Make Quilts Not War (13 page)

A car door slammed loudly as they crossed the parking lot on the way to Harriet’s car after the movie. She jumped and leaned into Tom; he put his arm around her shoulders.

“Don’t worry, I’ll save you,” he said and laughed. “Not that
there are any crazy guys with big knives out here.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, the way things in Foggy Point have been going lately.”

He tightened his arm around her.

“If we’re going down, we’re going together.” He leaned in and kissed her lightly on her lips. “Isn’t that your friend Jenny?”

He pointed with the hand that was on her shoulder. She looked where he was pointing. Two men in dark coveralls looked like they were attaching chains under the front bumper of Jenny’s Mercedes. Jenny stood to one side watching.

“I wonder what’s going on,” Harriet said.

“Can’t be anything good if a tow truck is involved.”

“Do you mind if we check and see if she needs help?”

Tom sighed, and Harriet could tell he was seeing any hope of alone time with her slipping away.

“Sure,” he said and led the way across the empty lot.

“What happened?” Harriet asked, but then saw the problem when she looked at the tires. All four had been slashed multiple times and were very flat.

“Where are the police?” Tom asked. “Are they gone already?”

“I didn’t call them,” Jenny said quietly.

“What?” Harriet asked her. “Why not?”

“It’s not that big a deal.”

Tom looked at Harriet. She gave him a slight nod. Jenny had been unwilling to tell her anything so far; maybe she’d talk to Tom.

“One tire might be teenagers or a prank, but all four? Someone is angry. What might have happened if you’d come out when they were there with knife in hand, slashing? You might have ended up dead.”

“Especially after what happened opening night,” Harriet added. She paused a moment to let her words sink in. “Instead of nine-one-one, how about we call Detective Morse? If she thinks it’s not a big deal, that will be the end of it.” She knew that would never happen. Morse was going to be all over this like spray starch on appliqué grapes.

“Can’t we just drop it?” Jenny pleaded.

“’Fraid not,” Tom said. “You know the tow drivers are going to
talk about it, and then the police will come for you anyway.
Wouldn’t you rather control the situation by calling it in yourself? Or if you want, Harriet can call Detective Morse.”

Jenny stood in silence—weighing her options, if the emotions
flitting across her face were any indication. Harriet and Tom waited, equally silent.

“Okay,” she agreed. “Make the call.”

Harriet pulled her phone from her purse, found Detective Morse in her contacts list and made the call. As she’d expected, Morse instructed her to tell everyone to stay put until she got there.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to stop what you’re doing for now,” she informed the tow truck drivers.

“Is this going to take a while?” the older of the two men asked. They looked like they might be a father and son—both had barrel chests and slight beer bellies. And two unrelated people couldn’t possibly share that same hooked nose. “We just got another call,”
he continued. “They’re over near the high school. We could be
back in an hour or so.”

“Go,” Tom said. “I’m sure we’ll still be here when you’re done.”

“Surely not,” Jenny said. “Slashed tires can’t possibly warrant that much attention.”

“I’ll wait with your car if you’re done before then,” Tom of
fered.

Harriet pressed the face of her phone again while Tom was talking.

“Are you in your jammies yet? You are? Can you please meet me in the parking lot in front of the exhibit hall? Jenny has had a little car trouble. I think she might appreciate the support.” She turned to Tom. “Aunt Beth’s back at the restaurant with Jorge, prepping food for tomorrow.”

“Did you have to call your aunt?” Jenny asked. “I was hoping we could just keep this between us.”

“Us and Tom and the tow drivers, Detective Morse and whoever she brings with her,” Harriet said. “Jenny, whatever is going on, you’re going to have to talk about it, and I suggest sooner rather than later, before anything more serious happens. I thought you might like the support of the Loose Threads when you do.”

Jorge’s pickup stopped a discreet distance from Jenny’s car, and he got out, coming around and opening Aunt Beth’s door before helping her down to the pavement. Aunt Beth strode over to Jenny and pulled her into a silent hug. Jorge came to stand beside Tom and Harriet.

“The fun never ends around here, eh?” he said with a grim
smile. “Do you have any idea what happened?”

“None at all. We went to one of the movies, and when we came out, there was a tow truck hooking up to Jenny’s car, and she hadn’t told anyone,” Harriet said in a quiet voice.

“Harriet thought Jenny might need some moral support, so she called her aunt. Jenny agreed to let us call Detective Morse instead of nine-one-one,” Tom added.

“This is getting to be a habit,” Detective Morse said as she got out of her car ten minutes later. She’d stopped behind Harriet and Tom. “Are there any crimes in Foggy Point you’re
not
in the middle of,” she asked Harriet.

“Not on purpose,” Harriet protested.

“So, what happened here? The Cliff Notes version, not the novel.”

“We came out after the movies, found Jenny here with all four tires slashed and a tow truck. We called you. That brief enough?”

Morse turned to Tom.

“You have anything to add?”

He held his hands up as if to protest.

“Nothing. It’s like Harriet said.”

Aunt Beth guided Jenny over to the group.

“Do you have any idea who would do this?” Morse asked Jenny. “Do you have any enemies? Anyone been bothering you recently?”

“Someone tried to shoot her,” Harriet said. “Isn’t that enemy enough?”

“I’m sorry, Detective Truman, I didn’t realize you’d joined the force,” Morse said sarcastically.

“Jane,” Aunt Beth said, “what’s gotten into you? You know Harriet’s just trying to help. You wouldn’t even be here if she hadn’t insisted Jenny call.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just that there’s a lot of pressure to solve the murder before the big festival weekend events. The city council members have each come to the department and spoken to my boss.”

“This should help, then,” Harriet said. “Another try at Jenny should help focus the investigation, right? Weren’t you still investigating the victim’s background?”

“Quite the opposite, actually. The victim does have some issues, but this just clouds things. If Jenny was the target of the sniper, and he realizes he killed the wrong person, why would he slash her tires instead of shooting at her. If that person knew where her car was parked, he’d wait for her to come out here and take a second shot.”

“Oh,” Harriet said.

“Yeah, snipers are not tire slashers—ever.”

“So, what does this mean,” Aunt Beth asked.

“I don’t know,” Morse admitted. “It could be a complete coincidence, it could be related in some way we can’t see yet, or it could be that whoever killed our victim did hit the right target and is trying to muddy the waters by harassing Jenny.”

“So, if this is unrelated to the murder, it would be important to figure it out as quickly as possible, right?” Harriet asked, staring at Jenny the whole time she was speaking.

Jenny’s shoulders drooped, and she let out a big sigh.

“It was probably my brother,” she said. “I talked to him this morning, and we didn’t part on civil terms. It would be very like him to have a tantrum and slit my tires.”

“What did he want?” Harriet asked.

Detective Morse glared at her.

“Sorry,” she said and took a step back.

“What did he want?” Morse repeated.

“What he always wants,” Jenny said. “Money.”

“But he wouldn’t
take
your money,” Harriet said. “That’s what I saw in the parking lot, isn’t it?”

Morse glared at her again but then turned to Jenny to hear the answer.

“He wants—or needs—a lot more money than I could give him. He’s always one deal away from the big score, and he never has quite enough money to pull it off. I haven’t seen him in years, and I didn’t want to know what he needed the money for.”

“Do you want to take out a restraining order against him?” Detective Morse asked.

“I didn’t even want to report the tires, if you’ll remember. I certainly don’t want to take out a restraining order. I want to go home, put my feet up and forget that the last two days ever happened.”

“Unfortunately, it isn’t that simple,” Detective Morse said. “Unless we bring your brother in and talk to him, we won’t know for sure it was him. I can’t promise, but depending on what else I find in the system, and what we can prove or not prove, he can probably get out of this without doing any jail time.”

“I would appreciate it if you could help him. I know he slashed my tires and all, but he is my brother.”

“I take it he doesn’t live here. Did he tell you where he’s staying?”

“I have no idea. I don’t think he’s living in Foggy Point,” Jenny said. “I hadn’t seen him until this morning, and he’s hard to miss.”

“How so?” Morse asked.

Jenny described Bobby’s tattoo.

“Okay, I think we’re through here,” Morse said. She made a few notes in a tattered notebook she’d pulled from her pocket. “You can go ahead and bring the tow truck back.”

“My offer still stands—I’ll wait for the tow truck if you want,” Tom said.

“I’ll keep you company,” Jorge offered. “If Harriet will take her aunt and Jenny home, that is.”

“Of course,” Harriet said.

Tom pulled his phone from his pocket and began dialing the tow truck as Harriet led Jenny and her aunt to her car. They drove to Jenny’s house in silence.

“Do you want to come in for a cup of tea?” Jenny asked when Harriet pulled into the driveway.

“I’d love a cup, if you’re not too tired,” Aunt Beth said. Harriet nodded in agreement, following her aunt’s lead.

“I’d appreciate the company.” Jenny ushered them inside. “Go ahead and sit in the den, and I’ll bring the tea,” she added and disappeared down a hallway to the back of the house.

Harriet took off her jacket then helped Beth out of hers, laying them across the arm of the chintz-covered sofa.

“Harriet, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the complete truth this morning,” Jenny began fifteen minutes later as she set a tray laden with a teapot and three cups along with a sugar bowl and small pitcher of milk on the coffee table in front of the sofa. “I was taken by surprise when my brother showed up, and I guess I’m embarrassed by him.

“It’s not just how he looks, although that’s gotten more bizarre each time I see him. It’s the way he’s chosen to live his life. When he worked at all, it was usually as a gofer for some minor league drug dealer. Now I think he has some disability scam going, so we’re all supporting him and paying for his ‘medical’ marijuana.”

“Oh, honey,” Aunt Beth soothed. “That’s none of your doing.”

“Still, like I said, it’s embarrassing. He showed up today, and he had yet another get-rich-quick scheme, and all he needed was ten thousand dollars. I guess he thinks we’re made of money and have wads of it sitting around the house waiting for someone like him to ask for it. I tried to explain to him that, even if I did want to help him, which I don’t, no one has that kind of cash laying around.”

“Did he say what the scheme was?” Harriet asked.

“No, but then, I didn’t give him a chance. I told him I didn’t want to know.”

Beth reached over and patted Jenny’s hand.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “No one is responsible for how their kinfolk act, and if he’s that troubled, you did right by refusing to help him.”

“How’d things go at the show today?” Harriet asked, changing the subject.

“No one wants to come close to my quilt. I’m not sure why the committee still wants me to be there. I barely got to take a break, too. Sharon was afraid to stand on the stage by it, so she would only talk to people from the aisle in front of the stage.”

“Did you talk to Marjory?” Harriet asked.

“She came by and could see no one was stopping. I think
Sharon might have said something to her as well.”

“What did Marjory say?” Beth asked and took another sip of her tea.

“She was going to talk to the Amish group and see if they would be willing to take over my platform and let me have theirs, but I haven’t heard what they said yet.”

Beth turned the conversation to the perils of preparing food in an outdoor food cart, successfully distracting Jenny for the next half-hour.

“We should get going and let you get comfortable,” she said when they’d exhausted the topic. “I hope you can go to bed early and get some rest.”

Harriet got up and handed Aunt Beth her coat before leading the way to the front door.

“How tired are you?” Harriet asked her aunt when they were back in the car.

“I’d like to get back to Brownie. Why? What did you have in mind?”

“I want to see what Lauren has dug up on Jenny’s brother, and I’d rather talk it over in person.”

“Well, I gave Penny a key so she could walk Brownie in the evening when Rod’s off-duty, just in case something came up. Let me check in with her.”

“While you do that, I’ll call Lauren and see if she’s available.”