Quilt or Innocence (19 page)

There was no sound from the television now. She guessed Miss Sissy had tired of the racket, although not of the images—there was still some sort of B movie playing with what appeared to be a lot of sweaty, shirtless men with machine guns looking grim and overacting. Beatrice noticed with irritation that Miss Sissy was bent over the collection of squares that Beatrice was working on. She wore a puzzled expression as she lovingly ran her hands over the blocks. Hearing a creaking floorboard, she jumped and popped the whistle in her mouth, but stopped when she saw Beatrice there.

“Your blocks are a mess,” she said with a shrug.

“Yes,” said Beatrice. “They are.”

“The colors, though. The colors and the
ideas
are very good. Nice texture. Interesting detail. Well balanced.” Miss Sissy nearly sounded sane when she talked about quilting.

“Too bad they won’t work in a quilt.” Beatrice sighed. It was frustrating not being able to bring an idea to fruition.

“These are for the
group
quilt? For the Village Quilters?” Miss Sissy frowned ferociously.

Beatrice waved her hand impatiently. “No. Just for practice. I was going to make my own quilt and screw it all up to death before messing up someone else’s quilt.”

“You have a template?”

“I drew a template.” Beatrice gestured to the stiff paper on her coffee table.

“Not enough seam allowances,” said Miss Sissy in a gruff voice, studying the paper.

“It figures.”

“Show me,” said Miss Sissy, making a wild gesture toward Beatrice’s fat quarters and notions.

“Show you?”

“How you cut things. How you piece them. What you’re doing. Show me.”

So Beatrice did. And with lots of clicking of her tongue and big sighs, Miss Sissy showed
her
. Showed her where to put pressure on the ruler so that she could cut her fabric in a straight line. How to measure a true quarter-inch seam. She showed her how to hand-piece, her old hands expertly guiding Beatrice’s.

Beatrice had chosen something cheerful and comforting for her first quilt . . . something that, if it were good enough, could find a home in her cozy living room. Posy assured her that the snowball quilt pattern would be easy for a beginner, although it hadn’t been until Miss Sissy jumped in. Beatrice had loved buying the different fabrics, though. She had lavender and navy florals, cherry colors with a lush green, periwinkle with a soft lime. Shopping had been the best part of all . . . until now.

Feeling excited, Beatrice asked more questions. Miss Sissy, eyes glowing, gave her tips on putting a quilt top together.

Not feeling in the least tired now, Beatrice picked up her blocks again with new enthusiasm. “So now we’ve got all the pieces for the block cut out. So if I put them like
this . . .”
And the next thing she knew, three hours had gone by. What was more, she felt revitalized instead of weary.

The next day, Beatrice was on a full-fledged quilting marathon. Miss Sissy had shown a surprising degree of patience as a teacher. And quite a bit of skill—her block for the group quilt featured appliqués of several miniature quilts, showing their importance in her life.

Beatrice reached a turning point when she decided to let go of her perfectionism. She was used to appraising quilts and studying them as folk art; she shouldn’t expect to create art herself when she really should just be in the beginning phase of learning how to work with different fabrics and patterns. As she gave herself permission to fail, she found that her creativity reached its peak. Even Miss Sissy decided to stay with her the next day—watching her with sharp eyes and jumping in impatiently from time to time to show her where she was going off course. When Posy called to tell her she’d bring her to the Patchwork Cottage, Miss Sissy turned her down flat.

In fact, it was one of the nicest days Beatrice had had since moving to Dappled Hills. Miss Sissy took regular naps, and Beatrice even managed to fit in one (although she’d been trying to read
Whispers of Summer
again. She was finding a connection between her reading time and naptimes now).

The day passed in a very lazy way with a quiet companionship between the women. Miss Sissy helped her make supper, which was fine with Beatrice. Learning one thing at a time worked for her.

* * *

The next morning, Beatrice was reading the Dappled Hills wispy weekly paper when the doorbell rang. Noo-noo barked with alarm at the sudden sound. “It’s all right, Noo-noo,” said Beatrice, reaching down to pat the dog as she walked to the door.

She looked out and saw Daisy. Drat! The plants that Daisy had given her were flamboyantly perishing in her living room, a sunbeam illuminating the planter like a spotlight. Beatrice bolted across the room, flung a bag of batting over the pot, and hurried back to the door. She opened it, smiling as she brushed some Noo-noo fur off her pants and tried to catch her breath.

Miss Sissy, whose middle-of-the-night rambling had spurred her decision to go back to bed instead of going with Posy to the quilt shop, peered from the door of the spare bedroom, glowering at Daisy as she sailed into the living room. “Russians!” she spat.

Great. It looked like it was going to be one of Miss Sissy’s demented days.

Daisy seemed to be completely ignoring Miss Sissy’s hissing. Beatrice felt a grudging admiration. Anyone who could blithely block out the old lady’s mutterings and Noo-noo’s continuing barking deserved kudos for composure.

“After the guild meeting, I was tied up with the Women’s Auxiliary. Then yesterday I was bouncing from one meeting to another and didn’t hear anything about your accident until late last night, when it was too late to call. Harrison had heard about it.” She pursed her lips tightly together in disapproval, either at the failure of the Dappled Hills gossip network or at the attack. Then she said, “I’m completely shocked. Absolutely appalled.”

It sounded like Daisy was out of pocket during the time she was attacked. At least, she was insinuating that she was. “I guess you heard, then, that it
wasn’t
an accident.” Daisy looked a little uncomfortable, as if the thought of an attack was of the utmost vulgarity.

“Maybe it was a warning?”

“Deceiver!” Miss Sissy injected inexplicably. Daisy rolled her eyes.

“I suppose it could have been a warning,” said Beatrice. “Or it could have been that whomever I surprised in Miss Sissy’s house was trying to leave without being detected and knocked me unconscious to make her escape.”

Daisy looked even more uncomfortable at the
her.
“Why on earth would someone be in there in the first place?”

Beatrice grimaced. “Well, I rather stupidly mentioned at the guild meeting that I’d seen a cell phone in Miss Sissy’s house. And Posy confirmed that we had forgotten to lock up the house. I suppose that whoever left the cell phone at Miss Sissy’s house was her attacker and she went back to remove the evidence.”

“I’m glad you’re all right,” said Daisy with a warm smile. “That’s the important thing.”

Beatrice said, “Actually, I think the important thing is to stop the person who is responsible for Judith’s murder and the attacks on Miss Sissy and me. I’ve been trying to help the police get to the bottom of it all.”

“You’re working with the
police
?” It sounded as if Beatrice’s invitation to join Daisy’s various clubs might be rescinded.

“Not working
with
them. And they’re completely unaware that I’m trying to figure it out. But I am. It’s too important not to.”

Daisy said in a musing voice, “Hmm. You might be right. You’re probably aware that people are saying that it’s an odd coincidence that all this violence seemed to start as soon as you came to town. I’m sure you’ll be glad when the case is solved.”

Beatrice felt cold. “People are blaming
me
? Why? They couldn’t think that I had anything to do with it! I didn’t even know Judith!”

“Villainy!” offered Miss Sissy.

“Oh, you know how these provincial people in villages can be—very tight with each other. And maybe a little superstitious.” Daisy was carefully avoiding looking at Miss Sissy.

Beatrice put her hands on her hips. “Well, no one has mentioned anything to me about it. And the idea that someone would think I’m the kind of person who would move into a community and randomly start killing and attacking people is absurd. For heaven’s sake, I was attacked, too!”

“Of course it is! I’m simply letting you know what you’re up against, Beatrice—that’s all,” said Daisy in a soothing tone.

Beatrice was about to expand on the absurdity of it all when Daisy smoothly changed the subject. “Anyway, Beatrice, now that you’ve had some time to settle in to Dappled Hills a little bit,” said Daisy, “I thought I’d check in with you.”

Had
she gotten settled in? “Check in about what?”

“Just to see how your quilting for the group quilt is coming along and if you needed any help. I thought you might want to visit a few of the groups I’m part of, too. You must have been much busier and active in Atlanta than here . . . I didn’t want you to get bored with our little town.”

Apparently, Beatrice’s previous indiscretion of investigating a murder mystery had been forgiven if Daisy was bringing clubs back up again. “What kinds of groups are you part of?” asked Beatrice.

“Friends of the Library, the Dappled Hills Women’s Auxiliary, Dappled Hills Garden Club, the historical society . . .”

“Have mercy,” muttered Beatrice

“. . . and, of course, I’m a member at the DAR—the Daughters of the American Revolution, you know—but you’re on your own if you want to attend meetings there. In the interest of time, I’m a sustaining member there instead of an active one.”

For some reason, the talk of clubs seemed to rile up Miss Sissy even more. “Russians!” she bellowed again, and Noo-noo, who had finally quieted, started barking again in earnest.

Daisy finally acknowledged Miss Sissy’s presence with a cold stare. “Anyway,” she said, “if you’re interested at all, I wanted to extend a personal invitation to you to visit one or more of these organizations with me. We’re always looking for new members and help with our fund-raisers and community efforts. Since Harrison is a community leader, I feel it’s really my duty to champion the rights of the less fortunate where I can.”

This all sounded about as much fun as quilting.

“Speaking of fund-raising and community efforts,” said Daisy quickly, “I really did want to check with you on your progress for Meadow’s group quilt.”

Beatrice felt a rising panic. She hadn’t even decided on a theme for her block yet. “We’ve only just gotten the assignment, Daisy!”

“I know, but Meadow called me this morning and said that we needed to speed up production on it. Apparently, she’s heard of a group-quilt show that’s going to be in Asheville and she’d really like us to have an entry in it. So we’re to finish up our blocks and then assemble the quilt. That was one of the reasons why I dropped by.”

Daisy
sounded
like she was only trying to be helpful, but it sure seemed like she was looking for another opportunity to snicker at Beatrice’s quilting. She watched in dismay as Daisy strode over to the Patchwork Cottage shopping bag containing the batting, bent down, picked up the bag and uncovered the crippled plants. Daisy stared down at her housewarming gift in horror. “The poor things!” she said.

Beatrice cleared her suddenly dry throat. “You know, Daisy, somehow I never really got the hang of gardening. In fact, I probably need the name of the yard guy that Harrison set you up with. I really did love your housewarming gift. So thoughtful. Sadly, though, it was doomed as soon as it was brought in this house. Its days were numbered.”

Daisy pursed her lips. “So where is your block?”

This ignited Miss Sissy. “None of your business!” she bellowed. Noo-noo growled softly.

“The group block
is
part of my business, Miss Sissy! We’re planning on auctioning that quilt off. Which means we need to ensure quality control.” Daisy’s glance darted around the room, looking for any evidence of quilting. “Besides, Beatrice might need my
help
,
since she’s new to quilting.”

Miss Sissy rose to her full height of under five feet. “
I’m
helping her,” she said with dignity. “That’s all the help she needs.”

Daisy’s face acknowledged the truth in that statement and she picked up her car keys from the table where she’d laid them. “As long as you’re getting some help,” she grumbled. “Beatrice, I’ll see you soon.” Without so much as another glance at Miss Sissy, she was gone.

* * *

By evening, the steady rain that had started in the afternoon had turned into a downpour, which always served to make Beatrice feel sleepy. Around ten o’clock, she was about to call it a day when the doorbell rang. She hurried to the door, wondering who would be coming by at such an hour. Miss Sissy grabbed a brass candlestick and stealthily crept to the side of the door, holding it aloft. Beatrice peered out the side window and saw Meadow standing there. Of course. It would have to be Meadow. Beatrice unlocked the door quickly and opened it.

“Hello there!” said Meadow. Beatrice blinked at Meadow’s somber expression—and the brightness of Meadow’s yellow rain slicker that covered her from head to toe

“We’re going to find Amber,” she said in the way of someone outlining a mission.

Meadow had brought her van and Beatrice hurried out to it, rain pelting her as she ran. Miss Sissy demurred, looking out at the cold rain. Felicity was waiting in the front seat. “What’s happened?” asked Beatrice with gasping breaths. “Has Amber disappeared?”

Felicity turned to look miserably at her. “I think so. I think she’s on the lam.”

Meadow made a tut-tutting noise. “She certainly isn’t. She’s
not
on the lam.”

“Why,” asked Beatrice, feeling the need to ask the reasonable question, “isn’t
Ramsay
investigating this? Wouldn’t it make more sense to use a police officer and his resources?”

“I don’t want the police involved until I understand what’s going on!” Felicity said in a loud voice. “All I know is that I haven’t been able to reach Amber all day and haven’t seen her at all. I tried to call her at home a little while ago and she didn’t answer. So I called Piper on her cell phone to see if maybe Amber was out with her. But she wasn’t; Piper was at supper with Ash.” There was a faint accusatory note there.

Meadow said good-naturedly, “Well, of course Ash and Piper are out to supper. He’s leaving for California tomorrow morning, early. Besides,
you
have Amber’s cell phone, remember? So no wonder you haven’t heard from her today.”

“She should certainly be home by nine thirty at night, though. Where else would she be?” Felicity’s voice rose shrilly in agitation.

“I guess we should just drive around for a bit?” asked Beatrice.

Meadow cleared her throat and said slowly, “I’m wondering if maybe we shouldn’t try over near the Butlers’ house.”

Felicity frowned with confusion. Meadow added slowly, “I’m pretty sure tonight is Daisy’s bridge night. I was just thinking . . .” She stopped with an embarrassed shrug as the car sped over to Daisy’s house.

Sure enough, they saw Amber’s small car driving in their direction. Meadow flashed the van’s lights several times, and Amber pulled over to the curb, parked, then ran over to the van and jumped into the back.

“What is it? Did something happen to Mother?” She pushed a blond strand of hair from her eyes as she saw Felicity there. “Mother? What’s going on?”

Worry made Felicity furious, and she roared at Amber, “I should ask you the same thing! I didn’t see or hear from you all day. Then I tried to call you at home a few minutes ago and you weren’t home to answer. Now I’ve pulled my friends out of their beds on a night no animal would want to be out in, and we see you leaving Daisy’s house. Why don’t
you
tell
me
what’s going on?”

Amber looked alarmed. Beatrice said quickly, “Amber, I think there’s more to it than the fact that your mother was concerned about your safety. She’s been worried sick that you murdered Judith. Your mother saw your car missing that night, and she knows how upset you were at the bee the night Judith was murdered. She’s been thinking the worst.”

Amber gave a huge sigh. “Mama, it’s nothing. I
was
gone that night. But it’s not what you’re thinking. I wasn’t outside in the park, murdering Judith. I haven’t wanted to tell you because I know you wouldn’t approve.” She hesitated, then continued. “I’ve been seeing Dr. Butler. Meadow, I know you’ve got to be disappointed in me, too. That’s what’s been happening and that’s why I’ve been acting sneaky. He called me after the bee and said that Daisy had gone out, and I went over for a little while. That’s it.”

Amber hugged her sobbing mother, then the inconsolable Meadow, who’d apparently found the scene very touching. “It’s a good thing,” said Amber, “that I don’t get this upset about not being able to reach
you
, Mama. When you lost your cell phone, I could have been wondering if you were hurt, you know.”