The meeting broke up at that point. The quilts that needed their binding finished were collected, and the rest were carefully refolded, put into their cloth bags and set on Harriet's to-do shelf.
"I've got to go get ready for my lunch date,” Sarah said. “Ta-ta, ladies.” With that, she swept out the door, putting on her raincoat as she went.
Lauren sat in the chair next to Harriet's.
"Did you notice the side of Sarah's face?” she murmured.
"No, she didn't come close enough for me to notice anything about her,” Harriet replied as softly. “Why?"
"It looks like she has a bruise along her jaw line, like maybe a handprint. And it's not the first time she's had a noticeable bruise."
"I haven't noticed anything, but I haven't paid that close of attention."
"She does make you want to look anywhere else but at her when she's running her mouth, which admittedly is most of the time, but since I've been spending so much time at the senior center, I've had occasion to…study her, if you will. I hate to think it, but she looks like someone who's being battered."
"Does she do patient care ever?” Harriet asked. “If she works with difficult patients that might account for bruises and scratches."
"I'll have to check that out. All the conclusions I was coming to were not good ones. Have you seen her boyfriend?"
Harriet thought for a moment. “I don't think I have. Why?"
"He's shockingly good-looking. And before you tell me I'm being mean, or talk about sour grapes or whatever, hear me out. You know as well as I do that Sarah is full of herself, annoying and doesn't really have very good taste in most things. I'm telling you-this guy is way too handsome, sophisticated…I know I'm not explaining this well, but believe me, something's not right."
"I don't know what to say."
"I'm not sure why I thought you'd be any help,” Lauren complained and started to get up.
"Wait,” Harriet said. “Sit down, please. I feel awful that I haven't noticed, but this isn't about me. As soon as I'm able to leave the house alone, I can check up on her."
"I guess I'm feeling guilty, too. She really is annoying, but no one deserves to be abused if that's what's happening."
"I know I have no right to ask, but would you be willing to help me with one little thing?"
"What do you want me to research?” Lauren asked with a sigh.
"Never mind, I'll do it myself."
"Sorry, I didn't think you were that sensitive. Can we skip the drama and go straight to what you want?"
Harriet told herself to relax and take a deep breath.
"I got some more information about Neelie, the woman who died.” She related the information Aiden had passed on earlier that morning.
"So, you know her real first name and that she was adopted as a baby or young child."
"And that she'd be in her mid- to late twenties now."
"That's not a lot to go on."
"I'm not sure we can make any assumptions, but she was most recently living in California,” Harriet added, referring to Rodney's information that Neelie had been living in “east bay,” which meant either Oakland, Berkeley or one of the smaller communities on the east side of San Francisco Bay.
"Well, I can try searching adoption databases on the West Coast. If she waited until she was almost thirty to go searching for her African roots, she may have recently left footprints on some of the bulletin boards that adoptees use. The fact we know where she found her cousins should help, too."
"Anything you find could be helpful, and I understand the usual disclaimers apply."
"You're learning,” Lauren said as she turned to go. She stopped at the door and, instead of going out, stepped aside and held the door to let Phyllis Johnson in.
"Hi,” Phyllis said and came to where Harriet sat. “I hope I'm not disturbing you.” She held a bundle in her arms.
Harriet looked at her aunt and Mavis, but they seemed as confused as she was by this unexpected visit.
"Hey, Phyl,” Aunt Beth said. “What brings you here this fine morning?"
"This is a little delicate."
"Well, just spit it out,” Mavis said.
"You know I belong to the Small Stitches quilt group,” she said and paused. “And I'm sure you've noticed that some of our members are…” She paused again. “Well, they're…"
"Just tell us,” Aunt Beth said, “whatever it is."
"I've seen what the Small Stitches are making for the auction, and frankly, it's embarrassing."
"Here, sit down,” Mavis said and pointed Phyllis to a chair. “I'm still not sure why you're telling us this."
Phyllis eased herself into the chair, and the energy seemed to go out of her.
"I'm telling you this because I made a quilt for the auction, by myself."
"So the others in your group don't know you're doing this?” Aunt Beth asked.
Phyllis dipped her head. “No, they don't. But I couldn't just stand by and do nothing."
"What do you want from us?” Harriet said. “Did you bring the quilt for me to do the stitching?"
Phyllis had the good grace to blush. “I know you're all busy, especially since Harriet's accident, but I was hoping somehow you could fit it in. I could pay extra for a rush order,” she said.
"I don't think that will be necessary,” Aunt Beth said. “As you can see, Harriet's not on her feet yet, but I'm all caught up, so if you don't want anything too exotic, I should be able to fit it in."
"I guessed Harriet wouldn't be back to work yet, judging by how she looked in the hospital. Have the police figured out who did this yet?"
"If they have, they haven't told us,” Harriet said.
"I hope they don't think Joseph did it,” Phyllis said. “I know he's been distracted lately, but I can't believe he'd do anything violent."
"He's not helping his case by running and hiding,” Harriet said.
"Hiding?” Phyllis said. “Do you know he's hiding? Or where he's hiding? Anything about where he is?"
"Sarah claims she saw him this morning at the pet store,” Mavis said.
"I can't imagine why Joseph would have killed either of those two people-or anyone else, for that matter."
"Everyone has secrets,” Aunt Beth said sagely. “Since we can't figure out what Joseph's are, let's have a look at your little secret."
Phyllis had competently constructed a pieced quilt using the traditional block patterns. Harriet thought she recognized Jacob's Ladder, Churn Dash and Goose in the Pond, along with some flying geese and simple pinwheels. Most of the blocks shared common elements-squares and half-square triangles and four patches, all done in only one or two size pairings. Her quilt looked complicated, but had probably been relatively easy to cut out and stitch.
Phyllis had used an impressive variety of dog print fabrics and somehow pulled them into a cohesive whole. It was scrappy, but a very well-organized scrappy.
"If you could do an all-over pattern of stitching-a diagonal grid, maybe, or really, whatever you think would look good and that you could get done in time for me to bind it before the show, that would be fine with me. As I said, I'm willing to pay a premium."
"This looks real nice,” Mavis said as she ran her hand over the surface of the quilt top.
Phyllis pulled a piece of sewn flannel from her cloth bag.
"I pieced the back from a couple of large pieces of flannel and did a little appliqué around the spot where the label will go."
She held the backing piece up. She had cut out several of the smaller dog images from some of her fabrics and stitched them in a continuous rectangle so that when the label was in place, they would appear to be running around it, frame style.
"Have any of you spoken to DeAnn lately?” she asked. “With the mess Joseph left us in, I haven't had a chance to follow up with her or her husband. I hope things have settled down."
"I think things are going better for them now,” Aunt Beth said with a glance at Harriet that told her to keep her mouth shut.
"Why didn't you tell her about DeAnn's daughter not being African?” Harriet asked her aunt when Phyllis was back out in the driveway, getting into her car.
"If Joseph has been playing fast and loose with Phyl's business, she's going to have a stroke, literally. I don't want to get her all wound up until we have a better understanding of what actually happened.
"As we've discussed, it could have been a mix-up on the other end, or a simple mistake, or Joseph may be running a scam of some sort. He's been like a son to her, and it's going to kill her if it turns out he's been embezzling or sabotaging the business or I don't know what else."
"Unfortunately, his disappearing act is making the last choice the more likely one,” Mavis said.
"I hate this,” sighed Aunt Beth.
"I do, too,” Mavis agreed.
"I'm glad Phyllis made her quilt,” Harriet said. “I was starting to feel guilty about tricking the Stitches into using Sarah's design. At least this way they'll have one respectable entry."
"I guess that's something,” Aunt Beth agreed. She turned to Mavis. “Shall we go see if your car's ready? I need to check out the sale shelf at Pins and Needles for more fabric to use in the functional dog quilts."
"How many of those quilts have you made?” Harriet asked.
"I've only done six of them, and they need so many more. We have to go to town to get Mavis's car anyway. She left it at the garage on her way here to have the oil changed. It won't take that long, and Aiden should be coming back shortly, in any case. Do you need anything before we go?"
"I don't suppose you'd consider letting me come with you."
"Not a chance."
"Come on, I'm not an invalid. I have a sprained ankle and a sore back, and it's been almost five days."
"No way, and don't even think about going out on your own while we're gone."
"We'll call Aiden,” Mavis added. “We'll tell him you're here waiting for him."
"You guys are mean."
"Okay,” Beth said, ignoring her protest. “You've got your book and your water. You better be right where we left you when we get back."
"I promise, I'll be right here,” Harriet said. “Have fun."
Aunt Beth followed Mavis out the door, locking it when they were outside. Harriet listened for the crunch of tires, indicating they had driven away. She waited another minute before struggling to her feet-well, foot-and picking up her crutches. She went to the connecting door and backed through it into the kitchen. Fred meowed as she entered.
"I'll bet Aunt Beth has had you on a diet, too, huh, big boy?” she said.
She reached into the cupboard below the bar where she kept Fred's kitty treats and, balancing on her good foot, set her crutches aside and extracted a small handful. She'd just bent down to put them in his food dish when she heard a noise that sounded like tapping on glass.
She turned and looked toward her studio. She heard the noise again. It definitely sounded like it was coming from the studio. Fred's ears were upright, and he stared at the connecting door.
"Well, cat, let's go see what's going on,” she said as she picked up her crutches and worked her way back into the studio.
Joseph Marston stood on her porch, tapping on the etched glass of the studio door. She hesitated for a moment then went to open it.
"Joseph,” she said. “There are a lot of people looking for you."
"I know, it's why I waited until everyone was gone before I came to your door. We've probably only got a couple of minutes…"
"Well, come in, then, and let's talk."
"No, I can't come inside. What if someone comes?"
"No one's coming. Come on."
"We're wasting time. We need to talk about what happened."
"Are we talking about what happened at your house? Are you going to tell me why you attacked me?"
"No…I mean, yes…I mean, it's complicated, and I need your help."
"You attacked me, and you want my help? The only help you're getting from me is a nine-one-one call to the police.” She reached for her phone in her pocket then remembered she'd left it on the arm of the gray chair.
"I think you'd better leave,” she said.
He held his hand out toward her. “Please, you have to understand,” he said. Tears glistened in his eyes.
"Is this about the adoptions?” she asked as she looked frantically around for a weapon of any sort.
"You know about the adoptions?"
Before she could answer, they heard the sound of tires at the bottom of her driveway. Joseph turned abruptly and jumped off her porch in one leap, then ran down the opposite end of the driveway as Aiden drove up and parked.
"What are you doing outside?” he called.
"Joseph Marston,” she yelled back. “He was here-he just ran down the other side of the driveway.” She pointed where Joseph had just gone.
Aiden dropped his phone and keys and the paper bag he was carrying and ran in the direction Harriet was pointing. He was gone for a couple of long minutes before returning, this time at a slow trot.
"There's no sign of him,” he said. “He must have gone to the end of the street and into the woods."
Harriet's street terminated at a wooded greenspace that went all the way down the back side of her hill.
"I went down the trail a little way, but he could have gone any direction. If he went off the trail, he could be anywhere. What did he want?"
"I don't know. He said he wanted to talk about what happened at his house, and he said he wanted my help."
"That takes nerve. Why would he think you'd want to help him?"
"No idea. I asked him if it had to do with the adoptions, and he seemed surprised I knew anything about them."
"I'm sure he was. He probably thinks he had a foolproof system going. And for the most part, he did. Whatever scam he's been running has probably been going on for a while-years, maybe.” He picked up the things he'd dropped and came up on the porch. “You're freezing,” he said and rubbed his hands up and down her arms. He picked up the crutches-she had dropped them and not even realized it. She took them and hobbled back into the studio.
"I brought donuts,” he said. “You want some tea or something?"
"I can get it.” She started for the kitchen.
"Whoa, you need to sit down. If your aunt sees you up, she'll kill me."
"She won't see me. Besides, it's got to be bad for my circulation or muscle tone or something to be sitting so much."
"It's probably true it won't hurt you to get up a little bit by now. With my patients, if we can keep them down for twenty-four hours, we consider it a success."
"Glad to know I'd make a good dog."
He gently pulled her into his arms. “I would never compare you to a dog,” he said, and kissed her softly on her lips. “I've missed you."
"Me, too,” she said. “As annoying as you can be, I have missed you, and I don't like it that we were fighting."
"I'm sorry about that,” he said and looked into her eyes. “I really am."
"You've had a lot going on."
"Yeah, but that's just an excuse. I had no right to bite your head off. I've had a lot of time to think while I've been taking care of the hoarded dogs."
"And?” She wrapped her arms around his neck.
"And…I realized that if I had been you and had seen that woman and that baby, I would've had to at least ask."
She twined her fingers into his silky black hair and pulled his face down to hers for another kiss.
"You're forgiven."
Aiden slid his hands down her back, inadvertently touching the bruised area. She winced.
"Oh, Harriet, I'm sorry,” he said and stepped back away from her. “I lost track of your boo-boo."
"It's okay,” she said in a tight voice. “And I think this qualifies as slightly more than a boo-boo."
"Let me help you to your chair."
"I'm fine,” she insisted, and took a couple of measured breaths. “Just let me get my tea started."
She hobbled into the kitchen and got out a cup and teabag and set them on the counter.
"I guess I could use a little help filling the teakettle,” she admitted.
"Would you please sit while I finish this? If your aunt comes home and sees you making tea, she'll kill me."
"Fine,” she said, and crutched back to the studio and her gray chair. She had just gotten her pillows arranged the way she liked them when he brought two mugs of tea and the bag of donuts.
"Have you had any more thoughts about Joseph?” he asked as he pulled two maple bars from the white bag.
Harriet groaned as she bit into her bar. The maple was thick and creamy, and the body of the bar was as light as air.
"I don't know what to think. He said he needed my help. Suppose he killed Rodney in self-defense. Maybe he thinks I saw something that could help him prove it."
"He can't possibly imagine you would help him after he whacked you in the back and threw a body on you."
"It makes no sense. He seemed real agitated, so he's probably not thinking clearly."
They each took another bite of their donut.
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I wonder if I should call the detective who's working on all this."
"I can't believe you're saying it either, but yes. The police are here to protect and serve, and they can't do that very well if you don't tell them when there's been a threat. By the way, I put their numbers in your phone's address book."
Harriet picked up her phone and dialed the non-emergency number for the Foggy Point police. As soon as she was connected to Detective Morse and had told her Joseph had come calling the detective told her to sit tight and she'd be right there.
"I'm not sure where she thought I was going to go, but I told her we'd be waiting here,” she said to Aiden when she'd pressed the end-call button.
He pulled one of the rolling chairs next to her and reached over and took her hand in his.
"You did the right thing,” he said. He held her hand while they finished their donuts.