Quilter's Knot (21 page)

Patience twined her fingers around the handle of her cup. “It's not that simple. Tom is her only child. She herself was an only child, so Tom is it as far as relatives go. Selestina didn't want to risk making Tom mad and being left all alone."

"So, what was she going to do?” Harriet asked.

"She complained about it to anyone who would listen, but she wasn't willing to do anything,” Patience said, and sighed. “I told her I would help her, but she wouldn't hear of it. Her plan, if you could call it that, was to try to get more students, so she could put off closing. She figured she couldn't stop him from building the apartments in the meadow by the pond, but she could keep signing students up for long-term programs and keep him at bay.” She slipped a crumpled tissue from her pocket and began rolling the edge between her fingers, leaving a small pile of lint on the table.

"That sounds like a disaster in the making,” Mavis said.

"It's been a terrible strain on Selestina. I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out her heart gave out in the end."

"That's not likely,” Harriet said. “The police are pretty sure she was killed with a plant poison."

"Well, that would be right up Tom's alley,” Patience said. “He was a botanist for the forest service before he came home to work at the school."

Harriet leaned back in her chair. It was a lot to take in. Patience sipped her tea and reached for a cookie.

"Is there going to be a memorial service for Selestina?” Mavis asked.

"Every session we have a meeting on the Sunday before everyone goes home. We usually do show-and-tell, and people talk about their classes. We thought this Sunday we would do a tribute to Selestina. Of course, we'll do a proper memorial in town. Selestina was a big part of this community, after all."

"I thought she'd never leave,” Harriet said fifteen minutes later when Patience had finally finished her cookie and tea and made her exit. “Her little bombshell certainly puts a different spin on things."

"Oh, yeah? What spin is that?” Aiden said as he came in followed by Carla, who had apparently been the only one to hear him knock.

Mavis quickly summarized the information Patience had conveyed.

"I knew there was something off about that guy,” he said when she'd finished.

"Being a botanist isn't proof he killed his mother,” Harriet protested.

"Yeah, but knowing about an obscure yet plentiful poisonous plant does put him in the running, and at the front of the pack, if you ask me."

"That still doesn't make it okay to hit him,” Connie reminded him.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know—use my words not my fists. You've been telling me since I was seven years old."

"And I will
keep
telling you until it sinks in, young man,” she retorted in her best teacher voice.

"What did we really learn here tonight?” Robin asked the group.

"Tom thinks Selestina had dementia,” Connie said.

"And Tom wants to build some sort of assisted living facility here,” Mavis added.

"Someone is working hard to make us think Lauren prepared the poison that killed Selestina,” Harriet said.

"Bainbridge has the knowledge to prepare the poison,” Aiden said, and sat down next to her.

"Person or persons unknown are running a quilt counterfeiting operation and may or may not be willing to kill people to defend it. That is, if you believe the person who lit the fire knew we were in there,” said Harriet.

"Lauren's brother might have set us up,” said Carla. Her cheeks immediately reddened.

Harriet looked at her and smiled. “Good point."

"Unfortunately, none of this would stand up in court,” Robin pointed out. “None of it except the poison plants in Lauren's room. That would be considered evidence. Let's just hope whoever put it there wiped the container clean of prints, including Lauren's. That would at least be some help."

"The damaged Ford Explorer must be evidence,” Aiden said.

"If they match the paint up with the white truck, it proves the two vehicles came in contact. It doesn't tell us who was driving the Ford, or how it connects to anything else. Sorry,” she added when she saw disappointment cloud his face.

"We aren't going to solve this tonight,” Mavis said. “I say we call it a night and see what tomorrow brings."

"That would be a little easier for me if I knew where Lauren was,” said Robin.

"Sarah's not home, either,” Connie noted.

"Yeah, it's been kind of nice,” Aiden muttered. Harriet bumped him with her shoulder and tried to give him a stern look but grinned instead.

"You want to get up early and go into town for coffee?” he whispered to her. “I'll pick you up in my spiffy gray rental sedan."

"Oh, be still my heart."

"We haven't gotten to go on our date yet,” he pleaded.

"Okay,” she conceded, “you had me at coffee. What time?"

"That's the tricky part,” he said, still keeping his voice low.

"I can tell I'm not going to like this."

Aiden shielded his face with his hands before speaking, peeking from between his spread fingers. “Six-thirty,” he said, and ducked.

"Oh, my gosh,” Harriet said then turned it into a cough when Connie asked her what was wrong.

"I'm fine. I just swallowed wrong,” she gasped, and looked at Aiden.

"You'll be up?"

"With bells on,” she said.

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Harriet gathered her half-rectangle pieces and stowed them in her bag. “I'm going to call it a night,” she said, and headed up the stairs. In spite of her intentions, however, it was several hours before she fell into a restless sleep.

She woke with a start at four in the morning. She listened for the telltale sound of a door closing on the floor below her, but drifted back to sleep, awakening for good at five-thirty. Gray light was trying without much success to illuminate her room as she gathered her clothes and went down the hall to the bathroom.

Her shower may not have been a substitute for a good night's sleep, but she had to admit she did feel better. She reached for the doorknob at her room and then froze.

The door was ajar. She'd taken care to shut it without making noise when she'd left for her shower. She stepped back, then reached out and pushed the door open.

"Who's there?” she demanded.

"Oh, please, skip the dramatics and get in here,” Lauren snapped.

"Where have you been?"

"Not here,” Lauren said. “Tell me what you've got."

"Do you realize the police are looking for you?"

"Well, duh.” She sat on the other bed, her slender legs crossed, her foot bobbing nervously.

"Where
have
you been?"

"My brother saw the police arrive and heard them mention my name. He came and found me. I stayed at his place. Don't waste any time worrying about ratting me out—I won't be there again—but I need to know. Have you found out who killed Selestina?"

"So far, everything I've found says you did it,” Harriet said and sat down on her bed opposite Lauren. “And for what it's worth, I don't think it's a wise move hiding from the police."

"Yeah, that's easy for you to say. You're not the one being framed. Innocent people go to jail all the time."

"So far, all I've found is a lot of contradictory information. Selestina's son at the very least has the knowledge to prepare the poison that killed her, and he freely admits he's trying to change the direction of the business, but it's not obvious he needed to kill his mother to do that. We did find the quilt counterfeiting operation thanks to a tip from your brother, but so far that hasn't gone anywhere. I don't know what else to tell you."

"You need to get cracking. I can't stay hidden forever. Someone wanted the old bat dead. You're supposed to be the big crime solver—figure it out."

"Wait a minute! I never claimed to be able to solve crimes."

"You figured out who killed Avanell, and if you can do it for her, you can do it for me. Besides—"

"I know,” Harriet cut her off. “I owe you."

Lauren gave her a smug smile. “Yes, you do, so get to work. Now, I've got to go get some clothes and get out of here before someone wakes up and sees me."

She jumped up and swept out of the room. Harriet flopped back on her bed and put her hands on her forehead.

"What am I going to do?” she asked the ceiling.

No answers were forthcoming, so she got up, pulled her gray sweatshirt on over her jeans and green T-shirt, grabbed her wallet and went downstairs.

The kitchenette was dark, and she didn't want to turn on the lights and chance waking one of the early risers, so she went on out to the porch. She never tired of the forest that surrounded the Tree House. The smell of damp earth and pine needles was calming. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She was about to sit on the porch swing when she heard a rustle in the bushes.

Harriet quietly stepped down the stairs and around the side of the Tree House toward the restroom building. She could hear voices coming from the trail, and quickly slid behind a large rhododendron.

"That was a really foolish move,” a low voice whispered.

"I had to do something, didn't I?” Both people were whispering, and she couldn't identify either one.

"You need to decide whose team you're on, and if it's not mine, we have a problem. And you know how I feel about problems."

Harriet wiggled around, but the foliage was too thick for her to see anything. She felt her bush move as someone pushed past it and went on down the trail. She held her breath and a few seconds later, heard footsteps crunching the gravel on the trail going in the opposite direction. She waited what she estimated to be five minutes then crept back to the porch.

Aiden arrived just as she started to sit on the swing for a second time.

"Did you see anyone on the path or in the parking lot?” she asked.

"No, should I have?"

She quickly recounted the conversation she'd overheard.

"Oooh, so it's a conspiracy,” he said and pulled her into his arms. “I've missed you.” He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her against his chest.

"You have a funny way of showing it,” she complained, but slid her arms around his waist.

"Hey, I defended your honor, what more do you want?"

"You mean when you clocked some poor guy in the jaw just because he touched me?"

"Some poor guy who might have killed his own mother."

"Well, there is that,” She looked up into his white-blue eyes, barely suppressing a laugh.

Aiden's face grew serious. “I should have hit him harder. If he did kill his mother, he's probably the one who ran me off the road and tried to burn you and Carla alive."

"That's a big if,” Harriet said and let go of him. “Come on, you promised coffee, and it's cold out here."

He leaned in and kissed her lightly, sending shivers all the way to her toes, then turned and led the way up the path to the parking area. She sighed and followed. No matter how she fought it, he did make her heart go pitty-pat.

"Guess who was in my room when I got back from my shower,” she said when they were both buckled into their seats in the nondescript rental car.

"Don't even say Tom Bainbridge."

"Lauren,” she replied.

"Isn't she staying in the Tree House?” Aiden pulled out of the parking lot and headed for Angel Harbor.

"She was until she went on the lam."

He turned and looked at her.

"Hey, watch the road. One accident this week is enough,” she said.

"Are you serious? Lauren is hiding from the police?"

"They're looking for her, and she didn't come home last night. She said she stayed at her brother's, but she won't be there anymore. And before you say anything, yes, I told her she was being foolish and she should turn herself in. She said innocent people go to jail all the time. I have to admit I couldn't argue with that."

"This is getting crazy,” he said as he pulled into a parking space in front of a cedar-sided building overlooking the harbor.

"You know what's really crazy?” Harriet said when they had both ordered their drinks, switching to cocoa at the last minute, and were settled on a worn purple sofa that faced a window overlooking the water. “What's crazy is that I've been spending a lot of time with Carla this week."

"If you think that's crazy you need to get out more,” Aiden said with a smile.

Harriet gave him a playful punch on his shoulder. “If you would let me finish."

"Please, continue."

"Carla's been working at the quilt store for a couple of months now, and attending the single mothers quilt group for longer than that, but somehow, none of us picked up the fact that she's living with her baby in a borrowed van."

"How can that be? Foggy Point has a homeless shelter—my mom donated a lot of money to it. And I'm pretty sure there's a women's shelter, too."

"She told me herself, so I'm sure it's true. She's not battered, so she probably doesn't qualify for the women's shelter, and frankly, if I were faced with taking a baby to the homeless shelter, I'd probably choose a car myself. She said she takes the baby to a free daycare program. She begged me not to say anything, but I can't stop thinking of her and that baby parked on the street at night."

"That's really harsh."

"I've been toying with the idea of asking her to move into Aunt Beth's place with me. It's certainly big enough."

He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him.

"Has anyone ever told you, you have a really good heart?"

Harriet leaned her head against him. It felt good. “I just feel so bad for her. When we were in the basement of that workshop, she was telling me how her mother used to lock her in closets to keep the mom's boyfriend from hurting her. And she was just so matter-of-fact about it, like it was the most normal thing in the world. And I could hear in her voice that she really believed her mom was protecting her. It wasn't in her reality that her mom had anything to do with the abuser being there in the first place."

"Did you bring home birds that fell out of nests when you were a little girl?” he asked.