Quilt Trip: A Southern Quilting Mystery (7 page)

“That’s a really fun pattern, Holly,” said Beatrice, looking over at Holly’s twelve-inch quilt blocks.

“My guild is quilting for a children’s hospital, so we were trying to work with blocks we thought the kids would enjoy,” Holly said, smiling at her as she made her quick and confident stitches.

“It’s a tic-tac-toe pattern, right?” asked Beatrice, studying two of the blocks that Holly had completed nearby. The blocks were in a cheerful red and white.

“That’s right. With sort of square-looking O’s and a funny X,” said Holly with a laugh. Beatrice noticed that the X’s and O’s were in different red fabrics—checkerboard, paisley, and gingham.

“Who’s going to win the tic-tac-toe match?” Beatrice asked.

“Oh, I think the X’s will win—in the diagonals,” Holly replied.

Beatrice glanced over at Dot, perched next to Holly on the bay window seat.

“I have a feeling I’m going to get plenty of inspiration for my quilt here,” Dot said with a deep chuckle, gesturing with a needle out the window.

“What is it that you’re working on?”

“A winter medley!” Dot grinned at her.

“Yes, I think you’ll have plenty of inspiration. More than you might have wanted,” said Beatrice with an answering smile. “So, what? A snowflake for one block, a snowman in another?”

“Definitely those. And mittens in one, ice skates in another. A sled, a cup of cocoa, a snowy evergreen—you get the idea. I’m going to have a border of snowflakes just like the one in this block.” Dot held up a block with a glowing, silvery snowflake.

Beatrice smiled again. “I love those rich, warm colors you’re using. Deep reds and golden browns and dark greens. It’s going to be lovely.”

“I . . . uh . . . well, I didn’t come with any blocks or a quilt or anything,” said Dot ruefully. “But Posy had half a quilt store in the back of her car and very generously allowed me to use her fabrics, template, and notions.” She hastily added, “Which I’ll be paying her back for, of course.”

Posy said kindly, “Oh, no worries, Dot. It did seem kind of odd to come here armed with quilts, didn’t it? We were only supposed to be here for a little while. All the vendors give me fabrics and things because they want me to buy more for the store. I end up with all this extra stuff. I’m happy to share it.”

Posy had likely noticed that Dot’s clothes were fairly worn and that she might not have much extra income for quilting, so she had decided to help out.

•   •   •

Supper that night was a quiet affair. Meadow heated up canned vegetables in pots over the fireplace. Beatrice finished her corn and peas and cleared her throat. “Colton and I made a discovery earlier this afternoon. I’m afraid it was an unpleasant one.”

Meadow gaped and her hand flew dramatically to her chest. “Not another dead body!” She swiftly glanced around the table, counting everyone.

“No. But when I went upstairs to put my feet up, I noticed that Muriel’s door was cracked.” Beatrice told them what she and Colton had seen.

The meal went from quiet to completely silent as they all stared at Beatrice.

“Wickedness! Evil!” hissed Miss Sissy, finally breaking the silence.

Posy said in a small voice, “This means that someone plans to use the sleeping pills as a weapon? To murder someone else?”

They all stared suspiciously at their food.

“Or does it simply mean that someone has trouble sleeping and wants a sounder night’s sleep?” Alexandra asked tartly.

Winnie let out a short laugh. “Why would anyone want to sleep soundly in this house? With a murderer afoot—according to Beatrice.” She twisted her napkin anxiously, though, as if she, too, took the accusation seriously.

Holly’s eyes were large. “Beatrice, did you make any progress with your interviews? I know you haven’t spoken to me yet.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll talk with you after supper. Then, yes, that’s it for the interviews,” Beatrice said.

“Get any clues?” Dot asked. “Think you can track this person down?”

Beatrice said carefully, “It’s really too early to say.”

Winnie pushed her plate away with a thin hand. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

Miss Sissy launched herself at the remains of her meal.

Holly, Beatrice decided, was a very likable sort of person. She had an open face with wide eyes that made you think she was hanging on your every word.

“I can’t believe someone would do something like this,” Holly said to Beatrice. “Muriel seemed like such a nice person. I wish I could have gotten to know her better.” Her face was wistful.

“So you’re someone who
didn’t
know Muriel well,” Beatrice said thoughtfully. “Like Meadow, Posy, Miss Sissy, and me. But, unlike you, we weren’t invited. Muriel actually
invited
you here. And she appears to have had a personal connection with everyone else.”

Holly knitted her brows. “Not Dot Giles, though, right?”

“They knew each other from their quilting guild,” Beatrice said. “They’d known each other for years and apparently there was bad blood between them.”

Holly gazed steadily at Beatrice.

“What I’m trying to figure out,” said Beatrice, “is whether you had a personal connection with Muriel Starnes.”

Holly twirled a strand of red hair around her finger. “I think she invited me because I’m a quilter and she was interested in possibly having my guild administer the scholarship for her foundation.”

Beatrice paused, then said carefully, “I’m afraid this house is a difficult place to find any privacy in. Last night I did hear you in tears after a conversation with Muriel.”

Holly looked back up at Beatrice. “I did have an emotional conversation with Muriel. But I’m not ready to talk about it yet. It didn’t have anything to do with her murder, if that’s what you’re wondering. And as I mentioned before, the first time I’d met Muriel was yesterday.”

Beatrice decided it would be better not to press her too hard. “After you turned in last night, did you see or hear anything?”

Holly was thoughtful for a minute. Then she regretfully shook her head. “Sorry. No. Since I was rooming with Dot, I plugged my ears up with my headphones and listened to music while I slept. So I’m afraid I’m no help at all. I did get up once to go use the restroom, but I didn’t see or hear anything while I was up.” She sighed. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do tonight. I have a feeling that my music player has a dead battery now.”

“You could still sleep with the headphones on, couldn’t you?” asked Beatrice. “That would help muffle any sounds at least.”

Holly brightened. “That’s a great idea, Beatrice.” Then she hesitated. “Unless you think that might be dangerous. Under the circumstances, I mean.”

“You’ll have Dot in the room with you, listening out for any unusual noises,” said Beatrice.

Neither of them mentioned that Dot could be the murderer. Beatrice guessed that, when you were rooming with someone you didn’t know, that was the kind of thing you didn’t need to dwell on.

•   •   •

Meadow stuck her head in the study door after Holly left. “Coast clear?” she asked. She glanced around, saw no one, and happily came in. She bore a plate of black olives and a glass of water. “Just a little snack to enjoy next to the fire,” she said, plopping into the empty armchair across from Beatrice. Then her eyes opened wide in consternation. “Shoot! I should have brought you a snack, too.”

Beatrice quickly shook her head. “I appreciate it, but no. I don’t think I’m quite at the point yet where I want to eat a plateful of black olives.”

Meadow said, “You might want to lose that attitude real quick, missy. There’s not a whole lot of food in that pantry to be picky over. And you don’t have the generous quantity of fat reserves that I have.”

Meadow wasn’t at all chubby, actually. She simply had big bones. She wasn’t a small woman, but she wore her weight well.

“Anyway, you’re looking kind of piqued,” said Meadow, frowning at Beatrice as she munched her olives. “What’s going on?”

“I think I might be getting a headache,” Beatrice said shortly. She was starting to feel out of sorts, in fact. She always tried to shake bad moods before they completely took over, or else she’d have that bad-mood mind-set the rest of the day.

“Why is that?” Meadow squinted at her as if she couldn’t fathom what Beatrice might possibly find headache inducing about the situation they were in.

“Oh, I don’t know, Meadow. Stress perhaps? You know—from having no heat or decent food. Oh, and having a killer running around, of course.” Beatrice bit her tongue, realizing how cranky she sounded. But honestly, Meadow’s determinedly sunny attitude brought it out in her sometimes.

“It’s not that bad. We’re alive, aren’t we?” Meadow asked stoutly.

“For the time being,” Beatrice said in a gloomy tone. “I’m wondering if I can really get to the bottom of this murder. I’ve gotten the impression during these interviews that everyone is hiding something from me. Or even outright lying to me. I’m not sure if I can figure out who’s behind this.”

“You certainly can!” said Meadow, sounding almost offended. “You’re the smartest person I know. You’ll figure out the murderer and we’ll all attack her at the same time and lock her in the broom closet.”

She clearly had it all mapped out. “I wish I were as confident in my abilities as you are, Meadow.”

“All you need is more clues,” said Meadow placidly. “And you’ll be sure to get them soon. We’re all stuck in this house together and people are getting on each other’s nerves.”

Hardly something Beatrice hadn’t noticed. And Meadow was one of the people who was getting on her nerves the most. That infernal humming she did all the time—usually to unrecognizable show tunes.

“When people get all tense and irritable, they lower their guard and start saying things they weren’t planning on saying,” Meadow said. “They act on their emotions, too. I know that no matter how cold and calculating the murderer is, she’s going to end up breaking at some point.”

“Just as long as that process of breaking doesn’t involve more dead bodies,” said Beatrice.

There was a light tap on the door and Posy peeked around the corner. “All right if I join you ladies?” They invited her in. “Sorry to interrupt. What were you saying before I came in?”

Meadow’s face suddenly darkened. “We were saying how being stuck indoors makes others get on our nerves.”

Posy looked alarmed.

“Not you, of course, Posy,” amended Meadow. “Mostly that nasty Alexandra. Bleh.”

Meadow appeared to have a real beef with the woman.

“I’m not so sure she’s even a quilter,” she said huffily.

Posy’s eyes opened wide. “You think she was only pretending to be a quilter to make her mother happy?”

“Exactly. To get in her mother’s good graces,” said Meadow. “To please Muriel so she could be on her good side when a will was drawn up.” She was really warming to her subject now. “She
knew
how much Muriel loved quilting. It’s all a sham!”

“Except that we’ve watched her working on that log cabin pattern,” Beatrice reminded her.

“Clearly a ruse. Maybe she paid someone to put the blocks together and she’s simply unstitching and restitching the same little piece over and over.” Meadow thumped the arm of her chair triumphantly.

Posy hesitantly offered, “Although . . . well, I did notice that she has these callouses on her left hand.”

“She’s probably left-handed, then. Alexandra would have gotten them from gripping a pencil or garden shears or something,” said Meadow.

“I think I also noticed she’s right-handed,” said Posy, looking apologetic.

“Nice detective work, Posy!” said Beatrice.

Posy beamed at her, flushing with pride.

“Don’t you have something to work on, Beatrice?” Posy asked.

“Beatrice wasn’t cooperating,” Meadow clucked with a disapproving glare in Beatrice’s direction.

“I was just along for the ride,” Beatrice said sadly. “Meadow dragged me off with her at the last minute. She did say something about bringing my current project, but I didn’t see the point for what was supposed to be a short business meeting. So I ended up carrying in Meadow’s quilts for the show-and-tell without actually bringing any of my own.”

Posy’s face brightened. “I have a trunkful of fabric and blocks and templates and notions from the shop. I’d be delighted if you’d use them, Beatrice.”

“It’s the quilting mobile,” said Meadow, grinning.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Beatrice quickly. “You’ve already given away too much of your fabric and supplies already. I know Dot has gotten a bunch from you.”

Posy made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Pooh. We all need some stress relief. Besides, I’ve got oodles and oodles of fabrics and things. I get samples from vendors all the time, too.”

Beatrice said cautiously, “I’m not sure I can handle too much hand-piecing. I’ve gotten kind of dependent on my sewing machine lately, although I’d love to do more sewing by hand.”

“I’ve got exactly the project for you,” said Posy. “I’ll help you with it, too, although I don’t think you’ll really need any help. I think you’ll love hand-piecing, Beatrice.”

“It does always seem very relaxing. I’ve done a little appliquéing, but what I’ve done has been limited.”

“Hand-piecing gives you a much more intimate experience with your quilt,” Posy explained. “I think you’ll love making cathedral windows.”

“The pattern sounds lovely. How big are the squares? Twelve by twelve?”

“Nine by nine,” Posy said. “Then you fold it in half, and in half again. Then you fold the corners into the center and iron them— Oops! I keep forgetting that we don’t have electricity.”

“Yes, ironing might be a problem,” Meadow said thoughtfully, then snapped her fingers. “I bet we could use the bottom of the saucepan after we warm up our canned soups and vegetables. It’s flat and it would surely be hot enough.”

“Might get sooty, though.” Posy frowned.

“If I’m bored enough—which I think is very likely—I’ll try anything!” said Beatrice.

Posy said, “You can iron all the squares at once and put them in a pile until you’re ready for them. It probably won’t be as bad when you’re doing all your pressing at once.”

“Striking while the iron is hot?” asked Meadow with a grin. “It makes sense to me to do the squares that way anyway. Even if we had electricity.”

“You know,” Posy said, “I think I saw some flatirons used as doorstoppers somewhere.”

“That’s right!” Meadow exclaimed. “Maybe over by the back door?” She dashed out and returned with one of the flatirons. “You could pretend you’re a pioneer woman, Beatrice!”

Beatrice realized, not for the first time, that she was in for an adventure.

•   •   •

Meadow, Beatrice, and Posy joined the rest of the group in the library, where they were chatting in a desultory fashion.

“I never thought I’d miss my smartphone so much,” said Alexandra, gazing listlessly at the ceiling.

“Did you forget to bring it?” Posy asked, her brow wrinkled.

“No. But it runs through batteries really quickly. It was practically dead on arrival,” drawled Alexandra.

Just like we all were, thought Beatrice. Then she chastised herself for not squashing this rotten mood of hers. “Well, I guess we could find things to do to keep us occupied. Posy was nice enough to give me some fabric to quilt. Of course, I saw that you came with your own quilt.”

Alexandra nodded. “Sure, I did. But there’s only so many hours in a day that I want to quilt.”

“You could always join in the cleaning project that Posy and I have undertaken,” Meadow said heartily. “I felt like I’d really accomplished something with the cleaning we did. Didn’t you, Posy?”

Posy smiled at her. “I did. But then, I’ve always loved cleaning.”

“We started out with the kitchen, and we’re going to move on to the library and study next,” said Meadow.

“No, thanks,” said Alexandra. “I get enough cleaning at my own house.”

“Why didn’t your mother have someone to help clean the house?” Beatrice asked curiously. “There’s quite a bit of dust and cobwebs here.”

“She did have someone helping her,” said Alexandra, a smile twisting her lips. “The woman just didn’t come all that often.”

“Why not? Your mother could afford the help,” said Meadow, squinting at Alexandra as if trying to understand.

“Mother was just too cheap. Those cleaners would have slapped on a travel fee to come way up the mountain to a decaying mansion. And she didn’t mind the dust and spiderwebs—obviously.”

“The way she was living didn’t bother you? You didn’t check on her?” asked Meadow, putting her hands on her hips.

“
She
never checked on
me
!” Alexandra said fiercely. “Maybe I needed help myself.”

The room got quiet. Obviously, Meadow’s question had hit a sore spot.

Meadow cleared her throat. “Colton, you’re kind of skittish. Everything okay?”

“Besides the fact I’m trapped in an ice storm with a murderer? Absolutely.”

“You seem like you have something on your mind,” said Meadow. She eyed him suspiciously. “You’re not struggling with a guilty conscience, are you?”

“Hardly,” said Colton with a long-suffering sigh. “Although I’ve got the feeling I know someone who
is
.”