"She's not mentioning that the girl's apartment was down in the dock area."
Jenny and Connie rolled their eyes.
"I know your aunt taught you better than that,” Connie said.
"The girl lives there,” Harriet countered.
"That doesn't make it a safe place,” Jenny told her.
"Continue,” Sarah interrupted. She was clearly bored with the conversation.
"I went to stay with Mavis when I got out of the hospital. We went to the memorial service and saw all of you. Then I went to my studio to take Sarah's quilt off my machine and re-stitch Lauren's."
"And I found her on the floor, passed out,” Sarah interjected. “If I hadn't come along she'd probably be dead. Not that she thanked me or anything."
Harriet looked at her but couldn't think of an appropriate response.
"I took Harriet back by Beth's place so she could get her cat, and we found Lauren's quilt, or what was left of it, in a pile on the floor,” Mavis said.
Darcy came in and set her nylon stitching bag on the end of the table. She went to the breakroom and came back a moment later with a cup of coffee and two oatmeal raisin cookies.
"Don't stop talking on my account,” she said as she sat down and pulled a quilted square from her bag.
"What are you making?” Robin asked.
Darcy held the nine-inch square up so the group could see it. It was a simple pinwheel variation in sage green and pink. She was sewing a dark-green binding on the block.
"It's a kitchen quilt,” she said. “My sister is remodeling her kitchen, and I'm making her a set that will match her new colors."
"Kitchen quilt” was the group's euphemism for a potholder.
"It's cute,” Jenny said.
"So, what were you guys talking about in here, looking so serious?"
Mavis spoke first. “We were going over Harriet's problems to see if we could make any sense of them. You probably know all about them anyway."
"I'll tell you what I do know-whoever drugged Harriet didn't leave us much to work with. We found the handkerchief that was used to deliver the ether, but it's absolutely ordinary. You can buy them in any variety store. Otherwise, there wasn't anything to work with. Of course, in a studio where fibers are the stock-in-trade of the business, it wasn't likely we were going to find much hair or fiber evidence. So, did you guys come up with anything?"
"We were just starting to work on that when you came in,” Mavis said.
"Let's start with the first incident-the break-in."
Marjory had been listening to the discussion from the kitting room where she was cutting fabric for patterns that would be packaged with the appropriate materials to make a finished quilt top. She came in carrying an easel and flipchart with a couple of marking pens.
"This might help,” she said and went back into the kitting room.
Robin took the green pen and wrote “Harriet's Break In” at the top. “Okay, what do we know?"
"Some quilts were destroyed and some weren't,” said DeAnn.
"Nothing was stolen,” Jenny offered.
"There was no sign of forced entry,” Darcy said.
"I'm not sure how much that means. There are quite a few keys to Beth's studio floating around in the community. Most of us have them,” Mavis pointed out.
"That's a comfort,” Harriet said, and made a mental note to call a locksmith when she got back to Mavis's house.
"What difference was there between the quilts that were damaged and the ones that were passed over?” Sarah asked, initiating a long silence.
"I don't think we know that, do we,” DeAnn stated finally.
"Make a column on your piece of paper,” Connie said. “Let's go around the table. Everyone can say if your quilt was damaged or not. And maybe even say how badly damaged it was."
Each in turn described the quilt they had at the studio and what, if any, damage it suffered. The results didn't yield a ready answer.
"So, what could be gained by destroying the particular quilts that were ruined?” Harriet wondered.
"I'm not naming names, but maybe someone was trying to guarantee a win,” Sarah suggested.
"That doesn't make sense,” Jenny said. “Why would they destroy DeAnn's and leave Connie's and mine alone?"
"Would they even know it was DeAnn's they were destroying?” Harriet asked.
"All the show quilts are labeled, aren't they?” Robin asked.
"My label didn't show up very well,” DeAnn said. The fabric I used wasn't high enough contrast. It faded into the background. I didn't have time to fix it before the show, though, so I just left it."
"I know at least two of the non-show quilts were ruined, and they didn't have labels because they weren't bound yet,” Harriet added, and tried to remember what other work had been in the studio at the time.
"So, maybe instead of damaging show quilts, they were excluding them.” DeAnn offered. “It's hard to imagine why they would do that."
"Unless it was someone who personally knew how much work had gone into them,” Mavis suggested.
"Then we're back to why,” Harriet said. “There's no reason for someone to damage a random assortment of quilts."
"Let's move on to the next event,” DeAnn said. “Harriet finds Avanell.” She wrote it on the flipchart sheet.
"What can you tell us about that?” Robin asked.
"Not much, I'm afraid. I went to Avanell's to get the entry form for her quilt. The receptionist told me she was in the back, so I went to there and found her. She was dead."
"What can you tell us about finding her?” Robin asked.
"It was really sad,” Harriet said. And something she didn't really want to think about.
To distract herself, she scanned the group, looking for brown-eyed girls. Darcy and Mavis were blue-eyed, and Robin had green eyes. That left Sarah, Jenny, Connie and, if you counted hazel, DeAnn. Harriet should remember the color of Lauren's accusing eyes, but all she recalled was the anger in them.
"How was she killed?” Jenny asked.
"I don't know,” Harriet said. “I saw her on the floor and there was a lot of blood around her head, an amount that it would be hard to do without. I touched her hand, and it was stiff. I called nine-one-one, and that was it. I tried not to look at her face, so I don't know what happened."
"Single gunshot to the head,” Darcy supplied. “I think it's okay to tell you that, but don't ask me anything else, ‘cause I can't tell you."
"What kind of gun?” Sarah asked.
"Sarah,” Robin said, “she just said she can't tell us anything, let her be.” She wrote on the chart “found in the early morning, shot in the head, stiff to touch."
"Was anyone else around?” she asked Harriet.
"Not where I found her, but there was a young woman in the reception area.” Harriet would have to check her eye color, too. At least, if you believed the humming of a disturbed young woman.
"Let's move on,” Mavis said. “It was hard enough on Harriet to find the body. She doesn't need to keep talking about it just to satisfy our morbid curiosity."
"Okay,” Robin said. “What happened next? Harriet took the quilts to Tacoma and then came home. And then what happened?"
Nothing I'm telling this group about, decided Harriet as she mentally reviewed her impromptu dinner with Aiden followed by her proper dinner date with Harold.
"The next big event was getting hit on the head,” she said, and Robin wrote “Harriet attack number one."
"Not much to tell there, either,” Harriet said.
"If you aren't willing to tell us anything we aren't going to be able to help you solve your problems,” Sarah complained.
"Look, if I knew more, you'd be the first to know. I went to find a young woman who hadn't showed up at Marjory's Thursday group. For my effort, I got hit in the head. I woke up in my car. I saw no one, I heard nothing."