Barbara Graham - Quilted 05 - Murder by Sunlight (23 page)

“
But
is not my favorite word.” Tony waited for the other shoe to drop. He didn’t wait long.

“But . . .” Ignoring Tony’s statement, the sheriff plunged into his story. “I talked to the babysitter. Evidently the mom left her kids with a sitter that evening and got home quite late the following afternoon. She apparently did not give anyone a makeup demonstration or whatever you’d call it. And furthermore—”

Shoes numbered three and four crashed around them. Tony said, “Let me guess. She asked the sitter not to mention it?”

“And paid with cash. And gave her a healthy tip,” Sheriff Brown added. “Why not just take out an ad in the newspaper and say she was going to be bad?”

“Thank you.” Tony tipped his head slightly to one side, holding the receiver with his shoulder while he made himself a note. “Now I have to find out if she was bad at Candy’s house,” Tony mused. “Or did she merely have a date with a man, not her husband, while her own was in our area, possibly doing a bad deed?”

“Let me know what you learn, Tony. I love it when we can find a bit of justice in this world.”

Abandoning his office for the conference area, Tony drew a giant timeline on the white board and invited his entire staff to check it when they passed by to verify the details. “Let’s start with the last time someone saw Candy alive. Someone we trust.”

“Alvin saw her last.”

Tony nodded and marked it on the board. “We have not only Alvin’s word for it, but corroboration by several different people that he went to plant camp and stayed there.”

“Wade found her body, and at that time, Candy was definitely deceased and had been for a while.”

“Okay, so between those two times, let’s fill in some other bits.”

“Theo, honey?” Tony gingerly opened his wife’s office/studio door about six inches and peered inside. He sniffed, struck by the scent of the air up here. Theo’s office aroma was comprised of lavender starch, coffee, and fabric sizing, and was vastly different from his world of sweat, gunpowder, disinfectant, and unwashed humans.

Through the opening, he could tell Theo hadn’t heard him open the door. She was concentrating on her task, standing on a step stool, facing her design space—a full wall covered with cream-colored flannel. She was busy arranging quilt blocks on it. The flannel magically held the fabric pieces in place without the use of pins, making them easy for her to rearrange.

He rapped on the door.

She glanced over a shoulder at him, her expression curious, but not really with
him.
“Tony?”

“Yep, it’s me.” He waited another moment for her to process his presence. He hated to interrupt her when she was designing and usually tried not to. He watched her expression turn from puzzlement to concern. “I need your help,” he said, as he walked across the room. Her step stool held her high enough off the floor for their eyes to be almost at the same level.

Theo’s hazel eyes blinked behind the lenses of her glasses. She exhaled, releasing a deep sigh. “What do you want me to find out?”

Tony didn’t bother to try to deny his intent. “I need to know more about the Pingel baby, the parents, and their relationship with Candy.” Tony toyed with one of the blocks on the wall until Theo slapped his hand. “I doubt we’ll ever know the whole story, but I’d guess some of your ladies, the older ones, know more than I can ever learn from the remaining parties involved. Nothing creates more silence than a badge some days.”

Theo nodded. “If you promise to leave before I forget what I was thinking about, I’ll promise to try.”

Without another word, Tony kissed her cheek and left, taking extra care to close the door quietly behind himself.

Theo had to admit she was intrigued by Tony’s request. What had happened to the Pingel baby that day? Was Candy the fall guy or the villain? Or neither? The bits of the story she had heard did not connect together like two halves of a cookie. She abandoned her design project almost immediately after Tony left the room, picked her own babies out of their crib, and headed to the classroom. At this time of day, there would almost certainly be a gathering of women who had lived in Silersville at the time of the event and didn’t mind being bribed with a baby to hold.

“Who wants to snuggle with Kara or Lizzie?” Theo hoped she didn’t look like a spy on a mission.

“Me.” Dottie stuck her needle into the quilt and wiggled on her chair, making her lap larger.

“No, no.” Blind Betty waved her hands. “Pick me. Dottie held one yesterday.”

“It’s a bribe.” Caro whispered loudly enough for people on the outside sidewalk to hear. “She wants gossip.”

Theo couldn’t refute her comment. “Okay, let’s see who has the information I need.”

The face of every quilter in the room turned toward her. “What?”

“Were any of you living here at the time Candy Tibbles was accused of killing her neighbors’ baby? The Pingels?”

Three hands raised.

“I don’t usually auction off my children, but did any of you think Candy was guilty?”

All three heads moved from side to side.

“Why not?”

Caro began, even as she reached for a baby to cuddle. Lizzie. “I didn’t spend much time with Candy, but several of my friends hired her to babysit their children. They all said she was nice to the kids. A bit unimaginative, maybe, but she read them stories, changed them when they were dirty, and followed whatever rules the parents gave her. To the letter. If they said apple juice at noon, she served apple juice to the kids at noon, and even stopped their playing a game to do it.”

“It’s true.” Blind Betty held her arms out and Theo gently placed Kara in them. “Thank you, Theo.” Tears welled in Betty’s cloudy eyes as she sniffed the baby’s neck. “Doesn’t she smell sweet, though.” Her fingers traced over the baby’s face and moved up and smoothed Kara’s wild hair. “Candy stayed with my nephew’s children quite a bit. The story from them was the same. She kept a close eye on the children but didn’t try to entertain them.” Betty adjusted the baby’s position. “They were shocked when the family accused Candy of negligence. They claimed there was no way Candy would have had the baby in the wading pool unless the parents specifically told her to put the baby in the water and what time to do it. No way.”

Theo settled at the frame, picked a spot where someone had abandoned a threaded needle, and began quilting. “Did anyone come to her defense? Or did it get that far?”

“The way I remember it”—Dottie, having no baby to hold, returned to her own stitching—“the family swore it was Candy’s fault, but then they said they were sure it was an accident and got all sappy and maudlin about not punishing another child for their grievous loss.” She started quilting again, but her hand trembled and she stopped. “Sheriff Winston looked like he was about to have a stroke, he was so mad. His face was scarlet, and he swore he was going to get to the bottom of it, but of course, they couldn’t find the bottom. No evidence one way or another. No witnesses except Candy and the parents.”

“What smells like fish but looks like cat? And it’s not a catfish.” Tony had listened to Theo’s report and shared it with his staff. Everyone wanted to know the rumors, the half-spoken truths, the lies, the fragments pieced together to show them the truth. “Answer. It’s a very guilty cat.”

Mike lifted his pencil into the air. “Why did the Pingel family move away so quickly after the death?”

“There is no statute of limitations on murder,” Wade suggested. “Would moving away stop the investigation?”

“Out of sight, out of mind?” said Sheila. “I remember hearing the gossip around town. I’d say the split was pretty close to fifty-fifty between those believing the parents and the ones believing Candy.”

“Just because you don’t like someone, does not mean they’re bad,” Tony muttered.

“But they might be.” Sheila waved her pen. “If it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it still might not be a duck.”

Distracted by her statement, Tony sat. “What is it, if it’s not a duck?”

“I have no idea. Maybe I was crossing a mockingbird with a duck in my mind.” Sheila marked through the note she’d just written.

Tony massaged the back of his neck. It felt like the muscles grew tighter, more tense every day. “Sheila, you’ve been looking into this for a while. What do you think is the probable truth, even knowing we’ll never be able to prove it?”

Sheila sighed. “I think Candy and the baby were playing in the yard when the parents returned home and she left. Maybe the little boy cried when she started walking back to her house, and he tried to follow and fell into the water. Either a parent, or both parents, were not paying attention to him, and he drowned.” Sheila voice hardened. “I really think they saw an opportunity to avoid dealing with his special needs.”

“Not acceptable.” Tony snapped his pencil in half.

Mystery Quilt
Third Body of Clues

Block Two:
Sewa2" wide strip of fabric (A) on both sides of each of the 3 1/2" wide strips of fabric (B). Press to (B). Cut into 10 segments 3 1/2" wide. Label as Center. Set aside.

Sewa2" wide strip of fabric (B) on both sides of each 3 1/2" wide strip of fabric (A). Press to (B). Cut into 20 segments 2" wide. Sew one on two opposing sides of the 10 Center segments.

Cut one of the 6 1/2" wide strips of fabric (C) into 20 segments 2" wide. Sew one of these (C) on two opposing sides of the new Center segments. Press to (C).

Sew 2" strips of fabric (B) on opposing sides of 6 1/2" strip of fabric (C). Press to (C). Subcut into 20 segments 2" wide. Take care not to have the joining of the (B) strips in a cut segment. Sew one segment on each side of the center, completing the square with (C) on all outside edges.

Cut 2 of the 9 1/2" strips of (A) into 20 segments 2" wide. Sew a 2" by 9 1/2" strip of (A) on two opposing sides of the new Centers. Press to (A). Sew a 2" wide strip of fabric (B) on opposing sides of the remaining 9 1/2" wide strips of fabric (A). Press to (A). Subcut into 20 segments 2" wide. Sew one of each side of the Center, completing the square with (A) on outside edges.

Trim each of the ten blocks to 12 1/2". Label Block Two.

Thanks to the wonderful people who invented computers and telephones, Tony’s office obtained in mere seconds the makes and models of the vehicles driven by trucker Max Pingel, his wife, and those of his mother-in-law, Mrs. Yates. A few more seconds produced license plate numbers and official photographs of the threesome.

Tony gave the information to his small staff. “If all, or any, of them are in Park County, I want to talk with them. In the meantime, I’m going out to Rankin’s pig farm.”

As Tony headed out to the pig farm that was irritating the new resident, he found himself thinking that being an all-purpose sheriff had its perks and drawbacks. This trip fell in to the drawback category. Nothing quite like visiting a pig farm on a hot day to add a little something extra to an already unpleasant day.

At least the pigs were happy. Their owner was not. The people living downwind were not. But a pink and black spotted hog wallowed in some mud, chasing away the flies and was presumably cooler than the ambient temperature. The hog chortled and squealed a bit, and Tony found himself envying the porker. Sure, he was destined to be ham, bacon, and assorted chops, but he was unaware of his fate. And in the meantime he had plenty of food, fresh air, and zero responsibility to anyone.

The farmer, a genial bachelor named Rankin, met Tony at the road. “I suppose the suburbanites are unhappy.”

Tony didn’t try to deny it. He sat in his vehicle, the window rolled down. It was all about show business. The cranky neighbors could see he’d taken their complaint to heart and come out for a visit. Nothing would change. The farm had been here for ages. “How old’s your place?”

Rankin squinted at the house, a two-story white frame building with green shutters. It had fairly fresh paint. “Oh, I’d guess the house to be a hundred to a hundred and fifty years old. Can’t remember offhand whether it was great-granddad or great-great-granddad who built it.”

“Did he raise porkers too?” Tony watched a couple of big green flies head into the Blazer. He managed to wave one back outside. The other one buzzed loudly against the inside of the windshield.

“Oh, yes, it runs in our veins, pig juice.”

Rankin smiled as he watched Tony’s battle with the insects, but when a breeze blew in their direction, his nose wrinkled a bit, making Tony think the farmer might not be completely unsympathetic to the aroma complaints. “You do know why I’m here?”

The farmer nodded. “There’s nothin’ I can do about the smell. I clean up the best I can.”

“I never thought there was.” Tony sighed. “You’d think people moving in next to a pig farm ought to know the score. If you move next to a railroad line, do you complain about the trains?”

“Well, nice to see you sheriff.” Rankin waved and headed back toward the house. “You tell ’em I’m doing my best, won’t you?”

Tony agreed, shooed another fly out the window, and raised the window before it could dive back inside. Then he drove back to the office.

Parked in the street in front of the Law Enforcement Center was a semi truck. The name of the owner was painted on the door. Pingel. Tony hurried inside to have a chat with the man.

Moments later, Tony was pouring coffee for their visitor, treating him like an honored guest.

Mr. Pingel added three teaspoons of sugar to his coffee, then stirred it. He didn’t pick up the cup. “I suppose this invitation has something to do with Candy Tibbles. I heard she has passed away.”

Tony nodded his agreement about the invitation but privately thought Candy’s manner of death a bit more grievous and unnatural than “passing away.” He hoped he looked relaxed as he leaned back in his chair. Wade slipped into the room and sat in the chair not occupied by Pingel. “Candy babysat your son?”

Pingel stirred the coffee some more. Then he blew across the surface of it, as if trying to cool it down. “Yes.”

“If you wouldn’t mind, tell me in your own words about your relationship with the girl.” Tony tossed the statement as casually as he could.