The Quilt Before the Storm (15 page)

“I’m sure the scene has pretty well been contaminated by now anyway,” Mavis said. “I’ll bet everyone in the homeless camp has been in there to look.”

“You’re probably right.”

Lauren picked up her radio and began winding the crank on its side. After a minute, she stopped and turned the radio on.

“Shhh,” she said, even though no one was speaking. “Listen.”

She turned up the volume, and a scratchy voice came from the small speaker.

“What was that?” Mavis asked. “What did they say about water?”

“We have to boil it,” Lauren translated and clicked the radio off with a snap.

“Great,” Harriet said.

“You should be grateful,” Aunt Beth scolded. “At least we have a gas stove to boil water with.”

“Yeah, as long as the propane lasts,” Harriet shot back.

“What was that about the propane?” Jorge asked. He’d just come in from outside, Pamela and Curly on their leashes, Carter held in one large hand. “Everyone did their business,” he said as the women took their respective pets from him. Water ran in rivers down his face, dripping from his dark hair onto the collar of his raincoat. “Boy, it’s raining to beat the band out there.”

“Did you see Aiden this morning?” Harriet asked him.

“No, I’ve been here all day,” he said as Aunt Beth brought him a towel to dry his hair and Mavis took his wet coat and carried it off, presumably to hang it on a chair in front of the fire.

“He didn’t come to the house around the time I left?” Harriet pressed.

“No. Why do you think that?”

“As Tom and I were driving away, I looked back, and he was coming out of the woods at the end of the street.”

“Oh,” Jorge said. “I’m sure that didn’t please him—seeing you drive away.”

“Probably not,” Harriet said.

“I don’t like him being stuck with that sister of his all this time. She is
not
a good influence on the boy.”

“Me, either, but there’s not much I can do about it. He won’t talk to me.”

“That Michelle is up to no good,” Jorge said.

“Yeah, but what can we do about it?”

“Maybe the roads will be clear enough for us to pay a visit over there tomorrow. In the meantime, there’s nothing you can do about it.” He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Let’s go play cards,” he said. “Come on, Blondie, you, too.” He looked over his shoulder at Lauren.

Aunt Beth and Mavis declined the offer of cards and took one of the oil lamps to Harriet’s studio. They said they were going to sit in front of the window and see if they had enough light to work on their hand-stitching projects for a while.

“Do you ladies know how to play a game called scat?” Jorge asked.

Harriet and Lauren shook their heads.

“You are in for a treat, my friends,” he said and ushered them toward the living room. “We can pull that little table in front of the fire and play where it is warm.” He indicated a low coffee table.

Lauren brought the candelabrum from the dining room and relit the candles after setting it on the table.

“Okay, big guy, show us how it’s done,” Lauren said and sat down across the table from Jorge.

Harriet had lost all her pennies and Lauren was down to one when someone knocked on the front door.

“Who could that be?” Harriet wondered. “No one comes to the front door.”

“One way to find out,” Lauren said and started to get up, but Jorge beat her to it and opened the door to discover Carla and Wendy.

“Come in, niñas,” he said. He took Wendy from Carla and helped the toddler slip out of her wet jacket. “It still rains very hard out there.” He shook his head. “We are not out of the forest yet, ladies.”

“How did you get here?” Harriet asked Carla. “It’s almost
dark.”

“I drove Aiden’s Bronco,” she said. “And I didn’t ask first, either.” Her face was livid in spite of the cold temperature outside.

“Oh, dear,” Mavis said as she and Aunt Beth heard the commotion and came to see the new arrivals.

“What’s wrong?” Harriet asked.

“Are the roads clear?” Aunt Beth asked at the same time.

“Let’s let the poor child get out of her wet coat and get settled,” Mavis said. “Go get her some tea, Harriet. And you…” She gestured at Lauren. “…go upstairs and get one of those fleece throws from the TV room.”

“I’ll take the niñita to the kitchen for some warm apple juice,” Jorge said then tickled Wendy, causing her to giggle.

“Can you tell us what happened?” Aunt Beth said in a soft voice after they had Carla settled in front of the fireplace, wrapped in the throw and with a cup of tea held in both hands.

“It’s that woman,” Carla said. “I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to get out of there, even if it is bad outside. I was afraid I was going to kill her.”

No one had to ask. They all knew she was talking about Mi
chelle.

“What’s she doing?” Lauren asked.

‘‘‘Carla, be a dear and get me some coffee. Carla, dear, could you warm my sweater in front of the fire? Carla, could you carry more wood up to my bedroom? And make the fire bigger while you’re up there, it’s getting chilly.’” Carla said all this in a voice intended to mimic the affected tone Aiden’s sister used. A blush crept up her neck to her face. “When she expected me to heat the antique iron and press her ‘favorite linen tablecloth,’ I couldn’t take it. There were three other tablecloths that were already ironed and looked fine,” she finished with righteous indignation.

“That’s just terrible, honey,” Mavis said.

“And she made Wendy cry,” Carla added.

“I’d of killed her for that,” Harriet said. She’d become quite fond of the toddler since Carla had joined the Loose Threads, and couldn’t imagine anyone mistreating the good-natured little girl.

“I know I shouldn’t have driven with Wendy in this weather, but I did put her carseat in the back seat and everything.”

“How were the roads?” Aunt Beth asked for the second time.

“They weren’t as bad as I expected,” Carla said. “People have been out clearing downed limbs. You can see lots of freshly cut wood at the sides of the road. And the power company was working at the bottom of your hill. They were letting people go off-road to get around the mess if you had four-wheel drive. Most of the way was okay, though.”

“Well, I’m glad you were able to get through,” Beth said. “That woman could drive anyone to drink.”

“That’s not the worst of it,” Carla said. “She’s playing with Aiden’s head something awful.”

“Have you heard what she’s saying to him?” Harriet asked.

“Not much—she shuts up around me, except for orders. But when she made Wendy cry, she was working on some kind of craft project. She left it on a table in the nursery, and Wendy touched her paper, and she came in and screamed at her.”

“What kind of craft project?” Harriet asked. “And why was she doing it in the nursery?”

“I don’t know. She ordered Wendy and me out of the room, and when I went back to get Wendy’s toy that she’d dropped, everything was gone.”

“I thought Aiden let you have the nursery for Wendy.” Lauren said.

“Not when Michelle’s there, I guess.” Carla said. “Whatever it was involved little scraps of paper and some sort of glue.”

“That is very curious,” Aunt Beth said.

“Last night, I heard Aiden say ‘So, you’re telling me all my work here has been for nothing?’ but I couldn’t hear what she’d said before that and I didn’t hear her reply.”

“I wish we knew more about what she was up to,” Mavis said.

“I could try to find out,” Carla offered.

“We wouldn’t want to get you in any trouble,” Aunt Beth said. “But it would sure help to know a little more about what angle that girl is trying to play this time.”

Everyone sat, lost in her own thoughts for a few moments.

“I think I know a way,” Harriet finally said.

“Well, don’t just sit there,” Lauren said. “Enlighten us.”

“Carla, do you still have the extra baby monitor you had when Kissa was staying at Aiden’s?”

“Yes. In fact, I have another one Terry made that filters out background noise so I can hear Wendy more clearly.”

“Do any of them use batteries?”

“Sure, all of them can operate on battery power. I think it’s one of those safety things.”

“Perfect,” Harriet said. “Do you think you can conceal a unit in whatever room Aiden and Michelle spend most of their time in?”

“Totally,” Carla said, her expression brightening. “That will make it a little easier to go back there, too.”

“Do any of you ladies have the old-fashioned kind of phone?” Jorge asked as he carried Wendy back into the living room, a pink sippy cup clutched in her chubby fingers. “You know? The kind with just a cord that plugs into a wall jack, but no electric cord.”

“We do,” Harriet said, excitement in her voice as she realized what Jorge was saying.

“Why didn't we think of that?” Lauren said. “Old school phones often work even when the power is out because the electrical power for the phone lines is separate from the regular power system,” she explained to Mavis and Aunt Beth. “Of course, that's if the phone lines are intact.”

“That will only help us if the people we're calling have them, too,” Aunt Beth pointed out.

“I passed several phone company vans on my way here,” Carla said.

“We've got more than one old school phone,” Harriet said. “I replaced the ones upstairs with a cordless set when I moved in. The old Princess models are in a box in the TV room closet.”

Lauren left the room, returning a few minutes later with a phone in each hand.

“These babies are museum-quality,” she said and set the two units on the coffee table.

“Perfect,” Aunt Beth said. “We can send one with Carla and plug the other one in here. There should be a phone jack in the baseboard there under the window.” She pointed to a spot on the exterior wall.

“There's probably a phone jack in either your bedroom or your sitting room,” Mavis told Carla. “Plug this in as soon as you get home.”

“Don't put it out in the open,” Harriet warned. “Until we know what Michelle is up to, we don't want to put her on her guard. From what I've seen of her, though, she'll never suspect you could be watching her or gathering evidence of whatever she's doing.”

“Still,” Mavis said, “it pays to be cautious. And don't take any chances. She's a mean one. She used to pick on Aiden something awful when he was a little guy.”

“I’m just so happy to be here with you guys for a little while, I’ll do anything.” Carla sighed. “It’s been a really long couple of days.”

“Okay,” Harriet said and picked up the watch Jorge had laid on the table for communal use. “Let's wait until nine p.m. to make contact. They shouldn't be looking for you to any chores by then.”

Carla looked at her like she had to be kidding.

“You call me so we won't have to worry about the phone ringing on your end when someone else is around,” Harriet went on. “If you can't get through, try again before you go to sleep.”

“And, honey, if it gets to be too much for you over there, you just call and we’ll get you out of there,” Mavis said.

“Thanks, but I’ll be fine now,” Carla said, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I just needed some sympathy.”

“I’m going to drive you home,” Jorge insisted. “I need to see how bad the river is. If it was at the bridge when Señor Tom brought our Harriet home, I’m sure its worse now, but I need to see it myself.”

“Thank you for that,” Aunt Beth said. “I don’t like the idea of Carla driving around alone in this weather.”

“I should go back before they notice I’m gone,” Carla said. “Michelle will start screaming for me as soon as she gets hungry.”

“How’s Jorge going to get back here?” Lauren asked.

“Are you afraid
you’re
going to go hungry?” Harriet asked with a grin.

“Aiden will loan me a car,” Jorge said. “Let me get my coat, and we’ll be on our way.”

“Call us as soon as you can safely do it,” Harriet said again.

“Hang in there,” Mavis added. “You did the right thing coming to us.”

Jorge had not yet returned when the pink Princess phone in the living room started ringing. Lauren and Harriet were straining to read years’-old issues of a quilting magazine Lauren had discovered when she was upstairs getting the phones. The light from one oil lamp and the fireplace were barely adequate to look at the pictures. Reading the articles was out of the question.

“Are you going to answer that?” Lauren asked Harriet.

Harriet gave her an exasperated look as she got up and crossed to the table by the window. Rain was lashing the windowpanes again.

“What’s happened?” she asked when she picked up the phone. “It’s nowhere near nine o’clock.” Something had to be very wrong for Carla to be making contact so soon after she arrived home. “Oh, I’m sorry, Detective Morse, I was expecting a call from Carla…Well, I…not this soon, but later. So I was surprised…I’m sorry, I’m babbling. What can I do for you?” Lauren was gesturing frantically at her. “Excuse me a minute. This thing doesn’t have a speaker option. I’ll tell you what she says after,” she told Lauren, a note of annoyance creeping into her tone.

“Yes, I was at the homeless camp earlier,” she went on.

“Who was there?” Jane Morse asked.

“Joyce Elias, a woman they call Brandy, a stranded trucker couple, and Ronald Bachman said a couple came late and left early. He didn’t seem to know who they were. I guess that isn’t uncommon there.”

“I wish I could interview the truckers. If they could prove they were out of the area on a couple of critical dates, they could be eliminated as suspects.”

“Which dates?” Harriet asked.

“Why?” Morse shot back.

“Just curious,” Harriet said.

Morse recited the three dates.

“I’m sure they wouldn’t be suspects, but Marjory Swain’s family was roaming around town, too. They said they spent the night in their car, so they could have gone to the park to use the facilities at some point, too.”

“I doubt they’re serial killers, but everyone’s a suspect in Duane’s murder until we eliminate them. Why didn’t they go to the shelter at the church?”