Knot in My Backyard (A Quilting Mystery) (6 page)

I typically worked on more than one project at a time. In addition to selecting materials with Lucy yesterday for the new scrappy Jacob’s Ladder quilt in my sewing room, six other quilt tops waited to be layered with batting and backing and basted together in preparation for quilting. I had already basted the Dresden Plate and recently had begun the long process of sewing the three layers together by hand, one stitch at a time.

Birdie set a cup of fresh coffee with cream beside me. “I’ll bet we’re the last holdouts in the guild. So few women quilt by hand anymore.” Birdie was right. The majority of quilters in the West San Fernando Valley Quilt Guild used a sewing machine to do the work.

“They don’t know what they’re missing.” Lucy slowly shook her head and her deep blue earrings swung back and forth. I always looked forward to finding out what theme Lucy would choose for the day. Today she featured blue: navy slacks and sandals, bright cerulean silk blouse, a necklace of lapis and crystal beads, and a pair of large lapis disks dangling from hooks in her ears. I thought blue was her best color; it made her orange hair look more authentic.

I agreed with my friends. Hand quilting was a long proposition. You must be willing to put in dozens, even hundreds, of hours before finishing—a good thing in my book. The process of stitching by hand provided time to think, to meditate, and just to slow down. The journey was worth it. In the end, you held a blanket textured with the comfort of thousands of thoughtful stitches, a piece of art.

Birdie returned with a generous thick slice of cake for each of us. I tried to keep from looking at mine.
Out of sight, out of mind.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t turn off my sense of smell.

She twirled the end of her long braid. “Now, Martha dear, Lucy just told me about your finding the body of that baseball coach practically in your own backyard. I heard on the news he was a family man, the father of three young children.”

“Yes. The body looked pretty gruesome. He was savagely beaten. Even though Dax Martin was universally resented and disliked in our neighborhood, he didn’t deserve to die in such a horrible way. I feel sorry for his family.”

Birdie sat and picked up her sewing. “Lucy said the police suspect your young neighbor.”

“That’s right, but I think he’s being framed. I can prove it if I can find the homeless people who were camped across from the crime scene. They may have witnessed the murder. Lucy drove me to the police station to give a statement. You’ll never believe what happened after she dropped me off.” I hesitated to tell my friends about Hilda offering to take me to meet a dangerous character like Switch, but I wanted their support.

“Oh, Martha!” Lucy put down her needle and looked up. “You’ve got to be kidding. You’ve done some harebrained things before, but this is out-and-out lunacy. Please tell me you’re not serious.”

“Actually, I won’t have to go in alone.” Then I told them about my plan to take Hilda with me and Crusher’s offer to back me up with Ed’s other biker friends.

Lucy’s voice rose a notch. “This is just getting worse and worse. You’re going to ride with a team of bikers?
Really?
”

Birdie shook her head, eyes wide. “Lucy’s right. You have no business going to such a dangerous place. No. Absolutely not, Martha dear.”

I sat back and sighed. “Of course I’ve thought the same thing, but what else can I do? I’m going to see Hilda this afternoon to get an answer. If she says it’s safe, then she and I will go in. If she says I should take Crusher, then he’ll go in with us. I’ll be safe with him and his guys.”

Birdie looked horrified. “And what do you think Arlo will say to all of this?”

I narrowed my eyes. “He doesn’t have to find out, unless you tell him.”

“We might just be forced to,” Lucy warned.

My friends were taking sides against me. I reached for the cake.

At two that afternoon, I packed my quilt, hoop, and sewing kit in the tote bag. In bygone times in France, a sewing kit was called an etui
,
pronounced ehTWEE. I loved the feeling of that word in my mouth.

“I’ve got to leave a little early,” I said, standing up.

Lucy stood and put her hands on her hips. “You’re going to meet Hilda, aren’t you?”

I didn’t answer.

She looked at Birdie. “You know, for someone who’s so intelligent, sometimes this gal can be dumb as a sack of hammers.”

I still didn’t answer.

Lucy threw up her hands. “Okay, okay. We’re going with you. We’re not letting you out of our sight. Right, Birdie?”

Birdie got up and grabbed her keys.

Without another word, the three of us got in my car and drove to the Boulevard.

I found a parking spot close to Rafi’s restaurant. Temperatures were slightly cooler today, in the upper eighties. Hilda sat in her usual place, looking up and down the street. When she spotted me, she gave a little wave. Then she frowned when Lucy and Birdie emerged from the car.

“Hey, Wonder Woman.” Hilda looked at my friends and back at me, still frowning.

“Hi, Hilda. These are my friends Batwoman and Supergirl. They wouldn’t let me come alone. They think I’m about to do something stupid.”

She looked from one to the other. “They know everything?”

“Yes. You can talk freely.” I stepped close so I wouldn’t embarrass Hilda in front of the others and slipped her a twenty.

“Okay. I talked to Switch. He said for two hundred bucks he’d give you a name. You want more—you pay more.”

“Will I be safe going to see him down in the wildlife reserve?”

“No. I talked him into meeting you in the little parking area just west of the Burbank Boulevard off-ramp. It’s right out in the open under a streetlight, so you should be safe there.” She eyed Birdie and Lucy warily, then turned back to me. “You’ll have to show up by yourself.”

“What time?”

“Ten tonight.”

“You can’t go there, Martha dear.” Birdie shook her head. “Not in the dark. Not alone.”

Hilda pointed her chin. “He sees Batwoman and Supergirl, and he won’t show.”

That didn’t sound good. If Lucy and Birdie couldn’t come, what chance did I have to be protected by Crusher and his guys? “Hilda, will you come with me? He knows you, after all.”

“I would, but I got a shelter bed tonight. Doors close at eight. If I’m not inside, I lose the bed and have to sleep rough.”

I swallowed. “Well, how will I know him?”

“Don’t worry. He’ll know you. I need your answer now.”

“Okay. Tell him I’ll be there.”

“Got it. Whatever you do, stay in the open. Don’t let him draw you into the bushes.”

Lucy waited until we were back in my car. “What! Are you crazy?”

“Don’t worry, Lucy. I’ll have Crusher watch my back.”

“Dear God. Do you even know how to get in touch with him?”

Beavers knew exactly how to get in touch with Crusher, but I couldn’t let him know my plans. Ed couldn’t help me because, as far as I knew, the police were detaining him still. What had Beavers said? Crusher owned a motorcycle repair shop in Reseda, not far from the police station. I’d search for the address on Google.

I tried to look brave. “It’s all good, Lucy. As soon as I get home, I’m calling Crusher. I’ve got everything under control.”

She rolled her eyes and snorted. “That’ll be the day.”

CHAPTER 9

I dropped my friends off and headed home. When I got to my street, I hoped to find Ed back at his house. The street was empty; but since he usually garaged his vehicles, I couldn’t tell for sure. I parked my car and headed toward his place. Nobody answered my knock. Ed must still be in custody. Was he only being detained for questioning or had he actually been charged with murder?

I needed to find Crusher fast. As soon as I walked in my door, I went straight for the computer. I searched and found two motorcycle parts and repair shops on Reseda Boulevard: one in Reseda itself, the other farther north in Granada Hills. I chose the closest shop and dialed the phone number.

“Bikes,” a female voice answered the phone.

“I’d like to speak to Yossi Levy.”

“Sorry. No one here by that name.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, I don’t actually work here—my boyfriend does, but he’s busy with a customer right now.”

“Uh, is Crusher there?”

“Yeah. He’s the owner. You wanna speak to him instead?”

I waited a tick. “Yes, please.”

I heard her yell, “Hey, Crusher! There’s a woman on the phone looking for a dude named Levy.”

A deep, familiar voice said, “Yeah?”

“Hi, Yossi. It’s Martha Rose.”

The edge went out of his voice. “Babe, what do you need?”

“Protection. Tonight at ten. Can we talk?”

“Beavers know?”

“No, and I don’t want him to. He’ll freak.”

“Meet me in the Home Depot parking lot on Balboa and Roscoe in a half hour.”

“Why there?”

“It’s crowded at this time of day, so nobody will notice us.”

I couldn’t imagine Crusher becoming invisible, no matter how busy the crowd. “I’ll be there.”

I opened a cup of plain Greek yogurt and poured in a teaspoon of agave syrup—a quick, healthy pick-me-up for late afternoon and one Charlissa would approve of. She didn’t need to know about the applesauce cake.

Once I parked in the Home Depot lot, I didn’t have to wait long. Crusher opened the passenger door and slid the seat all the way back before squeezing his huge body into the Corolla. His head scraped the roof and he winced. “One reason I like a big Harley is because of little cars like this.”

“What do you do during the rain?”

“I’ve got a truck.” He shifted his shoulders around to face me. “So talk.”

“My friend Hilda set up a meeting for me tonight at ten with that Switch guy we talked about. He insists I come alone.”

“Yeah, I found out more today about this guy. He and a few thugs went in and took over the area where a bunch of homeless people were camping. He deals from there—even pimps out some of those women. Switch is a real lowlife. You wouldn’t be safe alone.”

“That’s what Hilda said, so she arranged for us to meet at the parking space just west of the Burbank Boulevard off-ramp of the 405. It’s well lit and right on the road. Do you know where I’m talking about?”

“Yeah, and I don’t like it. There’s dense shrubbery at the edge of the parking space. Switch could drag you in there—and at night, nobody would see it happen.”

“That’s where you come in, Yossi. Except I can’t figure out how you and your guys can protect me without being seen. The meeting place is out in the open, and his people will be watching from inside the reserve.”

He was silent for a moment. “I think I know a way. Before you get there, me and my guys will ride south on the 405. When we get close to Burbank Boulevard, we’ll cut our lights and engines and coast quietly onto the off-ramp. We can hide behind some of the bushes and trees up there. We’ll only be a few feet away from the parking area.”

“Won’t Switch be able to see you?”

“Not a chance. We’ll be able to see him come up from the reserve, but he won’t be able to see us because we’ll be hidden fifteen feet above him on the off-ramp.”

“What about me? Will you be able to see me?”

“If you stand under the streetlight, we’ll see you. Your job will be to stay in sight at all times. If we lose sight of you, we’re coming in. If he makes one suspicious move, we’re coming in. So you better get your information fast and get out of there fast. Once you’re safely in your car, we’ll book it on out and escort you home.”

“Okay. Sounds like a plan. I have to tell you, I’m pretty scared.”

“You’d better be scared. This dude is nobody to mess with.” He pulled out a cell phone from inside his black leather vest. “We’d better exchange cell phone numbers.”

Two minutes later, he opened the passenger door to leave.

“I’ll see you tonight, Yossi.”

“Don’t leave your house until I call your cell phone. Don’t wear any jewelry and don’t take a purse. Don’t worry. We’ll be in place by the time you get there. I won’t forget what you’re doing for Ed. None of us will. And, Martha?” He cupped my chin in his hand. “Beavers is a lucky man.”

I stopped at the bank on my way home. If Switch demanded two hundred dollars for a name, how much would he demand for a location? I pulled four hundred dollars from my savings account. Ed would pay me back.

I returned home to the phone ringing.

“Hey, honey. How was your day?”

Every time Beavers called me “honey,” my skin rippled with excitement. “Oh, you know. Lucy and Birdie and I spent our usual quilty day together. Birdie made my favorite applesauce cake. How was your day?”

“Same-o.”

“Can you tell me what’s happening with Ed?”

“He’s still here.”

“Has he been charged with murder?”

“You know I can’t talk about an ongoing case. Listen, I’m afraid I’ll be working late, so I won’t be coming over tonight. I left a bag of Arthur’s food next to your washing machine.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Arlo. I’m planning on an early night, anyway.” I blew kisses and hung up the phone.

I felt dreadful. I’d never told Beavers a lie. If I didn’t want him to know about something, I just failed to mention it. This was the first time I’d told a deliberate falsehood. Instead of staying home, I planned to meet a dangerous criminal to get important information that might exonerate Ed—information the police couldn’t get on their own.

I consoled myself with the thought that after this meeting I’d have solid information to give to Beavers. I was taking a chance he might be angry as heck I lied to him. I might be jeopardizing the best relationship of my life in order to help my friend Ed. I prayed the outcome would be worth the risk.

According to Ed’s research, something very wrong went down between the Army Corps of Engineers and the Joshua Beaumont School. Was Ed being framed for murder in order to stop him from digging for information? If so, who was really responsible for Dax Martin’s murder?

I had to go through with Crusher’s plan. Ed’s freedom might depend on it. So much hinged on what the homeless people might have seen. The stuff about Beavers and me? I’d just have to figure that out later.