be removed as a judge, that I should start rethinking the winners of these quilting competitions.”

Daisy was getting anonymous letters, too? At least Beatrice wasn’t the only one.

“Did you?” asked Ramsay with interest. “I’d like to have a look at it, then. Is it here at the house?”

“No. No, I burned it, Ramsay. At the time, I just thought someone was being hateful because they were jealous. Actually, I thought that Judith might be behind the note—that maybe she was trying to scare me. Anyway, my point is that maybe the murderer was really trying to eliminate
me
. I guess that note must not have been from Judith after all, if the murderer sent it.”

Ramsay looked as if he was having a hard time following Daisy’s logic. “At any rate, if you happen to get another note, do me a favor and don’t burn it. There’s a police department in Dappled Hills for a reason.”

Daisy said, “I’ll certainly let you know. And I’ll be watching my step, too, in case someone is determined not to make a mistake next time. You know, people were jealous of Judith, too, and she’d only won a fraction of the shows that I have. So they must
really
have been envious of me. This is what I think might have happened after the bee: Someone heard me say that I was going out for a walk, decided it was a good opportunity to take me out when I was by myself, saw Judith, took out a handy blunt object, and whacked her over the head. Maybe she left without even realizing her mistake—she could have just run off. But I really do feel that jealousy is at the bottom of it all. Thankfully, I decided not to take that walk after the bee.”

“You’re very fortunate,” said Posy gently, “that you have the resources and time to be able to go to as many out-of-town shows as you do. Most quilters aren’t able to pay for the entry fee or get a hotel room to attend the show.”

“I’m blessed,” said Daisy, bowing her head.

Ramsay said, “I’ll keep your theory in mind, Daisy. And I’ll pass it along to the state police as a motive, too.”

“I just wanted to point out that there were more people with motives than poor Posy.”

Posy looked miserably at her plate. Daisy leaned forward as if Cork were hard of hearing. “I was just saying that Posy had a strong motive for killing Judith. But there were other motives out there, too.”

“Wickedness!” shrieked Miss Sissy. “Minister, rid this town of its evil!”

Wyatt didn’t appear at all nonplussed at this. “I’ll certainly do my best, Miss Sissy,” he said in a soothing voice.

Ramsay said, “But as I was just saying, Daisy, Posy has been eliminated from the pool of suspects. She’s too small to have struck the victim from the angle of the blow.”

Beatrice said, “Posy, have you heard from Judith’s daughter at all? I know all the quilters are hoping you’ll be able to keep your shop open.”

Posy’s face brightened. “Yes, Meg called me early this afternoon. She said that for the foreseeable future she wanted to keep things exactly the way they are. She didn’t want the trouble or worry of selling the property. So I’ll just start sending the rent checks over to Meg. She was already here in town—she’d started driving to Dappled Hills as soon as she’d heard the news. She mentioned needing to go through Judith’s things and settle her affairs.”

“Posy, did Meg mention raising the rent?” asked Beatrice.

“Not at all. I guess her mother didn’t talk to her about any of the plans for the building. I’m not sure how often they chatted with each other.”

Daisy said, “Not often. Judith wasn’t exactly the most nurturing mother in the world.”

“I feel even worse that Judith’s death solved my problem,” Posy said sadly. “I feel simply awful about it. Now all that stress and worry has lifted and it’s all because Judith is dead! I felt guilty just talking to Meg, and I haven’t done anything!”

“Savannah and Georgia could say the same thing,” said Daisy, buttering another roll. “Judith was baiting both of them at the bee. I think she knew something that they didn’t want to have spread all over town. They’re very private people, those two. And when you live in a small town like Dappled Hills, everybody knows your business or gets involved in your business. Don’t you think so, Harrison?”

Harrison Butler said, “That’s the truth. All people tend to do here is chatter about each other. You’d be amazed at the amount of gossip I hear by the end of the day. And if it’s not gossip, it’s people getting involved in other people’s business.”

“Don’t these people think they’re being helpful, though?” asked Wyatt with a smile.

“I’m sure they do. But they’re meddling. I’m not even sure their motives are good.”

“Sometimes meddling
can
be helpful, though,” Daisy insisted. “I did some meddling of my own today for Felicity’s daughter, Amber. She’s talked about moving to a big city for ages, and I finally contacted my cousin in Atlanta—the one who works for the school district there. He said he’d be delighted to talk to her about teaching there.”

Piper was going to hate to hear that Amber might be moving to Atlanta. And Beatrice couldn’t help but think that Daisy wasn’t just a Goodwill Ambassador for the town of Dappled Hills. What was Daisy Butler hiding? Savannah and Georgia hadn’t been the only ones that Judith was picking on at the bee. She’d definitely alluded to something with Daisy, too.

Meadow was enthusiastically taking another helping of sautéed spinach, having already polished off her filet mignon au Bordelaise with shallots. “No one else is having seconds?” she asked in a huffy voice. She studied everyone’s plate. “Y’all haven’t even finished yet!” She knit her brows in consternation. “You know what’s wrong with old people?” Everyone silently stared at Meadow, as if unwilling to concede that anyone in the room qualified as old. “They don’t eat!”

Everyone took the cue and immediately continued eating again, except for Miss Sissy, who had completely cleaned her plate and sat there, cackling as if she’d just gotten confirmation that she wasn’t old after all. Meadow continued plaintively. “Maybe it’s all the talk about murder that’s causing the loss of appetite. I don’t like the fact that we’re talking about our
friends
as if they were killers!”

“Although it sure sounds like everybody’s been upset with everyone else lately,” said Cork, yanking at his collar again. “Posy was telling me how upset Amber was about Judith trying to get a valuable quilt for free. Sounds like you saved the day, Beatrice. Felicity was lucky to be able to leave the bee with that quilt. Judith was a difficult woman to cross—I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d pulled that quilt out of Felicity’s hands and run off with it. But, you know, Felicity has always wanted to have her own way. She’s a very stubborn woman. That’s how she did so well with those makeup sales—you couldn’t get away from her!”

“I can see Judith ripping the quilt away from Felicity,” muttered Meadow.

“Or she could have threatened to take Felicity to a small-claims court because she’d promised her the quilt and then didn’t give it to her,” said Posy.

“Possession is nine-tenths of the law, though,” said Beatrice. “And Felicity had the quilt. Besides, she hadn’t realized the value of the quilt when she’d promised it to Judith.”

“That’s what you and I say. But what would the
court
say? And Felicity would never have even made it to court. She wouldn’t have wanted to pay for a lawyer. She’d just have been fuming at home,” said Meadow.

Cork said thoughtfully, “Wasn’t there some talk, a long while back, about Felicity’s finances?”

Posy said, “Unfortunately, Felicity’s never been really smart about money. Such a shame. She’d done so well for herself, too, selling makeup for years and getting that lavender Cadillac and all kinds of other bonuses. She was tough and strong—we all really looked up to her. She lost her husband in an accident; then Amber went a little wild, and she still ended up doing really well in a brand-new life in sales. But then it was gone all of a sudden—everything she’d worked so hard for.”

“Didn’t I hear somewhere that she trusted someone who mismanaged her funds? Something like that?” asked Beatrice.

“Even worse than mismanagement,” said Wyatt quietly. “She trusted the wrong person—someone who didn’t have her best interests at heart and took advantage of her. The man she’d trusted with her money had all of her savings invested in a pyramid scheme. She lost everything. She wasn’t the only one; a whole bunch of people lost their money. But she still remained remarkably upbeat and strong.”

Posy sighed. “That’s just Felicity. She’s quite a lady.”

Cork said, “Maybe Amber did it. Judith was trying to take advantage of her mom. You know what an angry teenager she always was. And she still gets all wound up over stuff even now. She was arguing with somebody in the shop one day over politics, and they hadn’t even tried to be provocative. Judith might just have made her mad—that’s all.”

“I categorically reject that idea! Amber is my friend,” said Meadow.

Miss Sissy gave another grating cackle. “None of you know what happened.” She looked craftily around at the others gaping at her. “The police don’t use their eyes or brains. But
I
do. And I know who did it. I might not have my teeth, but I
do
still have my eyes and ears and they still work fine. It’s wickedness! And lies! And greed.” She looked pointedly at Ramsay, and he shrugged.

Daisy rolled her eyes. “
Most
murders are committed over money, Miss Sissy. Everybody knows that.”

Miss Sissy shook her head in impatience. “Greed!” she repeated again sternly, wagging a bony finger at Daisy.

With that pronouncement, Miss Sissy seemed to consider herself done. She stood, drew herself up proudly to her full height of four feet, ten inches; gave everyone a malevolent look; and hobbled out of the door. A minute later, they heard a screeching sound as Miss Sissy pulled her Lincoln out of the driveway and, according to the sound effects they were hearing, through some of Daisy and Harrison’s shrubbery.

“I don’t know
how
,” said Daisy in a tired voice, “you put up with that woman in your shop all day, Posy.”

Posy sighed. “Some people have cats in their shops. I have Miss Sissy.”

“She’s completely mad,” said Daisy.

The room was quiet for a moment. Meadow finally said, “Tell you what. Daisy, why don’t you show Beatrice the block you’re working on for the group quilt? You’ve probably already started on it, haven’t you?”

“I’ve finished it.”

“Of course you have,” said Meadow. “Do you mind pulling it out? I know Beatrice is still trying to get the hang of quilting again.”

“There’s really no
again
to it,” said Beatrice. “I’ve
never
quilted seriously. At least, not for many years.” No one seemed to be listening to her, though.

Daisy quickly left the dining room and returned with a piece of fabric. “I’d be delighted to show it to you. Don’t worry, Beatrice. We all had to learn sometime.”

Daisy’s block featured a bucolic scene that Beatrice guessed was Daisy’s idealized view of country life. Did she fancy Harrison some sort of local squire? The block was amok with chickens, cows, ivy and skirted peasant women feeding sheep. There was also a medicine bag on the ground near a chicken that seemed startlingly out of place.

There was no doubt that Daisy had talent. Her stitching was immaculate and the block design was busy but riveting. “It symbolizes our life here in the country,” said Daisy. “Very different from my life growing up in the cultural districts of Charleston, but still not without its pleasures.” She patted Beatrice’s arm. “We wouldn’t expect you to be able to come up with a block like this, Beatrice. This is an example of advanced quilting. Maybe Meadow could help walk you through a block. I would, except I’ve got such a busy schedule the next few weeks with my different clubs.”

Meadow bounced a little in her seat. “Isn’t it exciting having someone new in the guild? And Beatrice has such an extensive background in folk art! I want the Village Quilters to really push themselves—we could have more fund-raisers to get the cash to enter more juried shows. We could then easily get more members. Maybe even quilters from other towns nearby would want to join our group. We could make more quilts for charities, too!”

The rest of the dinner party passed without drama, mostly featuring Meadow’s grandiose ideas for the future of the Village Quilters, which seemed to include ruling the world. And she kept indicating that Beatrice was a critical part of the plan she was formulating.

An hour later, Beatrice was ready to turn in. Wyatt left the party then, too, saying he needed to get home and let his dog out. As they were walking to their cars, Wyatt gave Beatrice a sympathetic look. “You’ve got to think you’ve moved into the middle of a hornet’s nest! I promise Dappled Hills is completely benign ninety-nine percent of the time.”