"At the house?"
"Yes. He seemed upset."
"I saw him, at the shop," I said. "He must have come here afterward."
"Did you talk?"
"Shouted, actually."
"Well, at least you're communicating." Her voice was so monotone I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic, but I let the comment pass.
"Everything's ready for tonight," I said as I left the dining room. "I'm just going to lay down for a bit, and we'll head back at six-thirty."
The three women smiled, then turned back to the fabric Natalie held in her hands. I took it as my cue to head upstairs and try, at least for a little while, to pretend I wasn't making a mess of my life.
CHAPTER 20
At precisely six-thirty I started the car and pulled it as close to the front door as possible. It was still raining and I had nightmares of my grandmother sliding on the pavement, but she managed to get to the car with me on one side and Barney on the other.
"Be careful," she said at least six times in the six minutes it took to drive to the shop.
"You want to drive, Bigfoot?"
"Didn't your mother teach you to be nice to your elders?"
"I don't believe she mentioned it," I smirked. "Maybe she wasn't raised right."
"Don't have too much fun or I'll tell the girls you want to make a quilt."
We pulled up in front of the store before I could come up with a ripping response. Outside the shop Bernie, Maggie, Susanne, Natalie and Carrie were all huddled under umbrellas.
"Get inside," Eleanor shouted.
"I have the key," I reminded her.
"Then hurry and open the door."
I left Natalie and Carrie to help Eleanor out of the car and ran to the front door of the shop. I tried the key. Strangely, the door wasn't locked, just difficult to open. Marc must have forgotten to lock it and now something was jammed up against the other side.
"Help me push," I said to Bernie, and we shoved ourselves against the door.
I stepped inside and reached for the light, nearly tripping on whatever had blocked the door. Eleanor was now standing just outside and getting wet. I turned on the switch and looked around to help her inside.
"Oh my God," I heard her say.
I looked down. There was a man lying at my feet. It was another second before I realized it was Marc.
"Call 911."
"See if he's breathing."
"There's blood everywhere."
One after another the women of the quilt club took action, checking Marc's pulse, calling for an ambulance, helping my grandmother to a seat. Bernie, a fan of crime shows, advised everyone not to touch anything. I stood there staring at Marc's body. He was on his stomach, with a pool of blood coagulating around him.
Sirens were wailing in the distance, then drew closer and stopped in front of the shop. Paramedics jumped out of the ambulance and raced in. They were frantic for only seconds before deciding there was nothing for them to do. A police car pulled up, and Barney's friend, Officer Jesse Dewalt, got out. Dressed in jeans and a dark sweater, and looking even less like a cop than the night we met, he stood talking with a officer who had also just arrived. He wasn't wearing a jacket, a foolhardy move on a rainy September evening, but he didn't seem cold. Or in much of a hurry. He talked with the paramedics. He made a phone call. Finally, he hung up and walked through the door into the shop.
He glanced down at the body.
"His name is Marc…," I started to say.
"We went to high school together," he interrupted without looking up at me. "You okay, ladies?"
"Jesse, dear, what happened?" asked Maggie.
Jesse put on latex gloves and moved closer, being careful not to step in the blood. He leaned over Marc. He seemed to be studying his face and hands. I could see there was a dark bruise on the side of Marc's jaw from where Ryan had hit him. But there was also a fresh cut on his cheek and scratches on his hands. The scratches had drawn blood, but they hardly seemed enough to cause death or create the pool beneath the body. Jesse grabbed Marc's shoulder and pulled it toward him. The source of the blood was immediately clear. A large pair of scissors lay under Marc's body and there was a dark wet hole in his chest. Near his body was Eleanor's favorite quilt, stained with blood.
"I think I'm going to throw up," I heard myself say. I ran down the stairs to the bathroom.
I leaned my head over the sink and waited. I waited to faint, to throw up, to burst into tears, but nothing happened. I just stood there.
Marc was dead. Not two feet from where we had been kissing, he was lying in a pool of blood.
Upstairs I heard footsteps. I heard my grandmother talking. She sounded strong and in charge. I heard her say my name. She wasn't calling to me, though. She was talking about me. But I couldn't quite hear what she was saying. As much as I didn't want to go back upstairs, I didn't want to be fragile and fall apart while my grandmother was upstairs handling things like a grown-up. I took one last deep breath and headed for the stairs.
CHAPTER 21
When I walked upstairs, Marc's body was still there, only now it was being photographed. Half a dozen uniformed people were milling about, looking busy and official. In the corner, all the women of the Friday Night Quilt Club were huddled around talking with Officer Jesse. My grandmother had her hand on Natalie's arm, but Natalie didn't seem to notice. She stared straight forward as if no one else was there. Maggie and Bernie sat on either side of Susanne. Only Carrie was standing, and she couldn't seem to take her eyes off Marc. I walked over to the women, nearly tripping on a hammer that lay in the middle of the floor, several feet from Marc's toolbox.
"He wasn't a very nice person," Susanne was saying.
"Don't speak ill of the dead." Bernie leaned into her.
"Why not?" said Susanne, pointing to Jesse. "You know what he was like."
Jesse nodded.
"Are you talking about Marc?" I walked closer to them, and all heads turned me. "He was a very nice person."
"We're aware you thought so," Susanne commented dryly.
I knew my face had turned a bright red, but I tried to ignore it. I leaned toward Susanne as if I had some menacing comeback, but the truth was I didn't know what to say. I looked at my grandmother, who reached out and touched my arm. I stepped back from the group and stood there watching them gathered in their tight circle, just as they had been a week ago when we met. They were open and welcoming then, but I didn't feel any of that tonight. No one moved over to let me find a place in the circle. I felt as if I had walked up to the most popular girls in school and they were making it very clear I didn't belong. Despite my best efforts, tears started rolling down my cheeks.
Jesse turned his body fully toward me, standing directly between me and the rest of the group. For a moment he studied me, then said, "You're right, you know. Marc had his good points."
"Well, someone didn't think so, or he wouldn't be in that position, would he?" Susanne said sharply.
"I think it had to be the husband of one of his girlfriends," said Bernie. "There was that woman over in Peekskill. What was her name?"
"I don't think you need to go as far as Peekskill to come up with a suspect," Maggie said. "Besides, he just started this job. You would have to be from town to know he was going to be here tonight."
"And if you intended to kill him," Eleanor jumped in, "you would have brought your own murder weapon with you. That's a pair of my good scissors."
"But you cleared everything out of the shop. Why would your scissors be here?" Maggie asked.
"We left a box of supplies," I interjected. "In case anyone needed something at tonight's club meeting."