Barbara Graham - Quilted 03 - Murder by Music (3 page)

“Okay, it's at their house. Same difference.” She looked into Tony's eyes. Hers were sparkling with delight. “My quilting group better finish the wedding quilt this weekend.”

Remembering Claude Marmot's one request when he had Tony relay a message to Theo and the quilters, Tony said, “Did you ladies find a way to make a pink quilt that doesn't look pink?”

“We're mixing in a lot of brown fabrics, but I'll bet it will still look pink.”

At Theo's quilt shop, Tony went inside to help move her out of her second floor studio/office. The stairs had become too difficult for her, and she'd made a stack of things she would need. Theo watched her husband stare at the pile of boxes and plastic bags at his feet. A sewing machine sat to one side. Suddenly unsure of her selection, she said, “I hope this is all I need to move downstairs.”

“I can always come back or you can get Gretchen to help. She's nearly as strong as I am.” He frowned, studied her appearance. “Why don't you go over to the dress shop and buy a few maternity things to wear. You look like a plaid elephant wearing my old shirt.” He frowned at Theo, making deep furrows in his bald scalp. “I can carry this stuff downstairs from your workshop to the classroom without your supervision.”

Theo felt stung by her husband's cranky attitude; after all, she was trying to save money. “I won't need them in a couple of months. It's just a waste of money.”

The creases in his face deepened. He narrowed his eyes and glared. “I don't think I can spend two more days, much less months watching you steal shirts from my closet. I half expect to see you in one of my uniform shirts waddling down the sidewalk.”

“I do not waddle.”

“You do. You have to. You can't help it.” Suddenly Tony appeared relieved and laughed. “I think you're afraid.”

Theo did not laugh. She was. There was a tiny part of her saying, “If you buy maternity clothes, you'll lose the babies.” It was nonsense. She could feel them healthy, strong and growing more viable every day. Twins doing acrobatics in her belly. “You're right.”

Her confession earned her a big hug and a kiss. “Now, go get yourself something pretty. You're starting to dress worse than Nellie Pearl Prigmore.”

Not responding to his observation about her trailing the worst dressed woman in Park County, Theo gestured down her body like a show room model. “Maybe something in a nice blue tarp with fancy silver grommets. You could lace me into it with stretchy cords like furniture on a car roof.”

“Nuh-uh, someone might steal you thinking they're getting six sleeping bags.” His eyes twinkled. “We
could
use a new tent though. Maybe you could pick up something up at the camping/fishing store in a lovely camouflage. That way, when you're done wearing it, you could sew a patch over the hole you cut out for your head.”

Feeling much better, Theo cautiously worked her way down the stairs, using the handrail. She hadn't seen her feet, much less the steps, in weeks. Once on the main floor of her quilt shop, she picked up speed. While not generally concerned by fashion, she was tired of stealing her oversized husband's clothes. A couple of maternity outfits would be a welcome change. Maybe she'd get a dress to wear to the various weddings set for the next two weeks and a few tops to wear to work. Now that she'd decided to buy some clothes, she couldn't wait.

Almost directly across the street from her shop was Lila's Clothing for Ladies. The owner, Lila Ware, was in her late thirties like Theo. She had grown up in Silersville, gone to school with Theo, married and moved away. About five years ago, she'd ditched the husband, returned to her home town, bought the shop, and settled back into to small town life. Moderate prices and impeccable taste kept her customers happy.

The end of tourist traffic made crossing the street a simple task, even at a slow pace. The tiny bell over the door rang when Theo went inside, but Lila didn't seem to be there. That wasn't unusual. Lila only had help in the busy months. So Theo glanced around, knowing Lila would appear soon. The store was divided into sections. One was makeup and accessories like purses and scarves. One was geared for the teenage shopper. One for older shoppers. Maternity was near the back door. Closest to the front door was a rack of souvenir T-shirts and gift items.

Theo began sorting through the items on the maternity rack.She grimaced. She might be ready to buy a few new things, but not a T-shirt with an arrow pointing to her belly and
Baby
written in sparkly big letters.

Theo heard the back door of the store open and close. She was preparing to call out to Lila when she heard Lila talking to someone else and stopped in mid-breath, eavesdropping without meaning to.

“I won't put up with it any more.” Lila's voice was muffled but distinct.

Theo thought it sounded like her friend was crying.

“I'll get a divorce.” A man's deep rumbling voice. “I promise.”

“When? You've said that before.”

“I know, my love, I know.” He cleared his throat. “I swear it won't be much longer.” He laughed, making a harsh sound, like a sea lion barking. “Soon, we'll be free of her and all her wretched family and life will be beautiful. I'll be able to marry you.”

Not wanting to be caught listening, Theo started tiptoeing toward the front door when she heard the back door open and Lila and her beau exited, leaving her alone in the store. The conversation she'd overheard was none of her business, but, she admitted, it was intriguing anyway. She couldn't guess who the man might be. She hadn't seen him at all, although there was something familiar about the voice. When she ran through her mental list of men Lila might love, she found none to fill the gap.

Theo turned back to the clothes, pulled out a crisp green dress with vertical dark and light green stripes. Moving in front of the mirror, she held it up to see how it might look on her. Ghastly.

Lila came through the front door surprising Theo. She paused to look at Theo and started to laugh. “I don't think so, Theo, honey. It would make you look like a watermelon wearing glasses and a fuzzy yellow hat.”

“It was the first thing I saw in my size.” Theo returned the dress to the rack silently agreeing with Lila's comment. “Tony says I need new clothes.”

“Tony's right.” Lila studied her. “The stretchy pants are okay but otherwise you're a mess.”

“Can you help?” Theo didn't mention her friend's red and watery eyes.

“Yes.” Lila reached around Theo and plucked a sleeveless blue dress from its hanger. “Try this. You can wear any kind of shirt under it, like a jumper, or you can wear it without a shirt and make it look dressier by adding a scarf or some costume jewelry.”

“Any kind of shirt?” Theo touched it. The fabric felt good. Not stiff and not sleazy.

“No.” Lila tugged on the sleeve of Tony's plaid shirt. “Not any of your husband's clothes.” She handed Theo a couple of maternity tops she approved of. “Try these.”

With Lila's help, Theo managed to get them on. She was surprised by how much better she felt in her new clothes. She wore one of the new tops when she went back to her shop. It was comfortable and flattering.

Tony looked up from the array of things he'd carried from his wife's studio to the classroom just in time to see Theo coming back into the shop carrying a shopping bag and wearing a new top. Very nice. And she was smiling. Very nice indeed.

“You look beautiful.”

Theo stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. “Thank you.”

“I suppose I'll have to carry all this”—he waved to encompass the sewing machine and bags—“to your quilt retreat.”

“Nope.” Theo eased onto a chair. “Remember, I'm taking handwork. I'll be quilting one of the baby quilts and learning Armenian embroidery.”

“Learning?”

Theo massaged her lower back. “Our guest teacher, Scarlet LaFleur, is the sister of the first mother of the groom.”

“Excuse me? What?” Tony pasted on the expression he used when he pretended to have been paying attention and got caught. “Which groom?”

“Given the number of weddings this month, that's a fair question.” Theo laughed. “Patrick. Scarlet is Patrick's birth mother's sister. You know Elf.”

“The singer?”

“Yes, our very own famous country singer with the huge house out near the Cashdollar mansion, another in Nashville and, I hear, a fabulous beach house in Malibu.”

“Okay,” Tony nodded. “Yes, I know Elf.” Tony was still considered a new arrival in Park County. He wasn't born there and only lived there ten years before he left. Returning as an adult left gaps in his knowledge of local events. He both hated Theo's little history lessons and found them fascinating. “What about Elf?”

“Well her sister is the former Christmas Poinsettia Flowers, now known as Scarlet LaFleur. She is a world renowned expert in Armenian embroidery techniques. She had her name changed.”

“I guess.” Tony pushed her hands off her back and began massaging it for her. “It makes her sound like a stripper. She's not one of Blossom's sisters?”

“Nope. Blossom's father is Aut, you know, short for Autumn. She's their first cousin.”

Tony frowned, trying to sort out the various members of the extensive family. “So who's Elf? Really?”

“Easter Lily Flowers.” Theo snorted indelicately. “Her father is Summer Flowers.”

“You're making this up.” Tony's hands stopped moving. “That's not a real name.”

“No. Yes. I'm trying to explain.” Theo pointed to a spot on her back needing a bit more of Tony's care. “Elf uses her initials for a name. And she's tiny and pretty and looks like a woodland fairy, so the name fits. Anyway, she was maybe fourteen when she gave birth to Patrick and let the MacLeod family adopt him. It's always been a very open relationship.”

Tony considered Patrick. The nice young man was not only a new teacher at the elementary school, but also the new high school football coach. His was one of the upcoming weddings they planned to attend. “And Aunt Christmas Poinsettia, now Scarlet?”

“Always a whiny pain in the neck.”

“Patrick's father?”

“A tightly kept secret. As far as I know, Elf has never disclosed his identity.”

Tony's cell phone rang, startling them both. He listened for a moment, muttered a response, then disconnected. He headed for the door, waving farewell.

Someone had called his office and suggested the culprit driving around the county shooting signs, whether public or a private business, was the trash hauler, Claude Marmot. The problem began a couple of weeks earlier with some bullet holes in the yellow “Curve Ahead” sign out past the new folk museum. The problem had escalated hourly.

Tony actually suspected the caller more than Marmot-the-Varmint, because the caller claimed a .22 caliber rifle was involved. Tony considered so much detail in an anonymous call to be somewhat suspicious. It wouldn't hurt to ask. If nothing else, maybe Claude had an idea who might want him to take the blame. Plus, Claude's route took him all over the county.He might have seen something.

Tony collected Wade and took him along.

Claude's home was a former shack, set well off the road and behind a stand of immense old cucumber trees, about half way between the dump and town. With the recent large addition to his home, Claude had more than doubled his living space.

The television was loud enough to hear from the road, so Tony pounded on the frame of the warped screen door. He wanted Claude outside and downwind. The man wasn't famous for his aftershave. After several minutes he succeeded in rousing Claude.

A bleary-eyed Claude stepped carefully through the doorway. Clutching an empty jelly glass decorated with dinosaurs, he joined Tony in the center of the yard.

The midnight blue car/truck he had made from a 1989 Crown Victoria was the centerpiece of his salvage display. What had once been the trunk was now the open bed, and the back seat was now a piece of lawn furniture sitting in the shade near the house. Somehow he had managed to cut the thing apart and then splice it together again, creating a functional car/truck.

Tony sniffed the air, expecting Claude's usual aroma of sweat and garbage. He was surprised when he smelled detergent and perfume. “Do you usually carry a gun with you on your travels around the county?”

“All the time in the dump truck.” Claude's eyes rolled and he cleared his throat. “There's
ugly
things out at the landfill.”

Tony smiled then, a real smile. He could imagine the truth in that statement. “What caliber?”

“Got me a twelve gauge and a .357 Magnum I take along with me. Don't want to take chances, ya know. Them skunks have rabies.”

“How about a .22?” Wade asked.

“No way.” Claude belched. “Then the rats would have bigger guns than me.”

“Yeah, I know.” Tony and Wade headed for the Blazer. “Talk to you later, Claude.” Tony turned back, thinking he'd ask Claude to keep an eye out for the miscreants shooting holes in every sign in the county—with a .22 and hoping to frame Claude. The question died in his throat as he watched a stunning woman with short dark hair, dyed hot pink on top, join Claude in the yard. Her thin robe of bright pink flowers on a black background blew open just as she wrapped her arms around Claude and led him toward the house.

Next to him, he heard Wade exhale sharply. Tony grinned. “I'd say the mail order bride is working out just fine.”

Tony took the whole family to Ruby's Café for dinner. On a good day, Theo wasn't much of a cook. After a long day at work, it was often much easier to eat out. Especially now, when standing for any period of time exhausted his wife.

“Why do you go to retreat?” Jamie began his interrogation.

“It's relaxing.” Theo ran a hand over the boy's hair, smoothing the cowlick only to watch it spring up again. “It's like scout camp for quilters.”

To an almost seven-year-old, camping was chasing squirrels and tossing rocks in the creek. Jamie was not seeing any connection to quilting. “What do you do all day?”

“Since it's a vacation for quilters, we don't have to do anything. There is no schedule, no housework, no husbands or kids, and the meals are provided. Everyone is free to concentrate on quilting, or sleeping or daydreaming or hiking, as long as they have brought a quilt for their bed.”