Authors: Arlene Sachitano
"And having done that,” Ilsa said, “why would he come back after all this time?"
"Okay,” Harriet said. “Let's be a little more methodical about this, construct a time line, maybe."
Robin pulled a tablet from her purse. “I'll take notes,” she said.
"Start at the beginning. Mavis, what can you tell us about the time right before Gerald left."
Mavis recounted what the rest of the group already knew about Gerald's last weeks before he disappeared. He'd been working a lot. He'd just perfected the fire protection fabric. He was working a lot of hours but seemed upbeat about the new product. Gerry had started working at the factory, and he and his dad were spending more time one-on-one talking about the job.
"He worked in a factory?” Ilsa said in disbelief.
"He was a fiber chemist,” Mavis said. “He invented the fire protective fabric that is still made in Carlton Brewster's factory."
Ilsa sat back in her chair. “I can't believe it,” she said. “I mean, I believe you. I just can't believe he worked anywhere that was inside. He told me he loved living things and had always worked out-of-doors."
"He did have a green thumb,” Mavis offered. “He had quite the garden at home."
"A garden,” Ilsa said. “Not a small farm in a green valley in northern California?"
"'Fraid not."
"When I met him, his skin was tanned and his hands callused."
"Don't forget there were some numbers of years unaccounted for,” Harriet said. “He disappeared from here almost twenty years ago. You told Mavis you'd been married fifteen years ago. How long before that did you meet him?"
Ilsa thought for a moment. “I think we dated for almost a year. And he'd been working for Joris for the year before that. So there must have been three mystery years."
"And you have no idea where he was during that time?” Harriet asked.
"Apparently not. He told me he came to the Netherlands to visit his cousin and decided to stay. He said he lived with them and worked on a farm near Amsterdam until he could save a little money to relocate with. He came to Aalsmeer, where I live, and went to work for Joris."
"Wait,” Lauren interrupted. “You work at a flower shop and Gerald was a farm hand and you can afford to dress like that?"
"I
own
the flower shop, and flowers are big business in Aalsmeer. Over seven billion cut flowers and one hundred fifty million plants are sold there annually. The flower auctions in Aalsmeer pretty much set the price for the flower trade internationally."
"I stand corrected,” Lauren said. “Who would have ever thought flowers were such big business.” She got up and went to the counter to get her drink refilled.
"Please excuse Lauren's lack of tact,” Mavis said.
"She obviously can't help herself,” Ilsa said with a small smile.
"So nothing out of the ordinary happened for fifteen years?” Robin said, bringing the group back to the time line.
"Not that I can think of,” Ilsa said. “I mean I could second-guess every pensive moment he had, but really, looking back I can't point to anything out of the ordinary until he got the phone call and said he was going on a trip."
"Did he go on solo trips often?” Connie asked.
"No, that's why it was so strange, why I followed him here. Neither one of us had ever taken a trip alone. I figured it was because it was his son—that is, the reason he lied about it. He didn't want to upset me."
Robin looked at her tablet. “Well, kids, we're going to have to come up with more than this."
"Isn't investigating Gerard's death a job for the police?” Ilsa asked.
"Of course,” Harriet said. “I'm sure they will figure out a cause of death and even eventually who killed him, but for Mavis's sake, we need to know why he left here, why he stayed gone and, most of all, why he came back. I'm not sure the police care about that, or they won't, if they catch the killer first."
"Are you about ready to go, mija?” Connie asked. “I have to take care of my granddaughter tonight, and I need to get a few things done before then."
"Sure,” Harriet said and picked up her bag. “Could you drop me off at Carlton's office?” she asked when they were in Connie's car. “I want to see if they have an employee badge book."
"You mean like our yearbook at school? They give us a new badge every year with an updated picture."
"Yeah, something like that."
"Who are you looking for? If it's someone at the factory, can't you just ask Carlton?"
"I tried that—he didn't recognize the name I was looking for. I just want to be sure.” She quickly told Connie who she was looking for and why.
"I'll come in with you. Two people can work faster than one, especially a one-handed one.” She smiled and patted Harriet's good hand.
The two women spent an hour and a half at Foggy Point Fire Protection, poring through the badge books. To be Terry's father, the man couldn't have worked there in the last ten or twelve years. Terry had said his dad died when he was young, and since he couldn't be more than thirty and probably was younger than that, they concentrated their efforts on the books from the nineteen-eighties. When that didn't yield anything, they checked the first few years of the nineteen-nineties, but to no avail.
"This just confirms what I already believed,” Harriet said. “Terry is here for some reason, but finding friends of his dead father isn't it."
"You're worried about Carla, aren't you?” Connie asked.
"Aunt Beth keeps telling me Carla's a big girl, but I have a bad feeling about this. Young people just don't come to hang out in Foggy Point."
"
You
came back,” Connie reminded.
"Yeah, but I had a reason. I have a relative here, one who really exists."
"Shall I drop you at your house?"
"Yeah, thanks. I need to think about what this means."
There was a
car parked in the circular driveway when Connie dropped Harriet off.
"Oh, joy,” Harriet said, “that looks like Lauren's car."
"Come on, honey,” Connie said. “Think positive."
Harriet gave her a half-smile and thanked her for the lift.
"It took you long enough to get home,” Lauren greeted her as she came through the quilt studio door.
"I didn't know I was on the clock,” Harriet said.
"You asked me to do some research, and I got some results. I thought you were anxious to hear any news regarding Gerald."
Harriet knew there was no winning with Lauren. However, the woman did know her way around a keyboard, and Harriet appreciated the fact that she'd taken the trouble to deliver the news privately.
"This took some work. You owe me big time."
"Okay, already, I owe you. I'll name my firstborn child after you. Better yet, I'll
give
you my firstborn child."
"Eww,” Lauren groaned.
"I've got to take my medicine—you're going to have to come to the kitchen to impart this earth-shattering news."
When Lauren got up without further argument it piqued Harriet's interest.
"You want some lemonade?” she asked as Lauren plopped down on a bar stool.
"Sure,” Lauren said, and pulled a folded sheet of paper from her pocket.
Harriet filled two glasses from a pitcher in the refrigerator, handed one to Lauren and then used hers to down two pills. She opened a plastic bag of chocolate chip cookies and put half a dozen on a plate then set it in front of Lauren. She finally sat down at the bar, one stool between herself and Lauren.
"Okay, I'm ready. Amaze me."
"You certainly know how to take the thrill out of things,” Lauren groused, and twisted a strand of her blond hair around her finger. “I searched for everything I could find on Gerald and didn't turn up much,” she said without waiting for Harriet to react to her accusation. “But when you gave me the Gerard Van Auken name, things started getting interesting."
"How so?"
"Hold your horses, I'm coming to that.” She looked at her paper again. “Gerard surfaced in Amsterdam the year after he left here. He wasn't exactly hiding. He gave a paper at a small conference that had something to do with industrial products. I'm not exactly sure what—I had to use a language translation program, so it's a little rough. He definitely delivered a paper. He seems to have attended a number of conferences that year. Nothing too big, but it seems like he was networking in his field."
"Is that the wow news?"
"No, that's not the big news. It is interesting, though, don't you think? He obviously wasn't concerned about hiding from everyone—just Foggy Pointers, or maybe just Americans."
Harriet gave her an impatient look.
"Okay, already,” Lauren continued. “The big news is that he took out a patent on a fiber formula then sold it for lots of money to a company that makes body armor. So, I guess he could afford to work as a simple peasant. He's got a few mil in the bank. Double-digit millions."
"Wow,” Harriet said in spite of herself. “You're right, I owe you for that."
"Don't worry,” Lauren said. “You
will
pay."
She stayed until she'd finished her lemonade and cookies. Harriet asked her a few polite questions about what she was working on for her ongoing class at the Angel Harbor Folk Art School. After a few smart remarks, she offered to show Harriet her latest project samples. Harriet followed her to her car, where Lauren pulled out a pizza box filled with ten-inch-square samples in a variety of techniques. Her final project would be a three-dimensional vine-covered cottage. She was trying out stitch combinations to make a thatch roof, vine-covered walls, wooden doors and windows and a rose bush. Harriet was amazed by the intricacy of the detail as well as the density of stitching.
"We had to dye our own thread and ribbon, too."
"These are really cool,” Harriet said and realized she actually meant it.
"I gotta go,” Lauren said and got in her car.
"Thanks for the info."
Lauren waved and drove off down the driveway.
Harriet went back into the studio where her aunt was still working on the show quilt.
"Mavis called while you were outside with Lauren,” Aunt Beth said.
"What did she want?"
"She wants you to call her. I told her you would call as soon as Lauren left."
"Do you know what she wants?"
"Her boys are all coming to town for the funeral service. She's going to talk to Ilsa about going forward with whatever plans they need to make. The boys decided they're coming to support their mother no matter what happens, and if nothing else, they'll have a small private memorial of their own."
"And that has what to do with me?"
"You know she only has two bedrooms in the cottage. She was wondering if you'd be willing to let a couple of the boys stay in your spare bedrooms."
"I'm guessing that me calling is a mere formality,” Harriet said and tried to look serious. Her aunt didn't deny it, and Harriet ended up laughing in spite of herself. “You two are impossible."
"You know you wouldn't have said no."
"Of course I wouldn't say no, but it makes me feel like such a grown-up when I get to say yes, or heaven forbid, offer before I'm asked. And I would have as soon as she told me they were coming."
"I know, dear,” Aunt Beth said, and patted Harriet's good arm.
"Do I at least get to pick which sons I get?"
"Call Mavis."
Harriet went into the kitchen and called Mavis. After reassuring her it was okay with her to have the boys stay at her house, she listened while Mavis went into a detailed analysis of which of her sons would be the best house guests.
"Mavis, it'll be fine. Send whoever you want. I've got plenty of room ... Send all three of them if you want. It'll take the pressure off you and your house ... Okay, I'll await their arrival.” She hung up. “Get ready for company, Fred. The Willis boys are coming."
"So let me
get this straight,” Aiden said when he stopped by Harriet's on his way home from work. “You're hosting a house full of testosterone-fueled men?"
"Don't be ridiculous,” Harriet said. “I'll probably have the youngest boys."
"From what I hear, they were the worst of the lot. And they're not that young—a couple of aging troublemakers. If they step a toe out of line, they'll have me to contend with."
"You're such a tough guy,” she said and pulled him into a hug made only slightly awkward by her right arm being strapped to her chest.
"How much longer do you have to wear this iron maiden?” he asked with a smile.
Harriet used the fingers of her good hand to sweep a strand of hair out of his eyes. “The doctor said it could be six weeks—sooner if I heal more quickly."
He caught her fingers in his hand and pulled them to his lips.
"That seems an eternity, m'lady."
"You'll live."
"Can I take you to dinner?"
"I told Aunt Beth I'd make her dinner, since she's been doing all my work. I've got chicken in the oven. Want to join us?"
"Of course."
"Wait a minute. Aren't you supposed to be babysitting Wendy tonight?"
"I was, but dinner got cancelled; and before you ask, Carla didn't tell me any more than that."
With Aiden's help, Harriet made a cold cauliflower salad and a tossed green salad to go with the chicken.
"Honey, this is wonderful.” Aunt Beth proclaimed.
"You're only saying that because you didn't have to cook,” Harriet said.
A knock on the door interrupted the conversation, and Aiden got up to see the guests in.
"Hi,” said a tall, thin red-headed man. “Hey, aren't you Marcel's little brother?"
Aiden didn't say anything.
"Dude, you gotta know those eyes give you away every time."
Harriet came up behind Aiden.
"Hi, I'm Harriet,” she said. “Are you Harry or Ben?"
"I'm Harry. Ben's parking the car. He sent me to check things out. We're pretty sure my mom and your aunt volunteered your house. We just wanted to give you a chance to bail. If it isn't a good time for you, we can go get a hotel room."