Quilter's Knot (25 page)

"So, what
are
you up to?"

She explained about Lauren's missing work, Aunt Beth's discovery of the copy and Lauren's comments to anyone who would listen that resulted in her becoming suspect number one in Selestina's death. She finished up with Lauren's disappearance.

"Aunt Beth just faxed us a copy of the label, and it said the quilt was made by Patsy Jackson of Angel Harbor, Washington."

"That has to be an alias,” Ray Louise said. “This community is too small for an art quilter of that level to exist here without some of us knowing her.” She silently studied her shoe for a moment. “Tell you what,” she said when she looked up again. “I'll ask all the teachers at lunch. Inessa Follansbee has been doing a workshop on stash management. She owns Angel Harbor Quilts, the local quilt store. If this Patsy exists, she has to buy fabric. Even if she's one of those people who buy their fabric online she would have to go in there sometime. I'll check with Inessa and let you know. Which residence are you staying in?"

Harriet gave her the particulars and thanked her for her help. Once more, Aunt Beth's big mouth had paid off.

"I have one more question,” she said. “Is there a lot of pressure on the staff of the school to keep producing new work?"

"If you're asking if Selestina copied Lauren's work, she wouldn't need to do that as head of the school. Her teachers are a different story. Once most of the students have taken a class on a particular technique, the instructors can't fill a class anymore—there aren't enough new bodies coming in for that. Teachers have to continually come up with new and different projects and techniques to keep our base of repeat students coming back. And I'll tell you, it's hard.

"So, yes, I could see a teacher getting desperate and maybe copying a student's work, but they would have to teach it at a different school. Here people might recognize it. Then again, most teachers teach at multiple locations. Someone could copy work here and teach a class on the technique in a quilt store in Kansas and no one would ever know."

"Thanks,” Harriet said.

"Good luck finding your friend's work."

Harriet came back out to the lobby and found a group of women still clustered near the table of instructions. Someone was speaking loudly, and as she got closer she recognized Sarah's voice.

"I don't see why we have to use the theme of
motherhood
. There aren't any good blocks with motherhood in the name. If it's a gift from us to whoever, why can't we make what we think is meaningful? I'd like to make a block that represents the school. I've had such a great time here, I think an applique of the fiber arts building would be a better memorial. This is his mother's school, after all."

"It is hard to think of a motherhood block,” a skinny blonde with thin lips said.

"And I don't think we should be limited to techniques we learned here for the other one, either,” Sarah continued. “I took a class in Seattle and we made a paste out of flour and cornmeal and ginger ale and spread it on muslin and when it dried we shook it off and then we sprayed dye over the top and when it dries you wash it and the results are very cool."

The blonde asked a question about what, if any, fabric prep Sarah had done. Harriet looked around the entrance hall for Carla, and finally spotted her on a small hand-carved bench near the door to the outside. She crossed the space, and Carla stood up.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't take any more of Sarah. She isn't really letting other people talk anyway."

"Well, it was worth a try."

"It was kinda interesting before she showed up. That blonde in the tight jeans was riling people up about leaving. She said she never liked Selestina and ... let me think ... she said, ‘I merely tolerated her so I could take classes from her teachers.’ And then she said she would feel like a hypocrite going to her memorial service on Sunday."

"So, what did the other people say?” Harriet pulled the door open and ushered her out.

"They didn't get a chance to say anything. Patience came up and basically calmed everyone down. She told them that, in spite of Selestina's public persona, she was a real nice lady and only wanted what was best for the students, and after all was said and done, didn't they all have great memories of their time here? And then she said that although the school would continue and they would make many more memories, change was inevitable, and Selestina's passage marked the end of the era and surely that was worth celebrating."

"Did they buy it?"

"Everyone was kind of whispering among themselves, and I couldn't exactly hear what they were saying. I tried to get closer.” Her face started to turn pink.

"Hey, you did great."

"I started to go up to the table, but then Sarah showed up and I didn't want her to figure out what I was up to.” She held up a handful of paper and fabric. “I had to grab another set of stuff so I'd have a reason to be there. Then I made like I was leaving and found that bench."

Sarah caught up with them as they headed back toward the Tree House.

"I'm going to lunch with a friend,” she said, emphasizing the word
friend
. Harriet presumed she was talking about whoever it was keeping her out late the last few nights. She couldn't help but notice that Sarah had abandoned her usual khaki twill pants and blazer for low-rise black slacks with a wide belt and a silky pink T-shirt that hugged her curves and revealed more cleavage than usual for a student at a quilt school.

She brushed past them and hurried on to the Tree House. Carla looked at Harriet and laughed. Harriet just shook her head.

Mavis and Connie were sitting on the sofa in the great room. Mavis had a sketchpad in her lap. Connie was cutting out images she'd drawn on a piece of freezer paper. She had obviously figured out a design, and it was going to involve applique. The waxy side of the freezer paper could be attached to fabric simply by ironing it on. It stuck well enough that you could cut out images drawn on the paper and then sew them to another piece of fabric; and when you were finished, it peeled off without leaving a residue.

"Tell me something good, chiquita."

"No one's heard of our Patsy,” Harriet said. “Ray Louise said she'd ask around just to be sure, and she said she'd ask Inessa Follansbee, who owns Angel Harbor Quilts, the local fabric store. Do we have a lunch plan?"

"Are you hungry?” Mavis asked. “There are some of those molasses cookies on the counter in the kitchen."

"Thanks, but I was actually wondering if we could go to town for lunch. Les should be helping with the buffet here, and I'd like to go by his apartment and see if Lauren is there."

"Great minds think alike,” Connie said. “Robin went upstairs to get ready while we were waiting for you. She heard about an Italian restaurant that's supposed to be good."

"If it's the one I went to, it's great. And it's perfect. That's where I was when I saw Lauren and Les go up to his apartment."

It was another fifteen minutes before everyone had used the bathroom, gotten her purse and put a coat of some sort on.

"Have
you
heard from Lauren?” Robin asked.

"No, and I take it you haven't either,” Harriet said. “I don't like this.” She opened the Tree House door. “I'm going to check her brother's apartment while we're at lunch, but I'm not holding out hope."

[Back to Table of Contents]

Tom Bainbridge was sitting at a window table when they entered the restaurant. He nodded at Harriet.

"I guess he likes this place,” she said to Mavis.

The hostess led them to a table at the back of the room and handed out menus. The lunch special was a small pork chop with spaghetti marinara and a side salad with a scoop of spumoni ice cream for dessert. The six-dollar price was too good to pass up. The whole group chose the special, making it easy for their waitress.

"Anyone have any idea how I'm going to combine my less than spectacular hand quilting with half-square rectangles for my memorial block?” Harriet asked as they waited for their food.

"I know it isn't your usual style, but maybe you could piece your half-rectangles out of homespun fabrics and then quilt it with a coarse thread and make it look folk-arty,” Mavis suggested, and in doing so began a lively discussion that lasted through dessert.

"I'd like to go to Les's apartment with Harriet,” Robin said as everyone dug in purse or bag for lunch money. “Angel Harbor Quilts is two streets over and a couple of blocks down. You three can take the car if you want, and Harriet and I can join you there when we're done looking for Lauren.” She held up her keys, and Mavis took them.

"We'll give you thirty minutes, and if you aren't at the quilt store we're coming after you.” Connie said.

"If we find Lauren, we'll call, so turn your cell phones on."

Mavis and Connie were notorious for faithfully carrying their phones but just as religiously not turning them on. Both women dug in their bags and powered their units.

They split up at the door, and Harriet led Robin around the building and across the alley to where she'd seen Les and Lauren enter the night she'd had dinner with Tom. The door opened into a small entrance hall. Worn gray indoor-outdoor carpeting covered the floor, and dirty gray handprints dulled the beige paint that had probably looked tired when it was new. A row of metal mailboxes was set into the wall at the base of the stairs. Harriet read the names. “Sawyer” was listed as apartment number four.

The doors to the ground floor apartments were set at the back of the tiny vestibule, behind the stairs. A quick glance verified they were units one and two. Robin started up the stairs, and Harriet followed, trying not to touch the grimy handrail.

"I don't like the feel of this place,” she said.

Robin stopped when she reached the landing at the top of the stairs. Apartment three was to the right with four on the left.

"Uh-oh,” she said.

Harriet looked over her shoulder. The door to apartment four was partially open. She brushed past her and stepped into the doorway. She pulled her sweatshirt sleeve over her hand and pushed on the door.

The apartment had the look that was becoming all too familiar. It had been searched, and none too gently.

"Don't go in,” Robin said. “Lauren!” she called out, but both women knew it wasn't likely there would be an answer.

"What's that on the floor?” A line of dark red drops dotted the linoleum just inside the door.

Robin crouched down and took a closer look. She groaned.

"What?"

"It's blood."

As was required for an officer of the court, Robin called Detective Ruiz immediately. She might have been wearing a pastel-and-black yoga outfit, but she commanded Harriet stay out of the apartment with the kind of authority Harriet associated with uniforms.

"Lauren might be in the bedroom,” Harriet protested. “Someone is obviously hurt, it could be her."

"The blood trail is leading from the living room to the door.” Robin studied the floor at her feet. “This carpet is so dirty it's hard to tell, but I think the blood continues out here. Look.” She pointed to a larger dark stain on the landing.

Harriet stiffened as she heard the downstairs door open.

"Why am I not surprised to find you here?” Detective Ruiz said to her as he ascended the stairs. “It's like I was saying the last time we met at a crime scene—you keep inserting your self into my investigation, and I have to keep asking myself why that would be."

"We came here looking for Lauren,” she told him. “She came to Angel Harbor with us. Surely, you can understand why we might be worried about the fact that she's missing."

"We didn't go inside,” Robin said in a business-like tone. “Her brother Les works at the Fiber Arts School; this is his apartment."

"Lauren told me she spent the first night she was missing here, but she claimed she was leaving for parts unknown. Knowing Lauren as we do, we figured she might be back here,” Harriet added, trying to imitate Robin's tone.

"There's something that looks like blood here in the entry.” Robin pointed.

"You two go downstairs and wait outside.” Detective Ruiz motioned Officer Weber, who seemed to be his constant companion, inside the apartment. Weber drew his weapon and entered.

Harriet and Robin did as requested and went outside. Robin called Mavis and reported their situation.

"Someone is clearly looking for something more than your friend,” Detective Ruiz said when he joined them in the alley. “What do you think that might be?"

"I have no idea,” Harriet said immediately. “Lauren's quilt went missing. While we were helping her look for it, we discovered that someone's been making copies of student quilts and selling them. But since she doesn't have her quilt, we've been assuming the copycat was the one who stole it. I don't know why anyone else would be looking for it. Besides, the places that have been torn up aren't the kind of places I'd look for a quilt. We know Lauren doesn't have it, so why would someone look at her brother's place? And Tom's office makes no sense, either."

"We came here to find Lauren and tell her to turn herself in so we can get this cleared up. She didn't do anything to Selestina, even though someone went to some amount of trouble to make it look like she did,” Robin said. “I'm getting worried for her safety."

"I'm starting to get worried about your client myself,” Ruiz said. “Someone searched that apartment, but it also looks like there was a fight of some kind.” He looked away.

"What?” Robin asked.

"Someone lost a lot of blood in the bedroom,” he said somberly. “I've called for the forensic folks, and I also asked our crime scene reconstruction guy to come have a look. He'll be able to give us a better idea of what went on here. I'd like to talk to you again when we're done here.” He looked at his watch. “It's going to take a couple of hours for my guy to do his thing, so shall we say four o'clock? I'll come by the school."

"Why is he being so nice all of a sudden?” Harriet whispered to Robin as the detective went back upstairs.