Barbara Graham - Quilted 03 - Murder by Music (10 page)

Lots of hands went into bags, dragging out piles of pink and brown fabrics. When they added it together, there was probably enough to make three complete king-sized quilts.

“So, what should we make with all this?” Theo stared at the mountain of fabric.

Susan said, “We could make a sampler quilt. If we each make two twelve inch blocks, it should go pretty fast and use lots of different browns and pinks.”

The others nodded.

Betty, who was legally blind, piped up. “That's still going to be a very pink quilt.”

Martha's voice came from the doorway. “I'd pay a hundred dollars to see Marmot-the-Varmint's head on a pink pillowcase, covered with all those pinks in the quilt, a maybe a heart-shaped satin pillow of hot pink.”

“Wait until you see the backing fabric I found.” Theo dragged a large piece from one of her bags. “Look. It's chocolate brown with big pink hearts all over it. Kind of like Valentine's Day dragged through the mud.”

“It's perfect,” said Jane. “Let's get to work.”

“I just love doing a mystery quilt.” Susan tucked her feet up under her while she studied the instructions.

“Me too.” Jane dug through the large green plastic box at her feet until she found her stack of precut fabrics. “Even if I guess right away what it is going to look like. I find it very freeing to work on something without having a preconceived notion about what it should look like when it is finished.”

“Well, I think it is silly.” Eleanor snapped. The expressions on the others' faces encouraged her to soften her words. “I just mean I already have more than enough to do.”

Realizing those words for Eleanor were a true apology, everyone nodded and went back to work.

“How are things at the museum?” Susan shifted the conversation back to Martha and Jane. “I heard the grand opening is next Friday at Celeste and Patrick's wedding reception.”

“That's the unofficial opening. Everyone in the county, plus the out of town guests will be free to explore the museum, but we won't actually open to the public then.” Martha massaged one eyebrow. “We hope to have most of the kinks worked out by Thanksgiving.”

“What's wrong?” Several voices asked in unison.

“Oh, nothing serious. The barn and display building are completely ready.” Jane waved her hands in a big circle. “Wait until you see the quilts we have. They are gorgeous. And lots of hands-on exhibits too, like spinning.”

Martha chimed in. “We're waiting for one of the new ovens for the snack bar.”

“A snack bar?” Holly stuffed a bite of cake into her mouth. “Who's going to cook?”

“Sally Calhoun.”

“Really?” Eleanor set her mug down and clapped her hands. “I think that's wonderful!”

Theo turned to Eleanor, surprised the cranky woman was so enthusiastic. “Have you eaten her cooking before?”

“Yes. I hope she hasn't lost her touch. Her pie crust was even better than Blossom's.” She frowned. “Of course, that was before Possum married her and dragged her away to be his prisoner.”

As melodramatic as she made it sound, Theo agreed with the basic story. The abusive man had married Sally and kept her isolated from her family and life in town. “What about her baby?”

“Oh, she's so precious.” Jane cooed. “We have set up a nursery room next to the snack bar and Celeste has promised to help out when she can.”

Eleanor picked up her mug and took a couple of loud gulps of liquid. “Who's Celeste? I don't think I know her.”

“Uhm.” At that moment, Theo realized what Eleanor was drinking and fell silent. Pregnancy made her sensitive to certain aromas she might not notice otherwise. Rum. In her big travel mug, Eleanor had lots of rum and something coconut. No wonder she tended to get quiet in the evenings. She was intoxicated.

Giving Theo a confused look and picking up the story where she stopped, Jane explained. “Celeste is the nice young woman from Kentucky who's marrying Patrick MacLeod on Friday. You know, he's the new high school football coach.”

“Patrick is
my
nephew.” Scarlet LaFleur's voice traveled through the room like an icy wind.

“The name's not familiar.” Betty whispered to Dottie but loudly enough for all to hear. “Who are his people?”

“My sister, Easter Lily is his mother.” Scarlet's expression did not invite further questions. “I am the only person besides her who knows the identity of his father. I will take her secret with me to the grave.”

As melodramatic as it was, the statement managed to stop further, at least open, inquiry about the groom's complicated family tree.

Tony was a hit with the scouts. He'd arrived at the meeting with enough rope to bind all six of the boys, plus the scout leaders, and Jamie into total immobility. It had taken a bit longer than expected to release them all, but the laughter and jokes made it even more fun.

Chris and Jamie hadn't had any problem talking him into a stop at Ruby's Café for dessert on the way home.

He was surprised when Blossom came out of the kitchen, followed by Ruby. Neither of the women was usually there after the dinner rush. Blossom's eyes were watering and her normally smooth skin looked red and blotchy. She stopped at their table and sniffled.

“Hey Blossom, I didn't think you worked evenings.” It was lame, but Tony was curious.

A shudder worked its way through her, jiggling her extra flesh. “I don't.” She began crying in earnest, buried her face in a towel, and waddled toward the kitchen.

Ruby kept her eyes on Blossom even as she rattled off the desserts available. The moment Blossom disappeared, she turned to Tony. “Poor Blossom. She's hiding here.”

“From what?”

“Some members of Mr. Beasley's family have called and accused her of murder.” Ruby's beautiful brown eyes flashed with anger. “There's just no way.”

Tony didn't dispute her assessment. He was curious, and not just about the identity of the callers. Why pick on Blossom? “Will you ask her if anyone told her their name? I'd really like to have a chat with these people, and as far as I know, none of his relatives live in the area.”

The first quilter to go to bed was Melissa. The young mother stretched and yawned. “I'm going to soak in the tub, without having little hands coming under the door, and then slide into bed. I'll see you all when I see you.”

Eleanor was the next to go to bed. Her room was upstairs and she staggered slightly before grabbing the handrail.

Mumbling complaints about the lack of an elevator and the drab décor, Scarlet followed Eleanor up the stairs to her own room.

The rest of the group worked on until about midnight. Most of the quilters, including Theo, went to bed then, leaving just a few night owls still working.

When Theo got into her room, it seemed stuffy, so she opened the window. Standing in the cool air, she yawned and stretched as she admired the stars and the crescent moon. Other than a few points of light in the hills across from the hotel, the only lights she saw came from the path lights lining the sidewalk around the building. Laughing so much was exhausting, she thought, and climbed into bed. Minutes later, she was sound asleep.

Only half conscious, it took Theo a little while to realize she was awake and shivering. Not stuffy any longer, the room was freezing cold. She smelled rain in the gentle breeze carried through the open window. The breeze blew directly across her bed, so she snuggled under the blankets and listened to the drops hitting the ledge outside the window. The rain was welcome after weeks of unrelenting dry weather, and Theo relaxed back into the pillows, savoring the moment.

She couldn't remember the last time it rained. Tears rose and spilled from her eyes, sliding onto the pillow. She wasn't sad. She was so hormonal, so emotional, that a little rain brought her to this state.

As she lay there, teary and yet pleased by the cool rain scent drifting through the room, she felt one or both of her babies turn. Gently rubbing her belly, she smiled, her eyes drying as the rain dripped from the eaves and splashed on the vegetation outside.

Whipping one hand out of the warm shelter of blankets, Theo pulled her travel alarm off the table and into the bed, diving deeper into the covers with it. When she pressed on a bar at the top of the face a light came inside and she could read the time. Three o'clock. She groaned. It was too cold to sleep and too early to get up. “Why don't they have remote controls for windows? There is one for everything else.” Grousing, she crawled out of bed and headed first to the bathroom then toward the window. She noticed the room was much darker without the glow of the moon and the stars.

Out of habit, she looked out the window. The only lights came from the path lighting, glowing upwards. Illuminated from below, the trees now had a menacing appearance. There was no color. Only shades of gray. The chill air carried the aromas of decaying leaves and damp earth to her. She shivered and reached up for the old-fashioned window sash. As she tugged on it, pulling it down, closing the window, she caught a glimpse of something odd in the shrubs below. It seemed much lighter in color than the bushes. Theo was sure it had not been there when she went to bed. Squinting made it clearer but not clear enough to identify. It looked like a white branch. She found her glasses on the nightstand and looked again.

A bare leg stuck out of the bushes. A woman's leg.

Wide awake now, Theo pulled on her robe and stuck her room key into the pocket. Without taking the time to think about what she was doing, she headed down the hall, across the lobby, past the Trimbles' apartment and out onto the back sidewalk. Not until she was standing on the wet flagstones did she realize her feet were bare and she was alone in the night with a corpse. Shivering uncontrollably, she backed toward the safety of The Lodge, even as she stared at the grotesque scene.

Draped backwards over a rhododendron bush was the very still body of Scarlet LaFleur. The leg Theo saw from her window pointed to the sky, the other one bent into the shrub. Scarlet's head was turned in an unnatural fashion, and rain droplets splashed into the water pooled in her open mouth. Theo thought something long and thin was tied around Scarlet's neck.

Some small creature moved in the vegetation, making Theo realize how vulnerable she was alone with a dead body in the dark. Sickened and terrified, she headed back into the hotel as quickly as she could. Almost to the owner's suite, she heard heavy footsteps coming behind her. Stepping into an alcove, she ducked down behind a potted plant and watched as Art Trimble, dressed in jeans and flannel shirt, walked past her hiding spot without stopping. His heavy hiking boots left a damp trail behind him.

As soon as she heard the apartment door close, Theo headed for her room. Close to panic, she waddled as quickly as she could. It took several attempts before she managed to get the key into the lock. She kept glancing backwards over her shoulder. Not until she fastened the security bolt and chain did she start to calm down. Ignoring the hotel phone, her shaking hands trembled as she lifted her tiny cell phone from her purse. She pressed two, automatically dialing Tony's phone.

Tony's grumpy, mumbled greeting was the sweetest sound imaginable. It brought tears to her eyes. “Tony.” The most sound she could produce was a bare whisper. With her heart pounding in her throat, she had to stop and catch her breath. She took huge gasps of air.

“Theo, honey, is that you?” Instantly, concern replaced the irritation in his voice. “Are you all right?”

“I am now.” Gulping the air had given her the hiccups, and she waited until they subsided some. “Tony, Scarlet is dead.”

“Dead how?” His voice was professional, the words clipped. Under control.

It calmed some of her panic, and she coughed a couple of times, clearing her throat. “I don't know how, but her body is outside in the bushes. It looks to me like her neck is broken. There's something around her throat and now it's raining on her.” As Theo talked her voice rose to a wail and then the hiccups got louder. She kept seeing the gaping mouth. The splashes of water dropping into it. “I was going to wake the Trimbles and call from their apartment, when I saw Art walk by, and he laughs like a seal. He was dressed.” She knew she wasn't making sense, but she couldn't seem to organize her thoughts at all. “Why was he outside at that hour? Did he call to report Scarlet's death?”

“Where are you now, sweetheart?” Tony's voice was calming and so dear. “Are you somewhere safe?”

A hiccup was her answer. “I'm in my room with the chain on. But, but I can see her body from my window.” She felt like a ninny, but she couldn't stop crying.