Quilt Trip: A Southern Quilting Mystery (15 page)

“Don’t you think we should go back up to the attic and poke around for a will?” Meadow asked.

“Finding a will isn’t going to help us solve these murders, though. It’s only going to clear up who was an intended heir. And that doesn’t even particularly matter since Colton was obviously here to draw up another will.”

“What should we do with the keys to the attic?”

“I’ll put one of them in my pocket so it’ll be with me at all times. The other one . . .” Beatrice glanced around their bedroom. She spotted a small framed photograph on the bedside table picturing a very dour person from the early twentieth century. “How about we put the other key in the back of that picture frame?”

“Good idea.” Meadow raised her eyebrows. “I’m impressed! Have you had much opportunity to hide things in your life?”

“Not a thing, except maybe Christmas presents.” Beatrice laughed. “But that’s a spot where we can still easily access the key but it’s completely out of sight.”

•   •   •

Beatrice felt restless again after the attic discoveries. She felt as if they were on the brink of discovering who was responsible for the murders and her brain didn’t want to shut off. Ordinarily when she felt this way she’d take a walk with her corgi, Noo-noo. There was no way she could take a walk in these icy conditions without breaking her neck. And thinking about poor Noo-noo, who must surely wonder where her mistress was, put her into a brooding mood. She was peering out the library window to look for signs of melting ice when Meadow spotted her. Posy followed Meadow in a few moments later and settled down at a leather card table, where she immediately proceeded to cut circles out of colorful cloth.

“You’re acting broody, Beatrice,” Meadow said with arched eyebrows. Then she frowned. “Which I understand, since I’m not really in the best of moods myself.”

Posy put down her fabric to stare at Meadow. Meadow was so rarely in a bad mood that it was fairly earth-shattering when she was.

In fact, it was almost a relief to have Meadow finally feeling the effects of living in a dilapidated mansion with no electricity and a murderer on the loose.

“Starting to feel the stress?” asked Beatrice, nodding.

Meadow gazed blankly at her. “Stress? No. But I’ve gotten myself all fired up about the fact that Muriel and Colton didn’t have the time to come up with a will to set up that quilting foundation.”

Beatrice sighed. “I thought we decided it was all just a ruse to get everyone here so that she could apologize to them.”

“No, I really think she was going to also do something about the foundation. After all, she got Holly here and she didn’t even
know
Holly. She wasn’t exactly making the Village Quilters leave, either—Muriel could have simply had Colton send us away when we showed up.”

“Well, I know you’re disappointed . . .”

“I am! I really wanted to have some funds to start after-school clubs or something. We always try to get the young people involved in quilting, but they’re always so busy. They never can commit to something that takes as long as a quilt.” Meadow’s eyes were sad behind her red glasses.

Posy said quickly, “The young people are so accomplished, though, Meadow. Soccer and lacrosse and tough classes and—”

“Yes, of course they are!” Meadow replied. “Take my Ash and Beatrice’s Piper. Brilliant children! And so talented. But it would be nice to pass on a real
art form
to the next generation.”

“Piper is a member of Village Quilters, Meadow,” Beatrice reminded her dryly. “She’s a much better quilter than I am.”

“Well, of
course
she is!” said Meadow. She swung her arms around in a dismissive gesture. “Our children are much more gifted than the norm! But I’m talking about regular young people—high schoolers or college or regular folks in their twenties. They need to be indoctrinated, too.”

Beatrice bit back a laugh at the word “indoctrinated,” which made her picture Meadow brainwashing youngsters into quilting. Instead, she said, “I’m sure we can do a little fund-raising to establish a club of some kind in the schools, Meadow. Perhaps Posy could donate older fabrics or give us a deal on bulk.”

Posy was nodding eagerly.

Meadow still appeared grumbly, but brightened a little at the thought.

“Now can we get back to the case at hand?” Beatrice suddenly felt grouchy again.

“Are you getting fidgety?” Meadow put her hands on her hips. “I know how antsy you get when you can’t do what you want. I saw you staring out those windows.”

“I think there’s some melting happening,” said Beatrice, gesturing outside. “See? It’s even dripping off the roof. And right there on the driveway? Doesn’t that look like a puddle?”

Meadow peered dubiously out the window. “Not much like a puddle, no. Maybe it’s starting to melt, but it’s still icy on the top. Like a lake that hasn’t completely frozen over. You’re not thinking about us hopping in the van and taking off, are you? Because I’m too fond of my life to end it by running slap into a tree while going down a mountain of a driveway.”

Beatrice sighed. “No, I guess I’m not thinking about doing that. I wouldn’t want you to wreck your van and I’d be too guilty if anything were to happen to us if we tried it. But, boy, I sure wouldn’t mind some of the others trying to drive out.” She kept her voice low in case anyone came in.

“I know!” said Meadow, rolling her eyes. She tried to keep her voice low, too, but was as loud as usual. “Especially that Alexandra. Although Winnie has been getting on my nerves, too. She’s so shrill and whiney. I can’t handle it.”

“Maybe I’ll try to find something in the bookshelves,” Beatrice said. “I did spot a few Agatha Christies in the study, so I’m thinking the study might actually have the good books. The library has those wretched collections. I’ve already tried reading a few of the anthologies and they were pretty awful. Maybe I’ve just got more modern taste.”

“Let’s quilt for a while,” said Meadow, as if proposing something new and different. Naturally, they’d all been quilting at least once a day since the ordeal started. After all, it was the way most of the women relaxed when they were under stress.

Beatrice reluctantly agreed. She still felt fairly limited in her quilting abilities, and being around expert quilters who’d been practicing the craft for a lifetime wasn’t exactly the way to make her feel more confident. But after she’d started hand-piecing, Meadow helpfully jumped in with a few tips. After a half hour had passed, Posy joined them and Beatrice heard even more helpful tips. Soon she felt that she was getting a free master-level class. When Miss Sissy entered the library, she thought she’d really hit the jackpot. Miss Sissy was a fabulous quilter and a fairly able teacher, despite her frequent odd behavior. But Miss Sissy was apparently only in the library for a spot in front of the warm fire and a comfortable chair to nap in. She was soon snoring loudly.

While they were in the library, the other quilters came and went. Winnie listlessly joined them for a few minutes before putting her project aside and wandering off again. Dot came in with her squeaky walker and cheerfully chatted with them while playing a quick game of solitaire before heading to the kitchen in search of a snack. Alexandra came in, apparently searching for a book, glared at them, and left again. Holly spent nearly an hour with them and made quick progress on her own quilt, a homey-looking double ring quilt. Then she got sleepy and went upstairs for a nap.

When it was only Meadow and Posy and the sleeping Miss Sissy in the room again, Beatrice said quietly, “You know, Posy might be a good person to poke around in the attic a little.”

Meadow nodded. “You could be right. If
I
go into the attic, there’ll be someone looking for me about food or firewood. I seem to have gotten elected cook and fire maker. And if
you
go up to the attic, Beatrice, someone will be trying to talk to you about the case or about getting out of here . . . You’re sort of the group leader. But no one wants to bother Posy, since she’s in charge of keeping up with Miss Sissy and that’s trouble enough.”

And Posy was quiet, too, which was something that Meadow was decidedly not.

“Oh, I’d be delighted to help, Beatrice,” Posy said. “I feel I really haven’t been able to do very much to help you out.”

“Are you going to give her your key?” asked Meadow. “Actually, why doesn’t Posy just take the other key? The one you’ve hidden away.”

“Honestly, it probably would be a good idea for Posy to have possession of that key,” said Beatrice thoughtfully. “That way, if anything happened to you or me, she’d have it.”

“God forbid!” said Meadow stoutly. “Nothing will happen to us, Beatrice. Not unless we try to get out of here with the van, and we’ve already decided against that.”

Beatrice quietly told Posy the key’s location on the back of the picture frame. Posy listened carefully, nodding. “So I’ll get the key and wait for the coast to be clear before I go up to the attic. I’ll search for official-looking documents, right?”

“Exactly,” Beatrice told her.

Posy put down her quilting and headed upstairs.

“This is all so exciting sometimes!” said Meadow, still doing some hand-piecing. “I wonder what Posy might uncover upstairs.”

A few minutes later, though, an apologetic Posy rejoined them. “I’m so sorry, y’all. I must not have heard you right. I checked in the back of the picture frame on one of the bedside tables but there wasn’t any key in it. It had a picture of a real serious woman on the front. Was that the wrong one? But I didn’t see another one. Did you hide it, maybe?”

Beatrice and Meadow stared at each other. “No, that was the right picture frame,” Beatrice said slowly.

“Do you think maybe it somehow got into another part of the frame or something?” asked Meadow, squinting her eyes in thought. “Could it have slipped underneath the picture, maybe?”

“I don’t know.” Beatrice put her quilt aside and stood up. “But I’m going to go up right now and check it out.”

“Me, too!” said Meadow.

“I’ll wait down here so it won’t be too obvious that we’re trying to be secretive,” said Posy.

Beatrice and Meadow headed upstairs and into their room, quietly closing the door behind them. Beatrice picked up the picture frame and carefully dismembered it, putting each piece separately on the bed. They stared at the bits: glass, a back, cardboard filler, the photograph. No key.

“Are we losing our minds?” Meadow asked in an excited whisper. “Did we hallucinate the whole thing?”

“No, we put the key right in the back here,” Beatrice said. “Someone must have overheard us talking about it.”

“They must have,” Meadow agreed. “Because
I
didn’t move the key.”

“Of course you didn’t,” said Beatrice. “Nor did I. Someone heard us and took it.”

“Let’s go back downstairs and ask Posy and Miss Sissy if they noticed anyone lurking outside our door earlier,” said Meadow. “I want to know who’s been eavesdropping on us!”

But Posy hadn’t seen anyone outside their bedroom door. “Don’t you think that would have been pretty obvious?” she said doubtfully. “Our murderer seems to be more clever than that.”

Miss Sissy, when they’d woken her up from her nap, was adamant. “Nobody snooping!” she said.

“This was earlier, Miss Sissy. Before Meadow and I started quilting,” explained Beatrice.

“There was nobody!” repeated Miss Sissy vehemently.

“Miss Sissy would likely know,” said Posy. “She played solitaire in our room and had the door open the whole time. I’d think she’d see anyone coming or going.”

“Nobody!”

“Okay, so what are we going to do now?” asked Beatrice. “Clearly someone listened in on us. I’d love to know how they did it and what they were hoping to find out. I wonder if we can set a trap for them? And maybe keep half an eye on the stairs to the attic?”

Meadow clapped her hands with delight, causing Miss Sissy to startle and glare at her. “A trap! I’d love to set a trap. Makes you feel so smug, doesn’t it? Being in the know while someone else falls into it.”

Posy said in a hesitant voice, “So maybe give her another chance at taking something? A red herring?”

“Exactly. A red herring,” said Beatrice. “Over supper tonight, I’ll say something to Meadow about needing to talk to her. Then we’ll make sure that someone has an opportunity to hear us. We’ll make up a story about some important papers that are hidden in the study. Then, when our culprit goes to the study to find the papers, we’ll have caught her red-handed!”

Posy said, “But can we be sure that the same person will hunt for them? What if someone else comes searching for the papers?”

Meadow said, “What are the odds? I’m thinking that out of a smallish group of quilters there could only be one person that sneaky.”

Beatrice said quickly, “Did y’all hear something?”

It was Dot. She called downstairs to them again. “Can y’all find me that cane you were talking about? Somebody had it in their closet, right? I’m getting tired of this squeaky walker and want to try a cane instead.”

“Oh, I think there was one in my bedroom closet,” Posy said. “Hold on, Dot. I’ll run and get it.”

Posy scurried off and Beatrice muttered, “Hope Dot is really ready for a cane. All we need is for her to go tumbling down that oak staircase and get seriously injured. What would we do then?”

“She’s probably fine.” Meadow shrugged. “She’s been off that ankle for a while now. I’ve seen her put ice from outside on it. It’s got to be better.”

Beatrice had her doubts, though, when Dot tried to navigate the stairs holding the cane with one hand and the banister with the other. Posy hovered anxiously at Dot’s elbow. “Can I help you, Dot?”

Tiny Posy would likely fall down the stairs herself if Dot took a tumble. “No—here, I can help you, Dot,” said Beatrice firmly. Dot scooted to the side and held on to Beatrice instead of the banister and they slowly made their way down the stairs. Dot stuck her tongue out in concentration.

When they reached the landing, Beatrice frowned as she heard an unusual sound. “Dot, did you hear that?”

Dot gazed blankly at her. “Hear what?”

“I don’t know. There was a funny sound when your cane hit the landing.”

Dot picked up her cane and rapped against the floor again. Again there was that hollow sound.

Beatrice stooped down and Dot moved out of the way. Beatrice rapped on the floor around the area and then sat back on her heels. “It sure seems to me like there’s a hollowed-out spot here in the floor.”

Miss Sissy appeared behind them. “Secrets!” she hissed.

Meadow put her hands on her hips. “Well, if this isn’t divine providence, I don’t know what is. Just when I’m thinking I’m going to go stir crazy and that this house is the most boring place in the world, we find a secret compartment. I love it!”

“That’s only my guess,” muttered Beatrice. “This house might just have a serious case of termites.”

“Dot, I’ll help you the rest of the way down,” Meadow said. “Do you want to go put your feet up in the library?”

“I sure don’t. I want to watch the action!” Dot’s eyes danced. Meadow helped her to the bottom of the staircase and they watched as Beatrice stooped down to carefully examine the landing. Posy also studied the floor.

“I’m looking, too, Beatrice,” said Posy. “But I’m not really sure what I’m searching for.”

“Maybe the outline of a door?” Beatrice said slowly. Then her eyes fell on a slight depression in the wood. It was hard to see because the staircase wood had warped over the years. “Or something like that,” she said, gesturing to a thumbhole.

No one seemed even to breathe as Beatrice put her thumb into the depression and tugged. She felt something give, but hadn’t put enough force behind her pull. She tried again, this time bracing herself. A square section of the floor started coming up.

“A trapdoor,” Posy breathed.

Meadow chortled with delight. Dot grinned.

“Wickedness!” said Miss Sissy decidedly.

Beatrice carefully opened the door all the way back until she leaned it against the wall. The door was hinged on the inside. She could see a rickety wooden ladder leading down into a space that was about four feet deep. “Should I go down there?”

“Yes! You should!” Meadow said with delight, and complete disregard for Beatrice’s safety.

“Don’t you think you might get hurt?” Posy worried. “That wood is awfully old.”

“You don’t want to take a tumble like I did,” said Dot.

“I’ll be careful,” said Beatrice. She eased herself onto the small ladder, testing her weight on it. “The ladder appears pretty sturdy, actually.”

Beatrice slowly descended into the space, then paused. “Could someone hand me one of the flashlights, please? Or a candle. I won’t be able to see a thing down here without a little light.” And the thought of accidentally brushing against some sort of creature that made the hidey-hole a burrow made her shiver. She wasn’t particularly fond of large spiders, either.

Meadow dashed off for a flashlight, returning in seconds. The flashlight wasn’t very generous with its light, but it at least gave off enough so that Beatrice would be able to get an idea of what was in the space. This time she continued down the ladder until she got to the floor, crouching herself over as she descended.

“Are you going to be able to breathe down there?” called Meadow.

Beatrice carefully stood all the way up and her head was over and through the trapdoor. “Well, as you can see, I’m a lot taller than the space is. But I can crouch in half and look around for a minute.”

She felt a little like Alice in Wonderland after eating the cake marked
Eat Me
. Beatrice hunched over and pointed her flashlight into the musty air and saw the space was lined with wooden shelves. And something else. Beatrice grinned.

She stuck her head up through the door again. “There’s a very old collection of whiskey and wine down here. This must have been someone’s hiding spot during Prohibition.”

“Pooh,” said Meadow. “I was hoping for more secrets than that.”

Posy leaned over the trapdoor as Beatrice hunched over again to reexamine the shelves. “I think it’s pretty cool,” Posy said. “I love the idea of a hidden space.”

“Wait,” said Meadow. “You don’t see any old wills down there, do you?”

“That’s what I was wondering,” said Beatrice. “I’m sure Muriel must have known this space was here after living in this house so many years.” She glanced around her, pointing the dim beam around the dusty shelves. “All I see is old bottles.” Then her foot brushed against something and she quickly pointed her beam down to the floor. “Wait a minute.” She stooped all the way down and gazed at an anachronism. Everything else in the space was 1920s era. But not this. “I’ve found the missing sleeping pill bottle.”

She heard the women murmuring their surprise. “What? On the shelf?” Meadow asked.

“No. It’s on the floor. I think someone must have just chucked it in the hole,” Beatrice said slowly.

“Aren’t you going to bring it up?” Dot asked.

“Evil!” said Miss Sissy.

“I think I should leave it here,” Beatrice said. “In case there are fingerprints on it. Or if the police want to see it where I found it.” She swept the flashlight once more all around the space, this time illuminating the floor and ceiling in her sweep. “I think that’s all.” Beatrice carefully climbed back up the ladder and through the trapdoor, brushing herself off after she climbed out.

Meadow gave Beatrice a meaningful wink that said she wanted to discuss what they’d found. Beatrice supposed she should count herself lucky that Meadow hadn’t blurted out what was on her mind the way she usually did.

“How fascinating!” Posy said. “Aside from the pill bottle, I mean. But it’s like seeing a little bit of history, isn’t it? A hidden stash. Imagine!”

“I wonder if there are any other hidden areas in the house,” said Beatrice. “Since we’ve found a hidden storage room, maybe there are other hidden places.”

“Like a secret passage!” said Meadow, breathless with excitement. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful? I’ve always wanted to see a hidden passageway. Just like in
Nancy Drew
.”

They stared at the trapdoor as if hoping it would spill its secrets about other hidden places. They jumped at a harsh voice from the top of the stairs. “So you found the secret hole in the floor, I see.”

It was Alexandra, smirking at them from the top of the stairs. “It’s not like there was hidden treasure in there or anything. The way y’all are acting, you’d think it held a magic lamp with a genie inside.”

Beatrice raised her eyebrows and worked to keep her irritation from boiling to the surface. She was pleased with her cool tone when she said, “Maybe it didn’t have treasure, but it did have the sleeping pill bottle. And I’m wondering who in the house would be most likely to know where that hiding spot was.”

Alexandra’s eyes narrowed. “What are you saying? You think that I’m the one who killed Colton and then threw the bottle of sleeping pills down there? I don’t think the police will be pleased by the lack of evidence. The fact I may have known something about the hiding place doesn’t mean I killed anybody. Besides, Mother told everyone about it—she was quite proud to be descended from people who were lawbreakers. Winnie almost certainly knew about it and Dot probably did, too.”

Dot rolled her eyes. “This is the first I’ve heard about it. Your mother and I weren’t exactly buddies, you know.”

“I’m simply saying that I’m not the only person who knew about it, that’s all,” Alexandra said sulkily.

Meadow said in a reasonable voice, “Let’s stop talking about it. Everyone’s in a grouchy mood at being stuck here. Let’s go our separate ways until supper. I know I’m always in a better mood when we have supper.”

“Except that we’re probably dining on a can of kidney beans,” Alexandra grumbled.

•   •   •

Alexandra must have taken inventory of the pantry. They were indeed dining on a can of kidney beans. Well, several of them were. The others were eating French-style green beans. Beatrice unenthusiastically ate her meal. She was really going to enjoy going out for a steak when she got back home.

Meadow and Beatrice had made their plans for setting up their trap. At the end of the meal, Meadow cleared her throat and said, “Beatrice, is everything all right? You’re acting like you’re concerned about something.”

Beatrice said absently, “Yes. Yes, I am concerned about something. But I’ll talk to you about it later, Meadow. After supper.”

For a moment, Beatrice felt sure that Meadow was going to wink at her. Thankfully, she didn’t. Posy dissolved into a fit of coughing, which Beatrice thought covered up a giggle.