2 Knot What It Seams (25 page)

“It’s in Lenoir, so not too far away. I’ve got to go early with Meadow to help set up, and Miss Sissy would end up getting bored, I’m afraid. Unfortunately, her car repairs are taking much longer than expected and she really misses driving,” said Posy.

“She’s the
only
one who misses her driving,” said Beatrice.

“She asked if she could borrow Cork’s car and drive to Lenoir herself,” said Posy with a sigh. “But Cork didn’t think that was a good idea.”

Posy was likely censoring whatever Cork had actually said in response to that suggestion.

“No, Posy, it’s no problem at all. I’m sure Miss Sissy will get her driving fix soon—the part won’t take
that
long to come in. Better that she doesn’t drive anyone else’s car, especially in Lenoir, where there’s a lot more traffic.”

“I really appreciate it, Beatrice,” said Posy.

“Are y’all expecting many people to come to the show?” asked Beatrice.

“Meadow feels pretty confident about the attendance,” said Posy. “We’re planning to do a special recognition of Jo Paxton and her years of showing and judging quilt shows. We’ll also have some time devoted to Opal and bring in some of her quilts as part of the memorial. I think some people who might not have come to the show will be coming to listen to those memorials. Glen is definitely planning on making it.”

“And he’s bringing Penny with him,” said Beatrice, without thinking. She stopped short. “Oh, Posy, keep that under your hat. Glen said that he’s taking Penny with him as a friend.”

“I heard a rumor,” said Posy, looking uncomfortable, “that Penny and Glen were having an affair. And I do understand two people coming together in a time of grief—but it does seem awfully early, doesn’t it?”

“Glen told me that there’s nothing going on between him and Penny,” said Beatrice. “Have you heard or seen something that made you think otherwise?”

“Not really. But there was this one incident. I’ve hesitated mentioning it because I didn’t think it really made a difference to the murder investigation, but . . . well, maybe it does somehow in a way that I can’t see. One evening I was coming out of my shop and I heard Jo talking to Penny. Jo must have been on her mail rounds and she had come across Penny on a volunteer errand downtown or something. Jo was asking all these questions about Penny’s health—and not in a very nice way.”

She could imagine. Jo didn’t have the softest of approaches.

“Apparently, Jo had been delivering a lot of medical bills and statements and test results to Penny’s house. I could tell that Penny was trying to avoid talking about it, but Jo was really pushing. Then Glen came up. I guess he must have been volunteering with Penny. He was furious when he saw that Penny was upset. And very angry with Jo for bringing up the subject. None of them noticed me, and I was frantically trying to just lock up the shop so I could avoid overhearing their conversation.”

“It must take a lot to get Glen really angry,” said Beatrice. “He seems like a pretty laid-back guy to me.”

“Oh, he
is
! But Jo—well, she was pushing it. You know. She was being sort of nasty and Penny hadn’t done anything, the poor woman. Jo simply wanted to get the inside scoop on something that Penny was clearly trying to cover up,” said Posy.

“And it was enough to trigger Glen into action to defend her,” said Beatrice.

Posy said, “It was. His defense of Penny made Jo furious, though, and she demanded to know if there was something more than friendship between Penny and Glen.”

Posy had worded that delicately. Beatrice was willing to bet that Jo hadn’t used the same wording.

“What happened then?” asked Beatrice.

“There were people who were starting to look their way. They
were
right in the middle of downtown Dappled Hills, after all. They finally noticed that I was standing there, too. Penny left in a hurry and Glen told Jo that she was imagining things. The way he said it sounded like the truth. He told Jo that he cared about Penny—because she was a good friend and a good person. Then he left, too. Jo was the only one who wasn’t in any hurry to leave,” said Posy.

“But it sounds like she might still have had mail to deliver,” said Beatrice drily.

“That was probably true. I know she could be a difficult woman, but Jo was a wonderful quilter and could be a good friend, when she wanted to be,” said Posy. She looked wistful. “I rather miss having her around the shop. And now we’re all about to memorialize her at the quilt show. It’s all so hard to believe.”

“You were saying there would be a good number of people coming to the show?” asked Beatrice, hoping to distract her friend before she started feeling too sad.

“Oh yes. I think some of Jo’s quilting friends from other towns will be there, too—she really made the rounds as a judge, so there were lots of people who knew her in the quilting community.”

“A pretty good turnout, then. I guess Karen will have a quilt in the show?”

“At least one! In fact, I think she’ll have three. I count my blessings every day with Karen as a Patchwork Cottage customer. I think she could keep the entire shop afloat with her purchases alone. You don’t have anything to submit, Beatrice?” asked Posy.

She felt a bit of a pang. She really wanted to have something in the show. She wanted to be an active part of the art world again, even approaching it from the artist side. But she didn’t want to participate until her quilts were really
good
. She still had so much to learn and read about and observe. “Not yet, Posy. Maybe sometime soon. Or maybe I’ll pump Miss Sissy for some tips when I drive her to Lenoir. I’m still learning the craft.”

“Remember,” said Posy gently, “we’re not all there to judge you. We’re your friends and we want to celebrate your art and enjoy it, too. There are judges at quilt shows, but they’re not the only ones attending. Don’t worry about being perfect.”

As she wrapped up the phone call, Beatrice thought wryly that she should have those words tattooed on her somewhere.

* * *

Miss Sissy was sitting in a faded rocking chair on her front porch on Saturday morning, completely ready to go to the show. The vines that surrounded her house, like the ones covering Sleeping Beauty’s castle, were encroaching on the porch, as well. If Beatrice had been any later, they might have started making inroads on Miss Sissy herself.

Miss Sissy eyed Beatrice’s car, suspiciously, even as Beatrice hopped out of the car and strode around it to open up Miss Sissy’s door. “Don’t worry, Miss Sissy. It’s been behaving itself lately. No alarms.”

Miss Sissy nodded and spryly trotted to the car . . . which, naturally, meant the car alarm went off. There did seem to be an increase in the number of alarm malfunctions that was in direct relation to Miss Sissy’s proximity.

Miss Sissy covered her ears and glared at Beatrice while she tried pressing different buttons on her key ring to stop the blaring noise. Finally, it shut itself off.

She gave the old woman an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry. It always goes off when I least expect it.”

Miss Sissy climbed gingerly into the car. She fastened her seat belt, rolled down the passenger window, and proceeded to shake her fist at every animal, person, or thing she saw on the way to Lenoir.

Beatrice cleared her throat. “Miss Sissy, at least we should see some people we know at the show. Glen is going to be there to hear Jo get recognized.”

Miss Sissy grunted. “Jo was nice. Visited me a lot.”

Or maybe just brought her mail every day. “And the mayor is apparently going to be there.” She looked sideways at her passenger.

Miss Sissy raised her spindly arm and shook her gnarled fist. “Wickedness!”

So this was a good-memory day for her. It could be good to have Miss Sissy in her corner.

“On another subject, I was hoping that maybe you could give me some quilting pointers. Oh, not right now—it’s not the kind of thing I can listen to and really absorb while I’m driving. But I was wondering if you could come by my house a few times when I’m quilting and give me some help with my approach and technique. I’ve got what I think are some great ideas for quilt design, but I’m not really sure how to carry them out. It was really helpful when I was starting out and you sat down and quilted with me,” said Beatrice.

Miss Sissy was almost cheerful. “Just say when,” she said gruffly.

“Maybe a couple of days next week? I’d really like to participate in one of the quilt shows later on this year, if I could. I’d even cook for you, if you come,” offered Beatrice bravely.

Miss Sissy made an awful face. Beatrice had forgotten that Miss Sissy had sampled her cooking before.

“All right, you could cook for
me
and I’ll supply all the food.”

Miss Sissy smiled.

* * *

There were a good number of people at the quilt show. Apparently, there were some lectures earlier in the day that were well attended. Beatrice felt a guilty pang that she hadn’t gone to any. Lectures and classes would definitely help her improve.

The show was being held in a community college gymnasium. The parking lot outside the school was nearly full, although most of the cars had college parking passes hanging from their rearview mirrors. Either way, it meant that Beatrice would be getting her exercise as she walked to the school from the far perimeter of the parking area. She dropped off Miss Sissy at the entrance, then had to park so far away that the school was merely a speck.

Although the quilt show and the lectures had been going on all day, the idea was that she and Miss Sissy were arriving in enough time for them to view all the quilts before the judges announced the winners in the different categories and before the memorial for Jo and Opal. The sun was already setting as Beatrice walked briskly up to the building.

Most of the quilters in the two Dappled Hills quilt guilds were there, and many of the guild members had at least one quilt they were showing. Meadow waved at her and grinned as Beatrice came in. She also saw Wyatt there and had a feeling that Meadow had had a hand in bringing him there. Glen was politely listening to Karen tell him about a quilt—either one of her own or another one.

Posy came up beside her. “It’s nice that Glen is here,” she said. “And he even brought one of Jo’s quilts to show—not officially or to be judged or anything. But so she could sort of participate in the day.”

“That’s nice.” Beatrice glanced over and saw that Penny Harris was there, too, but not standing very close to Glen.

“Did Booth end up making it here?” asked Beatrice.

Posy motioned to a corner of the room where Booth was sitting on a bench, scowling. He looked even grimmer when he saw Beatrice. “A regular ray of sunshine, isn’t he?” asked Beatrice darkly.

“He certainly does look gloomy. Hopefully he’s not planning on taking it out on the quilters when he gets back to his office,” said Posy with a sigh. Then she gave a small frown. “Oh dear. Here comes Georgia and she looks a bit grim herself.”

Georgia joined them with worry creasing her brow. She greeted them in her usually upbeat way, but there was strain in her voice.

“Is there something wrong, Georgia?” asked Beatrice. There was no point in going through the formalities when she was so clearly troubled.

Georgia nodded. “I think so. Beatrice, you remember Savannah’s problem that she sometimes has. And Posy definitely knows it well.”

Georgia was referring to her sister’s kleptomania. The town was so small and the items that Savannah swiped were so insignificant that the Dappled Hills storeowners either looked the other way or had a special Savannah account for Georgia to pay back later. Beatrice nodded at Georgia. “Has Savannah’s problem cropped up again lately?”

“It sure has. Honestly, I think it has something to do with the murders. Whenever Savannah is feeling stressed, it usually starts up again. And this time, she took a couple of things from the Patchwork Cottage,” said Georgia, face flushed.

Posy reached out and hugged Georgia. “You seem so worried. You know you don’t have to worry about poor Savannah when you’re talking to me. I totally understand and I’m not concerned about the
things
in the shop at all. I’m only worried about you and your sister.”

Georgia brightened. “I do know that, but it makes me feel so much better to hear you say it. There’s something else this time, though, that I’m especially worried about. The timing of when she swiped these things.”

Beatrice leaned forward a little to listen.

“When I found the packet of needles, I knew they weren’t the ones we usually get, so I asked Savannah about it. You know how she can be when she’s confronted, even gently, about her borrowing. This time she acted even more flustered than usual. I asked her when she’d taken the needles and she told me it had been several days before.”

Georgia fished the packet of needles from her pocketbook and handed them over to Posy. “But then,” she continued, “when I was thinking about it again last night when I was in bed, I realized that Savannah couldn’t have taken them when she said she had. That was the morning she’d had an optometry appointment. She couldn’t have been at the shop then.

“I asked her about it this morning. She’d gone to Bub’s the morning that Opal was murdered because we were out of coffee. I guess she was feeling tense after we learned that Jo’s death wasn’t an accident after all. She dropped by the Patchwork Cottage after she’d put the bag of coffee in her bicycle basket.”

Beatrice took a deep breath. “So Savannah was in the Patchwork Cottage the morning Opal was murdered? Did she see anything?”

“That was the very next thing I asked. Savannah hadn’t wanted to put herself at the scene of the crime, of course. And she hadn’t
thought
she’d seen anything important. She said Posy wasn’t there and Opal was on the sofa in the sitting area, but she was alive . . . and looking sleepy. Savannah was trying to be sneaky to swipe the needles, so Opal never saw her,” said Georgia sadly. “But Glen came in, calling for Posy. And Opal said that Posy wasn’t there. He told her he’d come back later.”

So Glen had definitely been there. Had he left when he’d indicated?