"Diós mio,” Connie said as she came back and set a cup of steaming tea beside Lauren. “You can make another one. And if you were silly enough to spend money you didn't have, well, that's your mistake. Avanell is dead. She didn't do anything to you."
Lauren turned back to Harriet. “I trusted you with my quilt,” she accused.
Harriet stood up.
"I'm sorry about your quilt, but I can't do this right now.” She turned off the sewing machine and left the room. She saw Connie start to follow, but Mavis stopped her.
"Just give her a few minutes,” she heard her say.
She went into the retail area of the store and was looking at a row of new arrivals without really seeing the fabric when she glimpsed Misty outside the store window.
"Misty, wait,” she called as she hurried to the door and stepped onto the sidewalk.
Misty turned the corner and disappeared. Harriet broke into a run and rounded the same corner. She stopped and didn't see anyone. She was about to turn back when she heard a soft voice.
"Hush, little baby, don't say a word,” the voice sang tunelessly.
Harriet continued slowly up the block. Misty was huddled on the stoop of an abandoned office suite. A faint odor of rotting food permeated the area. Misty pressed her body against the doorjamb.
"It's okay,” Harriet said softly. “I don't want to hurt you. I just want to talk."
"Mama's gonna buy you a mockin'bird…"
"Will you let me help you?"
She didn't answer. She stopped singing and started picking at a patch of raw skin on her elbow. A trickle of blood snaked down her forearm. Harriet took a step toward her, but Misty cringed away, so she crouched down in front of her.
"Misty, can you tell me what happened to Avanell at the factory a few nights ago? Were you there?” She felt a brief stab of guilt-Misty had enough problems of her own. But this couldn't wait.
Misty started humming, occasionally breaking into song for a few phrases. Harriet listened.
"What are you trying to tell me?"
Misty continued her humming.
"Hmmmm, my brown-eyed girl, hmm hmmm hmmm hmm,” she sang.
Harriet thought she was hearing a rendition of Van Morrison's song “Brown-eyed Girl."
"Misty, did a brown-eyed woman hurt Avanell?"
"Bang-bang."
"Did you see who shot Avanell?"
"Hush, little baby, don't say a word…” she sang again, and started rocking back and forth.
"Harriet,” called DeAnn from the corner. “Is that you?"
Harriet turned to look, and Misty jumped up and ran down the block.
Harriet stood and walked back to DeAnn.
"Mavis got worried when she couldn't find you in the store. I told her I'd come out and see if you'd gone around the corner for a soda.” She pointed toward a mini-mart across the street.
Harriet fished in her pocket for coins.
"That's what I was doing, but I ran out without my purse,” She held up her hand with thirty cents in her palm.
"Here.” DeAnn handed her two crumpled bills from her jeans pocket. “I'll tell Mavis you'll be right back."
Harriet thanked her and crossed the street. If DeAnn wondered what she was doing talking to the straggly-looking waif in a doorway, she didn't say.
Harriet returned to the group and sat back down at the sewing machine, her untouched can of cola on display to the right of her half-filled teacup and her scissors. Lauren's place at the table was now vacant. Mavis caught her glancing at the empty spot.
"She decided she'd rather lick her wounds alone,” she explained.
"That's a diplomatic way to put it,” Connie said. “She had a tantrum, and Marjory offered her sympathies and ushered her out the door."
Harriet finished the machine-stitching part of the binding and moved the sewing machine back to the storage shelf. Mavis handed her a threaded needle.
"Why don't you sit down and tell everyone what's been going on, and let's see if we can make any sense out of it."
Harriet wasn't sure this was the route to go, but as she was living with Mavis, she knew word was going to get out anyway. At least this way, they would all hear the same story at the same time.
"Start with the day you moved here,” Jenny suggested.
Harriet explained how she had come from Oakland believing she was going to operate Aunt Beth's business for the month her aunt was away on her cruise. She'd spent a little more than three uneventful weeks working alongside Aunt Beth, reacquainting herself with the quilting machine and learning Aunt Beth's recordkeeping system. There had been no indication of trouble in those first weeks.
She told them how Aunt Beth had given her the business. The group's lack of reaction confirmed they had known the plan before she had.
After a brief internal debate, she told them about the scene in the Sandwich Board the day she'd gone to lunch with Avanell. She reviewed the perils afflicting Avanell's quilt from the time she'd given it back to her through the injured-dog fiasco and ending with the quilt being delivered to the show on the morning of Avanell's death. She skimmed over the part where she found Avanell's body; and as far as she was concerned, no one needed to know she'd been through Avanell's and Bertrand's offices. She hadn't found anything, so it couldn't possibly matter.
"Don't forget what happened after we left the quilt,” Mavis reminded her.
"I think most of you know I got a phone call from the quilt show committee telling me they had to meet to decide if Avanell's entry could remain on display with the group exhibit. Mavis and I got worried about what they would do with the quilt while they were deciding. We drove back to Tacoma, but Lauren had already talked to them and had instructed them to put her Kitties in the center spot of the group entry and to take Avanell's trapunto off display.
"As we were walking into the exhibit hall, someone was trying to yank Lauren's quilt down from the back. We yelled, and they abandoned their effort and took off; but they damaged the quilt in the process. We re-hung Avanell's and brought Lauren's home for repair."
"Why on earth would anyone damage Lauren's quilt?” Jenny said. “Avanell knew Lauren wasn't a threat to her entry, and besides, Avanell was dead before you delivered the quilts."
"You tell me,” Harriet said. “You know all the people involved. Who would be threatened by Lauren's success?"
"Maybe it wasn't Lauren they were targeting,” Sarah suggested as she stood and picked her coffee cup up. “Maybe whoever it was wanted to discredit all of us. You know my quilt was displaying all the new fabrics Marjory got in this spring. Maybe one of the other stores would be threatened if quilts made from Marjory's fabrics win all the prizes.” She turned and walked toward the kitchen.
The group went silent.
"I'm sure that's it,” Robin muttered low enough that Sarah couldn't hear.
Connie stood up. “Anyone else want a refill of coffee or tea?"
Robin wanted coffee, and DeAnn got up and said she'd make a pot of tea and bring it back with her. Jenny went to the restroom.
When everyone was back, Harriet picked up her story. DeAnn had refilled her cup, so she stalled a minute while she added sugar and stirred.
"I didn't mention the break-in at Aunt Beth's studio because most of you were there. For those who weren't, I went to a Chamber of Commerce dinner Avanell asked me to attend, and when I got home someone had broken in and damaged some of the quilts and generally messed things up."
She edited out the part where she hit Aiden in the head with a sprinkler. She felt a slight twist in her stomach at the thought of him but ignored it and continued her story.
"My part of the story picks up again Monday. Mavis and I returned from Tacoma with Lauren's quilt. I gave it to Lauren here and then went to look for one of the young women from the Thursday night group. I got to her apartment, and the door was slightly ajar. I pushed it open and that's the last thing I remember clearly until I woke in the hospital. I'm not even sure how I drove my car home."