"That, and the fact that he lives by himself and has no alibi,” DeAnn added. “Michelle didn't come to town until Thursday afternoon."
"Darcy did mention that no one related to Avanell had an ironclad alibi. She heard the beat officers complaining because it was more work for them trying to find people who had chanced to see them, since they did pretty much nothing all night."
"That sounds pretty thin,” Mavis scoffed. “And besides, Aiden has a skill that will earn him a good salary once he gets established. He wouldn't kill his momma for money."
"You never know what motivates people, though. Money does funny things to folks,” Jenny said.
No one spoke after that. She was right-money did do funny things to people.
"Does anyone care if I take some of the thirties reproduction prints for one of the girls in Marjorie's Thursday night group?” Harriet asked, referring to a group of pastel fabrics printed with images that had been popular in the 1930s. She looked around the table.
"I think that would be fine,” Jenny said. Connie nodded agreement.
"Let's put these stacks back in the boxes and label them. Harriet and I can take the Goodwill boxes and the ones that go to Foggy Point Assisted Living Center. Connie, could you take the box for the Friends of Seasonal Workers?” Mavis asked.
Connie nodded again.
"I can take the charity boxes that go to Marjorie's. I'll put them in my car and then bring them to Pins and Needles on Tuesday, if that's okay with everyone,” offered DeAnn.
"That sounds great,” Jenny said. “If everyone takes some of the boxes with them, we'll only have the project bags to deal with."
"I vote we take the bags with us, too, and finish deciding about them at Loose Threads or Harriet's or somewhere that isn't here,” suggested Mavis.
"We can take them to my studio,” Harriet said.
With a plan in place, the women said their goodbyes and agreed to meet at Pins and Needles on Tuesday and carpool to Avanell's memorial service.
"I'm glad that's over,” Harriet said when she and Mavis were in the car and headed down the driveway.
"Me, too,” Mavis agreed. “I asked Michelle if she needed help going through Avanell's clothes. She's got the house on the market, so she may have to deal with it sooner than she thinks. She said she'd get back to me."
"It does seem kind of weird that she's got the house for sale before Avanell's even buried."
"Everyone grieves differently, honey. Some hang on to stuff and some can't get rid of it fast enough, almost like death is a disease you can catch."
"I think I'll go to the quilt show tomorrow morning,” Harriet decided. “It sounded like they took Avanell's quilt down. I'm not sure if they'll leave the spot blank while they decide what to do, or if they'll move one of our others. It could cost the group votes in the Most Popular category. I thought I'd rearrange the rest if they're going to keep Avanell's off display for very long. What do you think?"
"I think that's a good idea. You want some company?"
"Sure. I need to leave early, though. I have to stitch something for Sarah Ness tomorrow when I get back."
"I get up with the birds, so you just let me know when you want to leave and I'll be ready."
They agreed to meet at seven the next morning.
Harriet was tired after her poor night's sleep the night before, but she knew she'd rest better if she started Sarah's quilt. It took more than an hour to load. She knew Aunt Beth told quilters to leave a generous fabric border to allow for the natural take-up that occurs when lines of stitching are put into the fabric and batting layers, but Sarah had left a very minimal edge for her to work with. She ended up having to take the top off the machine and start over two times before she got it to line up with the backing. She resolved to charge Sarah for the extra set-up time.
Once she had the quilt in place, Harriet decided to go ahead and finish it. She stopped at eight o'clock for a quick salad and boiled egg then continued stitching until she was done.
At ten o'clock, Fred pushed through the door from the kitchen into the studio and meowed.
"I know-it's time to go to bed, and this time by ourselves."
She clipped the thread and turned the long-arm machine off. She could unload it when she got home from Tacoma tomorrow.
She was tired, but glad she was done. She picked up Fred and carried him upstairs.
Chapter Twenty
"Shall we swing by Dannay's Donut Shop on our way out to the highway?” Mavis asked. “I'll buy."
"Fine with me,” Harriet said. “Just don't tell Aunt Beth-she's got me on a diet of lettuce and water."
"Your aunt Beth is one of Dannay's best customers."
"Aunt Beth also believes in the old ‘do as I say, not as I do’ brand of parenting."
"This'll be our little secret,” Mavis said and smiled.
Traffic slowed to a crawl as they approached the city, and it was nearly nine-thirty by the time Harriet pulled into the parking lot of the show hall. A sign on the entrance door indicated the show didn't open to the public until ten.
"Good,” Harriet said and pointed at the sign. “We have time to make whatever changes we need to before the show opens.” She pulled the door open. No one was in the ticket booth.
"Hello?” she called.
Mavis crossed the lobby to the office door. She tapped on it with her knuckle and, receiving no response, opened it and leaned her head in.
"Nobody's home,” she said and shut it again.
"Let's go fix the display, and then we can try to find someone,” Harriet suggested.
The safety lights were the only illumination in the cavernous hall.
"It's kind of creepy in here without the big lights on,” Mavis said.
Darkened quilts swayed gently in the air current created by the building's ventilation system. She moved closer to Harriet.
"What's that noise?” she whispered.
Harriet stopped. A dull thwack was followed by a metallic jangle.
"Hear that? It sounds like it's coming from the next row."
"That's where our exhibit is,” Harriet said. “Come on."
She strode into the next row. The center quilt in the Loose Threads display was jerking and bucking. The rod pocket ripped.
"Stop!” she yelled.
The quilt went limp. She heard a scuffling sound. Each quilt in the display billowed in turn, as if someone were pushing it out from behind.
She ducked behind the row but was only in time to see a door swing shut. She pushed her way back out between two quilts.
"This is really weird,” Mavis said. “Looks like someone was trying to rip Lauren's quilt down from the display."
"Lauren's quilt?” Harriet said. “Lauren entered her quilt as an individual display, remember? We hung it up at the front."
Mavis held up a corner of the large quilt with its bottom edge now sagging to the floor.
"This is definitely Lauren's. There's no mistaking the image of Kathy the Kurious Kitty."
"I wonder what it's doing back here."
"Well, wherever it belongs, it needs to be repaired before it can go on display anywhere. Here, help me get it down."
"Wait,” Harriet said. “Let me get a chair so we can unhook the rod from the hanging chains.” She went to the end of the aisle and pulled one from a cart that had been placed there for the use of exhibitors.
"Who's there?” a voice called. A woman in a wheat-colored denim jumper came down the main aisle toward her. When she got closer, Harriet could see it was Jeri, the registrar they'd met on their previous visit.
"It's Harriet Truman, and Mavis Willis,” she said. “We're with the Loose Threads display."
"No one is supposed to be in here until ten o'clock.” She crossed her arms tight across her chest, her alligator loafer tapping a nervous rhythm on the cement floor.
"We stopped at the office on our way in, but no one was there."