Authors: Clare O'Donohue
“Doesn’t budge.”
“No, Grandma, it doesn’t.”
“Well, it’s a lovely science experiment, dear, but I should be going.” Bernie patted Eleanor’s arm. “Good work today, I think.”
“It was.”
Bernie walked over to me. “I almost forgot. I wrote down my fudge recipe for you.” She pulled out a piece of pink paper from her purse and handed it to me, smiling. “Maybe you’ll make it for a future meeting.”
I looked at the pink paper for a long second. That didn’t make sense. But when I looked up, Bernie was gone and Nancy had entered the kitchen to say good night.
CHAPTER 52
“Please don’t say it.” Jesse was laughing the next morning when I called him about the pink paper and the hand wax.
“It’s not impossible. Bernie told me herself that she had more lovers than she can remember.”
“Stop. Now.”
“She could have been having an affair with Marc.”
“Mrs. Avallone is a friend of my mother’s.”
“Then explain the pink paper. Explain the hand wax.”
“Okay,” Jesse said. “The stationery store said that at least a dozen pads of the same paper have been sold in the last six months. And the wax comes from the quilt shop. All of those women probably have some.”
“I don’t think the paper is a coincidence.”
“I tell you what—you follow up on that lead and I’ll work on figuring out where Marc could have gotten the money. Last night I was thinking that maybe he was blackmailing someone and when the person came to pay, he or she instead decided to kill him.”
“You think he was blackmailing Bernie about their secret affair? ” I said, only half kidding.
“I don’t want to have that image in my head. Mrs. Avallone plays cards with my mother every Tuesday.” I could hear the smile in his voice, and it felt nice. “But the wax is another story. Who went up and down those stairs?”
“Everyone. The bathroom was downstairs and all the regulars at the shop had access to it.”
“So it could have been meant for someone else. Someone like you.”
“Why would anyone want to hurt me?”
“Why would anyone want to hurt Eleanor?”
I didn’t know the answer, but I promised to be careful as we hung up. My cell phone rang again and I was sure it was Jesse calling back, but when I looked at the caller ID, I saw it was Ryan. I just kept looking at the number as the phone rang until it went silent.
I went downstairs where Nancy and Eleanor were already set up for another day of quilting. Nancy was positioning and repositioning the flowers I had so carefully cut out. She tried them on the long plain strips of purple fabric that made up the borders of the quilt, but they didn’t work. Then she tried to place them in the blocks.
“No,” I said. “That’s too busy.”
“Any suggestions?” She turned to me.
“The whole quilt feels like a painting, and then when you put the flowers on it, it sort of takes away from it.” I touched the soft fabric of the quilt. “I wish you could paint flowers on the borders. That would be cool.”
“You can,” Eleanor said. “They make paints that you can put on fabric.”
“Well, I can’t,” Nancy protested. “I’m not much of a painter.”
“Nell can.” Eleanor sat up in her chair. “She used to paint all the time.”
“I don’t know if I was any good,” I protested.
Eleanor dismissed me with a wave. “Nancy, we have some fabric paints, don’t we?”
Nancy sorted through several boxes until she found what she was looking for. “I don’t know how to paint on fabric,” I said. “And I’m certainly not going to ruin this.”
“Paint flowers on the borders. That’s just plain fabric,” Nancy said. “If we hate it, we’ll just cut more fabric.”
I laid some paper on the ironing board, then put a long strip of the purple border fabric on the board and pinned it down. I was nervous enough without having the fabric move around as I painted. I ordered Nancy and Eleanor out of the room and arranged the paints. Then I stared at the fabric. I had an image in my head of how it should look, but I couldn’t figure out where to start.
“Nature isn’t perfect, you know,” Nancy said from the hallway.
“Better than me,” I sighed.
“The Amish have a tradition. They make a deliberate mistake in every quilt as a way of acknowledging that only God makes things perfect.” Nancy walked in and pushed me slightly toward the strip of fabric.
“So I’m the deliberate mistake.”
Nancy laughed. “I think it’s kind of nice. Every time I screw up, I say I did it for God. Makes me feel better.”
“Fair enough. But you have to leave the room and stay out until I’m ready.” Nancy did as she was told and I turned back to the border.
Using Nancy’s flower template as a guide, I lightly painted flowers on one of the border sides. I made dark purple, pink, and yellow flowers, with light and dark green leaves and stems, holding my breath the entire time. When I was done, I called Nancy and Eleanor back into the room. Together we put the painted border next to the quilt.
“That was it,” Nancy said. “That was exactly what it needed.”
So I painted the other three sides while Nancy and Eleanor cleared back out of the room so, as they put it, they wouldn’t disturb an artist at work. As I finished each side of the border, I put it back on the flannel wall next to the interior of the quilt. Stepping back, I had to admit it was beautiful. The painting echoed the garden feel of the blocks without taking away from their impact.
“I’m done,” I called out.
Nancy and Eleanor came back in. Nancy praised me repeatedly, but Eleanor just leaned on her crutch and stared.
“What do you think, Grandma?”
She shook her head. “It works.”
The doorbell rang, and I knew it was time to open the makeshift quilt shop for the day. Eleanor sat in her chair and rested her leg on a small footstool while Nancy went out to great the customers.
“I should check on the shop,” I said.
Eleanor nodded; she was still staring at the quilt. “You’ll have to do something like that for the shop wall.”
“One of these days,” I said, and headed for the hallway before I got too caught up in the moment. Nancy headed me off as I reached for my coat near the front door. “I’m going to check on the shop,” I told her.
“I’m sure you like your job in the city, Nell,” Nancy said, suddenly serious. “But you have real talent. I know your grandmother said that you dabble in painting, but you should really think about getting some training. I wanted to when I was your age, but . . . well, I got a little caught up in getting married, having kids. I just didn’t get around to it. I always thought there would be time.”
I nodded. “Thanks. It’s really sweet, especially from you, with all your quilts and everything.” I hesitated because I knew it wasn’t really my business, but she had sort of opened the subject matter. “I was in New York the other day, at a gallery, and I saw your quilts.”
Nancy took my arm and led me outside. It was a cold morning and she was shivering in her turtleneck sweater. “I haven’t told Eleanor yet,” she said quietly. “I haven’t told anyone.”
“Maggie knows.”
Nancy nodded. “It’s her daughter’s shop. It doesn’t matter that you know. Everybody’s been telling me to sell my quilts, so I thought I’d give it a go.”
“I’ll bet you’re doing well.”
Nancy took a deep breath. “I haven’t sold any yet, so who knows if anything will come of it.”
“Are you kidding? Those quilts were amazing.”
She blushed. “Please don’t say anything. I want to keep it to myself for now, in case nothing happens with them. I don’t want people being disappointed for me.”
I hugged her. “Not a word.”
“Art school.” She wagged her finger at me. “There’s one in Nyack and one in Peekskill. I’ll get you brochures.”
I’d like that, I thought. Then my phone rang, and it was Ryan again. I put the phone in my pocket and headed into town.
CHAPTER 53
I stopped by the bakery for coffee and a muffin on my way to the shop. As I was walking out, I saw Carrie up the street heading toward the pharmacy. I was about to say hello when I noticed she wasn’t going into the pharmacy. She was hovering by the door that led to the apartments above it. She took a key out of her purse and unlocked the door. As she entered the building, I ran to catch her and put my foot in the door just as it was about to close. I waited for about a minute. I wanted her to be in Marc’s apartment when I walked in and caught her doing . . . I wasn’t really sure what she might be doing, but it was clear she had lied earlier.
I thought, just briefly, about calling Jesse, but I knew he would ask me to wait outside, and I was way too curious to do that. I walked up the stairs to Marc’s apartment. The door was slightly opened.
“Hi,” I said. Carrie spun around and went white.
“What are you doing here?”
I laughed. “I think I’m supposed to ask you that.”
Carrie grabbed my arm and pulled me into the apartment, slamming the door behind me. “Please don’t tell anyone you saw me here.”
“You lied to me.”
“I know.” She sat on Marc’s unmade bed. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately.”
“You were having an affair with Marc.”
She looked confused for a moment, then lowered her eyes to the floor. “No, I wasn’t. I actually wasn’t.”
“Then why do you have his key? And what are you looking for in his apartment?”
“I left an earring here.”
I walked over close to her. It felt like she might bolt at any minute and I wanted the whole story. “You left an earring in his apartment, but you weren’t having an affair with him?”
“I know how that sounds, but it’s true. I just didn’t want to say anything before because I don’t want my husband misunderstanding what happened.”
I sat next to her on the bed. “You weren’t having an affair, but you wanted to have one.”
“No.” She teared up. “I love my husband. He works twenty-hour days and I feel like a single mom, but I love my husband. I didn’t want to have an affair with Marc.” She shuddered. “The guy was a little sleazy, don’t you think?”
That was a bit of a slam, intended or not. “I’m not the person who left an earring here.”
Carrie nodded. “Do you think it might be here?”
“Carrie, focus. You want me to believe that you came to a man’s apartment and left your earring behind, but you weren’t romantically involved. So, how exactly did you leave your earring?”
“I gave it to him.” She got up and started looking around the room.
“What did it look like?”
“Diamond, a half carat.”
“Jesse was here the other day. He took things like that as evidence, ” I lied.
She sat down again, defeated. “I wanted to open my own business. My husband thinks I’m overwhelmed with the kids and shouldn’t take on anything else. I didn’t want to get into another argument about what a waste of money it was, so I figured I’d just go through with it and tell him later. Your grandmother once said to me that sometimes it’s better to apologize than get permission.”
“It sounds like something she’d say.”
Carrie smiled a little. “I wanted to take over the diner, turn it into a coffee shop, but you got there first.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. But there was this place for lease down the street. Marc said he’d help me fix it up, he said he’d make it look like the kind of coffee shop I used to hang out in in Greenwich Village.” She laughed. “In another life.”
“How does the earring figure in?”
“I didn’t want to dip into our savings to put down a deposit, so Marc said I could sell some jewelry. It’s stuff I bought myself years ago. Marc said he knew where I could get good money for it, very quietly. I wanted to go into the city myself and sell it, but when would I have the time?”
“So you gave Marc one earring? How much would that have been worth?”
“Maybe a thousand, fifteen hundred. I just wanted him to get me a price. Then I was going to give him the other and a bracelet I had. I was trying to figure out if I should go through with it.”
“So you’re here to get it back?”
She nodded and took a deep breath. “I changed my mind. Maybe I don’t have what it takes to be in business anymore. I don’t know. I knew I didn’t want to start a business by lying to my husband. I went to Someday Quilts the day he was killed and asked Marc for the jewelry back. He told me he was keeping it as his fee. I saw his keys on the checkout counter, so I took them. I was going to run down here and get the earring, and then I ran into you and got all freaked out, and then . . . Did Marc tell you about our arrangement?”
“Why would he?”
“You were getting . . . close,” she stammered. “Maybe you were just as fooled as I was.”
Another slam, unintentional or not, but this time I hit back. “You didn’t go back to the shop later, maybe when you couldn’t find the earring, and kill Marc?”
“If I’d already searched his place, why would I be here now?”
She had a point. I got up, knowing that Jesse would kill me for this, and walked over to the box of jewelry on his bookcase. I handed it to Carrie, who riffled through the mostly cheap earrings. In the middle was a beautiful diamond.
“I don’t think he really knew where to sell it,” she said. “I don’t think Marc was that worldly. He was just really good at fooling people.”
“We should go,” I said, and we headed for the door. Just as we locked Marc’s apartment behind us, I heard steps coming up the stairs.
“I got a report that someone was breaking into Marc’s apartment. ” I turned to see Jesse on the bottom stair.
“I can explain,” I said.
“I’m almost certain you can.”
Carrie and I sat in Jesse’s office for nearly an hour. For ten minutes we explained why we were there, and for fifty we listened to Jesse tell us why we were in big trouble.
“I could charge you with half a dozen things,” he said to Carrie.
“What if Marc gave her the key?” I asked. “Then she would have had his permission to be in his apartment. It’s not a crime scene. You don’t have police tape across it, do you?” Jesse just glared at me. “The earring belongs to her, so really what crime could you charge her with?”
“Tampering with a police investigation, for starters. I could charge you with the same thing.” He sighed heavily. “Carrie, go home. I’m keeping your earring for now. I’ll get it back to you when we’re done with the investigation.”