A Drunkard's Path (23 page)

“Turquoise is your color,” he said to her.

They walked out the door and I watched them through the window. They held hands on their way to the car. He opened the car door for her. He even leaned in to give her a quick kiss before closing the passenger door.

A half hour later the doorbell rang again. I checked myself in the mirror, suddenly very excited about our date.

“Hey.” Jesse walked into the house. “I’m starved. Are you hungry?” He walked past me into the hallway.

“Yes, I guess.”

“Do you want Italian or Greek or what?”

“I don’t care.”

“Where’s your coat?”

I was getting annoyed. “I look nice, by the way.” I pointed to my dress.

“I told you that you look nice.”

“When?”

“A bunch of times.” Jesse paced impatiently.

“When?”

“I don’t know, Nell. The last time I saw you,” he said. “Can we go?”

I grabbed my coat, but my heart wasn’t in this date anymore.

Jesse stabbed at his salad, grunting the occasional answer to my questions. After a while I gave up and ate my dinner as if I were alone. The restaurant was filled with happy couples chatting and holding hands across the table. Some looked nervous, maybe on a first date or about to propose. Some looked comfortable, like parents finally out for a night alone. Everyone was engaged in conversation except Jesse and me. Anyone looking at us would have assumed we were headed for divorce.

When I finished my coffee, I’d had enough.

“Can you drop me off at the shop?” I asked.

Jesse finally looked at me. “Why?”

“You’re kidding, right? You clearly do not want to be here. I might as well salvage the evening somehow.”

He reached over and grabbed my hand. “I’m sorry. I should have canceled.”

I pulled my hand away. “That’s your answer? What’s going on with you?”

Jesse leaned in. “I had a bad day today and I’ve clearly been unable to shake it.”

“Is it Allie?”

He shook his head. “No. She’s fine. It’s the case. I lost a piece of evidence.”

“Not possible. You would never lose evidence.”

“Thanks, but I might as well have lost it. Days ago I asked Greg to bring the watch he found to the lab for DNA testing. When someone wears a watch, their cells can come off onto the band. I figured it was a long shot but what the hell.”

“He lost the watch? He was so excited about having found it at the crime scene.”

Jesse seemed to be struggling to keep his voice low. “He not only lost the watch, he turned the whole thing into a circus. I found out that, instead of securing it in an evidence bag and bringing it to the lab, he’s been carrying that damn watch in his pocket. Then after I chewed him out, he begged for a second chance and I was stupid enough to give it to him.”

I knew Greg had been carrying the watch and I hadn’t said anything to Jesse, which made me feel suddenly part of a conspiracy against him. But that might have led to a discussion about the photo, and I couldn’t risk Jesse being as angry at me as he clearly was at Greg.

“I’m sure it will be okay,” I said in a feeble and useless attempt to calm him down.

“He put the watch into an evidence bag, and it was supposed to take him twenty minutes to get to the lab, but when he wasn’t back in two hours, I called his cell. He told me that first he ran into Maggie, coming out of the library, and they had a nice chat. Then he gave Kennette a ride from the shop to your place. And then, and I’m not sure why exactly, he went over to the Morristown Police Station to see if they needed anything taken to the lab.”

“Did he take it out of the car when he was talking to all those people?”

“Take it out? He was showing off. He wanted everyone to know he was lead detective on the case.”

“He didn’t say that. Greg is maybe a little excited—”

“He told Powell that he was lead detective,” Jesse said. “I look like a complete idiot. I had to listen to Powell tell me how important it was that evidence get to the lab right away. Thank God I took the fingerprint evidence from Sandra’s apartment into the lab for identification.” Jesse threw his napkin on the table. “I’m trying to conduct a murder investigation and I’ve got Barney Fife on the force.”

The whole idea made me laugh a little, or it would have if Jesse hadn’t been sitting there and the watch hadn’t been a possible clue to the identity of the killer.

“Maybe we should call it a night,” I said.

Jesse nodded and paid the bill.

Once outside the restaurant Jesse and I stood awkwardly. I didn’t know whether to say good night or continue the date.

“You look beautiful,” he said. “I know I don’t say it enough, but I think it every time I see you.”

“Eleanor isn’t the only one with a romantic boyfriend.” I smiled.

“What?”

“Never mind.” I leaned in and kissed him lightly.

As I backed away, Jesse grabbed my hand.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Trying to make the best of a bad evening,” he said, and he kissed me.

“We can’t stand here, in the street, kissing,” I said. “It will be all over town tomorrow.”

He backed away. “Sorry.”

I smiled. “I’m not complaining about the idea, just the location.”

I took his hand and walked over to Someday Quilts.

The windows were covered with quilts, but we left the lights out anyway and walked to the classroom at the back. I took an old sample quilt off a pile of others and laid it on the floor.

“Should we be doing this?” Jesse said as we sat on the quilt.

“Don’t you know by now that I’m always doing things I shouldn’t?”

Even in the darkness I could see him smile. I leaned in to kiss him, and as I did I felt a shiver from his right side.

Jesse pulled away. “I have the phone on vibrate.” He blushed. “Sorry.” As he took the call I waited on the quilt, feeling more foolish than romantic. I wondered if it would be possible to get back to that feeling or whether we should call it a night. When he hung up the phone, I knew the question was irrelevant.

“You have to go,” I said.

“Rain check?”

I nodded. I sat in the darkness for a long time after he left, my head swimming with pictures—Oliver and Eleanor, Lily’s body on the ground, Sandra in the river, Kennette’s encounter with Greg. It was exhausting to try to make sense of it all, but it was still easier to think about than my stalled romance with Jesse.

Then I got up and walked to the office, where I had stashed my nearly finished Christmas quilt. I sat in the shop and hand sewed the binding to the back of the quilt, being careful to miter each corner as I had been taught. Sometime after one in the morning, I sewed the last stitch into the binding and cut a piece of cream fabric. I ironed the fabric to some fusible webbing and then to the quilt.

Using a fabric marker, I wrote: “Nell Fitgerald’s First Quilt.”

Then I pinned the quilt to the announcement board at the front of the shop and stepped back. There it was—proof that I was a quilter.

And a reminder that anything, no matter how scary it seems at first, can be sorted out if you take it step-by-step. I just wasn’t sure if I was thinking about quilting, the murder investigation, or my relationship with Jesse.

 

 

 

 

I
tried to sneak into the house at about two in the morning. The problem was that Barney had positioned himself right by the door and I had to push my way in.

“What’s going on, sweetie?” I asked as I patted his head. “Shouldn’t you be asleep upstairs?” He looked up at me, his eyes sad and tired. “You should go up because Grandma will miss you. She doesn’t like to sleep without you.”

Unless she wasn’t here.

I walked up the stairs, with Barney close behind. I could see that her bedroom door was open.

“Grandma?” I said quietly. “Are you in there?”

There was no answer. I turned on the light. Her bed was empty. The bed was made, with a star quilt covering it and another folded up at the foot. The pillows were fluffed and a throw pillow sat in the middle. It was clear that Eleanor had not yet come home.

“I guess she’s having a good time,” I told Barney. I turned off Eleanor’s light and headed toward my own bed. As I did I heard a sound coming from Kennette’s room. I crept closer and listened. The light was out but it was obvious that Kennette was awake. I could hear her crying inside.

I opened her door and turned on the light. Barney walked into the room and jumped up on Kennette’s bed. She buried her face in his fur and continued crying.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

She sat up and wiped tears from her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not. Something is wrong.” I sat down on her bed. “Did something happen at Susanne’s tonight?”

She shook her head. “Susanne made roast chicken with baby potatoes. And Maggie brought key lime pie for dessert.”

“That sounds nice,” I said. “Did someone say something to you?” I was slightly panicked because I knew Kennette had been lured to Susanne’s house to be pumped for information. Maybe they had pushed too far.

“They were so nice. We talked about everything, and Susanne showed me her quilts. Did you know that Susanne has won awards for her quilts and that she used to be a beauty queen?”

I nodded. “So you had a good time? Then what’s the problem?” “I just feel guilty because . . .” Kennette paused, then closed her mouth tight as if she was trying to stop herself from saying something. “I just really want to do something to pay you all back for everything.”

I put my arm around her while Barney put his paws on her lap. “Believe me, I know how overwhelming it can be when everyone is so kind. But you don’t have to pay anyone back.”

“I guess.”

She grabbed hold of the quilt on her bed and pulled it a little closer. Instead of the pinwheel quilt that had been covering the bed, Kennette was using her almost-finished drunkard’s path. She seemed to have finished the quilting but not the binding.

As Barney moved around on the bed, I noticed that she had, as planned, put secret messages in the quilt. She had sewn a name. As I made a slight move to get a better look, Kennette snapped the quilt over her. But it was too late. I’d seen the name she’d sewn into her first quilt: Oliver White.

“Could you turn off the light?” she requested.

I nodded. Barney left the room with me, but rather than coming to my room, he headed back to his place by the front door. I guess he had no intention of going to bed until Eleanor was home and safe.

I, on the other hand, wanted to go to sleep. I didn’t want to think about the murders. I didn’t want to think about the quilt in Kennette’s room, and I certainly didn’t want to think of what my grandmother might be doing in the middle of the night.

When I woke up the next morning, I wanted to take Barney out for a long walk. I found him fast asleep at the front door. It was all the confirmation I needed that Eleanor had not come home all night. I didn’t know whether to be happy for her or worried, but I didn’t have time for either. I needed to open the shop. Sundays were always a busy day, and we also had Carrie’s quilt top to complete. It would have been helpful to have Eleanor’s full focus and energy, but I could hardly fault her. As I had found myself, it was alarmingly easy to get sidelined by romance.