2 Knot What It Seams (21 page)

Police chiefs were good at subtle orders.

Wyatt and Beatrice made their good-byes and Beatrice said quickly as soon as they were outside, “Wyatt, you really don’t have to take me home. You sort of got hijacked there, by Meadow and Ramsay. I’m perfectly capable of walking back home.”

Wyatt smiled at her as he opened the passenger-side door for her. “Oh, I have no doubt in my mind that you’re perfectly capable. But there’s simply no reason for it. You’ve had a rough evening—you’ve gotten banged up. You need a little TLC. Besides, it’s my pleasure.”

Beatrice said slowly, “This spate of violence in Dappled Hills must seem unbelievable to you. Having these murders in such a peaceful place.”

Wyatt nodded. “They say
still waters run deep.
It’s true for people, but it’s also true for towns. There are lots of emotions that are brewing under the surface—tension and hurt feelings. They show in different ways . . . and you’re right that I find murder a shocking manifestation of it.”

He pulled up into Beatrice’s driveway and parked her car, carefully applying the parking brake. Beatrice could see Noo-noo’s big ears through the living room window. The poor dog must have been wondering where she’d been all day.

She was opening her door and was thanking Wyatt when he stopped her for a moment, staring at her with serious eyes. “I meant what I said about realizing how capable you are. But you need to remember what you’re dealing with here. Whoever is behind these crimes is feeling very desperate. I think it’s clear to the murderer that you’ve either learned information that could expose him, or that you’re very close to doing so. Please . . . be careful. Very careful.”

The concern in Wyatt’s voice warmed Beatrice’s heart. She nodded. Wyatt gave her hand a squeeze, wished her good night, and set off for the walk back to the Downeys’ house for his car, armed with the flashlight they’d lent him.

* * *

The next morning, Beatrice was so sore from her tumble on the street that she could barely haul herself out of the bed. Noo-noo watched sympathetically, standing close by the side of the bed.

Fortunately, as she moved around, making herself breakfast, showering, and getting dressed, she noticed that she’d loosened up a little bit. Noo-noo was relieved at her mistress’s recovery and eagerly stood next to the hook where her leash hung.

“Sorry, sweetie, I don’t think I feel that great yet. But maybe we can sit on the ground for a while and plant those flowers. Miss Sissy doesn’t have her car right now, so I think you’ll be safe with me in the front yard.” Beatrice glanced around the kitchen and out the window for the flats of flowers. “Oh, I never got them out of the car last night,” she said sheepishly. It had been the kind of evening where plans went completely awry.

Beatrice brought a small tarp to sit on, retrieved the flowers, and planted as Noo-noo watched. It was sappy to think it, but she felt a sense of renewal out there with the dew and the rising sun and the fresh day starting. It was good to be doing something basic, something mindless out in the dirt. Noo-noo apparently shared her sentiment and dozed peacefully next to her.

The idyll ended when there was a sudden crashing through the bushes, and Beatrice struggled to her feet. Noo-noo growled and then barked as Beatrice brandished her spade in front of her in a threatening manner and wished she’d brought her shovel outside with her instead.

Another few heart-racing moments of the wordless crashing sounds . . . then Boris bolted toward her, tongue hanging out of his mouth, tail wagging ecstatically.

Beatrice shakily exhaled, dropping the spade and wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans. It was ridiculous to be feeling this way. She hated jumping at every little sound.

Boris wasn’t exactly a
little
sound, though. “Come on, Boris,” she said. “Let’s go inside.”

She’d learned from experience with Boris that it was best if she was proactive and had food available for him to eat. Otherwise, he’d consume everything in her tiny kitchen that he deemed edible. Which encompassed most of the contents of her kitchen.

Noo-noo was looking particularly put-out by the fact that Beatrice was providing treats to Boris. She pulled out a couple and tossed them her way.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at Beatrice’s door and Beatrice opened it to a disheveled Meadow, wearing plaid flannel pajama bottoms and an inside-out burgundy sweatshirt.

“Have you seen Boris?” she asked breathlessly. Leaves and twigs stuck out of her gray braid, attesting to her search through the woods between their two houses.

They heard a joyful, throaty bark from Beatrice’s kitchen, and the huge dog barreled toward them.

“Boris! What a bad boy you are!” cried Meadow, showering the dog with kisses.

“Want some coffee, Meadow?” asked Beatrice, already heading back to the kitchen for two cups.

“Please! With cream and sugar.” As if Beatrice could forget, considering Meadow’s habit of dropping by for nearly daily coffee.

Minutes later, they were sitting on Beatrice’s sofa, coffees in hand, and gazing at the two napping dogs. Noo-noo, even in sleep, seemed slightly on alert as if Boris was dangerously close to a complete invasion of her space.

“So, what are you doing for the rest of the day, Beatrice? Lolling around the house?”

Beatrice opened her mouth to sharply answer back and Meadow gave a deep chuckle. “Now, now. Don’t get all wound up! I’m only kidding. You never loll, although lolling should be required today. What a scary evening you had yesterday! Are you feeling the effects of skidding across the pavement?”

Yes, especially when Meadow put it that way. “I was pretty sore when I woke up this morning. Although I’ve loosened up a bit since I’ve been moving around.” And trying to keep your beast from eating up everything in my house.

“Ooh. I bet that was
painful. You probably haven’t skinned yourself up like that since you were a little kid. So you’ll be taking it easy today?”

“Not so much, really. I’ve started on the flower bed out there—I’d picked some flowers up at the nursery and started planting them,” said Beatrice, leaving the sentence hanging a little, suggestively.

“Oh, when my bad Boris came over?” asked Meadow, clucking at the sleeping dog. “He’s a mess, isn’t he? I can help you to plant the flowers, if you’d like. I’ve got a bit of a green thumb.”

Judging from the amazing success of her vegetable garden, she had more like a green
hand
than just a thumb.

“It’s all right. The planting is pretty calming. And it gives me time to think.”

Meadow suddenly fluttered her eyelashes coyly. “Are you thinking about anyone in particular? Anyone special?”

Beatrice frowned, thinking. “Well, probably Glen.”

“Glen!” Meadow sounded horrified.

“Sure,” said Beatrice. “Why not?” Meadow was the one who’d mentioned that he probably had a possible love interest, which made for an excellent motive for murder. What
was
the matter with the woman? You never could tell what was going through Meadow’s mind.

“There’s certainly no accounting for taste,” said Meadow, rather cryptically. “So that’s it for your day? Planting flowers and wondering about Glen?”

“And eating supper with Karen Taylor. She invited Piper and me over tonight.”

“Really!” said Meadow. “That’s remarkable. I wouldn’t have said the two of you would even have gotten along well together.”

“I don’t think we’ll ever be best friends, no. She’s pretty strong-willed and very driven. But she’s friendly enough. I was interested in seeing more of her quilts. From what I saw at the quilt show, she’s extraordinarily gifted,” said Beatrice.

Meadow snapped her fingers. “You know, I’ve been thinking about how to go about formally asking Karen to be part of the Village Quilters. Since Opal and Jo are dead, you know, and we still need someone to be part of our group.”

How flattered Karen would feel.

“Maybe if I accidentally sort of popped by tonight. For some reason, whenever I see her, she’s all stressed out or in a tremendous hurry. If I drop by tonight, she’ll be relaxed from a full tummy, a couple of glasses of wine, and friendly conversation. Maybe she’ll accept our invitation right on the spot.”

While Meadow got up to pour herself another cup of coffee, still talking about the possibilities Karen would bring to the guild, Beatrice rubbed her forehead. She had a funny feeling that Meadow’s intrusion into Karen’s dinner party was going to turn this into a very long day.

Chapter 15

That evening, Piper came by to pick her up. “You look nice,” she said. “Boy, am I happy to finally get away from the school! The staff development speaker we had today was absolutely awful.” Then she frowned. “What happened to your hands?”

Beatrice hesitated. She hated to make her daughter worry over her. Plus, she had a feeling that Piper was going to fuss and tell her that she shouldn’t be trying to run her own side investigation of these murders. How
couldn’t
she, though, when these crimes had practically happened on top of her? But Meadow, of course, would have told most of the town by now. It might be better to downplay it.

“It’s nothing now. I took a tumble out on the Blue Ridge Parkway.”

“You did
what
? When?” Piper gaped at her. “You’re not one to keel over like that, Mama!”

Beatrice told her story with as little excitement as she could. “So you see, it all turned out fine. And Ramsay will probably find out who’s behind it all very soon and we’ll all go back to our quiet lives.” Piper was still frowning over the story. “Do you think I’m dressed all right for tonight?” Beatrice asked, in an attempt to change the topic.

“Hmm? Yes, I think so. Didn’t I say so a minute ago? I’m still worried over what happened yesterday. I wish you’d called me last night when you got back. I don’t think I’m looking out for you like I should be,” said Piper.

“Sweetie, I feel the same way about you. I keep thinking I should be inviting you over to supper and filling you up with healthy meals and good conversation. We can’t stop feeling guilty, no matter what, can we? And there was absolutely no way I was going to call you last night and worry you right before bedtime. What good would that have accomplished?”

Piper smiled at her. “I guess you’re right.” She glanced at her watch. “We probably need to go ahead over to Karen’s house. It was nice of her to invite us over.”

It was nice, for sure, although Karen probably didn’t do anything merely to be nice. For her it was more like networking and information-gathering. She’d certainly been very interested in Beatrice’s background at the art museum.

Karen’s house was a pretty Colonial with a historic marker outside it. Beatrice raised her eyebrows when she saw it. “That’s quite a house for a young woman on her own.”

Piper said, “It’s the house she grew up in. Her mother died when she was a teenager and then her dad passed away a few years later—like he just didn’t want to go on without her. Of course, it didn’t have a historic marker at the time, but Karen worked hard to get it listed in the register. She’s that kind of person, you know.”

“Snobbish?” asked Beatrice.

Piper gave a laugh. “Diligent. I don’t think she’s snobby, but I think she’s proud.”

“Have you heard anything about her parents or her background at all? I’m curious how she ended up becoming such a supercompetitive quilter. Opal was saying something about nothing Karen did was ever good enough for her parents—something like that.”

“Yes. I guess everyone in town knew about it because it was Meadow who actually filled me in on Karen’s parents. Apparently, she just about bit a hole through her tongue to keep from butting in when she was around Karen and her folks. Karen’s mother was a quilter, too, and was even in the Village Quilters for a while. And she was incredibly critical of Karen apparently—always very negative about Karen’s quilts and her ability. I wondered if maybe Karen was determined to win quilt shows just to prove that her mother was wrong about her.”

“There would definitely be a sense of satisfaction in getting critical acclaim and awards—especially if you’ve always been told you weren’t any good. Sounds like a healthy way of restoring your ego,” said Beatrice.

Karen opened the door before they had a chance to knock. She was nicely dressed in a black blouse that perfectly contrasted with her shoulder-length blond hair, and wore crisply ironed white slacks and an intricately designed silver necklace. “How are y’all doing today? I’m so excited to have you over for supper,” she said warmly, holding the heavy wooden door open wide.

“Mmm,” said Piper. “It smells amazing in here.”

“Tenderloin with Gorgonzola cheese,” said Karen with a smile. “And smashed garlic potatoes and some cheesy biscuits that I’ve got a real weakness for. The aromas mingle nicely, don’t they?”

“They sure do,” said Piper. “And what a nice treat for Mama. Especially after the rotten day she had yesterday.”

Karen frowned. “Yesterday? What happened yesterday?”

“Only that Mama was almost run down by a car, that’s what! She had to dive out of the way and ended up skinning her hands and knees all over the Blue Ridge Parkway.”

Ordinarily, Piper’s pronouncement would have made Beatrice a bit grouchy. But this time she was more interested in seeing what Karen’s reaction was to the news. Where had
she
been last evening?

Karen’s eyes widened. “What? But that’s insane! Oh, wait. What was Miss Sissy doing yesterday evening? She almost ran me flat over at the church picnic last June. And I was yards off the road.” She added to Piper, “Miss Sissy almost ran your mother down yesterday, too. While she was gardening!”

Piper said, “I didn’t hear about that, either!”

Beatrice said quickly, “No, Miss Sissy was safely tucked away at home at the time. Carless. Her car died in my driveway, actually, and had to be towed away. So she wasn’t the culprit this time.”

“Well, that’s absolutely terrifying, Beatrice. You must have been scared out of your mind. Did you tell Ramsay about it? Did he think it was an accident?”