The Quilt Before the Storm (14 page)

“So you thought you’d just break in?” Tom pulled out his phone as if to dial 911.

“Marjory’s not in any position to let the police know you aren’t common criminals, so I guess you’re on your own,” Harriet said.

“Now, wait one minute,” Richard said, pulling himself up to his full, not very impressive height. “It’s not like we’ve done anything, here. We just were looking in the window.”

“You were here yesterday. You know we’ve already moved her inventory up to the attic,” Harriet pointed out.

“Okay, you’ve got us—we’re hungry,” Pat said. “We’re stuck here, and we’re hungry. We were trying to get in to see if Marjory had any food inside.”

“Didn’t you go to the church shelter?” Tom asked. “They have food.”

“No,” Richard answered. “We decided to stay in our car.”

“Lisa didn’t want to sleep in the same room with strangers,” Pat explained.

“So, she’d rather be hungry?” Harriet asked.

“We thought we’d be able to go to the church in the morning,” Pat replied. “We tried, but…” She spread her arms out to indicate the mess around her.

Harriet just shook her head.

“You’re going to have to get to a shelter,” Tom told them. “I haven’t seen any open stores. You need to get across the bridge before the river swamps it then see if you can make your way to one of the churches or schools.”

“What if we can’t get to one?” Pat asked, a real note of panic in her voice for the first time.

Harriet’s shoulders sagged, but before she could speak, offering Pat and Richard a place at her house, Tom said, “I have a nice plate of cookies to tide you over until you make your way to a shelter. Wait right here.”

“What are
you
doing here, anyway,” Pat asked, recovering her composure. “Didn’t Marjory tell me your aunt has a big house up on the hill?”

“Yeah, if the river is so dangerous, why are you here?” Richard said.

“If you must know, my friend and I were delivering supplies to the homeless camp. One of their members didn’t survive the night. We came to notify the police, and thought we’d check and see how Marjory’s store fared. As we all know, she’s not able to do it herself.”

“Was it one of the people who helped you pack up the shop yesterday?” Richard asked.

“What’s it to you? Why the sudden interest in the homeless people?”

“Was it?” He pressed, a steely tone entering his voice.

“As a matter of fact, it was—one of the men.”

“Which one?” He leaned toward her.

“The guy with the deep voice,” she said, stepping away. “Duane.”

Richard sighed and rocked back on his heels, his gaze far away from Pins and Needles.

“Did you know Duane?”

“Me?” Richard asked. “Of course not. I just noticed the two fellows in the shop yesterday.”

Harriet tried to think back to the day before to remember if she’d noticed any interaction between Richard and the homeless trio, but too much had happened since then.

Tom returned a moment later with one of the plates of cookies from his hostess, and it was as if Richard’s intense interest in the homeless man had never happened. He grabbed the cookies from Tom’s hands and barely let Pat have a crack at them. It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so pathetic.

Tom took her firmly by the arm and started to lead her away, but she stopped and turned back to Pat and Richard.

“You’re wasting your time, you know.”

They looked up at her, crumbs trailing from both their mouths.

“Marjory doesn’t leave any cash in the shop when she isn’t there,” she lied. She turned away from them and hurried toward the MUV.

“What was that about?” Tom asked her when she was back in her seat.

“Oh, I was just trying to discourage Richard from his larcenous inclinations.”

“Good luck with that. He looks like he was born sleazy.” He turned the MUV on. “We need to get you home,” he said.

“I’m starving,” Harriet announced as she came into the kitchen from the garage. She was carrying a bottle of water in each hand.

“Is Tom with you?” Aunt Beth asked, eyeing the extra water.

“No, he went back to check on the Renfros.” She looked down at the extra bottle she was holding. “I’m just really thirsty.” She sat down at the breakfast table and opened one of the bottles, nearly draining it before setting it down again.

“How was it out there?” Mavis asked as she joined them.

Harriet sagged back in her chair.

“It’s awful.”

“That bad, huh?” Lauren asked, as she, too, entered the kitchen. “So, spill,” she said and slid into the chair opposite Harriet. “What was the worst you saw?”

“That would be Duane.” Harriet sighed. She looked up gratefully as Mavis slid a plate with half of a peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich on it in front of her.

Aunt Beth lifted the lid of a large pot that was simmering on the stove, and the room was filled with the spicy smell of chili.

“We’re having dinner shortly,” she said as she stirred it and replaced the lid. “We thought we’d eat before it gets dark.”

“Not that it ever really got light,” Mavis remarked, looking through the window at the gray sky outside.

“Come on, throw us a bone,” Lauren said. “What happened to Duane?”

“He’s dead.”

“
What?
” Aunt Beth exclaimed. “Did he have a heart attack or something?”

“It was more in the ‘or something’ category.”

“Don’t be a drama queen.” Lauren prompted. “Spit it out.”

“Someone strangled him during the storm.”

“Who?” Lauren asked.

“Do you think I’d have said ‘someone’ if I knew who’d done it?” Harriet snapped, more sharply than she’d meant to.

“Sorry,” Lauren said, dragging the word out in a way that indicated she was anything but.

“Settle down, you two,” Mavis said sternly. “Eat your sandwich, and then you can tell us everything.”

A half-hour later, Harriet was settled in front of the living room fireplace in a fresh set of clothes, a cup of tea clutched in both hands, a soft old quilted lap robe around her shoulders.

“First of all, the Muckleshoot was just starting to flow over the bridge when Tom and I came back. We barely made it across in time.” She paused and took a sip of tea. “Second, it took us more than two hours to get from here to the homeless camp. We cleared tree limbs and debris as we went, but there are wires down everywhere. We passed utility workers, and they said they’re doing repairs on the power lines in anticipation of the main feeder line break being found and fixed, but it’s anyone’s guess when that will happen.”

“Oh, dear,” Mavis said.

“We got to the homeless camp just as Joyce and Ronald found Duane. They thought he was sleeping in after being awake all night, but eventually, they checked and he was dead.”

“Was he in his camp?” Lauren asked, looking at Mavis the whole time to see if a reprimand was coming.

“No, he was in the handicapped stall in the men’s room. I guess several people rode the storm out in the bathrooms, but they took different stalls or corners for privacy. Joyce stayed out all night to keep an eye on Brandy, who was too out of it to come in, so she doesn’t know what happened indoors. Ronald said he slept through it all, but he knows the truck-driving couple and some other couple no one knew were in there, too. Joyce went to sleep after the storm broke, so Brandy was on her own during that time.” Harriet shook her head then shivered. “It was awful. And he was covered with one of our quilts after the fact.”

“You’re not suggesting our quilt had anything to do with it, are you?” Lauren asked.

“Of course she isn’t,” Mavis said. “It was just an observation, I’m sure.”

“We dropped the supplies Tom had and then went to the police station. Officer Nguyen seems to be the only law enforcement in town—I guess the detectives got stuck on the wrong side of the slide while they were at their task force meeting. Nguyen hadn’t been able to reach anyone else in town.”

“Wow,” said Aunt Beth. “I wonder who’ll investigate the murder.”

“Tom and I used duct tape to seal off the bathroom stall, and I’m sure Joyce will do her best to keep people away. It’s certainly cold enough in the bathroom to preserve Duane for a while.”

“Well, that’s just terrible,” Aunt Beth said. “It must have been very upsetting.”

“It was a shock, that’s for sure. But that wasn’t the end of the fun on our adventure. Tom took me by Marjory’s shop so we could see if it had made it through the storm in one piece and…” She went on to describe their encounter with Marjory’s family.

“Richard reacted strangely when we told them about the death at the homeless camp. The fact that he reacted at all was strange,” Harriet said. “I think they slept in their car last night, and they were pretty hungry. I was going to cave and invite them here, but Tom wouldn’t let me. He gave them some cookies and told them to go find a shelter.”

“You’ve had an eventful day,” Mavis said.

“Anyone hungry?” Jorge called from the kitchen. The smell of cornbread greeted them as they made their way back to the kitchen.

“Did you make that on top of the stove?” Lauren asked.

“Yes, I did,” Jorge said. “There is only an electric oven under the gas cooktop, unfortunately.”

“Aren’t you tricky,” Lauren said. “And here I thought you only cooked Mexican.”

“I am a man of many secrets,” Jorge said with a knowing smile and scooped his spicy chili into ceramic bowls. “The grated cheese, sour cream and green onions are on the dining table with honey and butter for the bread,” he said.

“This is fabulous,” Harriet said as she took the bowl he handed her and made her way to the other room.

Everyone agreed, if the subsequent empty dishes were any indication.

Aunt Beth and Mavis insisted on washing the dishes, leaving Harriet and Lauren to sip their after-dinner tea in front of the fireplace in the living room. Jorge went outside to bring more firewood into the garage to dry, a task made more difficult by the elderly electric door opener needing to be operated manually using a temperamental pull cord.

“So, who do you
think
did it?” Lauren asked without preamble. “I mean, you were there. You must have some idea.”

Carter was in his usual position with only his head peeking out from her sweatshirt.

“I’m trying not to think about it,” Harriet admitted.

“How’s that working for you?”

“Not too well, actually.”

“That’s what I thought. I think you’ll feel better if you talk about it.”

“I’m sure you do,” Harriet said with a sigh. She pondered the bottom of her teacup for a few minutes, but no answers were revealed there, so she finally spoke. “There are quite a few possibilities, and no real way to sort them.”

“You said the truck-driving couple were in the same bathroom, right?” Lauren mused. “Seems like that would be too obvious, though.”

“Sometimes the simple answer is the right one,” Harriet cautioned.

“What about the unknown couple?”

“That’s all they said—a man and his companion who left first thing in the morning. I get the feeling that transient visitors aren’t unusual at the camp.”

“Who else should we consider?” Lauren asked. “Didn’t you say Joyce went to sleep for a while?”

“Yeah. She and Ronald both say they were asleep for portions of the night. And Brandy was ‘out of it,’ but I’m not sure exactly what that means. I don’t know if she was passed out or merely uncooperative. In any case, no one can say what she was doing when the others were asleep.”

“I wonder if Darcy and her bunch will be able to determine the time of death when they’re finally able to get here.” She meant crime scene investigator and sometime Loose Thread Darcy Lewis.

“The real question is, where
is
Darcy?” Harriet sat up in her chair. “If she’s trapped in town like us, maybe we can get Tom to fetch her to the crime scene.”

“What do you suggest? Smoke signals?”

“Let’s see if we can figure out where she lives.” Harriet got up from her chair.

“You might as well give me the dogs before I come in. I can’t get any wetter.” Jorge called from the kitchen.

Lauren handed a frightened looking Carter to him as Mavis snapped leashes onto the collars of Pamela and Curly.

“Who are you trying to find,” Aunt Beth asked when Harriet asked where she might find a phone book.

Harriet had lived in the house for most of a year, but she still didn’t know where everything was.

“We were wondering where Darcy lives, and if she’s around. Officer Nguyen said he hasn’t been able to reach anyone. He seemed pretty overwhelmed before we told him about Duane. He might not have called Darcy yet,” Harriet explained.

“We know he didn’t call her,” Lauren said. “Unless she has a satellite phone. But maybe
he
knows where she lives.”

“I can tell you that,” Aunt Beth answered. “She lives in one of those duplexes on the other side of Miller Hill.”

It might as well be a continent away, given the conditions
, Harriet thought.

“Well, it was a good idea,” she said. “We were thinking there won’t be much forensic evidence by the time the power is back and the roads are clear.”