Aunt Beth was still stitching her quilt when Harriet returned to her studio.
"You aren't overdoing it with your shoulder, are you?” Harriet asked.
"No. I've been taking it slow today, taking lots of breaks."
"Did Mavis call you?"
"Yeah, she told me about the meeting. I don't know what you think you're going to accomplish."
"We're right on the brink of knowing what happened to Gerald. I'll bet you anything that whoever killed him will show up at the funeral."
"And just what makes you think that?"
"All those detective shows on TV. They always say the killer comes to the funeral just to feel superior because no one knows who they are."
Aunt Beth shook her head. “Don't you think criminals watch television? If you know to expect him to show up, then he knows not to show up."
"Well, then, we'll pay attention to who isn't there and should be. And I can tell you, unless something happens overnight, Carla's friend Terry is going to be at the top of the absent list."
"Okay, I said I'd be there,” Aunt Beth said. “I'm going to go home and put my feet up for a while before meeting time, and I suggest you do the same. You know your collar bone will heal faster if you rest a little now and then."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah."
"Don't get smart with me,” Beth said, but she was smiling.
"I promise I'll lie down."
With that promise, Beth left.
Harriet did intend to lie down, but not until she had a snack. Her refrigerator was filled with leftovers, and she quickly found the potato salad. The lid was the sort that automatically released air as it sealed making it a sturdier seal than its cheaper competitors. This also made it impossible to open with one hand.
"Here, let me do that,” Harry said. He'd come downstairs as Harriet was trying to use the edge of the counter to pop the lid. “I don't want to see a grown woman cry."
"And you would have, too."
He fetched two bowls and scooped potato salad into them. He handed one to Harriet and took the other one himself, returning the storage bowl to the refrigerator.
"Have you figured out who killed my dad yet?"
"I wish I could say yes,” she said, looking at Harry's serious face. “But so far, I have more questions than answers. Carlton 's father is dead. The people who worked with your dad are no longer at the company, and Carlton isn't being very forthcoming with names. But Carlton is generally not a helpful guy, so that in and of itself doesn't mean anything. Carla's friend Terry has been snooping around and spying on the factory, and now he's gone missing."
"Don't forget the magic bullet that wasn't a bullet,” Harry added.
"How could I forget the magic bullet? Like I said-lots of questions, not so many answers."
"I might have one little answer,” Harry said and paused for dramatic effect.
"Come on, my heart can't take the suspense.” She was only half-joking.
"Well, my friend Nick's dad worked with my dad back then. And he's still in town. In fact, he'll be coming to the funeral tomorrow."
"So how long were you going to wait to tell me?"
"Geez, you sound like my mom. I just found out. Nick heard about Dad's funeral and told me he was going to be there with his dad."
"Sorry,” Harriet said. “I've been badgering Carlton Brewster to give me names and he hasn't, so it's been a bit frustrating."
"Nick only called me last night to offer his condolences."
"It's all right, Harry, really.” She finished eating her potato salad. It was true what they said about potato salad benefiting from a day in the refrigerator. It was always better the second day. She rinsed her bowl and put it in the dishwasher while Harry went for seconds.
"I'm going to go lie down and rest my collar bone,” she said and went upstairs.
Chapter 25
It was déjà vu when Harriet walked into the back room of Tico's Tacos just before four o'clock. Jenny and Lauren were at the picnic table sipping iced tea. A pitcher and more glasses sat on a smaller table off to the side. Jenny had shed the black spy look and was dressed in silver cotton pants and a pale pink shell. Lauren wore denim capri pants and a yellow T-shirt that brought out the highlights in her pale hair.
Connie came in from the kitchen where she explained she had been talking to Jorge about a recipe for barbacoa. She'd come from her volunteer job reading stories to preschool children at the library, and was still wearing a floral shirtwaist dress in her signature sherbet tones. She knew the current crop of pre-school teachers dressed in jeans and sometimes even sweatpants, under the theory that a teacher needed to crawl around on the floor to relate to her students; but she had made it clear to Harriet on more than one occasion she didn't believe rolling around on the floor on the teacher's part was an integral part of learning.
Harriet filled a glass and, after a nod from Connie, one for her friend. She carried them to the table one at a time.
"Has anyone had any insights since we last talked?"
"Aren't you supposed to be the hot-stuff crime solver around here?” Lauren asked.
"Only if the rest of you won't step up to the plate."
The room went silent.
"Look, right now, Mavis is suspect number one as far as the police are concerned. I'm not willing to sit back and watch her get arrested for something she didn't do."
"Are you certain she didn't do it?” Lauren asked. “I mean, she doesn't have an alibi for the time of the crime."
"Well, it's nice to know I have one person on my side,” Mavis said. No one had heard her arrive.
Jenny and Connie started talking at once, assuring her of their belief in her innocence.
Lauren cleared her throat. “I don't think you killed your husband,” she said in a subdued voice."I stayed up until three o'clock this morning doing computer searches.” She pulled her shoulder-length hair into a ponytail and slid the Scrunchi that had been on her wrist onto her hair to hold it in place. “Carla's friend doesn't exist. There are plenty of Terry Jansens but no one that comes close to any of the information he's given us. And believe me, I dug."
"Are you a hacker?” Connie asked.
"I have a master's degree in computer science, I don't hack.” She started to say something else but was interrupted by the arrival of Robin and DeAnn. Robin was wearing flared black Lycra pants and a pale blue baby tee that flashed her well muscled abs when she reach for an iced tea glass. DeAnn had on knee-length khaki shorts and a dark green T-shirt with the Foggy Point Video logo on the chest.
"So, what did we miss?” she asked.
"Lauren did some research about Terry Jansen, and she couldn't find him.” Connie said.
"Is that all?” DeAnn asked.
"No, that's not all,” Lauren said. “I was trying to finish reporting on my findings when you came in and interrupted."
"Well, excuse me,” DeAnn said.
"What else did you find out?” Harriet asked before the conversation could deteriorate any further.
"I was about to say that when I couldn't develop anything about Terry, one of our potential suspects, I decided to see what I could find about Mavis's lack of alibi. I mean, if she hadn't been called away, she would have been in our booth at the critical moment. I started to wonder if she was being set up right from the get-go."
"And?” Mavis said.
"I started looking at funerals that took place in Portland on the days you were gone. Fortunately, there weren't that many. Now, we're assuming people accurately report who the survivors are in the obituary, but if that's true, then the only way Pete's babysitter was at her grandfather's funeral would be if she's really a grandson, a great-granddaughter or under twelve years of age."