Quilter's Knot (22 page)

"Yeah, right,” she said. “I brought home a stray kitten one time, and the head mistress took it from me and made me scrub my hands with a brush."

"That's terrible.” He gave her a squeeze.

"It is what it is, and compared to Carla, I had no problems at all."

The waitress brought two mugs of steaming hot cocoa topped with generous dollops of whipped cream and set them on the scarred wooden table in front of the sofa.

"Thanks,” Harriet told her with a smile.

"Can we forget all these other people and talk about us?” Aiden asked.

She picked up her cup and sipped.

"I'll take that as a yes,” he said. “I'd like to propose that we start over when we get back to Foggy Point."

She started to protest, but he pressed a finger to her lips.

"Let me finish before some other disaster interferes. A couple of weeks ago, I said I wanted to take you out, and then I no-showed. I know that was bad form, but we really were slammed with that contaminated pet food crisis. Then, when we got here, Cammi was fooling with my phone and erased your message. Maybe on purpose, maybe not, but in any case I never got it. Hitting Tom, I still stand by. He's a jerk."

He paused, and Harriet seized her chance.

"I agreed to go out to dinner. We're both adults, you don't owe me anything. You got busy. It happens."

Aiden held her gaze. “You don't believe this is just a casual thing any more than I do,” he said.

"I won't deny I find you attractive, but I'm also a lot older than you. A fact I've made very clear was an issue for me."

"If I were ten years older than you, no one would give it a second thought, especially you."

"You don't know that,” she objected, but in her heart she knew he was right.

"Let me prove you wrong,” he pleaded.

Harriet sipped her cocoa.

"I gave you a chance a few weeks ago, and no matter how good your excuses, you were a no-show, which proves my point that, at your age, you need to concentrate on your career. I understand that."

"Are you trying to tell me that if someone brought you a batch of quilting that had to be done in a short time for some reason, that you wouldn't cancel a date?"

"I would, but the difference is I would call and tell you about it up front."

"Point taken,” he said and hung his head. Strands of black hair fell over his eyes. “I'm sorry."

He was right, she thought, she did feel the connection. And if she were truthful with herself, she'd acknowledge that he had bruised her fragile ego when he no-showed for their date and then called Jorge instead of her.

She took another sip of her drink. “I suppose we could try again when we get back to Foggy Point. This time you have to pick me up at home."

"Wild horses won't be able to stop me,” he said with a dazzling smile. He took her cup from her hands and set it on the table and then pulled her onto his lap. He gently took her face in his hands and kissed her. The waitress winked at her, and gave her a thumbs-up.

For once, Harriet didn't care if she was making a spectacle of herself. She ran her fingers through his thick hair, twining them in the long strands.

Aiden broke contact first. “Whew,” he said. “We better quit while we still can. Besides, I have an idea."

"You mean you were thinking of something else just now? Way to stroke my ego."

"I didn't say I thought of it just then—believe me, I was only thinking of one thing, and it wasn't Carla's living situation."

"What's your idea for Carla?” She picked up her cup again.

"I've been living in my apartment over the clinic since I've been back in Foggy Point, but I did inherit my mom's house on the hill. I've been toying with the idea of moving back there, but it's a really big house and I'd have to have help to take care of it. My mom's housekeeper was old, and when Mom died, Rose retired."

"So, what does that have to do with Carla and her baby?"

"I was thinking maybe Carla could be my housekeeper. She wouldn't have to do all the work herself—Mom had people that did all the windows and she had a gardener. Carla could make sure the jobs got done. She and her baby could have a couple of rooms, and there would still be space to spare."

"That's a generous idea, but what if she doesn't know how to do the job?"

"How bad could she be? Besides, I'll bet she's pretty resourceful if she's been living on the streets. And she can't be any worse at it than I'd be."

"You can be a sweet guy when you want to be,” she said and gave him a quick kiss before standing up. “This has been fun, but we need to get back, don't we?"

"Unfortunately, we do.” Aiden drained his cup, picked up hers and carried both to the counter.

"You young men are so evolved,” she said with a laugh when he returned.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind,” she said with a smile.

The trip back to the Tree House parking lot was spent planning Carla's move to Aiden's house.

"I'll have to stay in the apartment until the clinic finds another tenant,” Aiden explained. “They like to have someone live on-site, since there are often overnight patients. Usually, it's one of the vet techs, but it was available when I came home so it was convenient for me. It'll probably take a couple of months to find someone, which will give Carla some time to settle in at my mom's house."

"This is so great,” Harriet said with delight. “Thank you so much for helping her."

"Anything for you.” He pulled into the parking lot then leaned over and brushed his lips over hers. “There's more where that came from,” he said. “When can I prove it to you?"

"I'm not sure what the dinner plan is tonight, and then there's the whole Lauren thing. Can we talk later?"

"Sure, as long as you promise you're not giving me the brush-off."

She rested her hand on his thigh. “I promise, I'm not brushing you off.” She opened the door and got out.

Aiden leaned toward the open door. “I'll talk to you later."

"I'll look forward to it,” she said and turned and headed toward the path.

"Harriet?” someone called from the direction of the path. “Is that you?” Nancy from the office appeared around a curve in the path. “I was just coming to find you,” she said. “I have a message for you.” She held out a pink phone message slip that was folded in half and held shut with a piece of tape. “This note was on my desk when I came in this morning. There was a sticky note attached that asked me to deliver this to you as soon as I got in. So, here."

She thrust the note at Harriet then spun and walked back down the path, disappearing around the curve.

The note tore slightly as Harriet pulled it open.
I've got important information, meet me at my office as soon as you get this
, the note read. It was signed “Tom."

She went back to the parking area then down the road until she came to the next car park. If she had guessed correctly, this one would have a path that led to Pavilion A. She took a longer forested path and eventually came to a clearing that revealed the ceramics building. Perfect, she thought.

The door to the pavilion was unlocked, and she pulled it open. The display pedestals that had held the pottery bowls off to the right on her previous visit had been removed, and a series of narrow shelves sat parallel to each other down the middle of the space. She had to stop and reorient herself. She counted the doorways, but still wasn't sure she choosing the one that led to Tom's office.

The door was slightly ajar, and she pushed it open.

"Tom? Are you here?"

She froze at the scene in front of her. Papers covered every surface. The file cabinet drawers had all been pulled open, and as a result it had tipped forward. The table was on its side. Books had been pulled from the shelves and lay face-down open on the floor. Paper clips and rubber bands were strewn among the papers, and the wastebasket that had held the shredding had been dumped and the contents spread across the carpet.

"Geez Louise,” Harriet whispered, but whatever else she might have said was cut off by a strong arm wrapping around her neck from behind.

Pulled backward into someone larger and stronger, she kicked backward hard, connecting with a shin. When the arm loosened slightly, she dropped to the floor and rolled forward, coming to back to her feet in one motion to find herself face-to-face with Tom Bainbridge. At least they would have been face-to-face except that he was hunched over rubbing his shin.

"I think you broke my leg,” he gasped.

"Why did you grab me?” she demanded, and stepped forward, righting a chair for him to sit on.

"Stay back,” he ordered, and pulled the chair toward him. He sat down and pulled his cell phone from his pocket and started to dial.

"Who are you calling?"

"The police—who do you think?"

"Wait. You don't think I did this, do you?” Her face was hot.

"I've been patient with your snooping. I really have. But this is too much. I don't know who you think you are or what you think you're doing, but you've crossed the line here."

Harriet grabbed for the phone, but he stretched his arm out, holding it as far behind him as he could.

"Look,” she said, and pulled the pink note from her pocket. “You asked me to meet you here.” Anger blazed in her eyes. “I came because you asked me to. The door was open, so I came in and this is what I found.” She gestured to indicate the chaos.

"I didn't ask you to meet me here. I got a text message that you had information about my mother and to meet you here."

"Let me see the message."

He pulled back his arm and pressed keys to bring up the message screen.

"That's not my phone number,” she said. She pulled her own phone out of her pocket and quickly pushed the buttons to display her number. “Look.” She held it out. “I've never seen that number."

"Okay, now I really am calling the police.” He dialed nine-one-one and quickly described the situation. “They'll be right here."

"Sorry about your shin,” she said with a small smile.

He rubbed it. “You have a heck of a kick. Where did you learn that?"

"I used to live in Oakland. With the crime rate there it seemed prudent to take a women's self-defense course."

"You must have been their top student."

Harriet shrugged and smiled again.

"Miss Truman,” Detective Ruiz said from the doorway a few minutes later. “Why am I not surprised to see you here?” Two uniformed officers stepped past him and into the room.

"I don't know,” she said. “Why is a detective responding to a simple break-in?"

"Angel Harbor is a small place,” he countered. “We don't have a lot of crime. And when we have an open homicide investigation, well, we tend to take notice of a lot of things. We also tend to notice when an ordinary citizen keeps inserting herself into our investigation. Ordinary citizens don't do that, so that makes us wonder why this one does."

Harriet sighed and looked at the ceiling, silently counting to ten. She handed Detective Ruiz the pink note. “Nancy in the office gave me this note. I thought it was legitimate so I came here. The door was open, and the room looked like this."

"And I got a text message to meet Harriet here,” Tom said. “It turns out it wasn't really from her."

"So, what's going on here?” Detective Ruiz asked, looking at Tom and then Harriet.

"I wish I knew,” she said.

"I don't understand why anyone would do this to my office,” Tom said. “There's nothing of any value here. I mainly have the correspondence between us and our affiliated schools, and the shipping records of materials we send back and forth. The school's tax records and business incorporation papers and that kind of thing are at my home office. And all the financial transactions take place in the school's main office. It doesn't make any sense."

"Someone wanted you two here together,” Detective Ruiz speculated. “Perhaps they even timed it so you would think Miss Truman did it."

Tom gave Harriet a guilty glance.

"Maybe it's a smoke screen,” Harriet offered.

"Yes,” Ruiz concurred. “Your friend Miss Sawyer might be foolish enough to think this would distract us from looking for her."

Harriet raised her eyebrows, her eyes wide. Would Lauren do this?

"You haven't seen your friend, have you?” the detective asked.

"She was in my room this morning when I came back from my shower,” Harriet said. Her shoulders sagged. She didn't like giving up a friend, even Lauren, but lying to the police wasn't going to help anyone.

"And you didn't think to let us know?"

"It was six o'clock in the morning, and I was meeting someone for coffee. I didn't really think about it. She told me not to bother trying to find her, and frankly, I put it out of my mind."

"You're so anxious to help us solve this crime. Can't you see that the best way you can help is to tell us everything you know, and when I ask you to let me know if you see someone, call me? Don't go snooping around, don't question people, don't search rooms—just call. Is that clear?"

"Okay,” Harriet said, and a very small part of her meant it.

Detective Ruiz looked around the office. “At least your coffee-shop story provides an alibi of sorts.” He looked back at Harriet. “If it checks out.” He waved his hand to encompass the room. “This took some time."

"When can I start cleaning it up?” Tom asked.

"Not yet,” Ruiz replied. “We probably aren't going to get anything, but we need to process the scene just in case our perp got careless.” He looked at his watch. “Give us a couple of hours."

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Tom walked her back to the Tree House. “I'm going to the business office and call my attorney,” he said. “I'm thinking I need to do something about security here. I don't know what my liability is, but for my own peace of mind I feel like I need to do something. I don't even know where you look for reputable security people—certainly, not anywhere in Angel Harbor."

"Good luck with that. I'm going to go to the lectures today and try to pretend I'm a regular fiber art student.” She went up the steps onto the porch.