Quilt Trip: A Southern Quilting Mystery (12 page)

“What are you going to do now, Beatrice? When will you talk to the others?” asked Posy, her blue eyes looking worried.

“I’ll try to talk with Holly and Winnie as soon as I can. Hopefully before suppertime,” Beatrice said.

•   •   •

Holly, as usual, was completely amiable when Beatrice asked to speak with her in the study. She even managed a smile, although her eyes were hollow. If what Dot had said was true, then Holly probably didn’t get much sleep last night.

“Here we are again,” Holly said brightly. “You’re awfully good to try to figure this mess out, Beatrice.”

Beatrice smiled. “I think I’m desperate for something to do. I’m used to keeping busy, and when I don’t have anything to do, I get very restless. So investigating is a way to try to keep us safe as well as to simply keep from going crazy with boredom.”

Holly smiled back and then gazed reflectively into the fire. “And I want to help you out, Beatrice. I really do. I wish I had more information to give you, but I don’t think I know anything that’s going to help.”

“It might be that there’s a bit of information that doesn’t even seem important that ends up being a clue,” said Beatrice. “Why don’t you start out by telling me what you noticed after supper last night? When Colton and I left the table, what did you see?”

Holly continued thoughtfully staring into the fire. “We all started clearing the table.”

“Everyone did?” asked Beatrice.

Holly turned to grin at her. “Someone must already have tattled to you about Alexandra. She wasn’t particularly interested in washing dishes.”

“Did Alexandra have access to Colton’s wineglass?”

Holly considered the question. “Beatrice, I think everyone probably had access to Colton’s wineglass. We were coming and going from the kitchen, leaning over the table to pick dishes up. Anyone could have put something in his glass. To answer your question, though, it did seem that it would have been very easy for Alexandra to slip something into Colton’s glass. She could have timed it while more people were in the kitchen.”

Beatrice was silent in response, hoping Holly would go on.

“She acted like she was deliberately ignoring us,” Holly continued. “There we were, rattling silverware and dishes and glasses and talking to each other over the running water, and she never even glanced our way.” She shrugged. “Alexandra might not be able to help it. With her background, she probably always had someone here cleaning up after supper. They probably had a housekeeper.” An expression passed across Holly’s face that Beatrice found difficult to read.

Beatrice said quietly, “Dot mentioned that you had a bad case of insomnia last night.”

Holly’s eyes were startled. “Poor Dot. I didn’t realize I’d kept her up.”

“It didn’t sound like you’d really kept her up,” said Beatrice. “I think that her ankle was making her uncomfortable and every time she woke up from the pain, she noticed you weren’t there.”

Holly nodded, gazing at the fire again. “I guess it’s from all the stress. I found it really hard to fall asleep. Then I woke up and lay there for a while but couldn’t go back to sleep again. I thought I might go downstairs and work on my quilt or read a little more of
Little Women
. I’d gotten to the point where Jo had moved to New York and met Professor Bhaer.”

Beatrice studied her. “Ah. You know, I was always sorry that Jo didn’t end up with Laurie. So that’s what you did downstairs? Read your book?”

Holly continued staring at the fire. “That’s right.”

“For several hours? Dot said you were gone for hours. And that part of
Little Women
isn’t far from the end, as I recall.”

“Was it that long?” asked Holly. “It didn’t seem like it.”

She wasn’t really answering the question. Beatrice would be interested in peeking at Holly’s quilt later and seeing if it had progressed a few hours’ worth.

“Maybe,” Holly said quickly, coming up with an explanation, “I dozed off while I was reading. I do that sometimes at home. I wouldn’t even have noticed that I’d nodded off in the middle of it.” She smiled eagerly at Beatrice, as if to gauge whether she’d believed her story.

Beatrice decided not to push her any further on that point . . . yet. “While you were up last night, did you see or hear anything? See anybody?”

Holly’s eyes grew wide again. “Why do you ask? I thought y’all had decided that Colton’s drink had been tampered with after supper. Do you think he might have been murdered after he turned in?”

“Not really. But I’m trying to put together a complete picture of last night from supper through to this morning at breakfast.”

“I didn’t see or hear a soul.” Holly gave a small sigh. “And here I am not being helpful again.”

But Holly had been more helpful than she realized, Beatrice thought. Because Holly hadn’t seen Miss Sissy, who’d been wandering around downstairs for much of the night. So where had Holly been?

After Holly left, Beatrice tried connecting with Winnie to ask her more about Dot and the gun’s appearance in her room. But Winnie wasn’t downstairs in the library or in the kitchen. She checked upstairs and Winnie wasn’t in her room, either.

Beatrice frowned. Could she possibly be outside? In this weather? Last time she’d glanced out the window, it had started snowing. The temperature must have been in the twenties. If she was going to check outside for Winnie, she might as well try again to see if she could get a cell phone signal out there. She grabbed her phone from her bedroom, put on her coat, and headed downstairs and outside.

Beatrice spotted Winnie as soon as she was out on the porch. Winnie was sitting in her car with the engine running. Surely she wasn’t going to try to leave? She’d smash that car immediately against a tree. Beatrice stood there, not sure what to do.

Winnie glanced her way and rolled down a window. “Beatrice, don’t try to step on the driveway. You’ll fall down and break your neck like Dot almost did.”

“Then why did you step out on the driveway?” asked Beatrice, exasperated.

“I needed to get away from that house. Just for a few minutes. It’s oppressive. Don’t you feel it? I feel like the atmosphere in there pushes down on my chest until I find it hard to breathe.”

That was rather excessive, but she didn’t have the patience to argue. “How did you manage the ice?”

“It was okay. I slipped a few times, but I managed to catch myself. I feel much better now that I’ve spent some time out here. I’m warmer, for one thing. You know, I had one of the most miserable days of my life here in this house. Being here doesn’t exactly bring back happy memories for me.” Winnie paused. “You came out here to find me, I’m guessing?”

“Well, that, and I wanted to check my cell phone signal again. Sometimes you can find a small pocket where you can get a signal. But if I’m going to break something by stepping out on a sheet of ice, I guess I’ll put that part off.” There was no point in even turning the phone on if she wasn’t going to be able to walk around the property to locate a signal. “At least you’re all right. I was wondering since I couldn’t find you anywhere inside.”

“You needed to speak with me again?” Winnie’s sharp features were strained.

“I did. I wanted to ask you a few more questions. But we don’t have to do that now—I can tell you’re trying to de-stress.”

“Can we wait until tomorrow morning?” asked Winnie. “I think I need to block everything out for a while. If we talk shortly before it’s time for me to turn in, it’s going to stick in my mind and I’ll have nightmares about guns, sleeping pills, and depressing houses. I’ll go in soon and quilt for a while. That will relax my nerves a bit.”

“That’s fine, of course,” said Beatrice. Although an unwelcome thought popped into her head, reminding her that tomorrows sometimes didn’t happen in Muriel Starnes’s house.

•   •   •

As she quilted in the library along with Meadow, Alexandra, and Winnie, Beatrice was still itching to talk to Winnie. Winnie might have suspected Beatrice wanted to talk, which was why she was staring with great focus at her Grandmother’s Flower Garden pattern.

“That’s the perfect thing to have brought along,” said Meadow. “No background needed—just cut your hexagons, sew your strips, and bingo!”

Winnie continued staring fixedly at her quilt pattern. “True. Although I’m planning on appliquéing these flowers to a background when I get back.”

Beatrice said, “I love the mosaic of all the hexagonal flowers, Winnie. And I’m with Meadow—you couldn’t have brought a better project with you. You can easily hand-piece it—no need for a sewing machine. The effect is really lovely. The pastels you’re using are perfect—the robin’s egg blue, that faint mint color. It’s a very soft, comfortable look.”

Winnie gave a small, pleased smile before clamping her thin lips tightly together again, as if reminded that she was supposed to be miserable.

Beatrice glanced curiously at Alexandra’s quilting. “What are you working on?”

Alexandra drew the fabric closer to her instinctively, as if hiding it. After a moment, she relaxed enough to briefly hold up the fabric.

It was a log-cabin print of darker colors. The stitching was excellent, if primly perfect. Somehow, though, the quilt lacked soul. Beatrice was instantly irritated with herself for thinking that. Wasn’t she just transferring her feelings about Alexandra onto her quilt? How could a quilt be full of soul anyway?

But her experience with quilts in the art world from her days as museum curator had taught her that inanimate objects can, paradoxically, be full of life and joy and have souls of their own. Not Alexandra’s quilt, however.

Beatrice was careful not to let any of her thoughts show on her face. She gave Alexandra a quick, perfunctory smile. “It’s very well made,” she said.

Alexandra appreciated the compliment. Beatrice noticed that she looked pleased as she resumed her quilting.

The mood was a little lighter in the room, but the chatting that Beatrice hoped might follow—full of insights into the murders—was sadly not to be.

•   •   •

Supper wasn’t the organized meal it had been the night before. Perhaps the ordeal of the previous night was enough to quell everyone’s interest in sharing a meal together. This night everyone rooted around in the pantry on their own, heating up cans of vegetables or broth for themselves and sitting by the fire in the library. Alexandra took her food upstairs. Winnie claimed not to be hungry and had gone to bed early. No one—not even Meadow—was in a chatty mood.

After they’d eaten and washed up, Beatrice, Posy, and Meadow set out pillows and quilts in the library. Holly joined them, but worried about the fire. “We’re not going to use up all the wood, are we? Just for the four of us? I know there wasn’t a whole lot of wood to begin with.”

“Five with Miss Sissy,” Meadow reminded them.

“If Miss Sissy actually goes to bed,” said Beatrice with a sigh. She turned to Holly. “We’re going to burn only a small amount of the wood. There should still be plenty left for our stay. I’m hoping that this cold snap is almost over and that soon the ice will melt and we’ll be able to drive home.”

Posy said sadly, “Cork has got to be crazy with worry. And for me to say that simply goes to show how long we’ve been missing. You know how laid-back Cork can be.”

Beatrice thought Cork was actually more crotchety than laid-back. But she was sure he must really be worried about Posy’s whereabouts. “Do you think he’s not quite as worried as he might be? Because he must realize you’re with us?”

“Maybe he suspects we’re together, which might have been comforting at first. But by now he’s got to be wondering if we were all in a car together and the car slipped off the side of the mountain in the bad weather.” Posy gasped. “I hope we’re not putting rescue teams in danger. Do you think there are rescue teams out in these conditions, searching for our cars off ravines?”

“Maybe not,” Beatrice said. “The thing is that we arrived here in two separate cars. So the likelihood that both of them would careen off a mountaintop isn’t big.”

Meadow said glumly, “Well, there’s no way Ramsay can even
be
concerned about this situation. He doesn’t even have cell phone service where he is. He’s in the middle of nowhere.”

“He’s in good company.” Beatrice sighed. “What I wouldn’t give for one signal bar on my phone right now. I wonder if Cork has gotten in touch with Piper.”

“I kind of doubt it,” said Meadow. “After all, Piper is in California visiting Ash—does Cork have Ash’s phone number? Or Piper’s?”

“He wouldn’t,” said Posy. “So Piper and Ash are in blissful ignorance. And poor Miss Sissy doesn’t have anyone to be called.”

“She has us!” said Meadow. “But we’re all here with her.” She thought for a moment, then grinned coyly at Beatrice. “I bet Cork called Wyatt.”

One of Meadow’s goals in life appeared to be matchmaking Beatrice with the handsome older minister. This was a problem because Beatrice hoped to embark on a relationship with Wyatt and the last thing she wanted was Meadow mucking things up. “I’m sure that calling the local minister would be natural in these circumstances,” Beatrice said in a rather prim voice. Meadow laughed.

“How about you, Holly?” asked Beatrice. “Do you think there are people actively searching for you?”

Holly shrugged and tilted her head down, her red hair forming a curtain that made it hard to see her face. “I don’t know. I sort of doubt it, though. I grew up in foster care, as Muriel made reference to, so no family is out searching for me. I was married once, but not for very long. We didn’t have any children, so I’m on my own, for the most part.”

“How about coworkers?” asked Beatrice.

Holly nodded. “I’m in an office, so they’d definitely see that I was missing. I’m always very punctual about coming to work, so this absence would be something really out of the ordinary for me. They’d probably report it to the police.”

Meadow said, “And the police would go by your house to check on you. Would they find any clues to lead them here? Maybe you jotted down directions? Or maybe you wrote it on a calendar?”

Holly frowned, then apologetically shook her head. “I don’t think so. But I can’t really remember.”

“The police would put two and two together pretty quickly,” said Beatrice. “After all, we’re all quilters. How often do a bunch of quilters go missing? How did Muriel get in contact with you to begin with?”

“She sent me an invitation,” said Holly. “My name and address are listed on our Web site as the contact information for my guild.”

“But Muriel didn’t use the Internet,” Beatrice said slowly. “There’s not even a computer here.”

“Maybe she got Colton to take care of it for her,” suggested Meadow. “That could be a kind of lawyerly chore, couldn’t it? Muriel would simply have told him that she was interested in setting up a foundation and wanted to get in contact with several guilds that could help her decide how to manage different aspects of the charity. Colton would have found that information in a snap.”

“I guess,” said Beatrice. “But something about that still doesn’t make sense to me. How genuine was Muriel about creating a foundation? It seemed like it was a ruse to get everyone over here so that she could apologize to them and clear her conscience.”

“It sounded like she wanted to make a foundation to me,” said Meadow. “That’s the whole reason we came over here!”

Holly was looking away again. Beatrice was sure there was more to her connection with Muriel than just quilting.

•   •   •

Beatrice was surprised how quickly she fell asleep, considering she was in a room with several other women and lying on the floor. But the fire put out a pleasant warmth and the emotional day had exhausted her. She drifted into sleep nearly as soon as she closed her eyes.

Sometime in the middle of the night, they were all awakened by a piercing scream from upstairs. The fire had burned out and the library was completely dark.

“What on earth?” muttered Meadow.

Beatrice stumbled toward the door, feeling around her to keep from running into any furniture on her way out. The other women were close behind her.

Winnie was standing in the middle of the hall with Alexandra and Dot gaping at her. Miss Sissy joined the others at the bottom of the staircase, then snorted derisively when she saw the distraught Winnie. She disappeared back into the kitchen.

“A ghost!” Winnie gasped. “I saw a ghost!”

Alexandra rolled her eyes. “I’m going back to bed now.” And she stomped off to her bedroom.

Beatrice hurried up the stairs. Winnie didn’t really seem like a fanciful person. She might have seen something . . . but Beatrice didn’t believe it was a ghost. Perhaps the stress she was experiencing was playing out in weird ways. “Winnie, can you tell me exactly what it was that you saw?”

Winnie took a deep breath. Once Beatrice got close enough, she could see that the woman was shaking.

Winnie finally made out, “I heard a noise of some kind outside my bedroom. I didn’t hear it again, but it was enough to fully wake me up. I decided I’d visit the restroom. I stepped out into the hall and there was this billowing thing that jumped out at me with a hissing, groaning noise. I’ve never been more terrified.” The last words came out in a sob. “This horrible house!”

“Are you sure you weren’t half asleep?” Dot asked skeptically. She leaned heavily on her walker and seemed half asleep herself. Her short gray hair stood up on her head.

“I know what I saw and what I heard,” Winnie said stubbornly, her voice still wavering.

“It’s so dark up here,” said Beatrice. “Are you sure about what you saw? Where was this billowing thing coming from?”

“It was dark, but I could feel and see this moving mass. It was out of the corner of my eye, but I did see it!”

“Did anyone else see or hear anything?” asked Beatrice.

No one said a word.

“Okay, I’m going to say that we all need to go back to sleep,” Beatrice said.

“What about the ghost?” Winnie asked in a shrill voice.

Beatrice sighed. “I’m not sure what you saw, Winnie. If it was something supernatural, as you’re claiming, there’s nothing we can really do, is there? It’s not like we can hunt down a ghost by going room to room and then banish it outside in the ice. Besides, we all need a good night’s sleep. We can’t stay up all night worrying about this.”