“Where are all the other officers?” Harriet asked.
“Stuck at home, I guess. No one has a satellite phone at home, and our cell phones aren’t working, so I came down here, hoping someone would show up.”
“Do you want me to run you up to the homeless camp?” Tom asked. “After I take Harriet home.”
“Thanks, but I rode my off-road bike down here,” he said and pointed to a muddy blue motorcycle parked near the door to the station. “I’ll go by the camp on my way to check on my mother. You should probably get back across the bridge before it floods out.”
“I want to go check the fabric store for Marjory before we leave,” Harriet said.
“Be quick about it,” Nguyen ordered. “I think most people have already left for higher ground. I wouldn’t want to see you get stuck here.”
“Thanks for the advice,” Tom said as he and Harriet turned to go back to their vehicle. “Might be fun,” he mumbled.
“What did you say?” Harriet said.
“You heard me. I said it might be fun being trapped alone with you.”
“You’re crazy.” She climbed back into her seat and strapped on her seatbelt.
It took less than five minutes to drive to the quilt store. Tom kept glancing nervously back toward the river, but he didn’t suggest turning around. As they turned the last corner, Harriet could see two figures huddled at the door to Pins and Needles.
“What are those people doing?” she wondered.
“Let’s find out.” Tom slid out of the driver’s seat. “Hey, what are you doing?” he shouted as he approached the pair.
They turned, and Harriet saw it was Marjory’s sister and brother-in-law.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
Pat’s hair hung in limp curls on her neck. She was wearing the same clothes she’d had on the day before, now considerably more wrinkled.
“We wanted to make sure Marjory’s shop survived the storm,” Richard answered. A screwdriver dangled from his left hand. He belatedly looked for someplace to conceal it with no luck.
“So you thought you’d just break in?” Tom pulled out his phone as if to dial 911.
“Marjory’s not in any position to let the police know you aren’t common criminals, so I guess you’re on your own,” Harriet said.
“Now, wait one minute,” Richard said, pulling himself up to his full, not very impressive height. “It’s not like we’ve done anything, here. We just were looking in the window.”
“You were here yesterday. You know we’ve already moved her inventory up to the attic,” Harriet pointed out.
“Okay, you’ve got us-we’re hungry,” Pat said. “We’re stuck here, and we’re hungry. We were trying to get in to see if Marjory had any food inside.”
“Didn’t you go to the church shelter?” Tom asked. “They have food.”
“No,” Richard answered. “We decided to stay in our car.”
“Lisa didn’t want to sleep in the same room with strangers,” Pat explained.
“So, she’d rather be hungry?” Harriet asked.
“We thought we’d be able to go to the church in the morning,” Pat replied. “We tried, but…” She spread her arms out to indicate the mess around her.
Harriet just shook her head.
“You’re going to have to get to a shelter,” Tom told them. “I haven’t seen any open stores. You need to get across the bridge before the river swamps it then see if you can make your way to one of the churches or schools.”
“What if we can’t get to one?” Pat asked, a real note of panic in her voice for the first time.
Harriet’s shoulders sagged, but before she could speak, offering Pat and Richard a place at her house, Tom said, “I have a nice plate of cookies to tide you over until you make your way to a shelter. Wait right here.”
“What are you doing here, anyway,” Pat asked, recovering her composure. “Didn’t Marjory tell me your aunt has a big house up on the hill?”
“Yeah, if the river is so dangerous, why are you here?” Richard said.
“If you must know, my friend and I were delivering supplies to the homeless camp. One of their members didn’t survive the night. We came to notify the police, and thought we’d check and see how Marjory’s store fared. As we all know, she’s not able to do it herself.”
“Was it one of the people who helped you pack up the shop yesterday?” Richard asked.
“What’s it to you? Why the sudden interest in the homeless people?”
“Was it?” He pressed, a steely tone entering his voice.
“As a matter of fact, it was-one of the men.”
“Which one?” He leaned toward her.
“The guy with the deep voice,” she said, stepping away. “Duane.”
Richard sighed and rocked back on his heels, his gaze far away from Pins and Needles.
“Did you know Duane?”
“Me?” Richard asked. “Of course not. I just noticed the two fellows in the shop yesterday.”
Harriet tried to think back to the day before to remember if she’d noticed any interaction between Richard and the homeless trio, but too much had happened since then.
Tom returned a moment later with one of the plates of cookies from his hostess, and it was as if Richard’s intense interest in the homeless man had never happened. He grabbed the cookies from Tom’s hands and barely let Pat have a crack at them. It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so pathetic.
Tom took her firmly by the arm and started to lead her away, but she stopped and turned back to Pat and Richard.
“You’re wasting your time, you know.”
They looked up at her, crumbs trailing from both their mouths.
“Marjory doesn’t leave any cash in the shop when she isn’t there,” she lied. She turned away from them and hurried toward the MUV.
“What was that about?” Tom asked her when she was back in her seat.
“Oh, I was just trying to discourage Richard from his larcenous inclinations.”
“Good luck with that. He looks like he was born sleazy.” He turned the MUV on. “We need to get you home,” he said.
Chapter 12
“I’m starving,” Harriet announced as she came into the kitchen from the garage. She was carrying a bottle of water in each hand.
“Is Tom with you?” Aunt Beth asked, eyeing the extra water.
“No, he went back to check on the Renfros.” She looked down at the extra bottle she was holding. “I’m just really thirsty.” She sat down at the breakfast table and opened one of the bottles, nearly draining it before setting it down again.
“How was it out there?” Mavis asked as she joined them.
Harriet sagged back in her chair.
“It’s awful.”
“That bad, huh?” Lauren asked, as she, too, entered the kitchen. “So, spill,” she said and slid into the chair opposite Harriet. “What was the worst you saw?”
“That would be Duane.” Harriet sighed. She looked up gratefully as Mavis slid a plate with half of a peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich on it in front of her.
Aunt Beth lifted the lid of a large pot that was simmering on the stove, and the room was filled with the spicy smell of chili.
“We’re having dinner shortly,” she said as she stirred it and replaced the lid. “We thought we’d eat before it gets dark.”
“Not that it ever really got light,” Mavis remarked, looking through the window at the gray sky outside.
“Come on, throw us a bone,” Lauren said. “What happened to Duane?”
“He’s dead.”
“What?” Aunt Beth exclaimed. “Did he have a heart attack or something?”
“It was more in the ‘or something’ category.”
“Don’t be a drama queen.” Lauren prompted. “Spit it out.”