It was signed, Beth.
Harriet pulled the pictures out and found the one of the label.
"Whoa,” she said and began reading. “Wildwood, created by Patsy Jackson in September 2007 in Angel Harbor, Washington, USA."
"Who the heck is Patsy Jackson?” Mavis asked.
"Let me see here.” Harriet flipped through the papers and pulled one to the top. “'Patsy Jackson is a teacher who comes to England four times a year to do workshops at the guild. She lives in Angel Harbor, Washington, and has been doing fiber arts for twenty-five years.’ There's a handwritten addition that says they've been handling her work for five years and have many satisfied customers who would be willing to provide recommendations. It goes on to say that, for the protection of their artists, they don't give out phone numbers or addresses, but would be happy to have Mrs. Jackson contact Aunt Beth if she decided to go forward with her commission."
"I don't remember seeing a Patsy Jackson offering classes here,” Mavis said.
"Me, either,” Connie agreed. “I wonder what she teaches."
"Maybe she doesn't teach here,” Harriet said and flipped through the papers again. “It only says she teaches in England. She lives in Angel Harbor, but it says nothing about her teaching here."
"How could she live here and be a quilt teacher and not teach at the Folk Art Center?” Connie asked.
"Politics, maybe,” Mavis offered. “The question is, how did she get access to Lauren's quilt in order to copy it?"
"Maybe she's a student here,” Carla suggested.
"Good point,” Harriet said, and Carla blushed. “Or maybe more than one person is in on it. Maybe she has a partner here. How else could you explain the obvious copying that Carla and I saw? Maybe Patsy and Selestina did it together."
Aunt Beth had included another picture of the quilt, but it didn't reveal anything they didn't already know. It was a really good copy.
"The second round of lectures should be getting out in a few minutes. I think I'll go see if I can borrow a copy of the quilt block encyclopedia from one of the teachers,” she decided. “We can look and see if there are any traditional pieced blocks that have the word mother in them. And I'll have a chance to ask about Patsy Jackson."
Carla gave her a questioning look.
"Carla, if you want to come with me, while I'm talking to the teachers, you can hang out with the students in the lobby and see if you hear any interesting gossip."
"If you aren't back in a half-hour, we're coming to look for you,” Connie warned.
"Let's go,” Harriet said.
Students were trickling out of the building when she and Carla arrived. A larger group was clustered around the table in the lobby that had the quilt information on it; Carla sidled up to them. Harriet continued on to the classrooms without saying anything. She found Ray Louise Hanson still in the room she lectured in.
She quickly determined that the school did have several quilt block books that could be loaned to students.
"Come with me back to the teachers’ room and you can decide which one you want,” Ray Louise said. She gathered her notes and put them in a pink rip-stop nylon bag.
"Do you know a teacher or artist named Patsy Jackson?” Harriet asked as she followed the teacher through the series of doors and short halls. “My aunt is thinking of having her make a wall hanging."
"I don't know anyone by that name.” Ray Louise stopped abruptly and turned around. Harriet barely avoided running into her. “I do know your aunt Beth, though, and she could easily make any kind of quilt she could ever want. Whatever you're up to, you need to come up with a better cover story. Too many of us know Beth, and don't try to say it's not Beth. She's been very worried about you the last couple of years."
"Great,” Harriet said with a fake smile.
"So, what are you up to?"
She explained about Lauren's missing work, Aunt Beth's discovery of the copy and Lauren's comments to anyone who would listen that resulted in her becoming suspect number one in Selestina's death. She finished up with Lauren's disappearance.
"Aunt Beth just faxed us a copy of the label, and it said the quilt was made by Patsy Jackson of Angel Harbor, Washington."
"That has to be an alias,” Ray Louise said. “This community is too small for an art quilter of that level to exist here without some of us knowing her.” She silently studied her shoe for a moment. “Tell you what,” she said when she looked up again. “I'll ask all the teachers at lunch. Inessa Follansbee has been doing a workshop on stash management. She owns Angel Harbor Quilts, the local quilt store. If this Patsy exists, she has to buy fabric. Even if she's one of those people who buy their fabric online she would have to go in there sometime. I'll check with Inessa and let you know. Which residence are you staying in?"
Harriet gave her the particulars and thanked her for her help. Once more, Aunt Beth's big mouth had paid off.
"I have one more question,” she said. “Is there a lot of pressure on the staff of the school to keep producing new work?"
"If you're asking if Selestina copied Lauren's work, she wouldn't need to do that as head of the school. Her teachers are a different story. Once most of the students have taken a class on a particular technique, the instructors can't fill a class anymore-there aren't enough new bodies coming in for that. Teachers have to continually come up with new and different projects and techniques to keep our base of repeat students coming back. And I'll tell you, it's hard.
"So, yes, I could see a teacher getting desperate and maybe copying a student's work, but they would have to teach it at a different school. Here people might recognize it. Then again, most teachers teach at multiple locations. Someone could copy work here and teach a class on the technique in a quilt store in Kansas and no one would ever know."
"Thanks,” Harriet said.
"Good luck finding your friend's work."
Harriet came back out to the lobby and found a group of women still clustered near the table of instructions. Someone was speaking loudly, and as she got closer she recognized Sarah's voice.
"I don't see why we have to use the theme of motherhood. There aren't any good blocks with motherhood in the name. If it's a gift from us to whoever, why can't we make what we think is meaningful? I'd like to make a block that represents the school. I've had such a great time here, I think an applique of the fiber arts building would be a better memorial. This is his mother's school, after all."
"It is hard to think of a motherhood block,” a skinny blonde with thin lips said.
"And I don't think we should be limited to techniques we learned here for the other one, either,” Sarah continued. “I took a class in Seattle and we made a paste out of flour and cornmeal and ginger ale and spread it on muslin and when it dried we shook it off and then we sprayed dye over the top and when it dries you wash it and the results are very cool."
The blonde asked a question about what, if any, fabric prep Sarah had done. Harriet looked around the entrance hall for Carla, and finally spotted her on a small hand-carved bench near the door to the outside. She crossed the space, and Carla stood up.
"I'm sorry. I couldn't take any more of Sarah. She isn't really letting other people talk anyway."
"Well, it was worth a try."
"It was kinda interesting before she showed up. That blonde in the tight jeans was riling people up about leaving. She said she never liked Selestina and… let me think… she said, ‘I merely tolerated her so I could take classes from her teachers.’ And then she said she would feel like a hypocrite going to her memorial service on Sunday."
"So, what did the other people say?” Harriet pulled the door open and ushered her out.
"They didn't get a chance to say anything. Patience came up and basically calmed everyone down. She told them that, in spite of Selestina's public persona, she was a real nice lady and only wanted what was best for the students, and after all was said and done, didn't they all have great memories of their time here? And then she said that although the school would continue and they would make many more memories, change was inevitable, and Selestina's passage marked the end of the era and surely that was worth celebrating."