Crazy as a Quilt (A Harriet Turman/Loose Threads Mystery Book 8) (25 page)

“We should be asking you that. I assume you know what’s going on.”

Harriet pressed her lips together.

“I do, but I’m afraid it’s not my story to tell. I can say this. Sharon shares a history with Marine’s mother, and being the fine upstanding citizen she is, Mom has been blackmailing Sharon.”

Lauren joined them while they were talking.

“You know Sharon better than we do. Is there any chance she offed Marine to stop the blackmail?”

Harriet thought for a moment.

“If she did, it didn’t solve the problem. Mom was hitting her up for more money yesterday morning.”

“Seriously,” Mavis said. “
Could
she have killed Marine?”

“It doesn’t make sense, but I really don’t know. It would have made more sense to kill Francine. And I’m not sure how or why she would have set Aiden up.”

“But it’s not impossible.” Lauren persisted. “She was home getting over a headache the morning Marine was killed, if I remember right.”

“You be sure and lock your bedroom at night, just in case,” Aunt Beth cautioned Harriet.

“Does my room have a lock?”

Beth looked at her.

“What do you think those big keyholes are for? The keys to all the bedrooms are in the top left drawer of the sideboard in the dining room.”

“Good to know. I’d never have looked there. I figured the keys were long gone.”

“Every lock in the house works, and there are two keys for each of them.

Lauren tugged on her lower lip.

“Have we stayed long enough yet?”

Harriet glanced past her to the rest of the room.

“I’d like to go talk to the college sister before we leave.”

“Knock yourself out,” Lauren told her.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Harriet told the young blond woman after she crossed the room and joined the cluster of women around her.

Aimee Plummer reached out and shook Harriet’s hand.

“Thank you. It’s so generous of your community to give my sister such a wonderful memorial.”

“I didn’t know your sister well, but it’s very sad to see anyone pass on before their time.”

Aimee looked at her without speaking for a moment while the other women drifted away. They looked relieved to have escaped. Aimee tried to swallow a smile. She finally laughed.

“I’m sorry. Those poor women were trying to say nice things about my sister.” Her expression became serious again. “I actually haven’t known Marine that long myself.”

Harriet didn’t say anything, hoping her silence would encourage the young woman to unburden herself.

“My father didn’t want me to meet my mother. He’d told me about her and my half-brothers and sisters when I was younger. He said the reality was not as pleasant as I was probably imagining, and of course, he was right.”

“You’re lucky you lived with your father.”

Aimee sighed. “I’ve always wondered why I got to be the one to get away. I mean, I didn’t do anything different than Marine or Jules or any of them, yet my life was privileged in every way while they always wondered where their next meal was coming from.”

“Oh, sweetie, you can’t take responsibility for the choices Francine made or the results of those choices,” Harriet counseled her. “All you can do is be the best you can be.”

“I’ve been trying. And I’ve been to a counselor. She says I have survivor’s guilt, even though I didn’t go through any of the bad stuff they did.”

“Would you like something to drink?” Harriet asked her.

Aimee smiled gratefully at her.

“Some coffee would be nice.”

Harriet went to the food table and poured a cup of coffee. She put two cookies on a paper plate with a napkin; she noticed as she was walking back that Michelle had entered the fellowship hall with Lainie and Etienne in tow.

Aimee took the offering. She sipped the coffee and then nodded in Michelle’s direction.

“Who’s that woman?”

“No one of consequence,” Harriet told her.

“No, really. Who is she?”

“Her name is Michelle Jalbert.”

“So, that’s the infamous Michelle.” Aimee looked her up and down before speaking again. “I’m working on my bachelors in social work and want to get my masters, too. You have to have practical experience to get into a good graduate school, so I volunteer at a drug treatment program.” She lowered her voice. “My dad doesn’t know this, but after I met Marine when I was eighteen, we stayed in touch. I told her about the place I was working, and I guess they’d already planted the seed when she was in the court-mandated program. She decided to give it a try.

“She’d been clean and sober for a month when her friend there…” She gestured with her coffee cup. “…came and took her away to live with her in Foggy Point last week.”

“Michelle’s been working with a legal aid group. Maybe she was working on a legal case for Marine and needed her to be close at hand.” Harriet wasn’t sure why she was defending Aiden’s sister. “Marine lived with Michelle’s mom for a while at one point when Francine wouldn’t let her stay at home. Apparently, Michelle’s mom knew Marine’s grandparents in France.”

“I didn’t know that.” Aimee said. “Other than Marine, I know very little about my maternal roots.”

Harriet was staring across the room, listening to Aimee’s story, when she noticed Lainie waving to her. She waved back, and Lainie skipped across the open space to stand beside her.

Aimee smiled at her.

“Aimee, meet Lainie. Lainie, this is Aimee. She’s Marine’s little sister.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Lainie intoned formally. Clearly, she’d been prepped for this event.

“Thank you, honey. It’s very sweet of you.”

Lainie stood quietly and fidgeted for a moment.

“Harriet, can I come work on my quilt?”

“You’re a quilter?” Aimee asked.

“Harriet’s teaching me.” Lainie looked at Harriet, watching for approval while she spoke. “I’m making a four-patch quilt.”

“That’s right, and you’re a very good student. You can come today if your mom says it’s okay.”

Lainie dashed back to her mother’s side to seek the required permission.

Aimee took a bite of her chocolate chip cookie.

“She’s a cutie,” she said when she was finished.

“That she is.” Harriet watched Lainie negotiate with her mother then turned back to Aimee. “I better go nail down the details. Again, I really am sorry for your loss. It was very brave of you to come here by yourself today.”

Aimee blushed. “Not that brave. My dad is parked just out of sight down the road, waiting for me to call for rescue.”

“Hey, it never hurts to have a back-up plan. Are you and your dad coming to the gathering at Tico’s Tacos?”

“My dad doesn’t want to see my bio-mom, so no,” she said, chuckling. “He only agreed to bring me to this part when I told him Marine had been coming to the program I was working at. He didn’t want the people there to think we were awful.”

“Under the circumstances, I can understand why he doesn’t want to cross paths with Francine.”

“You and the quilters have been more than kind. I’m glad I came.”

Aunt Beth and Mavis came over as Aimee went to Glynnis Miller to make her final goodbyes. Beth reached out and patted Harriet on the upper arm.

“Are you doing okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Mavis followed Aimee with her eyes.

“The sister seems nice. I didn’t talk to her much, but she seems to have escaped the family curse.”

“I learned something interesting,” Harriet told them. “Aimee is getting a degree in social work and is volunteering at some kind of rehab program. Marine was in her program until Michelle came and got her out.”

“That
is
interesting,” Beth said thoughtfully.

Mavis turned her attention back to Harriet and Beth.

“Michelle is doing legal aid work now. Marine might have needed to come back for legal reasons. I wonder if Lauren can look that up on her computer.”

“Look what up on my computer?” Lauren had joined the group while they were talking.

Mavis explained, and Lauren assured her it would be easy enough.

Harriet glanced at the time on her smartphone.

“I’m going to run by the jail before I go to the reception at Tico’s. Visiting hours are limited, and today is Aiden’s day for visitors.”

“Do you want company?” Lauren asked.

“I’m not sure how many visitors he can have at a time, and in any case, he has to have put you on his visitors’ list first.”

“Okay, then, I guess we’ll see you at the reception.”

Chapter 24

Harriet felt like
she
was the criminal by the time she was finally led to the visitors’ room; she’d been searched, lectured and had all her possessions put in a locker.

Aiden was sitting at a table in the small cafeteria-like room. Vending machines lined one wall, and windows facing onto a cement patio filled the opposite side. The remaining walls were painted cement blocks. A guard sat on the far side of the room reading a newspaper.

She couldn’t see his face. His head was down, his elbows on the table, hands on either side of his head. She came over and sat opposite him. When he finally looked up, she could see what he’d been hiding. One eye was swollen nearly shut, and he sported a neat line of stitches on his cheekbone.

“Oh, Aiden,” she cried. “What…?”

“It’s nothing. They put us all outside together. One of Marine’s drug dealer friends is in here. Believe it or not, he looks worse than I do.”

“You’re right. I find that hard to believe.”

“Uganda was a very harsh place. Because we had drugs with us for the animals, we were targets. We took self-defense classes stateside before we left, and then we took more classes once we got there. These clowns only think they’re tough. They wouldn’t last a week in Africa.”

“Will they keep you by yourself now?”

He laughed. “Naw. This is like any group. You have to establish yourself. I won’t have any problems now.”

“That’s not very comforting. How do you know the next guy won’t have a knife or something worse?”

“This is jail, not prison. Besides, there are a couple of bikers in here who were clients; I’ve patched their pit bulls a time or two. After the dealer came to, they told him he better not try anything like that again.”

“Does your lawyer have any good news?”

“He has investigators digging into Marine’s background, but nothing yet.”

“I talked to Marine’s half-brother Jules at the funeral. He says he knows something, but he wanted me to pay him for the information. I told him no, but maybe I should have said yes.”

“Knowing that family, he’s blowing smoke. They’re all users, in every sense of the word. I’d guess he’s trying to take advantage of my misfortune.”

“Did they tell you the homeless guy who called you was Marine’s stepdad?”

“I take it your use of the word was means he’s dead.”

“Tom was searching the woods and found his body.”

Aiden was silent for a moment.

“I wonder what that means.”

“Either someone was setting you both up, or he set you up for somebody and that somebody was eliminating loose ends.”

Aiden’s normally angular face was drawn and pale with the exception of his eye. For all his bravado about his fighting skills, Harriet could see that sitting in jail was taking a toll on him.

“Did you know Marine’s brother, or her dad when he was alive? Back when you were in high school or anything?”

“Her dad, no. Her brother Jules, yes. I actually liked him. He always seemed a little sharper than the rest of the bunch. The other brother, the one who’s in jail, was always in one sort of trouble or another. Everyone always said he’d end up in jail.”

“Do you think Jules could have killed her?”

“No, those kids were loyal to each other. With the mother they had, they had to stick together. I could see Francine being involved before I’d believe either of the boys did anything. And before you ask, I don’t think Francine was involved. I can’t see her being able to plan and execute such a detailed plan. Someone, somehow, got my saliva and hair and put them on Marine’s body.”

“I’ll see if Detective Morse is able to tell us how much saliva was found.”

Aiden sat up straighter and looked at her, alert now.

“What’re you thinking?”

“I’m just wondering if someone could have taken a soda cup or something from your garbage.”

He reached across the table and put his hand over hers. The guard looked at them over the top of his paper then went back to reading.

Aiden sighed. “I’m trying really hard to stay positive, but the longer I’m in here, the more I wonder if they’re going to find the real killer. What if they convict me? They’ve already suggested to my attorney they would consider charging me with voluntary manslaughter or something less if I’d plead guilty and save them the expense of a trial.”

“But you didn’t do anything,” she protested.

“I have to be realistic. If they go forward with the first-degree murder charge, I would get life in prison. My lawyer doesn’t think they can come up with special circumstances that would bring the death penalty into play, but I didn’t think they could charge an innocent person with murder, so I have to consider the possibility.”