Barbara Graham - Quilted 05 - Murder by Sunlight (16 page)

Gretchen’s relief was palpable. “It works out for all of us. She earns some money, I know where she is, she’s having fun, and Ziggy doesn’t keep calling to ask me if I know where our children are.”

Theo laughed, but only because Gretchen’s husband, Ziggy, maintained an incredibly calm, organized persona while working as the county disaster coordinator, as well as running a fast-food restaurant and refereeing sports. He couldn’t quite maintain the same façade off duty when his wife and children were involved. Storms and fire and hail damage, he could handle; his child five minutes late from school was an emergency.

The shop door opened, distracting Theo’s thoughts. The ringing of the tiny bell was almost lost in the clamor of excited voices. She watched several of her elderly regulars coming in for their free coffee and charity quilt time. They displayed more spirit and energy than usual. Leading the charge was Theo’s favorite, Caro.

“Can you believe it?” said the woman walking with Caro, Blind Betty. “I’m surprised no one has killed her before this.”

“Hush, Betty,” Caro steered the woman through the maze of shoppers and bolts of fabric. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“I’ll bet they’ve come back for their revenge.” Betty would not be silenced, but Caro managed to drag her into the workroom and over to the latest charity quilt where it sat on a large square frame. Betty couldn’t see, but she could still hand-quilt by touch. She needed a needle-threading assistant. “I’d have killed her myself if she murdered one of my children.”

Caro arranged a couple of chairs and said to Betty, “Sit.”

Theo glanced at her shoppers. It was easy to pick out the tourists. They stood open-mouthed, clearly curious and hoping to hear more. The locals, at least the elderly, were making their way into the workroom as well. As they chatted, they showed less curiosity and more excitement than the younger women. There was a fair amount of “got what’s coming to her” from the old timers, as well as the question, “Who are they?” from the newbies.

Betty, finally settled into a chair, quieted somewhat. “It was the family who lived next door to the Tibbleses. You remember who I mean, don’t you Caro?”

Caro headed for the coffeepot. “It’s been years, Betty. They moved away years ago. Can you really think they would go away, wait this long, and then come back to kill Candy? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Would you forget someone who killed your baby?”

Betty’s words sent a chill through Theo. She had to force herself not to run upstairs and check on the twins. Theo tried to remember who Betty was talking about. Theo would have been in her twenties at the time and unlikely to have been involved with either the mother or the babysitter, but such a tragic story would have impacted the whole community. She must have still been in grad school. Taking advantage of a lull at the cutting table, Theo eased into the classroom and greeted the older women.

Betty wiggled into position and, using her fingers, explored the unquilted portion within her reach. Moments later, she accepted a threaded needle from Caro and began quilting. “You tell that oversized husband of yours I’ve solved the case for him.”

“Tell me about it, Betty. I don’t recall the incident.” Theo remained standing so she could keep an eye on the front of the shop. Once she saw Gretchen return to the cash register, Theo relaxed her vigil. “When was this?”

“Well, I remember it like it was yesterday,” Betty began. “It was summer. Hot, like now. The story was that Candy was babysitting the next door neighbors’ little one and left him alone in a wading pool. He drowned.”

Theo shivered.

Betty wasn’t through. “As if that wasn’t bad enough, Candy didn’t seem to care. She didn’t act like she was sorry or anything, and just because she was young, I guess, no one charged her with anything.”

“Who’s the family?”

“Pingel, I believe. They haven’t lived in Silersville for years, but I still see them from time to time.” Betty laughed. “Okay, I’ll admit I haven’t exactly
seen
them, but you know what I mean.” Betty stabbed the quilt a few times with her needle, just for emphasis. “At the very least, I think Candy should have given them her baby, Alvin, in exchange. It’s not like she bothered to take care of her own. He might have had a better life.”

Theo patted Betty’s shoulder, trying to calm the older woman. The way she was waving her hands, she could poke someone in the eye with her needle. “What about the baby’s extended family?”

“Oh, her dad still lives in the area. Turned himself into a hermit.” Betty slurped some coffee and turned to Caro. “I need another thread.”

Theo hurried up to her office. Her main intent was to call Tony, away from prying ears, but the mother in her needed to see her children.

The story Theo relayed would have made Tony’s hair stand up if he wasn’t bald. Hearing almost exactly the same story from two sources on one day was remarkable. It surprised him there had been so little said about the baby’s death over the years. Stories like that had a tendency to be replayed forever, and every time one of the parties involved was mentioned.

As for him, at the time of the incident, he would have been either about to finish his tour in the Navy or already enrolled at Northwestern. Silersville had been left behind, physically and mentally. He had moved on.

Tony knew someone who could, and would, fill him in. His mom. Signaling for Wade to join him, they headed to the museum site. On the drive out, he asked Wade, who had grown up in the county, what he knew about the story.

“I sort of remember Candy,” Wade said. “She left school when I was in tenth grade, I think, and there was a fair amount of curiosity about the father of her baby. None of the guys I hung out with would have anything to do with her. And vice versa. She was interested in older guys.”

“And the suspicious death of an infant?” Tony hadn’t found any file about it. “Were there rumors?”

Wade shook his head. “If there were, they didn’t travel to the school. You could ask Sheriff Winston.”

“True.” Tony had occasional visits with the former sheriff. The man had run the office his way, not necessarily the way Tony thought it should have been run. Tony wouldn’t be shocked if Harvey had made his own decision about what happened and closed the case without much investigation.

Arriving at the museum, Tony felt an itch start between his shoulder blades, and he tried to scratch it away against the seat. It was a very nice folk museum, but he thought maybe he was developing an allergy to it. Just thinking about going there again made him feel itchy all over. Maybe it was the memory of his mom petting a wild bear that made him itch.

Tony and Wade finally tracked Jane down in the museum café. She was standing near the windows overlooking the new garden, planted the old-fashioned way, with homemade tools and using seeds from heirloom vegetables. Tony was no expert, but he’d swear the corn had grown a foot in the past two days. He wondered if Alvin had ever visited his mom’s garden. He’d bet the two of them would have a lot to talk about.

Sally Calhoun, hired to be the cook in the new facility, greeted them with a shy smile. “Can I get you something?”

Before Tony or Wade could greet either woman, his mom turned and snarled at Tony, saying, “Now what?”

It shocked Tony. He knew his mom could get a little testy from time to time when one of her plans didn’t work the way she expected, but this was uncommonly rude behavior for a normally sweet woman. “Mom? Is there a problem?”

Shaking her head, Jane frowned and sipped her iced tea. “I’m sorry. It’s just so hot today.”

Tony suspected there was more to her mood than heat, but he smiled at Sally. “That iced tea looks like a good idea.”

Wade agreed. “And could I have one of those carrot cupcakes as well?”

Sally smiled and disappeared into the kitchen.

Jane, her face filled with angst and despair, whispered, “Sally has a boyfriend.”

“I’d think you’d be happy.” Tony hoped Sally’s boyfriend was a better man than her late husband. Possum Calhoun had made pond scum look and smell attractive. “You don’t like him, I gather.”

“He’s a perfectly fine man.” Jane managed to look shocked that her youngest child could have suggested otherwise. “He’s nothing like Possum, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Tony glanced over his mother’s shoulder and watched the arrival of Wade’s carrot cupcake. He smiled and said to Sally, “That looks delicious. Maybe I should have one of those too.”

Sally nodded and headed back to the kitchen.

Returning to the subject gnawing on her nerves, Jane said, “I’m afraid she’ll marry him.”

Feeling as though he’d come in halfway through the story, Tony just stared at her. He flipped through his mental dictionary for the right word to describe his mother’s attitude. Searching for the perfect word amused him when he didn’t have time to actually do any writing on his novel of the Old West.
Peevish
was the word coming to his mind. He smiled, knowing he had a winner. Peevish, for certain. His mom was peevish. He felt joy at finding the answer.

Jane frowned at his merry expression and drummed her fingers on the table. “The man lives in Tullahoma and comes through here maybe once a week. It’s been going on for a long time.”

The switch in his brain finally clicked on. “And you’re afraid she’ll get married and move away and you’ll lose your cook.”

Jane nodded.

“So, it’s really all about you.” Knowing there was nothing serious going on and that he was not the cause of his mom’s bad attitude, Tony savored the little, nut-packed, incredibly rich cupcake covered with cream cheese frosting. “Oh, my,” he moaned, fearing he was going to be addicted to another dessert. Between Blossom’s pies and Sally’s cupcakes, he suspected he’d have to run three hours a day just to keep from outgrowing his uniforms.

Sally laughed at his reaction, then turned to Jane. “I’ll be leaving now. You promised I could have the holiday off.”

Jane’s smile did not reach her eyes. “Yes, I did. Have fun, and we’ll see you on the fifth.”

“Yes, Miss Jane.” Sally was untying her apron as she scampered back toward the kitchen.

Turning back to face her youngest child, she said, “Why are you here?” Jane laced her fingers and rested her hands on the table. Her lips pressed tightly together, as if she was forcing herself to be polite.

Wade kept his head down and his eyes on his plate.

Tony decided his mother had
not
liked his comment suggesting a bit of self-centered behavior on her part. Fine. He kept eating. For a moment, the delicious cake had about driven his purpose from his brain. “Tell us about the Pingel baby incident from maybe sixteen, seventeen years ago.”

“I’m ashamed to say I haven’t thought of the family in years.” Jane’s expression changed to sorrow and her eyes flooded with tears. “Pingel. Yes, the last name was Pingel.”

“What happened?”

“No one really ever knew. The Pingels swore Candy Tibbles let the baby drown and Candy said the baby was fine when she left and the mom and dad or grandfather must have done something. As far as any one ever said, there wasn’t any proof either way.”

Tony felt sick. “What did you believe?”

“Actually, I believed Candy.” Jane finally quit squirming on her chair and drank some of her tea. “Her parents supervised her babysitting from a short distance and . . .” She hesitated.

“And?”

“There was always something wrong with the baby. It was born with multiple problems.” Jane paused. “There was some talk at the time suggesting the parents could have saved it but chose not to and then claimed it was Candy’s fault so they wouldn’t get into trouble.”

Tony suddenly lost his appetite.

Tony dropped Wade at the Law Enforcement Center and started thinking. Where should he go to get the best gossipy information? Theo might have a guess about who else might have fathered Candy’s child, but he immediately discarded the notion. When Candy gave birth, Theo would have been in college. His aunt, the high school teacher, on the other hand, might know something useful. He drove from the museum to her house. She wasn’t there.

Exasperated, he called her on his cell phone, only to learn she was headed to the museum. His back started itching the moment he turned the Blazer and headed out there again.

“I need to know what you remember about Candy Tibbles. As a student,” Tony asked his aunt after going through all the ritual greetings.

“You always assume I hear every piece of gossip in town and remember it,” Martha snarled at him, shocking him with her bad attitude. Not like his aunt’s normal behavior.

Tony discarded the idea she might be trying to appear uninterested in gossip. He knew she was thrilled to be asked for information about a student. He guessed her attitude was connected to her unexpectedly having to fill in for Sally. Maybe Jane had not warned her of the change in duties. Martha was a good cook, although not in the same league with Sally and Blossom, and she wasn’t keeping up with the order coming from a late lunch for a bus tour group. He stepped into the kitchen, wrapped an apron over his uniform, scrubbed his hands, and stepped up to the grill.

Clearly relieved, Martha handed him a metal spatula and explained their system. “Good to see you. Let’s see if your time cooking in the Navy taught you anything.” She gave him a happy smile.

Tony was curious himself. He remembered how to make cinnamon rolls in huge quantities, but he’d never mastered making only a few dozen. He was pretty sure he could cook one burger or BLT at a time. With Martha’s advice and his own experience, they made it through the rush.

She brought him a tall iced tea and gestured to a pair of chairs overlooking the new lawn. “Candy was not one of my students. Thankfully. I can still remember another teacher talking about how much trouble she was having with the girl. Candy could read, only she wouldn’t. She spent as much time applying makeup in class as she could get away with. Homework assignments were not turned it. The teacher had a conference with her parents. Yes, they understood, promised to encourage her, offered incentives. Nothing worked. One day Candy came to class, stood next to her desk, plopped the textbook down on it, and washed her hands of the whole thing.” Martha sighed. “Candy never went back to school.”