Quilt or Innocence (11 page)

“And he likes crunchy noodles? And chewy chicken?”

“It won’t bother him in the
least
. Ash might even fight him for it, because he’s always scavenging for something to eat in the house. Mind if I take a plate home to him?”

“Meadow, please feel free to take the entire thing.”

As Beatrice put some aluminum foil over the casserole and listened to Meadow prattling on with her usual exuberance, it occurred to Beatrice that her neighbor was being kind. Boris the dog would likely be the recipient of her casserole. But the small kindness warmed her heart toward her red-caftaned visitor.

“Have you started on your quilt block for our group quilt?” asked Meadow. “You’ve still got plenty of time if you haven’t. But it’s always good to go ahead and jump in and get started.”

Beatrice turned to rinse out some of her dishes. “Well, no. No, I haven’t gotten started with it.”

Meadow had seen something on Beatrice’s coffee table and had walked over to investigate. “What’s this, then? Looks like the beginnings of a block.”

“Oh, that? No, that’s just practice. That’s all.”

Beatrice thought she saw a relieved expression pass across Meadow’s face. “Practice is good, Beatrice! Keep practicing and you’ll be an expert in no time. Actually, I guess you
are
a quilting expert, aren’t you? Just not an expert in
making
them.”

“Definitely not an expert in making them. Don’t worry—that little scrap is simply for me to figure out my stitches and cutting. I decided I’d work a little on my own quilt first before I took a stab at a block for the group one.”

“A whole
quilt
, Beatrice?” Meadow’s heavy brows knit together. “Did you tell Posy that that’s what you wanted to do? I’d have thought she’d have directed you to something smaller.”

“I meant a
baby
quilt. No, I’m not starting out with a full-sized quilt. I
had
been going to do that, but Posy stopped me. She recommended a decorative hanging or a baby quilt for my first solo project.”

Meadow nodded vigorously, making her red glasses slide down on her nose. “That makes a lot more sense. A
lot
more. You know, I still do a lot of experimenting myself. I’ve got plenty of abandoned quilts. Sometimes I’ll decide to experiment with different prints and colors or add different embellishments, and then don’t like what I end up with. Sometimes I’ll even get excited about a new project, then lose interest in it. I’ve got lots of UFOs,” said Meadow.

“I’ll bet you do,” said Beatrice softly.

“What? Oh, sorry. I mean unfinished objects. Quilts that I’ve started but never finished.”

Meadow rambled on a little about quilting and the fleeting nature of inspiration as Beatrice loaded the few dishes into the dishwasher. She tuned back in to Meadow’s monologue when she heard, “Ramsay is sure that Judith was murdered. I’m still not convinced, Beatrice. I keep telling him it’s
got
to be a mugging gone wrong. I don’t know why he’s being so stubborn and won’t acknowledge it as a possibility.”

“I don’t blame him, Meadow. After all, how many muggers do you know lurking in the bushes in Dappled Hills? I just don’t see it. Now, if Judith had been some really
nice
person who never made folks mad, then maybe your theory would make sense. But she made too many people upset with her. Does Ramsay have any ideas about who might be behind it?”

“He doesn’t suspect one particular person—or if he does, he’s not telling me—but he’s sure it’s someone in the guild. Said the murder happened too soon after the bee for there not to be a connection. And he’s heard me complain about Judith and how she upsets everybody in the guild. I know he and the state police are really focusing on the Village Quilters.”

Beatrice nodded. “It does make sense, you have to admit.”

“Does it? I think she could have upset a whole bunch of different people just being herself. I hope Ramsay will tread softly. I really don’t want to lose any friends over this. I think he’s so unhappy about having a major crime to investigate that he might take it out on the poor suspects! You know, he’d rather be writing his poetry. Or whatever he writes,” she added, looking thoughtful.

“And you didn’t see or hear anything that night?” asked Beatrice.

“Not a thing! Besides, we’re not close enough to the park to witness anything, Beatrice. You know that.”

“Well I
know
, but I was wondering if maybe you saw cars driving past or saw people out—besides Posy . . .”

“Now, how would I see people out when I was in?” Meadow was all puffed up now with indignation.

“Never mind,” said Beatrice. She sighed, sensing her next question was just as pointless. “Did Ash mention seeing or hearing anything?”

“My poor boy turned in super early that night after I’d dragged him to the quilting bee. He was asleep in front of the TV when I got home from the bee, and I barely got him stumbling off in the direction of his room before he was snoring again. He’d had a big day rock climbing with that buddy from high school. And I think he was still a little jet-lagged.”

“So you heard nothing and saw nothing,” said Beatrice.

“Not a blessed thing!” said Meadow with an emphatic bob of her head that made her red glasses slip down her nose again and her long, gray braid swish.

But Beatrice wasn’t so sure.

* * *

The next morning, Beatrice strolled out for the paper, and there was another Nehi bottle with a note on her front porch.
Stop asking questions
, it read.

Beatrice frowned and brought the note inside to look at it over a strong cup of coffee. She knew she
should
be really shaken up by these notes, but somehow she kept feeling that the thought behind them wasn’t malicious. Maybe it’s more of a friendly warning, she mulled. Or maybe an
un
friendly warning, but nothing that hinted of any danger.

Someone was definitely noticing her efforts to poke around in the case and dig up information. It sounded like maybe they thought she was onto something.

Could Miss Sissy be sending these notes? She thought of the little woman’s gleeful face as she made her pronouncements on the case. It seemed like the kind of meddlesome thing she
could
do. Beatrice decided to pay a little social visit to Miss Sissy as soon as she finished her coffee.

There was a knock at the door, and Noo-noo started dutifully barking to show off her watchdog skills. But Beatrice knew that as soon as the door opened, Noo-noo would fling herself on her back for a tummy rub.

Piper was at her door. And—Beatrice put a hand up to her uncombed hair—Ash. “Mama, I thought I’d pop by and say hi before Ash and I go off hiking and picnicking for the day.”

Beatrice smiled weakly but nurtured murderous thoughts toward her offspring. “Hi, Ash. You’re hiking where . . . Grandfather Mountain?”

Piper nodded happily. “We’re going to see the wildlife center and go on the swinging bridge, do some hiking and have a picnic.” Her pixie face was lit up, and for a minute Beatrice could almost believe that she was six years old again.

Ash grinned at Beatrice. “Sorry we’ve dropped by so early. I know you’re not set up for company at this hour of the morning. Piper saw you go back inside from getting the paper and she thought we should come by and say hi before we left.”

Piper frowned at the bottle on the counter. “I didn’t know you drank orange Nehis. Hmm. Start living in the same town as somebody and you find out all kinds of things. Unless . . . you didn’t get another of those notes, did you?”

Beatrice shook her head and quickly changed the subject. She didn’t want Piper to start worrying about her mother. “You’re not making it back in time for the Village Quilters today?”

“No, I’m skipping it this time. Ash and I will still be gone this afternoon.” Piper couldn’t look less interested in quilting, which was a radical departure from a few days ago. Beatrice wondered where all this was going to lead. Meadow had said that Ash would be flying back to California at the end of the week.

“Have you even gotten started with your block for the group quilt?” asked Beatrice.

“I did, because I couldn’t sleep the other night. But I’ll admit I kind of cheated. I know Meadow likes us to put a lot of thought into our blocks and explore symbolism. I’ve been busy lately, though, so I used some appliqués that I’d cut out for earlier quilts that I hadn’t finished.”

“UFOs?” asked Beatrice archly.

Ash laughed and Piper blinked. “Wow, you’re really getting into the quilting lingo, aren’t you? Yes, I had some unfinished objects, so I repurposed them. One of them is a little ginger cat that looks a lot like my kitty.” She suddenly blushed. “Of course, I’d have put you in there, Mama, if I’d actually been planning out the block instead of trying to cut corners.”

Beatrice waved her hand dismissively. “No worries, Piper. I know you’ve got a lot of other things going on.”

“Let me know,” said Piper, “if you find out anything about Judith’s murder when you’re with the Village Quilters. It’s a gossipy group, and somebody might know more than they even realize they do. The guilds and the Patchwork Cottage are the best places to learn what’s going on in this town.”

“I did learn some things yesterday,” said Beatrice. “I went to Felicity’s house and over to Posy’s shop.” She filled Piper and Ash in.

Piper whistled. “It sounds like you found out a lot of stuff. I had a feeling you might want to root around in this mystery a little. You never could resist a good puzzle. You’re going to give Ash’s dad a run for his money with the detective work.”

“Sounds good to me. Maybe you can clear my mom as a suspect,” said Ash.

“What?” asked Piper and Beatrice together.

“Why would Meadow be a suspect?” asked Beatrice.

Ash raised his eyebrows. “You mean word hasn’t gotten around yet? Well, that’s a miracle, considering it’s Dappled Hills. Mother had an argument with Judith in the middle of the grocery store a week ago. Talk about your public places. Anyway, somebody at the store tipped off the police as soon as they heard Judith was dead. And then I understand that Mother let her have it again in front of a bunch of people at the quilting bee.”

Beatrice thoughtfully took a sip of coffee. “No, she really didn’t let her have it. Judith deserved more than she got, actually. Meadow was just trying to make sure that she kept order. She
is
the queen bee or beekeeper or whatever, after all. She saw an explosive situation and she defused it. That was my take on it, anyway.” She looked questioningly at Piper, who nodded.

“Mine, too. Wow. I can’t see Meadow clubbing somebody over the head, Ash. Besides, your dad isn’t going to put her on the list of suspects.”

“Are you kidding? Dad’s fantasized for years about having Mom put away in the county jail!” Ash’s eyes twinkled.

Beatrice returned his smile, but she couldn’t help but wonder.
Somebody
had murdered Judith. And, judging from what she knew of Judith, it was likely someone Judith knew. Meadow, of course, hadn’t been the only one to have an argument with Judith shortly before she was murdered. Had Amber ever told the police that she’d seen Savannah and Judith arguing?

Piper said, “I’m surprised that your mom let Judith get to her like that in the store. Actually, a lot of things have surprised me lately. I’m
really
surprised Felicity thinks that Amber had something to do with it.”

Beatrice said, “Well, you have to look at it the way Felicity is. Amber had motive and opportunity, and anyone could have had the means. Obviously, Felicity is thinking about Amber’s troubled past, too. Amber was awfully upset with Judith. I know it’s hard to think about your friend having something to do with it. Think how hard it must be on Felicity. Felicity looked really awful when I visited her. Totally different than she had the night of the bee, when she was vivacious and strong. She was worried.”

Piper shrugged her shoulders impatiently. “Yes, Amber
was
awfully upset with Judith. That doesn’t mean that she was going to kill her, though. I don’t care how many times she got suspended from school or how many inappropriate boyfriends she had when she was a teenager—that was fifteen years ago and she’d just lost her dad. Being mad at someone isn’t the same as feeling homicidal. I’ve been just as angry, but the idea of murdering someone never crossed my mind.”

Piper was silent for a few moments. “Amber has been really worried about her mom lately,” she said finally, in a quiet voice. “The Wilsons were pretty important people in Dappled Hills when Felicity was a little girl. But her father made some bad investments . . . and her mom spent money like it was water. The family ended up with practically nothing. I think Amber is worried that the cycle is repeating itself.”

“Didn’t Felicity do all right selling makeup? I keep hearing how she was this fantastic salesperson. I know she got a car, and they wouldn’t hand those out if someone wasn’t doing well.”

Piper said, “I think she did do really well, yes, for a lot of years. She was the Eula May top seller for North Carolina and she has the lavender Cadillac to prove it. I think it was a source of pride for her that she was able to provide for Amber so well after her husband died. But in the past few years, she started making the same kinds of bad investments that Amber’s father had all those years ago. That pyramid scheme, you know. That’s another reason Amber is keeping an eye on her mom—she’s worried about her making flaky financial decisions.”

“Amber probably feels like Felicity is being cheated at every turn,” said Beatrice thoughtfully.

Piper said, “Oh, I’m sure realizing that her mom was about to be taken advantage of again
did
make Amber mad. But she’s not a killer. She’s a teacher—and a quilter. Not exactly the kind of person who goes homicidal.”

“I’m wondering who
is
the type of person who gets pushed over the edge and goes homicidal,” said Beatrice. “Tell me a little more about Daisy. Judith was goading her at the bee, too.”

“Daisy? She’s great. She kind of swoops in and just tries to make people feel included in the town. Like the dinner party she had. She’s a giver.”